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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

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read my lips

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is staring at his lips when he talks'

rated m | 1,799 words | cw: suggestive language, implied sexual content | tags: mutual pining, getting together, first kiss, platonic stobin

👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄👄

"Steve? Earth to Steve." Robin waved her hand in front of his face, successfully pulling him out of the daydream he'd been in for who knows how long. "He walked away nearly two minutes ago. You gotta get your shit together, man."

Steve looked around, trying to find where Eddie went. He'd been talking to them both about a show his band was invited to perform in a few towns over in a couple weeks. Steve was listening to him go on about trying to buy a set of special edition picks at the record shop they'd be performing in when he got distracted by the way Eddie's lips kept smirking around his words.

The scarring along his cheek made his smile more crooked than it was before the bats, and Steve couldn't stop staring.

Not for the reasons strangers on the street would, not even in the way that Dustin or Wayne sometimes looked at him, like they were still upset at the way the world turned against Eddie.

No, this was entirely because every time Steve started to watch Eddie talk, he got distracted thinking about those lips on his. This time it was way less work appropriate.

He turned to Robin and groaned.

"God, this is bad."

"You don't say." Robin set a stack of tapes on the counter next to Steve. "All these still need to be checked in. Then you can go get distracted by thoughts of Eddie's lips on your neck or whatever."

"If only it had been my neck," Steve mumbled as Robin started humming loud enough to drown him out.

"Stevie, you work too hard," Eddie's voice said from right behind him only a minute later. "You should take a break."

"I just had my lunch 30 minutes ago. I can't take another break," Steve refused to make eye contact, refused to get captured by that sinful smile.

Eddie's hand landed on his shoulder. "Aren't you the one in charge right now?"

"You think I'm over Robin?"

"I think you think you're over Robin. And that should be enough. Just sneak away. She won't even notice. Look, she's yelling at a kid in the corner," Eddie poked him to get him to turn around and look. "Poor kid probably didn't think anyone who worked here cared if he snuck into the R section."

Steve finally turned around and let out a snort. "That's the third time that kid's tried to get back there in a week. He's just an idiot."

"Well...she's distracted. There's no other customers. Take a break!" Eddie was grinning at him and Steve was already under his spell.

"Fine, but only a few minutes. She'll be pissed if I leave her to do all the rewinding and shelving," Steve agreed because he had to.

Because Eddie was looking at him like he was up to something and he wanted Steve to be up to something with him. Because he'd do anything that made Eddie's crooked smile bigger, anything to hear him let out that giggle he tried to hide when he was being mischievous.

Eddie tugged on his arm and pulled him out from behind the counter, holding a finger to his lips to shush him when he started to tell him to stop.

He led him to the back office, which was usually locked if Keith wasn't in, but had been left unlocked the last two shifts because Robin was in charge of closing out the registers.

"I know for a fact you shouldn't be in here. I'm barely even allowed in here," Steve whispered.

"No one will know," Eddie said as he sat on the edge of the cluttered desk. "It's not like Family Video is stashing away government secrets."

"I said the same thing about Scoops Ahoy and then got tortured by Russians, so I'd watch what you say."

Eddie's smile dropped for a moment.

Steve had never gone into details and Robin had just shrugged it off when Eddie asked her about it. She said she was grateful she had Steve through it all and that was that.

"Do you suspect Russians might be hiding under Family Video?" Eddie eventually asked. "If so, I think we should head out. I'll get our coats."

Steve shook his head. "Nah. Think the Russians got the hell out of Hawkins after Starcourt."

"Good. Wouldn't wanna have to deal with Russian torture trauma on top of all the bats and being stuck in the Upside Down for days trauma," Eddie snorted. "So, what're you doin' after work today?"

"Uh." Steve admittedly didn't hear most of what Eddie said. He was too busy watching his lips form around words. "Hm?"

Eddie's smile fell. "I asked what you're doing after work. Are you okay? You seem kinda out of it today."

"Yep, I'm fine. Might just be getting a migraine or something." Steve looked down at the floor to try to concentrate. "I'm probably just gonna heat up some leftovers from movie night last night and shower and go to bed."

"You want company?" Eddie asked.

Steve felt his heart stop. "In the shower?"

He looked up at Eddie, that perfect smile growing on his face.

"I meant for dinner or just to hang out, but if you need help in the shower, I could probably arrange that," Eddie was teasing. He was kidding. He had to be. Right?

“I’m…I don’t-“

“Don’t hurt yourself, Stevie,” Eddie laughed. “Offer’s there if you want it.”

Steve was too busy staring at Eddie’s tongue licking his bottom lip, imagining that tongue licking along his bottom lip.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispered.

“Hm?”

“You know, I started wearing chapstick and waited for you to finally give in.” Eddie’s lip quirked up. “But you haven’t done anything except stare. You gonna do something?”

“Do what?” Steve was clueless as to what he was talking about.

“You gonna see if they taste as good as they look?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Kiss me, Harrington. You gonna do it or not?” Eddie sighed.

“I-“

“It’s alright. Been waiting for weeks now. You wanna?” Eddie didn’t move from the desk. “Not sure they’re gonna be as great as you seem to be picturing every time I talk, but hopefully they aren’t a complete disappointment.”

Steve kinda figured he should go ahead and kiss him before he started to get lost in his own world again.

He stepped up to Eddie, watching as his face shifted from amused to anticipatory. Steve’s hand rested on Eddie’s knee, mostly to help keep his balance.

He was feeling a little lightheaded with the recent development.

“You really want me to kiss you?” Steve asked as he leaned in, resting his forehead against Eddie’s.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Steve watched his lips the entire time, enamored with the way every part of his mouth enunciated every word. Everything felt important when Eddie said it.

He tasted and felt better than he looked, especially when his hands came up to cup the sides of Steve’s neck, fingers scratching at the roots of his long hair.

Steve whined into his mouth, sinking against him as Eddie took control and deepened the kiss.

“You’re both lucky I’m willing to pretend that I’m not seeing what I’m seeing and that I’m willing to close this door and leave you alone for ten minutes. Mostly because I was so tired of Steve losing every remaining brain cell anytime Eddie talked.” Robin’s voice filtered through the small office, causing Steve and Eddie to pull apart quickly, both wiping at their mouths. “Ten minutes. Not a second more. Pants stay on. Got it?”

“Got it,” Eddie agreed.

“And hands stay out of pants!” Robin said as she closed the door.

“Dammit,” Eddie sighed.

“Ten minutes is long enough to make out,” Steve tried to suggest, leaning in to kiss him again.

“Ten minutes is long enough for a lot of things. Tell me where you want my lips.”

It would be rude teasing from anyone else, but from Eddie, it just made Steve feel seen.

“Anywhere. Everywhere. Wherever you want them,” Steve gasped out, still feeling like he might be dreaming.

“So you’d be okay with them…here?” Eddie whispered against his neck, soft presses of his lips against his skin. “Or here?” Steve’s shirt was pulled to the side for Eddie to suck a bruise into the crook of his neck. “Or maybe here?” Eddie’s hand pressed against his half-hard cock on his jeans. “Oh, sweetheart. Had no idea you’d be so ready for me.”

“Yes, you did,” Steve argued.

“You’re right. But it’s still nice to see and feel. Maybe I could taste?” Eddie asked as his hand wandered along his waist line.

“N-now?” Steve stuttered out.

“I have-“ Eddie checked his watch. “About eight minutes. I could get you off.”

“With your mouth?”

“Well, yeah. We can’t make a mess, can we? This is your place of employment, Stevie. And it’s a bitch getting cum out of a carpet like this.”

“You know from experience?”

Eddie dropped to his knees. "I made an educated guess. So. Mouth. Yes or no?"

"Yes," Steve replied, unbuttoning his own pants. "Jesus, yes."

Eddie's mouth was even better than Steve's imagination gave him credit for. They only need three of the minutes they had for Steve to finish, and another two minutes of Steve's hand working Eddie over for him to finish, too.

"You could've said something sooner," Eddie said as he tried to fix his hair. "Or just kissed me one of those times you were trying to stare through my lips."

"I didn't think I was being that obvious before today," Steve said as he tucked his shirt back into his pants and slid his vest back on.

"Sweetheart, you've been obvious since day one. I've just been waiting for you to realize that you needed to make a move," Eddie crowded him against the desk, hands on his hips and a playful smile on his face.

Steve watched his lips the entire time.

"Like that," Eddie continued, raising a finger to trace along Steve's lips. "You watch them when you don't even realize you are."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Stevie. Love it," Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth before stepping back. "You better get back before Robin comes in here and glares at us until we catch on fire or something."

"You comin' over after I get off?"

"You just got off," Eddie joked. "But yes. As long as I can actually help you in the shower."

"Help me? Or distract me?"

"It can be both!" Eddie opened the door and held it for Steve to go through. "I'll take care of you."

Steve smiled to himself as he walked away. "I'm sure you will."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is staring at his lips when he talks #suggestive language #mutual pining #getting together #first kiss #robin buckley #platonic stobin

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natigail · 3 months

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Dan and Phil share so many hours with each other and yet getting a glimpse of how they communicate when they are apart or just too tired to speak out loud feels like something so special. The fact that it's a series with multiple episodes now, and they openly acknowledge it as tradition is so lovely!

You can hear them in their texts - even as incomprehensible as some of them are - and the vibe of how they exist with each other in that space. On top of that, when they're filming these videos, they share the behind the scenes stories.

What do you mean Dan only talks to Phil on the phone when he's in a taxi and Phil makes up stories rather than having a normal conversation? What do you mean Phil took a photo of sleepy Dan wearing his glasses and then sent it to him randomly? What do you mean Love Game by Lady Gaga is one of their most listened to songs because they play it on a game? What do you mean Phil called his mum for Dan when he got burns in the shower while in Germany? What do you mean Dan sends selfies while across the world? What do you mean Dan's phone number is the one connected to Phil's Deliveroo? What do you mean they use emojis and try to make up the best sounding fake words? What do you mean Dan threatens to kill Phil for forgetting to shut a drawer?

And even with everything listed here, there's still stuff I'm forgetting. There's so much packed into almost every quip, a little window into how they are when they are at ease. At home and with their home person. The easy banter and playful teasing just compliment the vibes while they sit and laugh so loudly at stuff they've already seen before. Because seeing it again together and reminiscing will never not be funny.

I've watched their faces a lot this year with the return of the gaming channel and yet I barely could keep my eyes off them in this video. Several times I would rewind the video to carefully watch an expression again, or simply because I had completely forgotten to look at the text while staring at them.

So much life and love in the way their eyes creases, their smiles flash without abandon and they lean closer and closer to each other. Always in orbit, always tethered. This video was truly a gift and I am so incredibly happy that we got another one, and I hope it does become a tradition that continues for a while longer. Thank you, Dan and Phil!

#What Dan and Phil Text Each Other 4 #dan and phil #phandom #AmazingPhil #nina natters #my tumblr dabbles

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tigertales9 · 9 months

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Déjà vu

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: Joe's calf injury at the start of training camp gives you a sense of déjà vu

Time/Place: July 27, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio

A/N: Took me a minute to write something about the injury b/c I needed to know he was okay first. Let's continue to manifest good vibes for him, y'all 🙌

Here's the follow-up - Déjà vu II

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You step off the treadmill in your home gym as it slows to a stop, grabbing your water bottle and guzzling half of it before dropping onto the floor to do some stretching; you're most of the way through your cool-down routine when your phone rings. You hop up and grab it, your brow furrowing when you see who's calling.

"Hey Sam," you greet. "What's up?"

"Hey Y/n," he mumbles. "Listen, I have something to tell you, but I don't want you to panic."

"What's going on?" you sputter. "Is it Joe?"

"Yeah, he tweaked his calf in practice today. I guess you haven't seen the video yet?"

You feel like you've been punched in the gut as you quickly sit on the weight bench. "I haven't seen the video," you whisper. "How bad is it?"

"We don't know yet. He's in the training room right now with the trainers and team docs. They'll have to do some imaging to determine the severity, but it seems like it's not crazy bad."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, he'll prob miss camp, but there's a chance he'll be ready for the season."

You feel silent tears start rolling down your cheeks; you take a deep breath before responding. "Why does this keep happening to him?"

"I don't know," Sam sighs. "He sure as hell doesn't deserve it, but he's strong as hell. He'll get through this like he always does."

"Thanks for calling me," you sniff, trying to fight back the tears before they can take over.

"You're welcome. Joe asked me to call so you wouldn't see the damn video and panic. He'll call you as soon as he gets a chance."

"I appreciate it, Sam."

You set your phone down and stare at your feet for a second, watching your tears drop onto the floor before angrily swiping them away. You take several deep breaths to get your emotions under control before grabbing your phone and doing a search for 'Joe Burrow injury'. You feel a wave of nausea as you watch him pull up and hop several steps before hitting the ground in a somewhat controlled collapse; you rewind and watch it several times trying to figure out what happened, your heart sinking every time as he plops onto the cart to be whisked away.

You eventually stand up and head for the stairs, wanting to hurry up and shower before Joe calls. You turn your face up into the stream of warm water cascading from the shower head, your hot tears joining the moisture streaming down your face. "Fucking déjà vu," you mumble, quickly scrubbing yourself clean before drying off and pulling on a pair of panties and one of Joe's t-shirts that hits you mid-thigh.

Once back downstairs you're a ball of nervous energy, not knowing what you should do; you consider your options for a minute before pouring a glass of rosé and taking a couple of hearty gulps as you grab your phone. You call Joe's mom to let her know the news, both of you getting emotional before pulling it together. You promise to keep her updated before ending the call.

You take a couple more sips of the cold wine as you look around the kitchen. "I gotta do something. I need a distraction," you mutter, opening the pantry to check ingredients. "No pumpkin puree," you sigh, crossing pumpkin pie off the list of options for distraction baking. You continue to rummage until you settle on brownies. "They can't be plain brownies, though," you mumble under your breath, frantically digging in every corner of your pantry for something to add to make them special. "I don't have shit!" you wail, dropping to your knees in the kitchen floor and crying for several minutes until inspiration hits.

You immediately peel yourself off the floor and run to the candy jar, your bloodshot eyes lighting up at the sight of several Reese's peanut butter cups. "Fuck yes!" you shriek, catching sight of your reflection in the kitchen window. "Simmer down," you whisper to yourself, a little appalled at how unhinged you look. "You're making brownies not negotiating world peace."

You stay just a little on edge as you whip up a batch of brownies, chopping the peanut butter cups and folding them into the decadent batter, popping them in the oven just as your phone rings. You snatch it up, your pulse pounding when you see it's Joe calling.

"Are you okay?" you blurt, your voice giving away every single fear coursing through you.

"I'm fine, baby," he soothes. "Sorry I couldn't call you sooner."

"How bad is it?"

"They're not sure. It's maybe a grade 1 or 2 strain. They'll need to do more imaging to know. I'm gonna be fine, though." The silence stretches out for a few seconds before he speaks up again. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you lie. "What sounds good for dinner?"

"I've had a couple protein bars so maybe just a sandwich? Do we have some of that pasta salad left?"

"Yeah. How about a club sandwich and pasta salad?" you ask, not mentioning the brownies.

"Sounds great, I'll be home by 8:00."

"Love you," you whisper, biting your lip hard to keep from crying.

"Love you, too."

You send a text to Joe's mom to give her a quick update before checking on the brownies, the delicious smell that hits you as you crack the oven open putting the tiniest smile on your face. You drum your fingers against the quartz countertop as you countdown the minutes until the brownies are done. "Gotta do something else," you mutter, eventually deciding to make a salted caramel sauce to drizzle over the brownies.

Twenty-five minutes later you hear the garage door open; you throw your caramel-coated whisk down on the spoon rest and hurry to greet Joe, tears welling in your eyes when you see him limping a bit. "It's bad, isn't it?" you whisper, wrapping him in a tight hug as tears start streaming down your cheeks. "It's not that bad," he promises, wrapping his arms around you and leaning down to drop a kiss on your head. He smiles as you look up at him. "It's déjà vu though, right?" he continues, his gorgeous smile breaking your heart a little. "Yeah," you mutter. "It could've been way worse," he states. "I dodged a bullet."

One thing about Joe is that he refuses to feel sorry for himself; no matter how many times he suffers a setback, his positive attitude and mental toughness stay fully intact. It's one of the "intangibles" that the talking heads constantly refer to when singing his praises.

You think back to his devastating knee injury his rookie season in the NFL; you'd been absolutely distraught when it happened, locking yourself in the bathroom and crying in the shower so you wouldn't burden him with your sadness. After a few days of this he finally sat you down and opened up to you. You close your eyes as you remember the conversation …

"I know we haven't really talked about the injury," Joe said, "everything's been kinda crazy since it happened." You nodded your head and looked at your feet as he continued. "Listen, I'm super lucky this is just a season-ending injury and not career-ending. Football is a brutal sport; guys go down all the time with horrible injuries."

"But why did it have to be you?"

"Why not me?" he asked, wiping the tears off your cheeks. "I'm not special."

"You're special to me," you sniffed, your bottom lip trembling as you tried not to cry harder. He pressed a quick kiss on your lips before responding. "I know I'm special to you, baby, but the game doesn't play favorites. It's a setback for real," he continued, giving you a reassuring smile, "but I'm gonna come back better than ever, okay? I promise."

And he did come back better than ever, you think with a smile. He rehabbed the knee like a man possessed to be ready for week one, then went on to win Comeback Player of the Year after taking his team all the way to the Super Bowl wearing a gigantic knee brace. To say you were proud of him would be the understatement of the century.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, pulling you back to the present.

"Déjà vu … like you said" you answer. "The damn knee, the damn appendix and now this."

"At least the injuries are getting less serious," he grins. "Maybe next year it'll be a hangnail." You smile against his lips as he kisses you. "Do I smell brownies," he asks, lifting his head to sniff the air. "Yes," you giggle, following him as he gingerly walks into the kitchen, his eyes going wide when he sees the pan of brownies. "Should I just get a spoon and dig in?" he asks, hovering his face about an inch above the gooey confections while inhaling their aroma. "No, sir," you scold. "You need to have your dinner before dessert."

He turns around and hits you with a pouty look so powerful it could probably bring about world peace. "Just one before dinner?" he pleads, batting his long lashes when you roll your eyes. "Has anyone ever said no to this face?" you ask, pinching a cheek while he grins. "No, ma'am," he answers. "And I'm not about to start now," you admit, quickly cutting him a brownie and drizzling caramel sauce over it. He takes a bite, his eyes rolling back in his head as he chews. "Delicious! What's in it?" he asks after swallowing, taking an even bigger bite as you answer. "Peanut butter cups."

"Oh my God," he mutters, taking another bite. "This is my new fav."

"Glad you like it. Now, what do we need to do about that calf?"

"Oh yeah, we need to ice it -- 20 minutes on and off for the first 48 hours -- plus compression, elevation and over-the-counter pain meds as needed."

"Okay, let's go," you state, shooing him toward the living room; you get him settled on the sofa and pull the ottoman over, placing a pillow on top before helping him situate his leg on it. "Be right back with an ice pack," you say before heading for the kitchen. You come back a few minutes later and place the ice pack under his sore calf -- which is still sporting the black compression sleeve -- watching his face for signs of discomfort. "You want some ibuprofen?" you ask. "Nah. It doesn't hurt that bad."

"Good. I'm gonna go get your dinner ready." You take a couple steps toward the kitchen before spinning back around. "Have you called your mom?"

"I texted her."

"You need to call her, Joe. She won't relax until she hears your voice."

He cuts his eyes at you as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. "No wonder she likes you more than me," he grumbles, laughing when you flip him off.

~ ~ ~ a few days later ~ ~ ~

You squirt a hearty dab of toothpaste onto your brush and go to town on your teeth, trying to scour away all of the spicy, garlicky goodness from your cajun fettuccine dinner; you cut a glance over at Joe as you watch him do the same, both of you spitting, rinsing and gargling with mouthwash at the same time. "If synchronized gargling was an Olympic sport," he chuckles. "We'd def win gold." You smile at him as you reach for your moisturizer, your eyebrows heading for your hairline when he gives you a naughty wink before exiting the bathroom. You quickly finish your skincare regimen, cutting the bathroom light off before walking into the bedroom.

Joe is sprawled on the bed butt naked, the look on his face speaking volumes as you approach. "I know you wanted to be super careful with my leg, but it's feeling much better now. It's been forever since we had sex," he pouts.

"It's been a few days, horndog," you chuckle, your gaze raking over his beautiful body as he continues to plead his case.

"I lifted weights with the guys earlier today and it was just fine."

"But that was upper body," you state. "Sex is gonna be more lower body. We shouldn't risk it."

"Just get on top and do all the work," he orders, giving you a filthy grin.

"Boy, please," you chuckle. "Anytime I'm on top it feels like I'm riding a bucking bronco at the rodeo. No way you can be still."

"Mmmm, that reminds me. You still have that cowboy hat?"

"Yeah."

"Remember when I positioned that armchair in front of the full-length mirror?" he nods at one of the plush armchairs in the sitting area of your master bedroom.

"Mmm-hmm," you mutter, biting your lip as the erotic memory floods your senses : you -- wearing only a black cowboy hat and a sultry smile -- sitting reverse cowgirl on Joe's lap facing the mirror, your legs spread wide to accommodate his thick thighs. He made you cum twice playing with your nipples and clit, dipping his long fingers inside your aching core just enough to make you beg for more before pulling back and teasing you, his usually pale eyes dark with lust as he watched you in the mirror.

A jolt of heat sizzles through you when you remember how turned on you were at the sight of his big hands pleasuring you, at the feel of his lips and tongue on your sensitive neck. And that was just the appetizer. The main course was him slowly impaling you on his thick cock, his husky voice in your ear sending shockwaves of pleasure down your spine as you started to ride him -- slowly at first then gaining speed -- your and his eyes both glued to the sight of your bouncing breasts and the even more erotic sight of his glistening cock disappearing inside you. His hands on your waist as your third climax hit helped keep the rhythm steady as you came apart, throwing your head back and moaning his name as he continued to thrust into you, his own climax hitting a few heartbeats later. When you finally managed to catch your breath, you lifted your head and locked eyes with him in the mirror, giving a bemused chuckle at the fact that he somehow ended up wearing the cowboy hat plus a very cocky grin.

Joe loudly clearing his throat pulls you back from memory lane; you focus your gaze on him, noting he's wearing the same cocky grin from your fevered imaginings sans cowboy hat.

"You were thinking about it, weren't you?" he asks, his voice loaded with that husky tone that always makes your toes curl.

"Yeah," you admit, flicking a glance down at his erection. "Looks like I wasn't the only one." -- If there's anything in the universe hotter than this man butt naked and fully erect, you haven't seen it. You give him a slow once-over, a twinge of unease hitting you as you look at the therapeutic compression sleeve on his calf.

"Don't overthink it," Joe orders, easily reading you.

You shift your gaze from Joe's calf to his face. "What if I hurt you?"

"You're not gonna hurt me, baby," he soothes. "Besides," he continues, gesturing at his erection. "We can't turn back now. One of us is gonna have to handle this, and I'm really hoping it's you."

You give a nod before stripping your t-shirt off and crawling between his legs, being super careful to avoid his hurt calf as you get settled. You flatten your tongue against his shaft and work your way up, tracing a prominent vein all the way to the tip before swirling your tongue over his plum-shaped head, sucking lightly as he fists his hands in your hair and … aggressively thrusts his hips up. "Don't move!" you order, throwing a glance over your shoulder at his hurt leg before getting back to work. This same scenario plays out a few more times before you sit back on your heels, spit and precum coating your chin and a pissed-off look on your face.

"I'm moving my hips not my leg," he argues. "If you were watching it happen you'd realize that." You give him a skeptical look as he makes a hand gesture. "Flip around," he urges. "Then you can look directly at my leg."

"Flip around?"

"Sixty-nine," he states.

You narrow your eyes at him. "You just want me to sit on your face."

"Well duh," he chuckles, "but you'll be able to look directly at my calf instead of whiplashing your head around when I make the tiniest movements."

You chew on your lip for a minute before sliding your panties off, your already throbbing core approaching nuclear meltdown as Joe licks his lips in anticipation; you sling a leg over his waist intending to gently work your way back, a surprised squeal escaping your lips when he grabs your hips and tugs you toward his face, his tongue immediately buried in your slit as you try to regain your balance. "Careful," you breathe, giving one last look at his injured calf before taking him deep, your whimpers and moans tickling his cock in a way that has him cumming well before you, his big hands holding you in place as he continues to pleasure you until you follow him over the edge.

You roll off of Joe (away from the bad leg) and stare at the ceiling, gasping for breath for several minutes before speaking up. "Is your leg okay?"

"It's fine, babe," he pants, reaching a hand out to pat your leg.

You eventually ease off the bed and head to the bathroom, cleaning yourself up before bringing a damp cloth out to clean Joe up, snuggling against him when you're done.

Several minutes pass with only the sound of the ceiling fan before Joe speaks up. "Sooo, as soon as my calf is fully healed, I think we need to do the whole armchair, mirror, cowboy hat thing again."

"I agree," you whisper, pressing a kiss on his chest.

"At least that gives me something to look forward to," he muses.

You lift your head up and lock eyes with him. "Getting back on the football field is something to look forward to, right?"

"Sure," he admits. "But it's def not as exciting as watching you ride me reverse cowgirl in a mirror."

"Yee-haw," you chuckle, pressing another kiss on his chest before snuggling against him, smiling to yourself as he pulls you close.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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weebsinstash · 3 months

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Ok so I kept procrastinating but I finally finished Masquerade earlier today and just. Oh my fucking god, kicking my feet, twirling my hair around a finger, giggling ,rewinding, smiling like a GOON, I have THOUGHTS

--Val's red coat is his WINGS and they're glorious. And not to mention he wears that like, slutty open chested black v neck underneath where he's lowkey showing off his nipples too, the slut. The gold heart belt buckle and the matching gold accented accessories too. Ugh. You can't say he doesn't dress up, and I really liked getting to see the full reveal of his body so to speak, the way his violet arms become black fingers, also is he, is he wearing like gold manicured claw cap things sometimes, why is he such a diva, he's so extra

--the Addict music video WASN'T just being artistic, Valentino's smoke CAN become physical actual chains and bondage and oh my gooddddddd I'm using this knowledge for EVIL purposes.

Boom! Sudden third eye opening moment, but remember that post I made about "Val who starts dragging you around on a leash because he's too much taller than you to keep leading you by the hand" ? His lower set of arms could totally hold onto you BUT I can totally see him using these chains all the time now, to drag you around and just restrain you and shit. Ugh. Just. Him having you completely immobilized and helpless and shaking like a chihuahua as he can run his fingers along you and whatever else he wants, listening to you gadp and squirm

-- ok I know the whole point of the poison music video was showing the horrible shit Angel is made to do and how he's dehumanized but like.... obviously, from.. a fetish perspective... you know what I think 😩❤️

Like you can't just show me a shot of Valentino having Angel in his arms and he's got all four arms wrapped around him in like almost an embrace, kissing, KISSING while they fuck. maybe I'm so shy but that's so... intimate, like, ok fuck my ass i guess, that's like sex, whatever, but kissing me on the MOUTH, let alone with tongue? you might as well be looking into my soul or something dofnofjfjg, not to mention Val biting his neck while they do it like you CAN'T me all of that and expect me to be normal!!!

--platonic yandere Husker with an alcoholic Reader though. He forces you into these weird little therapy sessions when yeah he still serves you drinks but he cuts you off when you're fucking plastered, like he enables you until you're having TOO much, amd by that point you're yammering with your loose lips and answering ALL His questions. Siiiiigh I can see him seeing how you're down on your luck and burying your worries and sorrows at the bottom of a bottle , getting so drunk you can barely sit up straight, and he starts getting protective of you, secretly following you to bars when you won't just get drunk at the hotel, making sure your drink doesn't get spiked, having to kick some ass to protect you and drag you home more than once

--i was such a fool. If Valentino is such a, quite frankly, perverted fucking idiot that he LICKS CHARLIE, fucking CHARLIE MORNINGSTAR upon first meeting her, he ABSOLUTELY does creepy shit to his darling day ONE. He CLEARLY has ZERO impulse control: he drinks, he smokes, he forces himself onto other people, he throws things when he loses his temper. He uses his power to be a bully and seeking unrestrained self gratification

--this is completely unrelated to everything else here but Zestial is hot in that like, antiquated charming eldritch evil kind of way. He seems like the sort of creature you could encounter deep within an enchanted woods, you're freshly dead and wind up in a bad part of Pentagram City and this TOWERING gentleman says some shit like "turn back child, there is no safety for you here". He's. He's sexy in that Neflix Castlevania Dracula way where there's an appeal in his age and his wisdom and his composure and just his full-on aesthetic and such. Like bro it's so easy to miss it but he's the oldest of the Overlords and he bowed in respect to Carmilla for what she did. He's chivalrous and loyal and just 👀 got my eye on him...

--bro watching Val manipulate Angel to get Charlie to leave fucking HURT and I've thought about Reader being in that exact scenario SO many times! Valentino is manipulating Angel to control you, and he's manipulating YOU to control Angel. Sure, he'll have Angel make you cry and chase you off so you don't get emotional and interfere with a shoot, or so that you don't sabotage whatever manipulated state he has Angel under at the time, but when you're off on your own drinking and crying and sobbing and feeling oh so horrible and pitiful, then Val is sibling up to you, cooing about, oh how MEAN Angel was to you, he didn't have to be so harsh to someone so sweet--

Could you imagine the fucking. Tiered angst and manipulation of Angel hurting Reader because Val pressured him to, and then Reader going off and getting drunk and being self destructive, and then at your emotional weakest Val is popping in to strike some kind of deal with you or fuck you or whatever, and then Angel blames himself, and here's Valentino, "that wouldn't have happened if you just did what you were told :3c" and Angel is even further under his control because now he's terrified he might "fuck up" and get you really hurt

--siiiiiiiigh imagine like drinking with Angel and you've been down there for like two months and you're idly chit chatting and, something something, you offhandedly mention something like "god fuck Val had me so fucking wasted I could barely sign my employee contract" CUE ANGEL IMMEDIATELY DROPPING WHATEVERS IN HIS HAND AND SHAKING YOU, "what do you MEAN you signed something??? You're just waiting tables, what did you SIGN???" And it turns out Val whipped out like ONE OF THE B I G "types" of contracts for you. God I really want some elaboration on how those contracts work and how Val or any Overlord strikes deals and even gains powers because it's very clear not everyone had the same level of abilities, and also lowkey the power scaling in Hazbin is kinda busted like not to be a dweeb but you've got people running around basically having Quirks

--ALSO THIS IS SO DUMB BUT I HAVE A COMPLAINT SIR. Valentino straight up says "no one watches porn for the dialogue" EXTREMELY INCORRECT BUZZER NOISE. When you've watched enough porn or at the very least you're hunting for a specific fetish, dialogue can be Duper important. You can see 20 different actors do the same scene BUT have a specific pair who, maybe used a specific line that stood out to you and made it unique and made it worth watching. You know for a long while there I was writing smut and feeling like I was doing the same descriptions over and over again and it kind of burnt me out and turned me off and that's when I tried to shift towards more emotional and environmental and thematic sorts of stuff

Listen all I'm saying is I have been ENAMORED like straight up with the idea of Reader becoming the fourth V because you become close to all the Vs and you have your own talents and they all like you and shit. You're able to pitch product ideas to Vox, even help him if you're a programmer or a coder or something, Valentino.... maybe you have magic hammer space pockets and can run him errands or you cook drugs or you're like a sexy bodyguard for him or, he just likes getting drunk and doing drugs with you, and Velvette is that #Bitch who you gossip with who likes to design new shit for you and bounce ideas off of you from time to time. Like the gradual slide of "oh we're all hanging out and they think I'm actually kind of cool," to "oh they keep inviting me to hang out. I feel special. I'm one of the cool kids. Maybe I even have fun powers and they encourage me to be mean and evil and its fun" to then "oh you're straight up shoving new clothes in my face and you keep using this one specific V nickname for me instead of my real name and I stg I don't have personal space anymore and I'm always being crowded by at least one of you literally 24/7"

God just. God. Just. GOD I AM SO WELL FED. I saw what Viv was selling and I got in line and I've finally gotten my food and it is FILLING, my craving for controlling obsessive possessive douchebags is sooooo sated right now 😩❤️

#yandere stuff #sinprompts #yandere hellaverse

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tangledinink · 6 months

Text

Oh my goodness, guess what? Chapter 29 of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is now up! And on a Monday, too. Gosh, just like old times. Yet another family secret is revealed from somewhere no one expected it. Read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

“No, no, keep watching, seriously! They’re about to do something sooo cool!”

“Leo, you say that about every stupid street magic video you make us watch,” Donnie complained, rolling his eyes. “And it’s always something stupid.”

“It’s not stupid! It’s super cool!” Leo protested, huffing loudly and glaring at his brother in offense. “I pretend to think that your dumb science stuff is cool!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Well, I could, if you didn’t say magic was stupid--”

“We can literally do actual magic!” Donnie cried, throwing his hands up. “And you’re still into this fake bullshit?”

“Yes,” Leo confirmed easily, rewinding the video slightly. “And I’m restarting so that you guys can watch properly. So there.”

Donnie groaned.

“Both of you quit fightin’,” Raph said, shifting slightly so he could look over Leo’s shoulder, seeming only mildly interested at best-- but still interested! Suck it, Donnie. Raph knew something badass when he saw it. Leo grinned, shifting slightly so he could let his brother see better.

“This is a ridiculous waste of time,” Donnie muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re gonna miss the subway home.”

“We’ll get the next one,” Leo assured, waving him off. “It’s fine, Dee. There’s another train, like, every five minutes.”

“What New York City do you live in?” Raph muttered, glancing down at him and raising a brow.

“More or less!” Leo insisted. “I just wanna finish the video, and then we’ll go! We can’t go without Mikey, anyway.”

“What do you mean without--?” Raph’s head bobbed to the left. It bobbed to the right. He did a full 360 spin. “Wha-- Where the hell did he go!? He was here a minute ago!”

“He forgot his gym bag back in the locker room,” Leo said, waving a hand dismissively. “So he ran back to get it.”

“When!?”

“When you and Donnie were arguing about the best Jupiter Jim sequel, like, five minutes ago,” Leo explained breezily, leaning into his brother’s chest as he spoke, passing his weight over for Raph to hold up for the moment. Maybe physically pinning him in place would keep his head from vibrating off his shoulders. It usually helped. “Chill. He’ll be back in a second and then we’ll get out of here. Watch the video.”

“Leo!” Raph protested. “We’re supposed to stay together! Remember!?”

“He’s not even leaving the building, Raph. There’s still a couple kids around! And he’s literally down the hall,” Leo scoffed, rolling his eyes. “He’s not five., I’m pretty sure he can handle it without us escorting him.”

“Leo--”

“If you want us to chaperone him down the hall to fetch his bag,” Donnie said, not looking up from his phone. “Then you will be the one informing him of such, dearest Raphala, because I have no intention of being the one to tell him that.”

“It’s like you like Dr. Delicate Touch,” Leo sighed, shaking his head. “Do you miss him when he’s away? Is that it? Is that why you’re like this?”

Raph sighed, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

“Fine,” he finally relented. “But if he’s not back in two minutes, Raph is going after him! And you two are comin’ with me!”

Leo smiled a tiny bit.

“Yeah, okay, deal,” he agreed easily, pressing play on the video again. “Now here, watch. This dude is about to for-real make a whole-ass building disappear!!!”

---

Agent 64’s eyes flew open.

Danger.

There was danger.

He could taste it on the back of his sandpaper tongue. Every hair on his body jumped up on end as he flew to his feet, wriggling from April’s relaxed grip, his back arching and his claws extended.

“Ow! Mayhem, chill! Watch the claws!” April hissed, startled as he suddenly woke from his nap, previously curled up and dozing in her lap, wincing at the prickle in her thigh. “What’s your deal--?”

He would maybe regret hurting her if it weren’t for his heart banging wildly in his ears. He could feel it. There was danger. Something bad was going to happen. Someone was in trouble. His tail puffed up like a bottlebrush, he whipped around wildly to face the human-- both his favorite and his charge-- biting out a frantic, chittering warning. And spirits, he had never wished so desperately up until now that humans were able to understand the nuances of his language. Because while her brows crinkled with concern, a thick fog of confusion colored her eyes glassy all the same.

“Mayhem? What’s wrong, little guy?” She pressed, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. “Are you hurt?”

Agent 64’s tail whipped with frustration, a short, stuttering growl escaping him.

There was danger. There was danger. He was sure of it-- and he didn’t have time for this.

---

The cold, dusty tile of the school hallway did a lousy job breaking April’s fall. A short yelp of shock wrenched itself from her throat as she tumbled over herself, the crackle of mystic energy still prickling at the back of her neck, as she found herself quite suddenly sprawled about the floor as opposed to curled on couch in the comfort of her living room.

“OW! Mayhem! What the hell?!” She hissed, narrowing her eyes to scowl at the yellow creature. His only response was a sharp, strangled squeak, tearing himself from her arms and to the floor.

“April?”

April resisted a groan, sitting up just enough so that she turn her head to glance over at Leo and her other two brothers, who were all giving her a rather startled look.

“Hey, guys,” she said, wincing a bit as she got to her feet, brushing herself off.

“Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“Beat’s me!” She huffed, placing a hand on her hips. “Mayhem just started freaking out all of a sudden! I dunno what’s going on!”

“Do you think something’s wrong?” Raph asked, his brows furrowed with worry as he bent down to look at the little creature, still puffed up and pacing back and forth, chittering frantically at the group. “What’s goin’ on lil’ man?”

“He can’t be acting like this over nothing! There’s gotta be--” April broke off, his lips curving into a frown. Leo and his two brothers? That wasn’t right. “... Hey. Where’s Mikey? Shouldn’t he be with you guys?”

---

They didn’t understand what he was trying to say. The big one reached for him, but Agent 64 dodged out from under his hand, ducking away and breaking into a sprint. He just had to hope they’d be wise enough to follow him-- the only reason he didn’t simply teleport himself away. He couldn’t waste any more precious seconds trying to secure their allyship for the coming fight.

He had to be there. He had to be there now. The air reeked of it.

Danger danger danger danger.

---

His hair beads clicking along to the rhythm, Mikey bobbed his head with the beat banging about in his head, humming softly to himself and tapping his fingers against the side of his thigh. Ugh, this had to be one of Donnie’s EDM songs, didn’t it? He couldn’t remember any of the lyrics or anything-- just the thick, heavy beat. It colored his steps as he wandered down the dimly lit hallway, shouldering open the locker room door and sighing softly to himself. Gosh, he had had this song stuck in his head all day long, but he still couldn’t figure out the name of it or where it was from… It was starting to drive him just a tiny bit insane. Maybe he could get Leo to help him figure it out on the way home-- he was really good at this game.

It was probably one of Donnie’s songs. He had probably picked it up from Donnie. He was sure Donnie would know the answer if he asked-- Donnie always knew the answer to pretty much everything.

But if he asked Donnie, it wouldn’t be a game. Nah. It’d be way more fun to ask Leo. As soon as I get back, he thought to himself, swinging open his locker door.

As predicted, his gym bag was still here, hung up on its hook all neat as if it was meant to be there and hadn’t been left behind. Thank god. If it wasn’t here, then it’d for real be lost and it’d be a whole thing. That’s how you know the Adderall is wearing off, he thought dimly to himself.

His backpack retrieved, he slung the bag over his shoulder, kicking the locker shut and turning to start the trek back to his brothers. His legs weren’t especially long, but he still made every effort to stretch them out with each step, picking up a jaunty pace so as not to keep the rest of them waiting.

The song still played in his head, and Mikey mumbled along to the wordless melody under his breath, fidgeting with the straps of his bag. The longer he thought about it, the more sure he was that it was something from one of Dee’s playlists. It had to be, right?... This was exactly the type of thing he always listened to… Sharp and stormy and loud. Thudding and all-encompassing. The rhythm wasn’t quite as fast as you might expect from the genre-- it sort of drew itself out.

Made you wait for it.

And then eventually, the pace started to pick up.

Each synthesized thump came quicker.

And louder.

Closer together.

Building up, bigger and bigger.

Tickling the back of your neck.

Breathing down your spine.

Thundering onward.

The anticipation would almost swallow you whole.

Until finally the beat dropped.

---

A tiny smile turned the corners of Draxum’s lips crooked.

It was almost amusing-- how careless they were. He wondered how safe they must think themselves to traipse the city openly like this. As if he wouldn’t be perfectly capable of hunting them down. As if he wasn’t patient enough to wait until one of them was alone.

All he would need was a simple capture charm.

From up above in the rafters, he watched the smallest of his experiments. He was still cloaked in their silly human form. Relaxed. Oblivious.

Perfectly easy prey.

After this, he could simply pick the rest of them off.

The second his target walked within range of him, he lashed an arm forward. Magenta light leapt outward from his palm and pounced.

---

He didn’t see the figure in the rafters.

He didn’t hear the pound of footsteps in the distance.

He didn’t even see the flash of light.

But he felt the whisper of magick.

---

Raph didn’t know why Mayhem was freaking out, but he didn’t have to. Because all of a sudden, every single one of his big brother senses and alarms were flipping out. And he felt this awful, gnawing weight of dread in his stomach.

He didn’t bother to wait and check with the rest of his family, to see if they felt the same thing or if they intended to follow. Once Mayhem took off running and that dread took hold-- he did, too.

He could hear other footsteps behind him. Usually, Leo and Donnie were both capable of moving significantly faster than him. But not right now. Raph wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he had a head start or just that he knew Mikey was in trouble. But his throat was tight with the very beginnings of panic. All his muscles were lit up with searing red heat. He was moving as fast as he possibly could. Maybe faster than that, even. And no one was overtaking him.

He needed to know where Mikey was right now.

Despite the dead-sprint, it felt like it took ages for him to reach the locker room. He didn’t even stop to open the door so much as he slammed into it, shifting his body just enough to let his shoulder take the impact, the barrier crashing out of the way, crumpling beneath him, just the way he knew it would--

“Mikey!”

His eyes caught sight of Baron Draxum’s crouched form right away-- curled up in the rafters like a fucking jaguar in the canopy. This dark, sickly pink coil of mystic energy reaching from his extended hand and reaching out towards his little brother’s back like a bullet.

Raph’s heart stopped in his chest.

For just a second, the rest of the world froze, too.

The rest of the world… except for Mikey.

His back was still to Draxum.

But his heels were already in a pivot.

His head hadn’t even turned fully yet. But already, his hand flew up behind him, palm stretched out wide and elbows locked. The very beginnings of a fiery golden light sparked to life around him like a halo. His entire body jerked hard and braced--

And he caught Draxum’s magic in his palm.

Without even looking, he stopped the spell dead in its tracks with one raised hand, curling his fingers around it with this sharp, awful hissing sound, sizzling and popping like a forest fire. Like something burning.

He tightened his grip and the magick shattered like glass beneath his fingers.

And then Michelangelo turned around to face Draxum fully, his head tilted back so that he could meet his eyes.

---

“Mikey! Come look!”

Mikey’s head bobbed at his big brother’s frantic cry, immediately heading over in his direction.

“What is it?”

“A baby bird!” Raph exclaimed, kneeling down, and sure enough, when Mikey leaned over he saw the little creature-- tucked up behind a dumper in their alley, their feathers all poofed up and fluffy.

“Whoa!” Mikey gasped, crouching down as well so he could get a better look. The little bird seemed to shiver, but didn’t try to get away-- just stared at them with its big black eyes. It was kind of scraggly and funny looking, with this big round yellow beak and fuzzy feathers. “He looks so funny…”

“We gotta help him!” Raph whimpered, his bottom lip trembling. “He’s all by himself! He musta fallen or gotten lost or somethin’!”

Mikey paused, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“You think?...”

“Well, a cat might get ‘im or somethin’!” Raph cried. “I’ll go get a shoebox, and we can bring him inside! You watch him, okay?”

And Mikey considered this for a moment, glancing from his big brother to the baby bird, his nose wrinkled up slightly.

… If he fell out of his nest, then why didn’t he feel afraid?

Mikey couldn’t quite place it, but it just… didn’t seem like the bird was that upset or scared. If Mikey fell out of his nest and couldn’t fly anywhere and was lost and all alone, he was pretty sure he’d get scared and upset, at least, eventually. But this little guy didn’t feel that way at all. Mikey could just tell.

Maybe a little… frustrated. But determined. Excited, almost.

Mikey could feel it.

“No,” he finally said. “I think he’s okay.”

Raph frowned a bit, looking down at his brother incredulously. “But he’s just a baby!”

“Yeah, but he’s not scared!” Mikey argued, pointing.

Raph tilted his head to the side.

“How do you know?” He argued.

Mikey wrinkled his nose, considering this for a second before he shrugged.

“I ‘unno!” He finally declared. “I just do! You don’t?”

“... No,” Raph said, perhaps pouting a bit. “He’s a bird.”

“Well,” Mikey argued, crossing his arms over his chest. “I think he’s okay! I don’t think we should take him inside. I don’t think he’d like it. I think maybe we’d be, like… stealing him.”

“We can’t just leave him!” Raph protested, and Mikey paused, considering this, his lips curved into a pout.

“... Can we watch him for a little bit first, and see what happens?” He suggested after some thinking. “So then we know no cats will get ‘im or anything.”

Raph sighed. “... Yeah. Okay,” he finally agreed. “But if he’s still there in thirty minutes, then we should bring him inside. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mikey agreed.

---

They were golden-- so very much so that they were nearly white, as if superheated by the sun itself. They were built from nothing, it seemed, save for light and energy itself, but playing a melody of clinks and clatters regardless, filling the air with the sound of metal-on-metal.

The chains that materialized from his baby brother’s body.

They moved almost too fast to see, curling like snakes, twisting and shifting at Mikey’s command. With a forward thrust of his arm, leg sweeping around and his hands clenched into a fist, they obeyed him instantly, echoing his movements and flashing forward-- screaming-- howling towards their target.

Draxum just barely had the time to leap out of the way, flinging himself to the side and correcting his trajectory as he fell, frantically dodging the onslaught, and Mikey chased him. The chains twisted midair to follow the yokai, forcing him to dance and dodge backwards, hardly able to even conjure the occasional counterspell or strike in between running.

Running from Mikey.

It was all happening too fast for Raph to follow properly, but he realized, distantly, that Mikey’s eyes were glowing, light pouring from them and streaking down his face in globs of color. Like he was crying. Like he has tears made of honey.

Draxum lashed out with another spell, trying to find ground, and Mikey’s chains screamed out to meet them, shattering it midair. For just a second, Draxum gaped, his eyes wide as he watched. And in that tiny moment of hesitation, Mikey pounced.

He leapt forward like a beast on prey, his palm outstretched, reaching for Draxum, to touch, to grab--

At the very last second, the yokai yanked himself back.

In an instant, a bubbling black light enveloped him like a shadow and he blinked away-- as though he had never been there in the first place. Mikey stumbled slightly, lurching in the empty space left behind, his body jerking slightly at the sudden halt.

He faltered, wavering for a second, rocking on his feet. He blinked slowly, staring at the space where his opponent had once been as his shoulders slumped. In the silence and the still, ragged pants clattered through his chest. Raph swore he could hear them echo.

He blinked, swallowed, and finally found his tongue again.

“... Mikey?”

---

Raph gasped softly as he watched the little bird they had been watching leap up with a flap and flutter of its wings.

“It’s trying to--”

And it took him a few tries. But after a few false starts, the tiny creature took to the air. And in nearly a moment, it was gone, swooping away from the alley and out of sight.

“Whoa!” Raph gasped, his eyes widening. “Did you see that? That was so cool! He could fly all along!”

Mikey glanced back at his older brother and grinned brightly. “Yeah!!!”

He could tell. He could tell that that bird had been so happy to make it into the air and start to fly.

He could tell Raph was happy, too.

---

The halo that was surrounding their baby brother faded. The tears fizzled and dried up, the glow leaking from his eyes faded away with a flicker. And for a second, Mikey stood in one spot, staring off at nothing, his face flushed and his shoulders heaving with deep, shuddering breaths.

After a second, he coughed-- once, and then twice, hunching over slightly at the force of it. And he spat something shimmering and gold out onto the floor.

And then Raphael watched in horror as his eyes rolled back into his head, his knees going out from beneath him.

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnowau fic #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #tmnt 2k18 #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt michelangelo #rise mikey #rise michelangelo #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fic #writing #rottmnt au #rottmnt human au

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wangxianficrecs · 4 months

Text

Rewind 2023 Part III

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

The year is soon coming to a close, but I've still got more recs of stories published in 2023 to share with you all! Reminder that you can also still submit asks for Follower Recs and Proud Author Spotlights for the Rewind (just make sure to mention that it's for the Rewind!).

Part I

Part II

~*~

💙 Heaven, Wait

by sunflowersfield

T, 2k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “So, if you could have a tea bag that made 100,000 cups of tea,” he asks, grinning widely, “what kind of tea would you choose?” Silently, Lan Zhan considers this. He thinks he knows what his response would be if Wei Ying asked him the same question. If he was the one on this date with Wei Ying. “I have no idea,” Wei Ying’s actual date is answering now, shaking his head. “Do you really spend your time thinking about that sort of thing?” Lan Zhan clenches his fists as he watches the light behind Wei Ying’s eyes disappear. Or: What happens when you finally find someone who wants you to be yourself.

~*~

Every Mother's Son

by Chrononautical

T, 11k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: When the former Madam Lan hears that the new Sect Leader Lan married a criminal who is kept in the same house where she once lived, she has only one choice. She has to return to Cloud Recesses to rescue Wei Wuxian!

~*~

Duo With You

by Nyatci (@nyatci)

T, WIP, 48k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Wei Ying, a college freshman doing his best to keep his life in order after being kicked out of his house, finds solace playing a new video game. He's a total 'noob' who one night gets paired up with a much more skilled (read: arrogant) player named 'HanguangJun'. After the match, HanguangJun is less than impressed with Wei Ying's skills and lets him know so, leaving Wei Ying with two choices: Follow HanguangJun's suggestion to 'uninstall the game' or...'git gud' ;)

~*~

The View Down Here

by Ferrous (@poorly-drawn-mdzs)

G, 1k, Wei Wuxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: You took a rest on the ground when the sun was high. Someone called your name, and you did not move. The sun dipped below the mountains and you remained. Your breath moves the hazy air above you in spirals as you continue to live despite your persistent stillness. - - - The Yiling Laozu takes a rest. Something observes.

~*~

catatonia: on the subject of mothers

by AvoOwO

M, 20k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Nóngwù is a dense, foggy town that drifts close to the east. It is a large, bustling merchant-town that consistently sees an added number of newcomers every new census. People are disappearing. Lan Wangji does not oftentimes believe in the worst outcome; often, the demon everyone is so fearful of is a simple imp, a simple ghost that may be dispelled. Memories and small things; the idea of mothers and something prodding at the very topic of it.

~*~

Hidden in the Clouds

by Karmiya (@fannish-karmiya)

E, WIP, 17k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: While on a night hunt in Moling, a seventeen year old Lan Wangji meets a promising cultivator in a place he never could have expected. Wei Ying, for his part, only ever expected to have a pleasant few nights and pick up a few new talismans from this handsome young cultivator; but somehow, after a whirlwind affair, Lan Wangji proposes that he join his sect as an outer disciple and finally receive the formal training that was denied to him all his life. As foolish and reckless as it is, Wei Ying can't resist. The clouds hide many secrets, but how long can this secret be hidden?

~*~

💙 Reconnaissance

by TomatenMark (@tomatenmark5)

M, 2k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: The Sunshot Campaign is over, but only just. Determined to finally get through to him, Lan Wangji seeks out Wei Wuxian who is selfmedicating in a winehouse. Turns out, once Lan Wangji has him in his grip, Wei Wuxian has peculiar trouble freeing himself. Or alternatively, the fic that was born from my fascination with how effortlessly Lan Wangji could hold coreless Wei Wuxian down during the stolen Poenix Mountain kiss and what that might mean in a different setting.

~*~

My Pet Rabbit Found His Husband at the Library, Or: How One Mischievous Rabbit Got Lan Zhan a Boyfriend

by katje

G, 1k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Zhan had thought today would be like any other day working at the library. He had been working at this branch for nearly three years as the Youth Services Librarian, and he had his routine down to an art. From planning programs to culling books and replacing them with books more children would enjoy to holding animal therapy sessions with his Flemish Giant rabbit Tofu, he was as set in his routine as one could be working with the general public. Little did he know, however, his peace would soon be disrupted by none other than Tofu himself, who was usually a model employee. OR Lan Zhan is just trying to do his job, but his pet rabbit has other ideas - namely, finding himself and his baba a husband.

~*~

The Second Hand Unwinds

by trulywicked (@trulywicked)

E, WIP, 25k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Sent back in time without his husband after a night hunt gone wrong, Lan Wangji is determined to ensure that Wei Wuxian’s safety and in the process hopefully mitigate, if not prevent, the war. Through marriage among other things.

~*~

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos

by dvasva (@dvasva)

M, WIP, 127k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “Of all the rotten luck I could have!” Outside, in between the gentle embrace of an imposing misty mountain and the caress of soft wind, stood the Cloud Recesses. It wasn’t a section that Wei Wuxian had recognized from his time in the sect, but the motifs of clouds and cranes in the buildings, the impeccable feng shui and carefully manicured paths, and the utter silence as the sect members slept peacefully, all burned themselves into Wei Wuxian’s eyes. No wonder the curtains were so firmly nailed to the walls! Any bit of demonic energy escaping the room could call down a veritable army of righteous cultivators! What sort of person in their right mind would dare to summon a spirit into their own body using resentful energy in the Cloud Recesses of all places? What kind of person would scoff so rudely at the Lan Clans most important rule, ‘Do not fraternize with evil?’ After being dead for four years, Wei Wuxian wakes up in a body he doesn't really feel comfortable with, in a place that he's sure wants him dead, and married to a man who surely hates him.

~*~

heated

by ilip13 (@ilip13)

E, 5k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: "I’m so fucking horny," Wei Ying moans. She really is — she starts running a hand down her body, sweaty throat, unpleasantly sticky dip between her breasts, and then she is too tired to continue. "Wei Ying." Poor Lan Zhan, the heat has affected her even worse. Wei Ying’s beautiful, articulate Lan Zhan, spending the last three days with a blush high in her cheeks, blinking these slow, miserable blinks. "I know," Lan Zhan says. "Me too." * The AC is broken.

~*~

bitter cold, sweet mouth

by hauntedotamatone (@hauntotamatone)

E, 7k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: “I’ll be out for a long while,” he says, running his fingers through the ends of his damp hair. “I’m not to make a habit of it, but Lan-daifu is concerned enough to think it’s necessary this time.” There is a wry little twist to his mouth, a hint of worry tucked into the corner of a smile. “You’ve got to protect me, alright Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying rises to his feet and walks past him without so much as a single glance over his shoulder. “What a shame it would be if some scoundrel found their way in while I was like this? All vulnerable and ripe for the taking.” The idea of any such scoundrel making it into Cloud Recesses, let alone getting close enough to even lay eyes on the jingshi is laughable, ridiculous. It has been far too long since Wei Ying has said anything ridiculous. He has missed it even more than he thought possible. _ Wei Wuxian struggles to acclimate to the change of seasons, Lan Wangji does his best to handle him with the care he deserves.

~*~

Seasons of Love

by Witch_Nova221 (@witchnova221)

G, 23k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of the MDZS Reverse Big Bang: 2023

Summary: Wei Wuxian returns to the Cloud Recesses, world weary and still looking for his place in the world. Lan Wangji is determined to show him just where his place is and that it will never be taken from him again. Inspired by the wonderful art of Esper-aroon for the MDZS Reverse Big Bang - 'Lan Wangji protective of Wei Wuxian'

~*~

Haunted house

by Indrel (@lovewanxian)

G, 2k, Pre-Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Two haunted homes and three promises made to protect A-Yuan from the ghosts and monsters that want to harm him.

~*~

lovely thorns and singing crows

by isabilightwood

E, 37k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Part of the MDZS Reverse Big Bang: 2023

Summary: “Lovely weather for a funeral.” “Atmospheric,” Lan Zhan agreed. Expecting, as had happened so often in his life, for the handsome stranger to stiffen at the sound of his voice, for that smile to turn false and brittle as they made their excuses. “You have a lovely voice,” they said instead, as if they weren’t calling eroded gravel beautiful when their voice was the finest jade. It was far from a typical compliment, but Lan Zhan was so starved for praise his heart clenched in his chest. On the day of his father's funeral, Lan Zhan receives a box of letters from his long-missing mother. His quest to find her leads him to a spooky, kooky, and loving family who just might want him to stay forever. (And of course, to the man of his dreams).

~*~

💙 Down comes the night

by danegen (@danegen)

E, 67k, Wangxian | Kay's Rec

Summary: Lan Wangji walks forward, extending his senses for some sign of the magic confining them. But there is nothing. One moment, he is walking away from the village. The next, Wei Wuxian stands in the road ahead of him, the dizi tracing lazy arcs in the air. He stops and looks behind him. The view has not changed. He stands there, helpless. Baffled. Like a koi circling a pond, eternally struggling to go nowhere. “Messes with your head, doesn’t it?” He turns to Wei Wuxian, who regards him calmly, almost pityingly. Wei Wuxian has endured this for months. Months. Lan Wangji wants to scream. He wants to batter down this cage and fly away without looking back. Or while returning from a night hunt, Lan Wangji is trapped in a strange village that is terrorized by monsters. However, an intriguing cultivator named Wei Wuxian is also trapped there, so it isn't all bad. And guess what? They have to be roommates.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

#wangxian fic rec #wangxianficrecs #rewind 2023 #mdzs #the untamed #wangxian #fandom event #long post #Kay's Rec #Kay's Favorite #The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #MDZS #Mo Dao Zu Shi

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judeswhore · 2 years

Text

somebody else; steve harrington

summary: steve isn’t happy that you’ve started seeing someone else but it takes a little bit of liquid courage before he’s falling through your bedroom window with a barrage of confessions

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

requested: yes

warnings: jealous steve! drunk steve!! this isn’t angsty enough i don’t think but idk how to write angst smh

notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here.

"i'll pick you up at seven then?" andrew raised his eyebrows at you, expression hopeful as he leant against the front counter at family video, toying with the wire of the phone. without thinking, steve reached out and tugged it free, his stare blank and completely unamused. andrew shifted under his attention, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on you rather than the somewhat broody boy beside you, or the girl grinning like an idiot from the action isle.

"seven's good. you have my address right?"

"yeah, i got it off that sinclair kid."

"his name is lucas." steve grumbled, his words drawing a frown from you and a giggle from robin, poor andrew just looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. for the entire fifteen minutes that andrew had been in the store steve had been weird, rushing him when he was trying to find a movie, mumbling under his breath about how ridiculous his new haircut was, telling him that he couldn't just stand and flirt with you because he was holding up customers. customers that didn't exist because the store was empty. you knew he didn't like andrew, he'd told you repeatedly since the first time you'd told him you were going on your first date, but his behaviour tonight had been weird and somewhat completely out of character for him.

"steve, don't you have tapes to rewind?" you sent him a warning look, one that he completely ignored as he pretended to type away on the computer, his finger repeatedly hitting the backspace key. "or maybe you could help robin put the returns back?"

"i'm logging the returns, she doesn't need me." you glared at the side of his head, annoyed that he couldn't give you just a moment alone with andrew. you had to spend countless hours watching and listening to a number of girls flirt with steve but you were never rude to them, not even the ones who glared daggers at you because of the way steve brushed his hand along your back to get passed.

your friendship with steve was complicated. it was more than just friends but you'd never reached a point where you could actually put a label on it, it was just occasional dates and secret kisses when robin wasn't looking. other things had happened, when you'd snuck him into your room after an extra long shift but you'd somehow never gotten out of that blurred space and you hated it. you wanted all or nothing and steve didn't seem interested in giving you all which is exactly why you'd out with andrew. he wanted to give you all.

with a sigh you made your way around the counter, settling your hand on andrew's arm to steer him towards the door, not at all wanting to say your goodbyes with steve throwing around his well practiced death looks. his skin was warm beneath your fingers and he smelt good and you told yourself that you didn't need steve harrington to be happy, andrew was nice and fun and he made his intentions clear from the very start.

"you've got food in your teeth by the way, johnson." steve called out, still aggressively jabbing his finger against the keyboard, his eyes settled on your hand curled lightly around the other boys bicep. you glared at him over your shoulder but once again he was oblivious.

"ignore him," you mumbled, pulling open the door, the jingle ringing through the store. "he's got a stick up his ass." steve watched you slam the door shut behind you and follow andrew to his car, the image of your hand on his arm burned behind his eyelids. he hated andrew johnson and he momentarily hated you for choosing him.

steve knew he wasn't the best at showing how he felt but he thought after how much time you'd spent together and how many hints he'd dropped that you understood. he thought all the dates and kisses and nights you’d spent together meant something but the way you’d so quickly fell into andrew’s arms had him second guessing everything and he hated it. he wanted to go back to when you would come to him every morning, press a kiss against his cheek before wrapping your arms around him, the two of you swaying slightly, still sleepy but needing that contact. he wanted to go back and not be an idiot, to tell you that he wanted you to be his. properly. not just in halves, he wanted you wholly and completely.

“did he have food in his teeth?” robin slid up beside steve, her gaze following his to watch you lean against andrew’s car, your head tilted back to grin at him. steve’s heart felt funny and he was sure he was going to be sick, nausea rolling over him in waves because you should be looking at him like that.

“he might have.”

“if you keep glaring at him like that you’re gonna pop a blood vessel, dingus.” robin gave a loud sigh and tugged the keyboard away from steve’s hands, concerned he’d already deleted today’s logs. “why didn’t you just tell her you were in love with her and then she wouldn’t be giving googly eyes to tom cruise wannabe.”

“i thought she knew.”

“you thought she knew? dude, seriously?”

“what?”

“you really are an idiot.” steve reached over to flick the centre of her forehead, not the least bit happy or in the mood for robin’s teasing. he was annoyed and upset and more jealous than he’d ever really felt and for one second he wished he was back in high school so he could go to a party and drink until he forgot what it was like to have you look at him the way you were looking at andrew. he finally tore his gaze from the window, blinking rapidly as he met robin’s sympathetic eyes.

“you wanna get drunk tonight?”

you were back home and in bed by 10pm that night, your date with andrew not exactly going as well as you would have liked. he'd spent the entire time you were supposed to be watching the movie talking about basketball and about how he wished you'd spend more time with him and his friends at school rather than with robin. that comment alone ruined your entire evening and the remainder of the movie and the drive home was spent in silence, you having to strategically dodge the kiss he tried to give you by pretending to sneeze.

you were half asleep when the first knock sounded against your window, the book you'd been reading balanced against your chest, head lolled to one side. mind still a little fogged from sleep, you ignored it, assuming you were either hearing things or the wind and rain were the cause behind it but then the window rattled and your heart plummeted. the lock was more than a little flimsy and one push would have it swinging open, your bedroom suddenly a free for all for whoever was on the other side. your parents were away, the house empty besides you and your room had nothing you could use to protect yourself with against an intruder.

scrambling from your bed you could make out the silhouette of a man on your tiny balcony, rain pouring in sheets around him as he repeatedly fumbled with the lock. you were still clutching your book, as if that could harm him, but it fell to the floor when your eyes adjusted to the light again and you realised the figure on your balcony was actually steve harrington. a startled "jesus christ" fell from your lips just as you reached the window and went to tug it open because steve had finally mastered the latch and with a light push came tumbling into your room, the sounds of his breathless giggles filling the previous silence.

"whoops, missed a step." he was completely soaked head to toe from the rain, hair matted to his forehead and neck and your mouth went slightly dry at the sight of his chest in the now see through white top he was wearing. your hand shot out to steady him, fingers slipping over his bare skin and it wasn't until he lifted his head and you finally got to see his face that you realised something was wrong.

his cheeks were splotchy and red, eyes too bright and glassy, gaze just a little unfocused when he looked at you. despite his previous giggles and the merry tone of his voice he looked sad, a strange look in his eyes that made your tummy flip. he'd never looked at you like that before, like you'd done something to hurt him, like you were the reason his usual charming smile was lost tonight.

"are you drunk, harrington?"

"i walked here." he muttered as if this was any sort of appropriate answer. his unsteady gaze wandered along your body, clad in only a pair of shorts and an over sized t-shirt which you were certain belonged to steve at one point, leaving you hot and bothered. goosebumps rose along your arms and legs under his stare and you felt the need to wrap a blanket around you, unsure why he was making your head swim so much.

"why? it's raining and you're soaked, you're gonna get sick, you idiot." your fingers slid down his arm so you could link them with his, his palm wet and cold against your own as you tugged lightly. "think i've got something you can change into." you tried to pull him towards your bathroom but he was rooted to the spot, head shaking when he untangled his fingers from yours. "steve-"

"i lost you, didn't i?"

"lost me? have you been smoking too? seriously, man, you're dripping all over my carpet, take your shoes off." but steve wasn't listening, he was still shaking his head, brows scrunched together, lips almost pouted. he rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand, his chest heaving on a shaky breath.

"god, y/n, i don't think i can watch you be in love with somebody else." the words seemed to tear from his chest, ragged and harsh around the edges as if he'd been holding them in and he'd said them without meaning to. your hand dropped from his arm again, your own eyebrows drawing in to match his frown because you weren't quite sure what he was talking about. you weren't aware you were in love with someone and you also had no idea why steve would be so bothered even if you were. he was the one who'd pushed away any sort of relationship with you.

"what are you talking about?” you wrapped your arms around yourself, watching as steve dragged a hand through his hair. he blew a breath from his lips and slumped against your desk.

“i was an idiot, such a fucking idiot. i thought you knew how i felt so i never said it out loud but i should have, i should’ve told you months ago because now you’re in love with andrew and i’m still in love with you but i’ve messed up and i’ve lost you and fuck i don’t know what to do, y/n, i don’t-” he drew in another sharp breath, lips pressing together as yours fell open, surprise washing over you at the abrupt confession.

you were momentarily shocked and at a loss for words, unsure of what to say as you stared at the boy across from you. the boy you’d been sleeping with for weeks, who you thought only thought of you for sex but who apparently felt exactly the same way you did. steve had never made it clear that his feelings for you went beyond friendship, you’d practically tiptoed around the topic but here he was telling you he was still in love with you. you took a step towards him, unsure what to say but wanting, needing, to touch him but he started shaking his head again.

“god what am i doing?” he gave a humourless laugh, one that made your stomach sink and he looked so lost your heart ached for him. “you just came back from a fucking date and i’m climbing through your window like a tool and giving you some stupid sob story. i’m sorry, i just- i kept thinking about you and him and how i want that to be me but he probably already got you with his stupid hair and stupid car and that stupid fucking accent.”

“steve-" he was starting to ramble and you needed him to be quiet. you needed to tell him that what you felt for andrew was far from love, that your date had been awful because it wasn’t him, that he didn’t need to worry about you loving somebody else because no one would ever compare to steve harrington.

“i know you probably don’t want to hear it, i missed my shot and it was the stupidest thing i’ve ever done but i love you. i love you so much that sometimes i can’t breathe when you’re around, you make me forget my own name sometimes and i hate andrew for doing what i should have done but i hate myself more. because you’re a once in a lifetime kind of girl y/n, and i’m so fucking in love with you but i can’t watch you-”

steve’s words were cut off abruptly when your lips found his, his surprised gasp getting lost in your mouth. your fingers settled on either side of his face, gently cupping his jaw as you tilted his head further towards you. it had been weeks since you’d last kissed him but somehow it felt like your first kiss all over again, your tummy fluttering at the the familiar taste of him. it took him a few disoriented seconds before he realised what was happening and then his hands were on your waist and he was kissing you like he’d never get the chance again.

steve tugged you against him, his shirt sticking to yours and soaking it through but that didn’t matter when he was kissing you the way he was. it seemed as though ever unspoken word went into it, every “i love you” neither of you got to say. his fingers were slightly cold when they snuck beneath your shirt but you only pressed closer to him, sliding one hand around the back of his neck to tangle your fingers in the hair at the very bottom. he made a low noise in the back of his throat, one that vibrated against your lips and for a second made you remember his previous confession.

“steve,” you breathed the words against his lips like a prayer and he swore he wanted to play the sound on a loop forever. you stroked your fingers along the base of his neck, pulling your lips away from him, fighting back a grin when he tried to chase your mouth with another kiss. “wait, just, wait.” he let you pull back enough to meet his gaze, eyes still glassy but a lot more focused. you surprised a shiver that tingled up your spine when he ran his hands along your back.

“i love you, too. i’m in love with you. like butterflies in my tummy, forgetting what day it is when you smile at me in love with you.” you ran your thumb over his cheek, catching a drop of rain that had dripped from his hair. he turned into your hand, lashes falling closed for a second as he took in a deep breath of air. “i know you said you should have told me how you felt but i should have told you too. i should have told you that i only agreed to go out with andrew because you didn’t seem like an option. i didn’t think you wanted me the way i wanted you and it hurt and the only way i could stop it from hurting was to fill your place. but it never worked because no one can ever fill your place, steve. no one is ever gonna make me feel like you do. andrew didn’t win me over, didn’t even come close and the date was awful because everything he did reminded me that he wasn’t you and that i wouldn’t truly be happy unless it was you asking me dumb questions every five seconds of the movie.”

steve was silent for a few seconds, eyes searching your face and then his lips tilted into that crooked grin that could make you do whatever he asked. despite the confident smile, his voice was soft and just a little bit shy when he spoke.

“you love me?”

“completely.”

“completely?” his smile grew when you nodded and he bumped his nose into yours, his lips pressing a messy kiss over your mouth that spread tingles all the way to your toes. he gave a little breathless laugh and then brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, an array of wet kisses falling on every inch of your face, from your nose to your forehead to your cheek and back again. “i’m sorry i took so long.”

“it’s okay, you have a lifetime to make up for it, harrington.” with that you lifted your mouth back to his and in the dark of your room, with the rain still pouring against the windows, you kissed him until your lips were bruised and his name was the only thought on your mind.

#joe keery #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagines #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic

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artiststarme · 1 year

Text

Just Another Miscommunication

Based on a prompt given by @i-less-than-three-you! I hope it met your expectations! I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve had never been so hurt and offended in his life. After several months of dating Eddie in secret from the rest of the Party, they’d decided to tell them. Things were starting to get serious and they knew it would only be a matter of time before someone found out and spilled the beans to the rest of the group.

Eddie had been a little nervous to come out, this was his first serious relationship in the middle of Nowhere, Indiana, he had a right to be worried. But Steve knew that everyone would take it well, they’d dealt with literal monsters so being gay in comparison had to be a smaller deal than that.

What Steve hadn’t anticipated was how many shovel talks he would receive. He expected the one from Wayne (although that one still hadn’t come), maybe even one from Dustin. However, the rest of them had been a bitter surprise.

His first shovel talk came from Robin. They’d been in the middle of a slow shift at Family Video when she decided to break the comfortable silence.

“Hey Dingus, you know that you have to be careful with Eddie, right?”

“Robin, he’s a great guy. He’s not going to hurt me or whatever else you’re afraid of-”

“No, no, no. I’m saying you have to be gentle with him. This is his first relationship so you have to be gentle with him. You have experience from dating half of the girls in Hawkins, he doesn’t have that. Just, be careful not to break his heart, okay?” She looked at him imploringly until he nodded.

“I’m not going to hurt him, Robin. We’ve been dating for months and we’ve never had a problem before. I’m not going to hurt him.”

“Okay, I just… wanted to make sure. Now, go rewind the tapes. We just got some more returns.” He groaned for good measure but moved along regardless.

The next one later that day was Hopper. He was leaning against the Beemer in the staff parking lot behind Family Video waiting for Steve to get off work.

Steve smiled at him and pranced over to give him a quick hug that wouldn’t impact either of their street creds. “Hey Hop, what’re you doing over here? Did I forget plans we had?”

“Nah kid, I'm just checking in. The kids said that you were seeing Munson now?” He cleared his throat and continued in a whisper. “You know, romantically?”

“Yeah, we’ve been dating for a few months. Why do you have a problem with that?” Steve glared at him while he waited for his answer.

“Of course not! I just wanted to check in with you. And uh, I wanted to remind you that the Munson kid has been through a lot. Just, just don’t hurt him, okay?”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “You’re the second person to tell me that today. I’m not going to hurt him, alright? I love him.”

“Yeah but things change, kid. You feel like that now but you might end up hurting him later. Just be careful, alright?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Good. Do you want to come over to the house for dinner tonight? I know El and Will would love to see you.” Hopper smiled and nudged his arm.

With his mood thoroughly dimmed, Steve shook his head. “Nah, I have to run some errands and then I’m just going to run home. I’ll see you around though.”

He said his goodbyes to Hopper and ran over to Melvald’s to pick up a prescription and a couple of snacks for his place. While he was there, he saw Joyce and decided to make some friendly conversation.

“Hey Mrs. Byers, how’s Will doing? Is he glad to be back in Hawkins? I know the kids like having him here to DM their nerd game.”

Joyce gave him a tight smile as she rang up his items. “Hi Steve. Yeah he likes it, I think he missed the boys, you know? Him and El weren’t big fans of California.”

“Yeah, I get that. Max always says it’s a lot hotter so I can’t even imagine. How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing well, thanks,” she said while scanning his various chips and snacks. “What’re all of these for?”

“Eddie. He can never choose just one flavor to munch on so I just keep a bunch on hand for him to choose from,” Steve answered, smiling at the thought of his boyfriend.

“You know, I've been meaning to talk to you about that,” she said, glancing around the empty store.

“Have you?” Steve asked apprehensively. He and Joyce didn’t get along super well so he was a little nervous for her to judge his relationship.

“Yeah. I want you to know that I support you guys and you both always have a safe space with me. But I just wanted to make sure that you took it easy with Eddie. That boy’s been through a lot and I know you didn’t always feel… accepting of queer relationships. Eddie is sensitive and you could really hurt him. So just, be gentle with him or I’ll have to send Hopper over to get your head on straight. Are we clear?”

Honestly, Steve was kind of lost but he nodded in spite of that. “Yep, crystal. I’m not going to hurt him, Mrs. Byers. Have a good day!”

Jesus Christ, did everyone think he was going to hurt Eddie? He knew that he made some questionable choices in the past as King Steve but he’d been trying to be better. Why couldn’t anyone see that?

When he got home, he saw various bikes laying all over his front lawn. Now, the kids could just want a pool day to get out of this disgustingly warm summer weather. However, if they were looking to give him yet another shovel talk, Steve might just lose it.

As expected, all of the kids were situated on his couch and turned to look at him when he walked in. They looked like they were staging an intervention for him.

“Okay look, I’m really not in the mood for this. If you want to use the pool, fine. But if this is yet another shovel talk to warn me not to hurt Eddie, you can leave.” Steve crossed his arms as he looked at them and only Max was brave enough to go against him.

“If you hurt Eddie, we’re going to have El open another gate to the Upside Down and feed you to a demogorgon,” she said in a deadpan voice with a blank face.

El snapped her head to look at her then back to Steve. “Steve, I will not. Max, Steve is like my brother. I will not feed him to a demogorgon.”

“What they mean to say is that we don’t want to see Eddie get hurt. If you hurt him, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands,” Dustin continued diplomatically. Both Lucas and Mike nodded but Will just shook his head in panicked confusion.

“Dustin, I thought we were coming here to congratulate him and tell him we supported him! Why are we threatening him? Steve won’t hurt him!”

The other kids argued that he definitely could and actions needed to be taken to prevent that. Will and El just kept trying to jump in and defend Steve.

And Steve just stared at them. “Okay, thanks so much for the threats. Everyone besides Will and El can leave. You can come back when you stop planning different ways to murder me when I hypothetically hurt Eddie.”

Steve gave all of the kids, besides Will and El, one last glare before he walked into the kitchen to make himself a coffee. Maybe that would ward off his approaching headache. He could hear muffled arguing from the living room where Will and El, his new favorite kids, were no doubt defending him. But alas a few moments later, he heard the noise stop and saw El pop her head into the kitchen.

“I am sorry Steve, Will and I thought that we were coming to congratulate you on dating Eddie. We did not know that they would threaten you. Friends do not threaten to kill other friends.”

“It’s alright El, it’s called a shovel talk. Usually a family member gives one to the boyfriend so they know not to hurt them. I got a lot of them today so I’m annoyed,” he explained to her gently.

“But, you will not hurt Eddie. You love him so why do people keep telling you not to hurt him?” She asked him in confusion.

“They care more about Eddie and they think I’ll hurt him,” his words visibly angered him so he backtracked a little bit. “It’s fine El, really. I’ll get over it.”

She moved towards him and pulled him into a hug. “I love you Steve and I do not think you will hurt him. Even if you do by accident, I will not feed you to a demogorgon.”

He barked out a quick laugh in surprise, “thanks El, are you and Will going swimming?”

“No, we are going home to paint miniatures for Will’s new DnD game. Would you like to come with us?” She pulled back from the hug enough to look up at him.

“Nah, I’m just going to relax here but thanks for the offer. Have fun, okay?”

“Okay Steve, thank you!”

Then, Steve was alone. He was emotionally exhausted and hurt. How could everyone, besides Will and El, believe he’d hurt Eddie? He’d changed so much over the years and now he felt like he was right back where he started. How could they have such little faith in him?

~*~*~*~

Eddie was expecting to spend a nice night with his boyfriend after a few long days without seeing him. Between work, spending time with the kids, and practicing with the band, it felt like forever since he’d gotten to spend any quality time with Steve. But when he walked through the ajar door of the Harrington home, he didn’t find a boyfriend that was happy to see him. Instead, he found Steve sitting on the kitchen counter with a troubled look on his face.

“Stevie, you alright? I hope it’s okay that I came in, the door was open,” he stepped closer to Steve and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “What’s going on?”

“Has anyone given you the shovel talk about dating me?” Steve asked him, his eyes staring into his eyes desperately.

“Um no, why? Should they have?” Eddie asked, confused.

“I don’t know, I guess not. Nearly everyone in the Party has given me one. Robin, Hopper, Joyce, the kids. Why haven’t any of them told you not to hurt me?”

“You want me to get threatened?” Eddie didn’t understand why Steve was so upset. Did he think that he was going to hurt him?

“No! I just- why does everyone automatically assume you’ll be the one to get hurt? Why won’t they tell you not to hurt me? That’s just as much of a possibility as me hurting you!”

“You think I’m going to hurt you? And you’re mad that no one else thinks so?” So Steve expected him to fuck this up?

“Yes!” Steve nodded at him.

“I would never hurt you Stevie and I’m upset that you think I would. Why would I do anything to ruin this? You’re so perfect Steve that I would never do anything to mess this up.”

“Ed-”

“No! What’s the point of dating at all if you’re just waiting around for me to break your heart? That’s all I do though, right? Eddie the Freak, destroyer of all things good. Is that it?” All of the happy feelings that Eddie felt when he first walked through the door were long gone now. What, Steve was just waiting for Eddie to ruin everything like he always did? What the hell.

“Eddie, that’s not what I meant!”

“Whatever Steve, I’m sorry that you’ve seen this coming the entire time and I’m sorry you were right. I should’ve known that I would fuck this up too.” With that, Eddie marched out of Steve’s house and directly to his van. Admittedly, he shouldn’t have left. He should’ve stayed and worked this out with Steve.

However, he didn’t want Steve to see the angry tears that streamed down his face on his drive home. He knew deep down that this was all a misunderstanding but Eddie couldn’t get over the fact that Steve was just another person that saw the worst in him.

~*~*~*~

Wayne walked into the trailer to find it completely dark and silent, both unusual for Eddie. His nephew constantly left all of the lights on regardless of whether he was in the room or not, a quirk that took a toll on both Wayne’s annoyance and the electricity bill. And silence was not a commodity often associated with Eddie. The boy was loud in all senses of the word so for the trailer to be quiet, devoid of guitar riffs or excited rambling, was worrying. With a peek out the door, Wayne saw that Eddie’s van was out there which meant that he was home.

When he looked into Eddie’s room, he saw a pathetic lump hidden under the covers with only an unruly mop of curls poking out. The covers twitched slightly as the lump sniffled. “Eds? Y’alright?”

“No,” he muttered, hiding his face deeper into his pillow.

Wayne sighed and kissed all thoughts of coffee and a nap goodbye. Nonetheless, he sat at the edge of the bed and pulled at Eddie’s shoulder until he turned over. His eyes were red and irritated and his skin was flushed. “What the hell happened to you? I thought you were spending the evening with Steve? He do something?”

Eddie’s face screwed up in sadness as more tears welled up in his eyes. “Why do you automatically assume Steve did something? I’m the one who always fucks everything up, Uncle Wayne. Me! Why is everyone threatening Steve not to hurt me?”

Wayne looked at him in bemusement for a moment. “So you did something?”

Eddie made a muffled noise of outrage and pulled the covers back over his face.

“Boy, I can’t help ya if ya don’t use yer words. Tell me what happened and we’ll fix it,” Wayne tried to reassure him.

“Everybody has been giving Steve the shovel talk and telling him not to hurt me. But no one has given me the shovel talk to tell me not to hurt him. So Steve was upset and told me that I would be the one to hurt him and he was offended that no one else thought so. And then he said that I would be the one to hurt him!”

Wayne just looked at him for a long moment before lightly smacking the side of his head.

“Hey, what the hell!” Eddie yelled in surprised anger as he yanked the covers off of himself.

“Don’t be a dumbass then! Steve was trying to tell ya that he was hurt and ya turned it around on him! The kid’s not saying that yer gonna hurt him, he’s saying he wants people to stop assumin’ he’ll be the one to hurt you when he feels so much for ya.”

“So he’s not saying that I’m going to fuck everything up?” Eddie asked quietly.

“I think he’s sad that everyone else is taking your side and assumin’ that he’s going to be the one that ruins things. He just needed ya to listen.”

“What have I done?! How do I fix this? Uncle Wayne, help me!” Eddie jumped out of bed and started pacing in front of him.

Wayne sighed again, he didn’t ask to be roped into these situations. “Look Eds, go to him and say that you’re sorry and you took it the wrong way. Then tell him that I gave you a shovel talk cause if you hurt that kid again, I’m gonna do more than smack ya upside the head, ya hear me? Now get goin’. Ya best stay over there so I can get some rest, alright?”

Eddie laughed and jumped off the bed, “thanks Uncle Wayne! You’re the best! I’ll go fix it and then tell you about it over carry-out later! Love you!”

Wayne shook his head as he watched Eddie run out the door, “love you too, kid.”

Both boys came back to the trailer a few hours later with takeout in tow. Eddie’s smile was beaming once again and Steve looked relieved. He gave Wayne a quick hug and a whispered thank you over the burgers and Wayne knew that they’d fixed things. There would be many miscommunications between the boys in the years to come but as long as they had Wayne to play interference, they’d be alright.

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rosewaterandivy · 5 months

Text

i. incandescent glow

summary: have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?

pairing: assumed e.m x reader, eventual s.h x reader

warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; mutual pining, yearning, miscommunication, poorly-wired idiot signals, vague nineties vibes, asshole-ish rockstar eddie, best friend & store manager steve, drug abuse, comas and hospitals, found family, hop and wayne knocking sense into people, eventual smut, schmaltzy rom-com goodness, mention of thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's holidays

w.c.: 8.2k

a/n: when I say that writing this kicked my ass, I'm tellin' you I had a rough time. @bettyfrommars this flannel-wearing Steve is for you especially! Please enjoy & I hope y'all like it 🥹

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

Steve hadn’t planned for his life to amount to this, he’d simply blinked and found himself in a new decade, still rewinding tapes at Family Video. Granted, he’s district manager now and has several stores in the area he’s responsible for.

Meanwhile, Eddie got the hell outta dodge and Corroded Coffin actually made something of themselves. Two albums under their belt and a forth-coming world tour after the holidays, and, more recently, a cover on the Rolling Stone. Ed had called him up once it was all finalized, “Can you fuckin’ believe it man?!”

And, Steve loves Eddie, so he could actually believe it. He tries and fails to keep his jealousy at bay, Ed is one of his best friends for christ sakes. Steve is happy for him, he really is, despite the revolving doors at rehab centers dotting the west coast, late night calls from strangers because Munson passed out in someone’s bathroom again.

He is, after all, Eddie’s emergency contact. Gareth approached him after the second stint at rehab and suggested it, thought it would be the best all things considered. Steve readily agreed and signed the forms, kept his pager on him, and dutifully smoothed things over when Eddie’s benders got a bit too much.

So, he’s rewinding tapes when his pager goes off. He glances at the number and drags the phone across the counter. Nestling the handset between his shoulder and cheek, he punches in the numbers and shoves the tape in a plastic case to be shelved later.

“Hello, this is Hawkins Memorial Hospital. How may I direct your call?” a kind, if perfunctory voice recites. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital waiting room, muted conversations and the ringing of phones.

“Hi, this is Steve Harrington. I received a page from this number regarding Eddie Munson.” Steve eyes the clock, he’s on closing shift by himself already having sent he employees home to celebrate with their families.

“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist places him on hold, allowing Steve to rewind a couple more tapes and sort them for shelving. “Mr. Harrington?” the line roars back to life, no longer the receptionist, but the doctor in charge of Eddie’s care instead. “Mr. Munson came into the hospital unresponsive but breathing, he was revived by a…” He rattles off a name that Steve has never heard before. “His, fiancée, as I understand it.”

Steve feels the floor sway under his feet.

Eddie.

With a fiancée?

“She’s here now and in a bit of shock, as you can expect. Since you’re his emergency contact, we wanted to alert you of his current state as well as get any contact information for family and friends that need to be made aware.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

The doctor continues to relay that they’ve elected to place Eddie under a medically induced coma for the time being, to allow his body to flush the drugs from his system before assessing for any further damage.

Steve is transferred to a medical assistant who takes down Wayne and Hopper’s information. He figures between the two men the job will get done, but let’s be real, it’ll be Joyce that activates the phone tree and calls the kids, and he plans to swing by the hospital later that evening once he’s closed up.

Grabbing the stack of tapes and begins to shelve them with a shake of his head. It would be just like Eddie to get engaged and not be fucked to tell anyone. Returning to the counter, he fiddles with the cuffs of his flannel shirt— Robin got it for him the last time she swung through town, insisted that Steve’s wardrobe needed some serious upgrading and all but thrust it upon him.

“It brings out your eyes,” She said, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. Her worn boots kicked against one another, half of her reflected in the mirror while Steve assessed.

“It’s brown.”

“And gold!” She turns him around to press down the collar and pop the first two buttons of the shirt open. “It’s color theory man, just trust me on this, okay?”

Which is how Steve found himself the new owner of several flannel shirts of varying hues. And boots. When he complained it was all too lumberjack-like, Robin shushed him and continued to flirt with the cute check-out girl.

But that had been months ago. It was coming on Thanksgiving now and his two best friends had been too busy traveling or showing art pieces to even call. He doesn’t mind, not really— well, he tries not to. Steve gets it, people are busy, things to do and people to see.

The remainder of his shift goes by slowly. Kids home from school, families coming in by the dozen. Steve manages to complete a few menial tasks in between customers, throws on Planes, Trains and Automobiles just to have something on in the background.

He’s helping a regular when his pager beeps again, this time flashing Robin’s number. The door dings as they leave and Steve’s already wedged the phone to balance against his shoulder once more as he leans and elbow on the counter.

“Eddie has a fiancée?!” is the thing she screeches down the line. “When the fuck did that happen? Harrington, you’re supposed to keep me aware of these things!”

He signs and scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m his emergency contact, not his guardian.”

“Have you met her? What’s she like?”

“I don’t—”

“I got the first flight out of the city. Which means I had to go to LaGuardia blech,” She makes a gagging sound down the line. “Jonathan’s picking me up now from Indy. Oh my god, is she pretty?” Robin pings between her travel plans and hypothesizing about Eddie’s girl, “I bet she’s a total knock-out, knowing him. How did they meet? D’ya think she’d pose for me?”

“Slow down there, killer.” Steve laughs, “Might want to meet the girl first before propositioning her.”

She huffs a laugh, “You’re right, of course. She’d probably think I’m insane or something. What would I do without you Stevie?”

“Probably scare off more chicks than you already do.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself Harrington.” Robin’s laugh is loud and warm, soothing something in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight, dingus.”

“Sure, stay safe. Call me later, bye.” He places the phone back in its cradle and has half a mind to check the room behind the curtain, just in case some teenagers slipped past without him noticing, but then the phone rings.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” A voice says down the line, small and tight. You introduce yourself, quickly followed by, “I’m at the hospital, with, uh Eddie?”

“Oh! Hi, how’s he doing?”

“Good, still in the coma.”

Steve can hear some voices filtering through the mic, loud and familiar.

“So, Hop and Wayne made it? That’s good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Joyce too. The kids are here too, I guess? It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I can only imagine.” He occupies himself with the slinky on the counter, much preferring to hear your voice than deal with the families that just walked in, ten minutes to close. “You holding up okay?”

An intake of breath, “Mmhm.”

It’s a feeling he knows well.

You’re overwhelmed by all these people you’d never met, on top of the fact that your fiancee is in a coma. Steve feels like shit, having you handle all of that by yourself. If he hadn’t stupidly sent the mid-shift employees home early, he would have been there to help you navigate it all.

“Joyce wants to know if you’re coming by after work. If we should wait for you,” You say after a beat or two of silence, “Or if you’ll just meet us at the house for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”

Steve rolls his neck in an effort to relieve the built-up tension there, bones popping, he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “Could you put her on real quick?”

He listens as the phone changes hands and Joyce’s comforting voice intones, “Steve?”

“She’s freaking out.”

“What?”

He sighs, “The fiancée, she sounds like she’s in a bad way.” He checks out the straggling customers, “Don’t wait on my account. I’ll see Ed after I’m done here.”

“Okay, Steve.”

“Does she have a place to stay? I know Rob is crashing with you and Hop—”

Joyce laughs, “We’ll have a full house I suppose. I can put Jonathan on the couch or something, don’t worry about it Steve.”

“Right. Okay.” He gives the final customer a smile and wave as they wish him a happy holiday. “I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone, Steve walks to the door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ He lingers against the door, resting his forearms against the bar, watching as the snow falls against the dark sky. Wonders how it is that just from the sound of your voice, he felt himself falling not unlike snowflakes outside.

Earlier that day

Turns out, landing the Corroded Coffin interview was not the boon to your career you thought it would be.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for failure. And it didn’t help that you had one big, fat embarrassing crush on a member of the band. Generally, being a fan of the artist coupled with the tendency to romanticize things in your mind only led to disaster.

Or, in your case, attempting to revive the frontman of the aforementioned band on the bathroom floor.

Eddie Munson was unresponsive at your feet, a panoply of pills and baggies scattered across the floor. Having no time to think, you launch into action— checked for breathing and finding none began CPR followed by chest compressions, all while yelling for help.

Gareth is the one to find you, compressing Eddie’s chest with your two hands in between administering two breaths after every 30 counts.

“Call an ambulance!”

You can’t even bring yourself to feel sorry about your tone, harried and frantic, as he stumbles out to call 911. Thankfully, the paramedics are quick. One paramedic asks, “You’re his fiancée?”

Dumbly, you nod, too in shock to register what’s been said. Someone guides you down the steps and into the front of the ambulance strapping you in with a seatbelt. He can’t just die, you reason, not when Corroded is just taking off— a world tour in the new year and a cover story with Rolling Stone.

Your editor would have your head if something were to go wrong. Munson was notoriously picky with interviews and reporters, it was a miracle they’d approved you for the job. Rumor has it that he’d have much preferred Nancy Wheeler, but the board wasn’t keen to bring in a free-lance reporter for the job.

Somehow, this would be your fault.

Arriving at the hospital isn’t any better. Gareth and the other band members stayed behind to call management and see what was to be done about Eddie, and made you promise to call them once you’d arrived at Hawkins Memorial.

Nevermind that you’re alone in a town you’d never stepped foot in before today. And all at Eddie Munson’s behest.

They rushed him off past the swinging double-doors, out of your reach. Stepping to the front desk, you ask the receptionist where the nearest pay-phone is, and she offers you one of the hospital phones instead.

Dialing the number hastily scribbled onto your hand, your fingers brush along the plastic keys listening for the trill of the ring down the line.

“Hi, Gareth? We made it to the hospital, they took him back with a team of doctors and nurses.”

“You didn’t go back with him?”

“It’s family only, I think?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “It’s not a big deal, I can stay in the lobby until you get here.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a while…”

He goes on to explain that their team has to meet and discuss next steps. The band can’t leave until they’ve done so and their manager asked them to stay put.

“That’s shitty.”

He hums his agreement.

“And I’m just supposed to stay here by myself? I don’t—”

“That’d be great, that is, if you don’t mind,” Gareth interrupts. “They’ll call his emergency contact soon enough. But we’d really appreciate having someone we know there until then.”

“Oh, okay.”

He thanks you for being so cool with all of this and says his goodbyes. With a short smile, you hand the phone back to the receptionist. Heaving a sigh, you drop your head into your hands and lament, “I was gonna marry him.”

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s attending nurse overhears you and recalls how the paramedic who brought him in said something about a fiancee. Turning toward you, she places a delicate hand on your back. You jump with a start and look up.

“You’re the fiancée, right?”

“Wh–”

“It’s okay honey, he’s doing fine. I’ll take you back there now.”

Allowing yourself to be guided by the kind nurse as she prattles on about something or other, you wonder how to get yourself out of this. No one was going to buy that Eddie Munson has a secret fiancee. If he was awake, he’d probably laugh you out of the room himself.

But, as it was, they’d placed him in a medically induced coma to let the drugs work their way out of his system. A small miracle, that. The doctor briefs you on his status, all of which flies directly out of your brain, too focused on how small he looks in the bed. Tubes dripping fluids and machines whirring or beeping every so often. Tattoos a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, a sharp relief against a marble canvas.

A medical assistant approaches you and asks about an emergency contact or the contact information of family and friends.

“I don’t–”

The dazed look in your eye must give something away because the assistant attempts to pat your back comfortingly before saying they’ll check his personal effects.

The nurse, impossibly kind, rests a hand on your shoulder, “Let him hear your voice, honey.”

Her shoes squeak along the tile floor as she leaves. There’s a brief reprieve where you’re left alone with Eddie in the hospital room. The nurse and medical assistant flit in and out occasionally, making notes in his chart here and there. But you’re transfixed by the man in front of you— beautiful and impossibly out of reach. He was even before the interview, you rationalize, but now he’s even more so. It’s bittersweet, almost, makes you want to reach out and hold the hand at his side, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lights.

“Hi,” You greet. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” You take the seat closest to him. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself, so here it goes.” Taking a sip from the coffee the nurse left to fortify you, you recite your full name. “And I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all very sudden for me.” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, “Um, what I really came here to tell you was, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You continue, a quasi-one sided conversation and therapy session all in one neat package. “I’m just a reporter for the Rolling Stone. And if you were awake, or hell, even if Gareth were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Oh, god not that I’m blaming you.” Your hand finds his arm briefly before you jerk back as if stung, “Shit, sorry.”

“This is not how I pictured my life going, to be honest with you. I thought when I did get engaged, I’d at least have the luxury of knowing my fiancé, or y’know them being conscious at least.” You sigh and take another sip of shitty coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life— I’ve got a great job and apartment, I get to travel and write for a living. It’s definitely not a bad gig.”

“It’s just, I never met anyone I could truly be myself with, y’know? Laugh with, and I mean ugly laugh with a snort and witch cackle. D’ya ever believe in love at first sight? No, probably not, you’re too rock and roll for that. Or have you even seen someone, and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would…”

Thinking back to your Corroded Coffin research and tabloid perusals, you sigh. “Of course, they would dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to grow old with.” You shake your head, realizing how ridiculous you sound, talking to a man in a coma who probably can’t even hear you. Your voice falls to a hush, “You ever fall in love with someone you’ve never even talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?”

“No? Me neither.”

There’s the sound of shuffling of feet echoing from the hallway, followed by a relived: “Oh, there he is.”

A voice startles you from the doorway, deep and masculine, albeit out of breath. A tall, broad man steps into the room quickly followed by a shorter woman and a lankier man. The first addresses you, “You must be the fiancée, I’m Jim Hopper.” He holds out his hand in greeting.

You shake his hand, palm engulfed in his larger one.

“This is my wife, Joyce, and that there is Eddie’s uncle Wayne.”

“He’s so pale,” She laments, crossing the room to his bedside. “Oh, my god.”

You nod to each of them, dropping your hand from Hopper’s. He studies you and you feel like squirming under his gaze, he’s still in uniform but sets his hat on a nearby chair. Great, just what you needed, a police chief to sniff you out.

Grabbing your things, you ready yourself to leave. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I should—”

“Nonsense,” Joyce says from opposite of you, she brushes a few strands of hair away from Eddie’s face. “The kids’ll be here soon and they’ll want to meet you.”

Wayne claps a hand to your shoulder, warmly giving it a squeeze.

“The doctor said you found him and gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived?”

“Oh, um, yeah.”

“They say the only reason he was breathing when they brought him in was because of you.” His voice is hoarse, he coughs into his fist and clears his throat. “Thank you, for that.”

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

He squeezes your shoulder once more, “Not necessarily,” and moves off to sit in one of the chairs.

“The doctor should be back soon,” You say, sitting beside Wayne. “He said the vital signs and brainwaves were looking good.”

Joyce nods and shoots you a smile, making idle chit-chat while the rest of you wait for the kids to arrive. There was some concern over Wayne and his heart condition, doesn’t take to shocking news too well, as you understand it. But who are these kids, Eddie’s kids? You didn’t recall coming across any mention of a previous wife or children in your research, but there are stranger things for rockstars to get up to than having a secret family you suppose.

It’s only when Wayne nudges you with his foot that you realize Joyce has been calling your name, “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, a hotel for the night.” You say softly, “I have to get back to New York soon.”

“Well, I won’t hear of it.” Joyce says looking to Hopper, “She’ll stay with us, won’t she Jim?”

He looks back at his wife and seeing her steely resolve, he knows better than to argue with her. “Sure, you’ll spend the holiday with us.”

Damn.

“Oh, we should see if we need to wait for Steve,” Joyce notes, just as a gaggle of people walk in. “Hi kids!” She stands quickly to greet them, their names coming too fast for you to keep up. A man and woman about your age bring up the rear, Joyce hugging them in turn.

Quietly, you step out to collect yourself. After taking a few breaths, you spot the medical assistant from earlier and flag him down for the emergency contact information. He scribbles a name and several phone numbers on a scrap of paper, “I would try this one first,” He points to the middle number, “It’s the work line, I think.”

“Great, thank you!”

Entering the room again, Wayne introduces you as Eddie’s fiancee and rescuer, to whoops and hollers. The younger woman lets out a wolf-whistle and drops you a wink, causing the heat to skitter underneath your skin. Making toward the phone, you dial the number and read the name on the paper.

Steve Harrington.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

The rich baritone of his voice, strong and deep, brings a quiver to your knees. Stumbling your way through an introduction, you make disastrous small-talk and wave Joyce over. She takes the phone with a smile, pushing you lightly toward the assembled group where the young woman, Robin, takes you under her wing.

“Fiancée, huh?” She asks with a quirked brow, to your noncommittal shrug. “Hmm.” Her eyes sweep toward Eddie, “I think you can do better,” She jokes with a wink.

Wayne drives you from the hospital to the house, graciously stopping by a grocery store along the way because you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. You make quick work of the deserted aisles, grabbing the necessary ingredients for pumpkin and pecan pie. He helps you to load the bags in the back of the truck and softly croons along to Woody Guthrie as he drives along the icy streets.

A comfortable silence sits between you. Wayne Munson is a man of few words, which is fine by you. The less opportunity for talking yourself into a hole, the better. He comes to a stop in front of a two-storey house festooned with Christmas lights. He carries your bags from the truck into the house, promising Joyce that he’ll be back tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Joyce rolls her eyes fondly and turns back toward the kitchen, leaving the pair of you in the entryway.

You rock back on your heels uncomfortably. Before you can make your escape, Wayne’s hand falls to your shoulder again kneading gently. You glance up to find his watery eyes and quiet smile; he pulls you in for a brief hug. “Thank you sweetheart,” He sighs, followed by a sniff, “I don’t know where he’d be without you, or where we’d be for that matter.” Giving you a final squeeze, he releases you and calls out a goodbye to Hopper and Joyce, shutting the front door behind him.

“Hey kid,” Hopper says, leaning against the bannister. “Join me outside for a minute?” He shrugs into his coat and nods toward the front porch. “Lemme grab my smokes, I’ll meet you out there.”

Well, shit.

It takes everything in you to not give in and pace along the icy boards of the porch as you wait. He’s figured you out, you know he has, and now he’s going to kick you out and you’ll have to call a cab and get back to the hotel before booking it to the airport first thing tomorrow.

“I know you and Munson aren’t involved, kid.” Hopper shuts the front door with a soft click, “Heard you back at the hospital talking to him.”

Your blood goes cold and you know there’s no way you can spin yourself out of this one. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry. It just all happened so fast and Wayne has that heart thing—” Your voice is choked and tight as you try to explain.

“Hey, slow down, take a breath. This isn’t the end of the world.”

“I’ll tell them, I just—”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, “Let me level with you,” He brushes off the snow and ice from the top step and invites you to sit down beside him. “God knows what that boy did to earn your attention, cause I certainly can’t make heads or tails of it.” He lights up a cigarette and offers one to you, “No? Can’t say I blame you, it’s a bad habit.” He takes a long drag in thought, leaving you to stew in your guilt. “What I’m trying to say is this: whatever you did, it brought him back. Eddie’s here and breathing because of you, so, in a way, we have him back because of you.”

You stay silent, knowing that whatever Hopper just shared with you is important. The guilt doesn’t leave you, not entirely, but this gruff lawman confiding in you does lodge something loose from the knot in your chest. And when he throws his arm over your shoulders to draw you to his side, you can’t help the watery smile that makes its way across your face.

He smells like your dad, the same blend of tobacco, leather, and spice. It’s been far too long since you’ve indulged in the memory of him, so you allow yourself the weakness, just this once.

And you let Hopper lead you back inside his loud and warmly lit home where Joyce greets you with a plate for dinner and promises to help you bake the pies for tomorrow.

Steve is dead on his feet when he arrives at Hop and Joyce’s house. He’d swung by the hospital to check on Eddie and talked with the doctor and nurses. It was all pretty standard— let him dry out and then assess for further damage. His vitals were good and there didn’t appear to be a need for concern at this point. The doctor, of course, recommended a stay in rehab after being discharged from the hospital, which was already suggested by Corroded’s management team.

“You fucking idiot.”

That’s the first thing Steve says to Eddie, quickly followed by:

“When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

He doesn’t linger, knowing he’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day until Eddie wakes up. But it’s gone midnight by the time he turns the key at Hop’s place, kicking his boots at the door to rid them of the snow and ice, before toeing them off at the door. They thunk across the hardwood as he carelessly kicks them off, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hooks by the door.

“Sshh, dingus, you’re gonna wake her up!” Robin hisses as her socked feet light down the stairs.

Steve smiles, relieved to see her, before asking, “Wake up who?”

Robin rolls her eyes and gestures to your sleeping form on the sofa. Steve studies you from a few steps up, one hand resting on the wooden bannister while the other pauses mid-air as he unravels his scarf. “Eddie’s fiancée, of course.”

“So, that’s her?”

You’ve turned your back to them, and you’ve curled in ever so slightly on the sofa. One of Joyce’s many blankets covers you, but your socked feet stick out from underneath one corner— dancing penguins.

At least, that’s what Steve thinks are on your socks. But, he may need to get his eyes checked again.

“What, you haven’t met her?” Robin takes in Steve’s shocked expression, before it softens into something akin to how he goes all moon-eyed at the babes who frequented Scoops Ahoy or Family Video when they were teens as his eyes fall to you once more. “She’s great, you’ll love her. Now c’mon, let’s get you some food.”

“Cereal?”

She snorts at that, “Not my cereal. You took the toy surprise last time!”

Safely ensconced in the kitchen, Robin and Steve catch up in between bites of sugary cereal. She regales him with how valiantly Jonathan tried to get you to take his room upstairs for your stay and how stubbornly you’d refused, insisting you’d be fine on the couch.

“I was right,” Robin says, some milk dribbling from her mouth as she chews. “Total knock-out and smart. Dunno how Munson managed it.”

“Oh y’know, the Munson charm probably.”

She hums in thought, setting her empty bowl in the sink. “Why d’you think he didn’t tell us?”

“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Fuck, what if he knocked her up?!”

Steve’s eyes blow wide at that thought. “Uh,” He says, astutely, “I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Yeah,” Robin hops down from her perch on the counter. “But how do we know?”

“You could ask her.”

She punches him in the arm, “You don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant Steve, geeze.”

He shrugs and slurps the sugary milk from the bowl before setting it alongside Robin’s. He licks his lips and crosses his arms in thought. Steve hadn’t considered the rather obvious conclusion that his rockstar best friend had inadvertently knocked someone up. Considering the groupies and types that flocked to Eddie, it was a long time coming.

If that’s what the case may be.

As it stands, it’s nearly two in the morning and Steve is exhausted. Thankfully, Family Video is closed for the holiday tomorrow, but he knows that in a few hours everyone is going to tramping around the house and generally being a nuisance. And he really doesn’t wanna drive clear across town to his place.

Steve pauses on the stairs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Robin clears the landing and calls to him from the guest room, “C’mon dingus, I haven’t got all night.”

With a shake of his head, he climbs the stairs mindful not to linger too long on the creaky boards. He settles in sharing a bed with Robin, her icicle feet darting under his calves as he fusses with the blankets. His head hits the pillow, and he’s out like a light.

All you can think as you blearily blink yourself awake, is how everything is so loud. Even when they try to be quiet, scampering across the hall past the living room where you clung to the last vestiges of sleep - it was loud. Strained whispers about breakfast and hospital visits, the opening and closing of doors, Hopper hissing at the kids to “Keep your mouths shut,” and to “Stop chasing each other across the house!”

A man, whom you can only assume is Steve, stumbles down the stairs, sweats swung low on his hips sporting a threadbare t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You’ve never seen a human being with bedhead like that - strands sticking up every which way and the sheer volume it had, my god. Hand falling from his eye, his glasses slot back into place, a pair of simple round frames decked in silver. He stops short at the landing, one hand grasping the wood of the bannister, watching as you set the phone back in its cradle.

“Leaving so soon?”

And that voice - all husky and low from sleep, with a slight rasp to it. It’s amazing you’re not reduced to a puddle on the floor at this point. He stretches slowly, like an animal would, a hushed groan falling from his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and drag your eyes from the sliver of skin exposed at his hip.

“No, just talking to Wayne.” You offer meekly, voice rusty from disuse, “He’s on his way over for an early morning hospital run.”

“Mmm,” Steve nods, “That’s not a bad idea.” He turns the corner from the stairs and stands beside you in the entryway. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” He says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you.” You shake hands and introduce yourself. His hand is large and warm, the contact of your skin against his sending a shiver down your spine.

“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles at you, beginning to wake up a bit more. “So, you’re the fiancée.”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” He looks you up and down, clucks his tongue and departs, making his way toward the kitchen.

Once there, all hell breaks loose. Joyce and Hop are manning the stove and counter, flipping pancakes and shovelling eggs onto plates and all but throwing them at the kids. Wedged into the breakfast nook are Dustin, Lucas, and Mike while El, Max, Robin, and Jonathan commandeer the table in the kitchen.

“Mornin’ family.” Steve greets, bee-lining for the coffeemaker. Blessedly, there’s a fresh pot brewing in the percolator while he scavenges for a mug.

Mumbled versions of “Morning Steve,” sound out from the peanut gallery between bites of food and sips of coffee or orange juice. Joyce sets a plate in front of him on the counter and ruffles his hair, “Morning kiddo.”

Hop sighs from the stove, turning the dial of the burner to ‘Off’ before intoning, “The kitchen is officially closed, you gremlins.”

Steve chuckles as he removes the coffeepot and gives a generous pour into the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug El made many moons ago. He’s not sure of your preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, so he decides to go without and trots out of the kitchen.

He sees the front door close at the end of the hall and quickens his step not wanting to miss you. Spying a pair of slides from god knows who, he slips them on and pulls the door open. Wayne’s old pickup is idling in the driveway as you step into the cab, feet unsteady and the newly formed ice of the drive. Wayne nods to Steve in greeting as he walks toward the house, while Steve waves in return.

“Careful,” He says as a hand comes to rest at your back.

Tossing a ‘thanks’ over your shoulder, you settle into the seat with a click of the seatbelt. “Did you need something?” You ask, breath forming puffs of vapor in the morning light.

“Well, uh,” Steve begins, ducking his head and gesturing to the mug in his hand. “The coffee’s not too great over there at the hospital.” He hands you the mug through the open door.

“Oh, thank you.”

He leans against the car, face level with yours. One fist at the roof of the cab while his opposite arm braces against the open door. A lock of hair falls into his face, and he’s so attractive that it’s stupid. “So, uh, y-you’re comin’ back, right? You’ll come back?”

You glance to him, unsure of why he’s so concerned with your whereabouts. “Yeah, we’re just checking in. We’ll be back soon.”

Steve nods at your confirmation, pushing off of the truck to stand at his full height. His hands slide to his hips, fingers just beneath the band of the sweatpants as he slowly arches his back, hips bobbing toward you. And you don’t know whether to maintain eye contact with him or focus on the looming proximity of his crotch.

“Oh boy,” He exhales, looking off into the distance. “What a day.”

Your eyes dart away when he looks to you once more, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Well, thank you.” You hold the mug up and take a tentative sip, “Good goddamn,” You whisper in disbelief.

“It’s good, right?” You nod and take another sip as he smiles, “I had a dream about you last night.” He tugs at the band of his sweats while your eyes cut to his.

“What?”

“Yeah,” He leans against the truck again, face closer to yours and arms resting against the roof of the cab. “I ended up havin’ a dream about you.”

“W-what was I doing?” You stammer out, as the sound of crushed snow and ice underfoot signals Wayne’s return.

“Well–” Steve starts to say before he’s cut off by Wayne’s, “Y’ready, sweetheart?”

You nod and clear your throat uncomfortably.

“You comin’?” Wayne asks Steve before he closes the passenger door.

“Later.” He turns to leave as Wayne settles into the driver’s seat but before you can pull out of the driveway, “Oh, y’know, you gotta make sure to bring back the mug because it’s Hop’s favorite.”

You stare back at him blankly.

“Or he’ll kill ya.”

“Okay,” You breathe watching as he makes his way back to the house, Adidas slides flopping through the snow.

Returning from the hospital an hour or so later, with plans to bring a few plates over for Eddie’s attending doctor and nurses, you nearly breeze past Steve sitting on the staircase with a mug of coffee and paper in hand.

“Hey,” You greet, toeing off your boots and shrugging out of your coat. “Wayne’s coming back for later, just had to grab some things from his place.”

He’s changed out of his sweats and done something to tame his hair. You can hear Joyce frantically corralling the kids in the kitchen, something about Mass and how she refuses to be late again. Steve shakes his head and drinks his coffee, ready and waiting to cart Robin, Dustin, and Max over to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy for the Thanksgiving Mass.

But it would seem that no one warned you about Mass last night, which would explain the deer in headlights look you’re sporting now. Steve stands from his perch on the stairs, turning to yell at Robin, “Our Lady may have perpetual mercy, but I don’t and you’re really pushing it today Rob!”

When he turns back, you’re no longer in the entryway. The kitchen door swings as if someone just passed through, and he can hear your voice over the chatter from the kids. Joyce is rattling off instructions and times for food to be cooked and you’re diligently taking notes on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. Your handwriting is neat, and a bit slanted, giving it an effortless look. Capping the marker, you let it swing from the string on the fridge.

“Think that about does it,” You assure Joyce, gesturing to the lone velcro roller in her hair. “I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” She asks, unraveling the roller and setting it on the windowsill above the sink. “I’m sure Robin has something you could borrow.”

Steve catches your eye roll and snorts into his mug. Your eyes cut to him, silently admonishing his outburst. He shakes his head and sets the mug on the counter, seeing Hop’s mug he loaned you earlier already on the drying rack.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” You kindly brush her off, “Besides, you’ll want to get going soon and I would just hold you up.”

“And the hotel is dropping off your luggage later?”

You nod, tying on an apron and moving to wash your hands. “Yeah, I spoke with the concierge this morning.”

“I wish you’d just sleep in Jonathan’s old room,” Joyce tuts, “He can go on the couch, he’s used to it.”

“Mom, I already offered—”

You laugh and raise your hand, “It’s fine Joyce, I’m already an imposition as it is. The last thing I’d want to do is put him out.”

Steve watches as you blend in with the family, how easily you soothe Joyce and her worries, banter with the kids, and crack jokes with Hop. It’s easy to see why Eddie could fall for someone like you. He just wishes he could find someone like that— easy going and kind, someone who fits in like a missing puzzle piece.

But maybe it’s too perfect.

Now there’s some food for thought.

A loud honk from Hop’s Bronco jars him from his musings. Steve claps his hands together, rallying the troops, “Okay, who’s with me?” Dustin, Lucas, and Max jump up from the table and gather their coats, scurrying out to the beemer. Robin takes the stairs two at a time, struggling to shrug into her coat. “Look alive, sunshine!”

Goodbyes ring out as you follow them to the porch, watching as they clamber into their cars. You wave as they pull out of the drive, Joyce rolling down the window for a final reminder about the dinner rolls. With good humor, you nod and give her a thumbs up as the Bronco drives onto the street.

The church parking lot is packed by the time they arrive. Steve drops off Robin and the kids before peeling out to find a parking spot, while Hop leaves the Bronco in the drop-off lane in front. Mass has already begun when Steve enters the chapel, quickly he slips in alongside Hop and Joyce at the family pew.

“We pray that the Lord’s healing presence will be felt by those who are sick and by their families. Especially Robert Newby, Barbara Holland, and Edward Munson. We pray to the Lord,” The priest intones from the lectern.

“Lord hear our prayer.”

Steve stands in between Hopper and Robin, waiting for the priest to move it along.

“O, God, you call us to live as one family. Save us from…”

Finally, they sit. Half-paying attention to the priest, Steve turns to Hop and asks, “So, who’s this fiancée?”

“She’s Eddie’s girl, she’s family now.”

“You’d think if Eddie were getting married, he would have announced it in the Times.”

Hop turns to him, “We read the Indianapolis Star.”

And the congregants say, “Amen.”

“If she’s family, why isn’t she at Mass with us?”

Hop snorts, “That’s rich, comin’ from you, kid.”

“I like Mass better in Latin,” Wayne pipes up from his seat next to Joyce, “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re sayin’.”

“D’ya think about what I said the other night?”

“Nope.”

“Steve, come on.” Hop stands with the rest of the congregation, “You’ve got the instinct for it, and gettin’ through the Academy is a breeze.”

“I told you,” Steve says following suit, “I don’t wanna be a cop for chrissakes.”

“Stop swearing,” Joyce hisses, “We’re in Mass.”

“But there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Well, you can talk about it later,” Joyce reminds them.

“Talk about it now,” Robin says leaning toward Steve conspiratorially, “He can’t kill you in church.”

“Will you please pipe down?” An exasperated parishioner asks from the pew behind them.

Hop scoffs and slowly turns around, “Hey, be nice, pal. We’re in church.”

“You’re disrupting the Mass!” He hisses back.

“Yeah? And who made you the Pope?”

“Jim!” Joyce hisses, nudging with an elbow.

“Now how did Argyle get to be a lector?” Wayne asks, “He took over Ed’s gig with Reefer Rick after he moved to LA with the band.”

Steve and Hopper snort, Robin tries and fails to repress her laughter. Down past Wayne, Dustin and Mike are a few seconds from a slap fight while Max and El whisper in between fits of giggles. Joyce sighs deeply.

And the congregation says, “Amen.”

Cooking Thanksgiving lunch goes off without a hitch. Everything was ready, as you promised, by the time they’d returned from Mass and you’d caught the tail end of Joyce’s scolding: “We will try to behave as a civilized family might—”

The kitchen door swung open to reveal Hopper and Joyce both stopping short at the sight of you washing dishes.

“H-how did you—” Joyce’s mouth opens and closes, struck dumb at the sight of gleaming dishes in the drying rack and the dishwasher already running.

“Oh, hi,” You toss over your shoulder, “The dining room table is set, I was just cleaning up in here.”

Steve and Robin file in soon after, bickering about something or other. They’re talking fast and cutting each other off, but it doesn’t deter their conversation.

“Why do you keep singling me out?” Steve balks, throwing his coat on the back of a nearby chair.

“Well, if you hadn’t been pestering Hop throughout Mass we might’ve—”

“And I can’t even defend myself?”

“Forget it,” Hop cuts in with a warning tone, “And I know you gave her my mug, Harrington.”

“Oh, did you need it?” Your hand flies to the cabinet above the coffeemaker, a fresh pot already brewed. “It’s all washed and ready to go.”

Dustin enters shortly after, “Let’s just vote Steve off the island,” and thumps him on the chest in passing.

“Yeah,” Hop agrees.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Well, I’m ashamed of all of you.”

“Oh, there’s some news,” Max mutters sarcastically, leaning against the fridge.

Steve’s eyes fall to Lucas, “Even you Sinclair.”

Lucas throws up his hands in exasperation, “I didn’t even do anything!”

“Okay, enough.” Joyce says cutting through the nonsense. “It’s Thanksgiving, we’re going to eat lunch without any of this bickering. And then, with any luck, you lot will pass out watching the game and I can finally get some goddamn peace.”

Everyone has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, that is until:

“No swearing.”

Steve punches Robin in the arm, “Can it.”

The room descends into guffaws and fits of laughter shortly thereafter. Joyce eventually herds everyone into the dining room, Robin pours the drinks while Hop carves the turkey. Everyone helps themselves to the various sides— dinner rolls, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted veggies. Wayne arrives with cornbread fresh from the oven and some vanilla ice cream to go with the pies for dessert.

The candles are lit casting a warm glow around the room, illuminating smiling faces. And it’s nice. Nice to belong, if only temporarily, to a big family that loves hard. Growing up, it had been only you and your dad. And after his death, that left only you. You had missed it, all of it— the inside jokes, sibling taunts, half-assed scolding followed by a cheeky wink, and that effortless touch.

It was second nature, how freely they expressed their affection for one another. Steve roping Dustin into a half-nelson for a noogie, Jonathan and Will kicking eachother under the table, El and Max communicating in half-formed sentences and wild gesticulations, Joyce, Hop, and Wayne sharing long-suffering sighs.

“Hey,” Robin says, nudging you with her elbow after refilling your wine glass. “I’m thankful for you.” Her voice is soft, like she’s sharing a secret. Cheeks tinged with a flush from the wine, she smiles at you and raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” She announced to the group, “To our newest addition and guardian angel, cheers!”

The sentiment is echoed across the table, calls of your name and ‘here, here.’ And it’s so kind that your heart could burst. You sip your wine and swallow around the lump in your throat. Going back to your meal, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, observed. Glancing up, you catch Steve looking at you from across the table.

The flicker of golden light against his face does little to ease the knot in your chest. His hair is slightly disheveled, a lock falling across his face wrought loose from his fingers combing through it. His eyes appear more green than hazel in the light, studying you from behind wire frames. Your pulse kicks up under his scrutiny, and he looks at you as if you’ll unravel right then and there.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was the years of tropical vacations instead of celebrating holidays with friends and family that made you forget that, actually, families are complicated and any recollection of pleasant holiday celebrations spent with your dad were a figment of your own nostalgia-tinted imagination and the promise of skiing the next day.

For a moment, shame creeps upon you like a thief in the night. You tear yourself from Steve's gaze, not noticing the concerned furrow of his brows as you hastily stand and offer to clear some plates from the table. Sweeping out of the room and nudging the kitchen door open with your hip. He absentmindedly swirls the remaining wine in his glass and blows out a puff of air.

Ever the detective, it takes Hopper all of two seconds to ascertain that Steve did something to hasten your departure from the table. Seeing as the punk is pointedly not looking his way, Hopper lobs a dinner role at Steve, grazing his cheek only to land on his plate sending the cutlery clattering. He jerks upright, setting the glass on the table, “What the–”

“That’s enough,” Hop warns with cool detachment and a knowing look in his eye. He nods toward the kitchen, “Now, go make nice.”

Everything is still mostly out of your control in the kitchen, precisely because you don’t know where anything should go and having a knot in your chest as hard as a rock does little to help matters. But Steve silently rescues you by beginning to unload the dishwasher and Robin starts a thirty minute tale of increasing ridiculousness and by the time the attention turns back to you, you are slightly less hysteric and better able to answer El’s kind questions.

You swallow a twist of guilt and a bigger twist of gratitude. You feel some anxiety brimming in your stomach and nod, giving El a strained smile.

Something knocks against your shoulder. The warm scent of cedar and musk invading your senses— Steve.

“Your shoulders are up near your ears,” he observes.

You sigh at that, trying to roll out the tension, but not quite managing to. Par for the course, with your indeterminate stay in Hawkins looming in the air and stretching far across the foreseeable future.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #fic: tbsg #Spotify

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milkiane · 2 years

Text

GOLDEN GIRL. robin buckley.

navigation - masterlist - taglist

summary: steve flirts with the cool beautiful tourist who visits family video for her girlfriend.

warnings: profanities. suggestive comments. embarrassed steve. gif credits to @dykejaskiers

word count: 1.4k

steve doesn’t know how everything went off the rails or why he suddenly has six kids under his wing – seven if you include robin. he used to be king steve, now he’s mom steve to a pack of fifteen-year-old shitheads.

where are their parents? it’s a question steve wishes he has an answer to.

the said shitheads were currently huddled at the corner of family video. it was a monday so they were the only ones keeping him busy. he had to drag the staff room’s television out and let them choose a film from the newly shipped releases after getting blackmailed by dustin.

“farrah fawcett.” dustin mouthed. he was lucky keith was out for a two-week vacation.

steve glared at him like there was no tomorrow — other than the mean blackmailing, it was peaceful. they were quiet, aside from occasional comments and laughter. steve basks it all in.

robin is out back, rewinding tapes, and steve is, yet again, stuck by the counter whilst looking out for the kids because where else will steve be without his children?

the overhead bell rings, signaling a customer, but steve couldn’t even bother to look up as he mindlessly flips through a magazine. he drones aloofly, “hi, welcome to family video. my name is steve and i’ll be helping you find the perfect film for yadda yadda yadda.”

“you think you can help me find a good rom-com, steve?”

his head snaps towards the lovely voice, magazine nearly dropping from his hands as he gapes at the sight of you. hawkins is a small town and you must be a tourist because it would be foolish of him to miss someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you.

“h-hi, my name is uh- harrington. steve. steve harrington.”

“hi, steve harrington,” you smile, a hint of mischief in your sultry voice. you knew who he was, you’ve seen him in the manifold of polaroids robin has. you decide that you want to have some fun.

steve’s knees nearly buckled, chills ran through his bones, and goosebumps rose on his skin. your voice was airy, like a soft breeze alleviating the heat of a feverish man under the scorching sun.

he feels his hands start to get clammy, was it getting hot in here? he lightly tugs at the collar of his god-awful shirt. “what was your question again? i’m sorry, i must have gotten lost in your eyes for a bit.”

you scoff in amusement, ignoring his outdated pick-up line. “rom-coms? do you have any new releases that are worth watching?”

max snickers at the sight of a tomato-red steve, she nudged the others and paused the movie to watch steve instead. it was better than whatever movie lucas picked.

steve directs his attention to the kids and glares at them. he takes a deep breath before turning his gaze back to your expecting one.

“well, if it’s romcoms you’re looking for, we don’t have any good ones yet,” he starts, tilting his head to the side to flash you his ever-charming smile. “but, y’know, i heard that pretty in pink is good.”

robin shuffles out of the back room and grins at the sight of you. she heard steve’s poor flirting attempts and decided to bring out the scoreboard, but when her eyes settled on you, her grin widened even more.

“yeah?” you muse, leaning against the counter. you notice robin’s presence.

steve gulps at the proximity, he wasn’t lying when he said he gets lost in your eyes. “yeah… i can- i can take you to the movies and we can watch it together?”

you hum as if in thought, playing with the charms on your bracelet before you look up at him with a smile. you ask sweetly, “you think i can invite robin to come with?”

robin stifles her laughter.

“rob-” he pauses, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “robin? buckley? my robin buckley?”

“well, yeah,” you shrug, lips curling into a smirk. “i mean, i don’t think it’ll look good for me if i go out with my girlfriend’s best friend to the movies alone, don’t you think?”

steve’s jaw drops.

the kids burst out laughing.

robin snickers, making her way towards you. “i thought you were staying at home today, baby?”

steve grimaces at the pet name.

“well, i thought i’d visit my best girl,” you smile, leaning into her embrace as she wraps her arms around you. she pulls you in for a kiss.

“-and flirt with her coworker slash best friend?” steve asks bitterly, a small pout on his lips. his glare steers to robin. “and you! you let me go on with it – what is wrong with you, seriously.”

dustin and max cackle at his demise. tears were forming in their eyes from their laughter.

“you were doing the flirting,” robin points out. “she was asking you for movies. you know, like what you’re paid to do?”

steve grumbles, but he isn’t mad or annoyed. he’s actually happy for robin even though he felt cross that she never told him about her cool girlfriend from the city.

“aww, it’s okay, steve,” you coo. “we can still go to the movies. if it helps, i know robin will let you hold my hand if you get lonely.”

he shoots you a sarcastic smile.

“i will, actually,” robin agrees, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. “i know how you cry when the guy and the girl finally get together.”

“okay, you’ve had your fun.” he rolls his eyes, hands resting on his hips as he looks at the giggling children. mom steve mode activated. “and you shitheads, do you want to walk home later?”

robin grins, intertwining her hands with yours. she drags you towards the backroom, sneaking behind steve as he continues to scold them. you hear the faint sounds of the television after a few seconds.

you hop on top of the low shelves in the room, grabbing one of the lone vhs tapes as robin shuts the door. you snort, showing her the tape with wiggling eyebrows. “may the foreskin be with you.”

she pulls a face of disgust as she settles herself in between your legs. “that’s actually so fucking gross, i can’t believe people are into these.”

you laugh. “don’t kink shame, robs. might i remind you that you absolutely love being-”

robin scoffs, pinching your thighs. “you’re being malicious.”

you smile, putting the tape down to wrap your arms around her neck, her own promptly snaking around your waist to pull you just a little bit closer. you pull her into a soft kiss, mumbling in between pecks, “missed you,”

“you know i missed you more,” she says, moving forward to kiss you again, and again, and again. it was an act that she will never get tired of. it was dizzying, the feeling of you, the feeling of your love.

the kiss was heated, lips pressing together like the final piece to complete the puzzle – the feeling of domestic content as you step back to admire your work. it’s bruised and red, a feat of passionate love and adoration.

your hands roam wherever they can, trailing and leaving goosebumps in their wake – an unconscious matter of habit; memorized after spending time after time of lingering touches and ardent intimacy.

you’ve never loved anything more than you loved robin. it was endless, the love you have for her, and you never quite failed to remind her, to show her. it goes on a long way; like going on a trip to find the other side of the rainbow where you’ll find a pot of gold.

but the happiness doesn’t stop at the gold; it’s where fortune leads you.

and it’s infinite because with the gold in your hands, life keeps getting better every waking moment. you’re lucky.

with robin, you are golden.

a soft moan slipped out of your lips as her tongue slipped into yours.

steve makes himself welcome in the room, leaning against the doorframe. “you aren't paid to sneak in your girlfriend and make out with her, you know?”

robin hums, a soft smile gracing her lips. her eyes never wavered from yours. “wish i was,”

you are golden but she will always be your golden girl.

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year

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Here’s some Steve for you Midwest bestie 🥰 oh no hopefully this doesn’t make you want to write anymore smutty blurbs :( hehehe

You tryna turn me into an even bigger slut for this man and his Midwest Monster? I am here for it! Listen, a bitch got a little carried away, btw… this turned into a whole ass fic with a few surprises… ;) I listened to Kenny G’s Christmas album whilst writing parts of this, because we fuck with that dude in this house!

Sorry this took so long! It’s unedited and I hope it’s okay? It kind of developed a mind of its own… 😂

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, slight masturbation, breeding kink, & tooth rotting fluff.

Steve Harrington never paid much attention to you… It was always your bestfriend’s new frosted manicure, or if your other friend got her hair done. He noticed. He paid compliments.

But if you tried a new lipstick outside of your comfort zone he wouldn’t even give you anything but a company line and a mere glance, checking out your movies with a precise ease, saving that witty charm for your friend. If you ever went into the Family Video it had always been with friends, never really a reason to go solo. ‘Chicken shit. You don’t get his attention because you can’t handle it. One of the girls is always with you, babes.’ Your bestie’s voice rang in through your ears, tormenting you since she’d finally said it days ago.

Your visits with your friends had shortened in the amount of days, your trying to seek out Steve’s attention dwindling. Why bother if he doesn’t care, and he doesn’t… At least, that’s what you convinced yourself—all the way through your argument of going to get the videos at the store tonight instead of your parents. They were preparing for a party, you weren’t busy. It was a no brainer, according to your dad and logic. But you didn’t want to see him tonight.

You lost the battle, however, and forged your way into praying he was somewhere nursing a hot toddy instead of rewinding new releases tonight. As you pull up to candy colored, light draped strip Mall—you already know you’re screwed.

There is no such luck. You can see him behind the counter through the labeling on the glass door. God, he looks good. You sigh and push the door open, cringing as the bell dings. He spares a look as any employee would. You don’t give him the same courtesy, instead heading directly to the specially decorated rack of holiday films and picking out the tapes.

Your heartbeat is throbbing painfully beneath the silk of your evening dress, making you adjust your soft overcoat and inhale a few deep breaths to coax you to the front counter. You slide your tapes onto the green surface and flash him a friendly smile, wishing he didn’t speak to you and steal your attempts at making this quick and painless. You want to crawl in the deepest pits of hell for the sins you imagine committing on the spot. He’s wearing a pair of light wash Levi’s, his signature belt snapped close to hold the fabric nice and tight. He’s wearing a fuzzy cream colored sweater that’s rolled above his his elbows, showcasing his watch, his hair in a slight disarray from his daily shift, and… your jaw about drops when you notice something new.

Peeking out from the sweater’s collar is a thin gold chain around his neck. Your tongue clicks to the roof of your mouth and you inhale sharply—another mistake. His cologne enriches your senses and smacks you in the face. And you wonder if the fucker has some he sprays on during his breaks, keeping it in his car, because how the fuck is it so present at this time of night? You can’t stop yourself when you shift, the silk sliding between your legs, your hosiery adding extra friction.

“You and the girls doing some downtime tonight?”

You’ve forgotten his voice has an even harsher effect on your body when he looks like he needs to be fucked thoroughly. Preferably… by you.

“Huh?” He’s grinning at you, as if there’s something he’s aware of that you’re not and never have been.

He starts to scan the tapes with one hand, the other drumming on the remaining few. What you wouldn’t give to have those fingers—

“I mean, you don’t normally go for this kind of cheesy stuff, right?”

“Oh. I mean, no, it’s for the party tonight. Besides, what’s wrong with the classics?” You shock yourself with your bold little defense.

It’s no big deal. He’s almost done scanning, just go when he finishes.

“Take no offense, Y/N, I just meant that it sounds like a tame party for you and your friends. Am I wrong about that?”

You can’t help but to laugh. “It’s a family party. You know, families and pleasantries exchanged, old dudes making jokes, enough food to send everyone home with leftovers and make my mom bitch about all the clean up left to do, like she doesn’t keep hosting these every single year.”

“Ah, the festively annual wine and dine shindig of adulthood. My folks used to have many.”

You take note of the used to, remembering how Steve’s parents haven’t been around to even hang a set of lights or send out stamped holiday cards. He’s also working on a night when everyone else you know that is employed here — isn’t. A protectiveness bubbles inside of your chest, piling metaphorical ice and snow a top your former irritation with him. It’s not his fault if he isn’t into you like that, even if it really stings. You’re pursing your lips, pausing, taking the five dollar bill your mom had given you from your handbag and sliding it across the desk where his fingers meet too quickly and brush over yours.

Neither of you move, which has you feeling the goosebumps prickling your flesh, your coat suddenly too hot. Steve looks at you, and for the first time you feel like he’s caring enough to see. His fingers curl around yours, his milky white teeth bared in the cutest little grin. He licks his lips and the action is taken into your labored breathing, his hand flipping yours to draw small shapes into your palm, keeping you here in a comfortable silence…? You both hear it loudly over the intercom, a well known Christmas tune played with a smooth blend of saxophone.

You engage in simultaneous laughter, overwhelmed by the atmosphere provided for the situation. It breaks the hold he momentarily has, your hand slipping from his. That warmth settles in your belly, your voice quieter. You tuck your movies underneath your arm, meeting his puppy eyes gaze. Those fucking freckles and moles are going to undo you.

“The party starts in an hour… if you wanna swing by? Stay a while?”

Steve can’t resist, not wanting you to go, the ache in his chest too much for him to ignore. You’re so oblivious it’s cute, albeit, annoying. “You asking me to be your date? Maybe save you from a few old geezers?”

You ignore the way your heart accelerates at that tease. “No, that’s not it. You know what, you probably have plans anyways. Forget it.” You remember why you didn’t want to be here in the first place. It wasn’t him flirting, he was just talking to you, even if this is the most talking you’ve ever done. You’re backtracking towards the door and nearly on your way out when a firm hand grips you around the elbow and tugs.

You’re flush against Steve’s chest, the fabric of his sweater dragging across your exposed collarbones. A few tufts of chocolate hair fall around his forehead. “Why are you so nervous around me, huh?”

It angers you and leaves you speechless for a moment. You don’t deny it, shrugging a shoulder to try and maneuver out of the warmth his hold possesses. He shakes his beautiful head. “Uh-uh. Why?”

You let your temper lead for you. “You don’t notice me enough to know if I’m nervous around you or not, Steve.”

He scoffs, as if an incredulous impossibility, fingers rubbing along your elbow through the heavy coat. Damn, it’s really hot in here. Am I sweating?

“I noticed enough to see that new lipstick you got last time. Or when you came in with that deep red top. It’s from Leighanne’s, that new boutique downtown, right? I saw it when I was Christmas shopping for Robin.”

Your eyes widen slightly, struck by the embarrassment of your total oblivion. Steve, the idiot, is grinning. “So you hiding behind your friends every time you come in here isn’t a coincidence. Knew it.” He lips purse in an amused pop.

You swallow on a dry breath. “Yeah, well you never flirt with me, Harrington, so what am I supposed to do?”

“That’s because there’s always a crowd around you, Y/N.”

“You flirt with them,” you argue. “It’s not different, you just don’t want to.”

“Hmm…” He trails off, stepping back a little and letting you go. You resist the urge to bring his hand back, maybe… press it elsewhere. You can feel your heart racing in your lungs, this whole thing some kind of fever dream. Too fast paced for you.

“What’s.. what is that supposed to mean?” You shift the movies beneath your other arm.

“It means—“ Steve stops himself as you start to push on the door and the bell jingles, drawing his attention to something you’ve apparently missed overhead. He’s full on Cheshire grinning now. —“oh, fuck it, honey. M’ gonna show you what it means.”

You’re not prepared for those big paws to press into your cheeks, his thumb pad swiping down to smear your lipstick into a smudge, and he’s dipping in low enough that you can taste the chocolate candy he’s been eating and become overpowered by—not just his cologne—but his laundry detergent and aftershave. The music is a quickly evaporating soundtrack, an ache startling you from between your legs. Are you shaking? You’re sure that you are. Steve doesn’t give you his mouth (Which, my god, that five o’clock shadow has already started. His lips, fucking almighty they’re plush, pretty. And those map of little freckles on his cheek and… is that one on his top lip too?)

“You want me to? It’s okay?” His voice is already wrapped in a red bow, honey simmering beneath, drenching everything.

Including my underwear. Fuck me.

You nod, the action causing your noses to brush, making Steve press the barest, featherlight touch of his mouth to yours, one that has your knees filling with jelly and led weights. Are you even standing upright? He slots his lips in to fit over your own, nose’s tip pressing into your cheek, his fingers rubbing circles into your jaw, one finger sliding down to swipe across your chin. It’s a small gesture, one that helps bring the kiss to a quiet part, a light smack heard in your shared airspace. Is it the atmosphere, the upcoming holiday? You don’t know, you are only aware of how hard you’re panting, that sizzling lust dusting your bones to ash.

Steve’s pupils have blown, scattering flecks of cinnamon around the midnight black expanse. He’s looking up and pushing on your chin before you can speak to get you to look too. Hung above the door is a very familiar decoration. Mistletoe.

“Keith put it up and made sure to ‘help’ every female customer on their way out, y’know, as any good manager does.”

It makes you laugh and press your forehead into Steve’s, your spare hand finally remembering itself and coming up to pet over the softness of his sweater. “So I’ve been the most oblivious person alive? Because this all feels like a dream.”

“You’re telling me. I haven’t been so worked up to kiss a girl in years.” His thumb pokes your nose, his other hand sliding down and around your waist, holding steadily.

“I’m not like all those other girls though, Steve. Even my friends are different.” The doubt seeps in a little.

“Different is good. It’s great, actually. Kind of like you.” His lips capture yours once more, moving into slippery glide to the corner of your mouth. You’re hot lava personified, elated.

You try not moan, but it’s a deep set sound that comes out rather pitifully. He hears it immediately, a rasp squeezing around his tone. “Did you like that? I could do it again for you.”

For you.

He’s watching you with a heated stare, one that is pattering its way from your head to your toes and back again. You nod, before you use your one hand to fist that collar between your fingers. “I don’t want you to stop. And if we keep—“ You cut yourself off, because—fuck—he didn’t ask that.

The easiest smirk indents itself in the corner of his mouth. His voice sounds as if he’s been asleep and he’s awakened, ready to pounce, but all light and airy. “If we keep what? Let’s not get shy on me again, baby.”

“Baby?” You definitely said that out loud.

He reaches for the videos in the cove of your tucked arm, stepping his way into a backwards stride, pulling you along. He doesn’t even turn around and he’s tossing the tapes onto the counter, his hands working beneath your coat to hold onto you over the silk, fingers pressing into your waist, splayed down across your hips. He finds your nose to give it a nuzzle. “Do you wanna be baby, honey?”

With your own surging confidence, you wrap an arm around his neck and scratch at the nape, fingers pushing through those kept locks. “Why don’t I show you?”

~*~

Steve Harrington was ever the gentleman, persisting that you didn’t have to do anything beyond kissing, but you hadn’t been able to satiate your trembling and he’d ended up agreeing with you, or rather your lips when you’d pulled down his collar and nosed at the gold chain to kiss every freckle and mole within your immediate vision. It was an uncoordinated stumble into the closet of the break room, your back against the door, Steve pulling your coat off your body with a helpful shrug from you, his fingertips finding the straps in a filter, easing them down, the fabric pressing a shiver into your shoulder blades. You couldn’t stop the pleading babbles, trying to rip his employee vest off so he could tuck his arms back and escape the sweater. He’d been harboring a white tank top beneath, one that was tucked into his jeans, and that did in your manners. Underneath the glow of the decorative lights that someone hung in here with you, you can see his expression darken, surprised.

You’re already starting on his belt and his head is hung low, lips wet and stained with your enriching shading choice. He’s a damned goner when you get his belt worked open and the buckle clatters apart, your hands coaxing through his hair, lost in pent up lust, begging him aloud. Finally. “Tell me you want me? Tell me I can have you, Steve.”

His gaze sinks into yours, like melted caramel waiting to be devoured. His chest heaves beneath the white tank, chest hair on display, his chain glowing in closet lighting. He knees you into a sideways position, denim to silk, pushing until you help yourself slide with his assistance, ass resting on a piled stack of old seat cushions that are mounted a top a spare chair. It’s an odd display, a sloppy setup, but you’ll lay on the dirty floor to have Steve Harrington. His mouth nudges your chin in a pathing way of glittering kisses. “You’ve always had me.”

Your breath locks in your lungs, you hold it as he claims you in another bruising kiss, your own hand sliding in between your thighs, squeezing around your wrist for some friction. You can’t help it, you don’t mean to do it, but your modesty is gone when he’s got that dark look, a dry swallow on those pouty lips. “Jesus, how turned on are you right now that you’re gonna touch yourself when m’ just kissing you?”

“I can’t fucking help it.” You whimper, one hand sliding around his neck, the other attempting to leave its hold on your cunt. Steve’s wrist watch reflects the dull bulb above as it swipes through your sights and prevents you.

“Who said I wanted you to?” And the straps that are still on your shoulders, Steve slots his thumbs in between the silk and your skin, tugging them down enough that the dress folds and exposes the tops of your breasts in the strapless lace bra. He fits himself at a dedicated placing, at your side, his mouth finding your neck, underneath your chin, the lobe and shell, teeth nipping, where you know you’ll feel that later, your body already rocking into your hand right now.

Your head falls into a cabinet above, but Steve reaches up, fingers skimming along the side of your neck, to place his hand behind your head to ease the impact. It’s all hypersensitive to you. His chain sways forward as he kisses your jugular, even permitting his tongue to glide over the taste of your perfume, all the while his free hand dips onto the side of your evening gown and rubs, stimulates, letting you remember he’s here and that he wants something. You meet him in a heated stare, your hips rocking into your hand, Steve jutting out a knee to bump your wrist right back, assisting, encouraging. “Please, honey. Touch yourself for me, let me see what I’ve done to you, yeah?”

His hands meet your knees in the instance you nod, catching his thumb in your mouth on their way down. He kneels, splayed fingers pushing and shifting with you, and moments later you’re raising your hips at his gentle praises, boots going too, followed by your stockings and panties coming down, and all of it piles over your discarded coat. Both sharing uneven, chopping breathing, Steve reassures you, even as your dress hikes around your waist and your legs spread open for him to see, your fingers hovering, slick pooled in the creases of your thighs, cunt glistening. He resembles someone being sucker punched in the gut, grateful his jeans are undone to give his cock room to breathe, because fuck. You can’t believe he’s reacting this strongly to you, to your body.

You stifle a cry out, reaching for him as he comes, easily getting his tank top off. There isn’t a drop of airspace not shared, nor invaded when he’s close, informing you of a winded wish. “Spread yourself open, let’s how worked up you are, sweetheart.”

Hesitation finds no home here—instead—your fingers make a V and part your sticky folds wide enough that Steve immediately latches onto your swollen clit, and the squelch your body makes from the simple action alone, destroys his last bit of languid composure. “How about you sit back and let me take care of you?”

It’s a quest for permission he’s had since you first saw him. Your slick covered fingers leave to take your dress down on your waist, easing the bra cups to expose your breasts to him, taking his hands, your shine transferring over his knuckles as you let his palms touch you, tease your already hardened nipples. He plays with you for a mere few seconds, but it’s agonizing torture, and he frees you—momentarily—that newly mess on his head tickling your chin as he dips to lick and suck over your areola, lips perfectly pulling your nipple, only to release it again and give a soft blowing breath, then to focusing on the other, all the while his Midwest monster (because, wow. you knew it was big, but really?), is a prominent delicacy that you won’t ignore any longer. It takes a few tries to get him to hear your voice, those hazel irises obliterated. He seems to understand and realize something at the same instance, your brow pinching into a frown.

Is he regretting this? You start to close your legs, but Steve shakes his head, barely coherent. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just remembered I’m literally at work.”

You’re not seeing the point? Didn’t he bring you in here? He sighs, lowering his head into your neck and back up again, hands leaving your breasts to rest on the meat of your spread thighs. “I don’t exactly bring rubbers with me on the job, honey. I wasn’t thinking with the right head when I brought you in here. Unless you’re on the pill?”

You snort outright, the sound a booming bam in the volume of the small room. “So you don’t do this all the time then?”

He’s incredulous, chuckling once, then this weird glow covers his freckly features, almost like the Milky Way map is lighting up right in front of your eyes, but it’s Steve and the vast variety of birth marks that decorate his flesh instead. A vulnerability frames him, one that makes you reach to rest your fingers along the tops of his hands, rolling over the knuckles. That half grin he does when he answers you, you’d fall in love with Steve Harrington if you weren’t already ass over elbows. “You’re the first one here with me. The only one I’ve ever even thought about, needing—“ He’s cute when he’s quick to fumble and backtrack. “—I’m not saying you’re not worth taking home and being treated right, instead of a closet, I’m just saying I couldn’t wait. Not that—fuck—I’m such a dick—“

You shut him up abruptly, tongue licking into his mouth for a prodding entry, not your most graceful kiss, but it gets him to chill out, read the Morse code loud and clear. And you’re positively swimming in the sunlight that is Steve. You answer plain as day, already finding the dip in his hips, fingernails scratching along the skin, those marks seared into him, ones you’ll have to photograph and taste another time. He presses his thumb behind your ear, causing a shiver to erupt in pops, your body arching, crying out for him uninhibited.

“Honey,” he warns, unsteady, on the precipice of already giving in. “it’s risky.”

“Hmm,” you fiddle with the chain on his very naked chest, now that it’s clearly within your eye-line, before continuing. “Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”

The feral rumble that wraps around him, diaphragm—deep, it sends you into a tailspin. It’s Steve who arches into your touch, needy and clinging inhumanely tighter. You raise an eagerly surprised brow. “What? You like that idea, huh, Steve? Creating a little baby with me? Like a Christmas surprise.”

He shakes his head, despite your temptress tease, but it’s the opposite meaning, his palms forcing your hips deeper into the cushions. Your cunt grows wetter, thighs damn near swaying back and forth for something, anything to satiate the ache. He kisses you gently, lips tickling, damp, his knuckles raising to brush around the apple of your cheek. You speak first. “I’m not—Steve, m’ not on the pill or anything, so if you don’t want to, it’s alright, I’ll understand.”

“As long as I get to have you, I don’t care what happens.” And it’s all moving slow motion, yet, so quick from there.

Steve’s jeans and boxers end up bunched around his knees, your legs held in their posing, his fingers sinking into you slowly with a shared, open mouthed whine at the first touch. You’ve never been this fucking wet before, and Steve is lapping it up, quite literally. He samples your arousal with a pop of those defined digits, alternating between working his thumb into a stretch to press circles into your cream soaked clit. That swoop takes hold of your insides, twisting your gut and you find Steve’s hand, thighs closing around his wrist, taking his kiss in stride, despite your jagged whimpers.

“Baby, you were about to cum, why’d you stop me?”

“Wanna try with you inside of me. Is that okay?” Steve stares at you as if you’re fine china and he’s discovering buried treasure all at the same instance.

“Of course it’s alright, honey. You think you can take me without anything?”

“Oh, I think you’ve seen that there’s plenty for you to work with, Huge Harrington.” Your body heats to an unhealthy temperature, motioning to his hand. He might not be the King Steve everyone knew, but he still knows what he does have.

He feeds you his fingers then, making you taste yourself, his cock slapping against his happy trail, smearing it. You watch in fascination, all but drooling, saliva filling the corners of your mouth. His lifts your hand in his, taking it to his shaft and pulls it away from his stomach, leaving beads of pre-come behind. His diction is clear. “Get me wet enough to fuck you.”

You don’t have to struggle to hear him, obviously, the harsh swallow that has you practically choking on spit is enough to do it, and the hot, heavy feel of his thick length in your grasp. Steve’s got another signature smirk sliding its way into his mouth’s crevices, his lips fitting over your own when you take initiative and heed his request. “Good girl.”

He licks at your mouth, tongue swiping across his own lips in the process, both your gazes working their way to watch you separate your swollen folds and drench your hand, bringing it to Steve’s awaiting erection. He sucks in sharply, abdomen tensing as you work to coat his cock in your sticky essence, getting too caught up in how pretty he is like this—literally in your hand, coming apart, throbbing, heavy. He’s nodding, face burying itself in your neck, his chain tickling you collar bones. You work his tank up and adjust to have him helping you take it off, his jeans all that remain, but you two don’t bother with those. When Steve inhales as his tip catches on your clit, he stops you, those hairy thighs tensing, bumping yours further apart.

There’s that moment, exchanged breaths hung off invisible hooks, slapping back like an elastic band, and the pause before Steve is inside of you. A shift in in what once was, your earth’s axis tilting, a new normal unrolled. Steve sees you, his thumb pushing a lock of hair back behind your ear as he kisses your cheek with a delicate fondness. He takes your hand in his and presses it beside your hip, both of you holding onto the cushioning for leverage, his other finding his now creamy cock. He’s barely able to get the question out, voice gone to the winds of desire.

“You ready, sweetheart? You’re sure, right?”

You lift your other hand to his neck’s nape, nose nudging his, breathing uneven as you scoot a little more to the edge of the arrangement for him. “Never been more sure of anything, Steve.”

You can’t win the battle to see how he enters you, too focused on his busted pupils, his flaring nostrils, that look of elated concentration. He gives himself another drag down the seam of you, before his dick parts your labia and the head catches just inside your entrance. Your jaw drops at the initial push, an overwhelming ache resting inside of your tummy, washing over every muscle nearby, your entire body on fire with the burn. Your hand squeezes his, nails biting into his palm, the hiss leaving through clenched teeth. “Oh, fuck.”

Steve stops himself right away, his guiding hand paused around himself. His voice is wet with want, and you can tell he’s holding back. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He strums your chorded nerves, kissing your mouth and letting go of your hand to swipe his thumb across the tear that’s gathered at your waterline. “Wait, this isn’t your first time, is it?” He starts to panic some, feeling worse for bringing you in a storage locker. But you’re shaking your head.

“No, I’m not a virgin. You’re just… I’ve not had anyone so t-thick. S’ been a while too.” Steve doesn’t let you close your eyes, a soft sigh settles.

“I’ll go slow, okay? And you’ll tell me if anything hurts, so I can take care of it.” It was more a demand than a question, and you naturally agree.

Steve grits his teeth on this next push of his hips, the first few inches going in with ease. You’re cunt is so slick that this won’t take long for him, and he’s worried about you adjusting to his size, despite the way it paddles his ego a little. His cupped hand reaches your body and he lets go of his cock, wet fingers tilting your chin down to see, then he brings your mouth to his, caging you in completely, chest hair dragging across your breasts. He moves, you give, and he’s bottoming out in your tight heat, his head fucking spinning and his face contorting into a painful expression that commits an affair with bliss. You can’t think of anything else but Steve and the musk he’s surrounding you with, body a switchboard of emotions and sensations.

He’s speaking to you, voice muffled and under water. You break the surface when his cock twitches inside you, your tongue slicking across your bottom lip. His balls are nestled against the globes of your ass and your forgot that you’re holding your breath, releasing it in a tremble in time for Steve to get through. “Shit, honey? Tell me I didn’t hurt you?”

You never felt this before. Full, everything being hit inside your body, all your senses coddled and tapped into. You’ve heard your friends talk about sex so good that you could cry. Well, as Steve’s eyes cast an amber glow that resembles a firelight, you can’t contain yourself. Overloaded and breathless, you rock your hips into his and gasp against his mouth. “It’s good. Fucking perfect, please…”

And you don’t know what you’re asking, but begging for. Luckily for you, Steve does. “Ah, there’s my good girl. Took me so good, so wet and warm for me.”

~*~

You meet one another in the beginning stages of your shared rhythm, a pace that is deep and relentless, the burn that Steve’s size brings only adding to your heightening discombobulation. He’s boasting praises, showering you in their wake. Your body has never felt more alive, more connected. And Steve, he’s went from steady movements, to drawing your calves over his forearms and pressing you back as far as he can get, a disgustingly sensual squelch echoing around the expanse of the room. You’re both too far gone to say anything that isn’t pure and utter filth, so why even try?

He bends down several times to take a nipple in his mouth, alternating, his hair messy from your now consistent pulling. His cheeks are stained pink, body prominent beneath the racing of his heart. That chain slaps messily across his neck and you can’t take it, marking your place, licking it to life. That latches onto Steve and steals the breath from his lungs, the effects heard deep inside his chest cavity. He can’t breathe in anything that isn’t you.

“Steve…” That familiar pressure signals before you’re able to comprehend.

Steve inclines his head and dips his hips to catch on that spot inside your sticky cunt, his hand dropping between your legs and rubbing fast circles around your clit. “That’s a real good babygirl.”

You whine, pressure boiling over, muscles licked and locking down. Steve noses into your jawline and kisses your mouth’s corner. “S’ it, honey. I can feel it. You gonna cum for me?”

“Don’t stop and I will!” You nearly bellow, making him chuckle throatily, and your vision whites out.

Steve fucks you through it and let’s you rest for a brief spell on his shoulder, before he’s throbbing inside of you and he has to look at you, wanting you to watch his face as it scrunches, the softest whimpers falling off his angelic mouth, and he tenses. “Baby… gonna come inside you.”

“Then do it, Steve.” It’s a challenge, a tease to earlier words. You tighten purposely and he sniffles, a warmth flooding you, his body slumping over top yours.

Your heart is hammering beneath your breast, which is smashed into Steve Harrington’s chest hair. He’s softening inside of your pussy, his spend already pooling around where you’re connected, available to view as a webbed shine when he pulls back, easing out, kissing you on the break away. He’s nuzzling you, not able to stop the kisses from flourishing. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“M’ glad you came in here, you know that?” He states, helping you dress first. After your legs regain feeling, that is.

“Me too.” Dorky smiles and shy grins transpire, until…

“So, you mentioned a party? I was thinking I could be your date and save you from the bore of the geezers, after all.”

~*~

One year later

“Mom! No, I told you it was burning five minutes ago, fuck!”

“Language, dear!”

Your mom’s laughter, following that statement can be heard from the next room, obviously charmed by something he said, ignoring your protests about the current dish of the night that’s about to be charcoal for the party guests. She’s never been more calm, making you roll your eyes as she finally does appear. “Don’t worry about it! Did you get the videos?”

You snort, a reminder ringing as clear as the bells playing from the Christmas vinyl on your dad’s record player. You smooth down your floor length black gown, enjoying how it flows in all the right places now. “Don’t I always?”

She shakes her head fondly, throwing a dish rag over her sequin overcoat and heading into the kitchen just as Steve appears in the doorway, his entire appearance ripped straight from vogue. “Wasn’t last year the first time you went to the video store on your own, babe?”

You roll your eyes and step towards him, adjusting his tie and the lapels on his suit jacket. His hair is a bit messy, albeit, still styled, and he’s freshly shaven. Your mouth waters like a woman dying of thirst. Twelve months ago tonight, you can’t believe it. Steve is also thinking the same way, his fingers reaching out to fondly stroke the apple of your cheekbone. “Twelve months ago. Hard to believe I get to be your date for the second year in a row.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love charming the granny panties off everyone here, Harrington.” He shifts his arm for you to cling onto, and you find yourselves locked in a kiss, only breaking apart when a cooing noise is heard from Steve’s hold.

You look down in his arms, an identical pair of eyes that match his own looking back at you, a red bow placed delicately atop her head, and the fullest tule dress your mom could apparently find at the JC Penny. But you can’t deny that it’s melting your heart, the memories, the present. Steve is soft, that reservation he’s got for the three month old baby girl in his arms is unmatchable. He bounces her a little, her stocking clad legs kicking, her shiny dress shoes way too tiny not to be cute.

“There’s daddy’s princess. You awake now, huh? Was it mommy’s bad language?” He’s smirking when he looks at you and you poke him in the mouth, making him chuckle.

Your mom’s footsteps are quick paced, making you and Steve both break apart as you hear her. Steve mutters a ‘grandma super-hearing’ and your mom immediately takes your daughter the moments he steps into the living room. It’s endearingly annoying how she stares your direction as Steve finds your hands (now that his are free). You don’t get the chance to ask her what she wants, before she’s voicing it herself, giggling at yours and Steve’s daughter. “So, I’m getting another one of these for Christmas next year, right?”

The implications cause you to heat up, making Steve get cocky and tease once she’s out of ear shot. “I’ll have to save you and our daughter from the geezers. But if your mom wants another one, wait—“ You frown, Steve leaning in, that raspy voice like melted caramel by your ear, tickling the lobe and electrifying your entire body. “How big is the closet in your old bedroom?”

Happy one year anniversary indeed.

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