#Mike Huff
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
robynsassenmyview · 7 months ago
Text
Learned friends; true rotters
"Learned friends; true rotters", a review of 'Witness for the Prosecution', directed by Alan Swerdlow, until 30 June in Johannesburg, and 4 July - 10 August in Cape Town.
VERDICT under consideration, with (from left) Sir Wilfred Robarts QC (Graham Hopkins), Mr John Mayhew (Craig Jackson), defence solicitor Mr Myers QC (Mike Huff) and Inspector Hearne (Micah Stojakovic) with Mr Justice Wainwright (Peter Terry) residing. Photograph by Keaton Ditchfield. THE COURT DRAMA in the wake of a murder of passion is arguably the most enthralling context for a thrilling story…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes
Text
Jon: I am the type of person that likes to think things through.
Rhaegar: I once watched you eat a marshmallow while it was still on fire.
60 notes · View notes
bylertruther · 2 years ago
Text
50s or 60s au idk where homophobia isn't like um. real <3 and will is a poor prep and mike is a rich greaser and it's all cute and gay.
will wants mike to give him a ride on his motorcycle and pouts at him until he relents (as if mike hasn't been daydreaming abt this scenario for ages). mike's brain short circuits the first time he feels will hold on to him, and his heart threatens to leap out of his chest whenever he starts giggling and woo!-ing in his ear.
they often share a milkshake at benny's burgers where will talks and talks and talks and mike makes the conscious and incredibly valiant, taxing effort to pay equal enough attention to both him and his lips. (will flicks some of the milkshake glass's condensation at him and tells him my eyes are up here, mike.)
mike lets will eat the cherry n kisses away the whipped cream from the corner of his lips. he very chivalrously and mercifully does not comment on how red will blushes after, because he's a very good boyfriend. (he waits until later to bring it up ofc, specifically when will's gotten a little smug and off-guard.)
will is always locking arms with him and mike is always putting his arm around will's shoulders. mike gives will his leather jacket when will's cold and will ignores mike's many protests and just shoves his still-warm sweater over mike's head whenever he's CLEARLY shivering but refusing to so much as admit tht it's even a bit nippy outside.
will fixes his hair for him after and tells him while giggling that he looks like an angry bird right now. mike just blows his hair out of his face and glares at him without any bite to it bc he turns into a softie around will sure but also bc he's kind of screaming inside at the fact tht will's sweater smells just like him which means he'll smell just like him now and it's so warm and Oh My God He Was Wearing This And Now I'm Wearing It And That's Kind Of Like A Hug If You Think About It And—
261 notes · View notes
myreyisbae · 6 months ago
Text
I had some down time And I couldn't wait any longer and at least watched the first Blood Ties episode "Blood Price part 1" recently
Tumblr media
Certain dialogue did make me laugh, (I love a good bit of humor in my vampire shows) and certain scenes really did make me think about Moonlight (2007) / it's unaired pilot "Twilight" and the Fox/Netflix show Lucifer (i just really like those shows and i really think i might like this one too)
Vicki and Henry really haven't spent much time together yet so I'm curious how that relationship/partnership develops and as someone who liked Josh ("Beth's boyfriend from "Moonlight") more as I got older I actually don't mind Mike
Tumblr media
Overall I'm happy to have started watching Blood Ties (I do hope to watch the rest of the episodes on a computer though after I finish the second part of the episode)
12 notes · View notes
heart-of-the-morningstar · 1 year ago
Text
Trying to gage the fandom’s thoughts on good ol’ Mikey boy here, and you gotta pick one! Reblogs appreciated!
32 notes · View notes
bloodtiesstilllives · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
A little reddit book review of Blood Price
9 notes · View notes
ashima066-blog · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
different variations of chibi Mike and Henry
Henry turns on his dark side. Let's support him.
I also want to say about the Wonderful person who drew this for our blog @bloodtiesstilllives
the girl who drew this one has her own tik tok if anyone is interested, go in and like her. She is also on the sinking BT ship On her account, she posts her drawings based on the k-drama "Mouse" fandom and much more
Her nickname is Tik tok: cachelep
also a link to one of her videos https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRwwBE4g/
12 notes · View notes
scenesandscreens · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Luckiest Girl Alive (2022)
Director - Mike Barker, Cinematography - Colin Watkinson
72 notes · View notes
munson-blurbs · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader
Summary: You never meant for Eddie to know that you had a crush on him. What happened when he found out, courtesy of Mike Wheeler's big mouth?
WC: 2.6k
Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), angst to fluff to smut and then back to fluff?? I don't even know, idiots in love, p in v, semi-public sex (we get it on in the van, baby)
Part of @cherrycolored-punk's Softember event!
Divider credit to @saradika
Tumblr media
Friday, May 16, 1986: the day you determined that Mike Wheeler was the worst. 
You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, it couldn’t be easy growing up in Nancy’s perfect shadow. Just the time you spent working with her on the school newspaper was exhausting. 
That was where you were currently sprinting from, weaving through the empty hallways towards the drama room. Leave it to Nancy to schedule an emergency newspaper meeting on a Friday afternoon. 
“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You kept your head down as you breezed into the Hellfire meeting. Even without looking, you could feel the guys glaring at you. The only thing less forgivable than missing a campaign was interrupting one. 
Gareth let out a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nice of you to join us, Lady Atwood.” He shifted forward in his seat. “You’re in luck today—our fearless Dungeon Master has yet to grace us with his presence.”
You wrinkled your nose, only then noticing that Eddie’s throne remained empty. “Where is he?”
From his spot at the table, Mike Wheeler scoffed. “Surprised you don’t know, considering you’re basically in love with him.”
You were about to refute his statement, or at least give him a well-deserved middle finger, when you heard a clattering behind you. 
Like metal hitting the floor tiles.
No. No, no no no…
“S-Sorry.” Eddie stammered. He quickly scooped up the tin lunch box that doubled as a place to stash his weed. “I had a last-minute deal. Apparently there’s a party at McKinney’s house tonight and he needed some, uh, provisions. So, uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat, eyes darting around the room and looking at everyone except for you. “We can get started.”
There might as well have been a spotlight beaming down, accentuating the embarrassment written all over your face. Everyone in Hellfire knew about your crush on Eddie, but they had the decency to keep it a secret. 
Everyone except for Mike Wheeler, apparently. God, you wanted to squish that little shit like a bug beneath your shoe.
It certainly didn’t help that Eddie kept glancing at you, even when he addressed the group. Like he was waiting for you to say something about Mike’s comment. Waiting for you to refute it, to roll your eyes and whip out a snappy comeback. Maybe he was even hoping you would.
He was probably internally cringing just thinking about you having romantic feelings for him.
“Lady Atwood?”
Your gaze instinctively snapped over to Eddie when he said your name. He was looking at you, brown eyes wide with anticipation of your response. 
Warmth crept up your neck. He had heard what Mike said about you being in love with him–he had to have. He’d just had the good grace to brush over it because…
Because he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to cause you any further humiliation.
“Y-Yeah?” You choked on the word, trying to put the incident behind you. But you couldn’t, because the pain of unrequited feelings kept yanking on your heart, drawing tears that you desperately wished would evaporate.
“Gareth the Great has proposed battling the demogorgon.” There was a hint of a smirk on Eddie’s lips. It was your first clue that the move would prove entertaining, perhaps at your character’s demise. “We’re waiting for your input.”
Nodding, you chewed the inside of your cheek and studied the board. Okay, it looked like winning the battle was feasible, though a bit risky. The rest of the club watched as you contemplated; Gareth especially was practically vibrating with anticipation.
Then the ceiling started leaking. Soft drops with no particular rhythm, landing on your cheeks. Just your luck–first Mike’s big mouth spilled your secret, then whatever nastiness was living in Hawkins High School’s pipes was now seeping into your skin.
“Holy shit, is she crying?”
Dustin Henderson’s voice broke into your thoughts. His tone, for possibly the first time since you’d met him, held only concern with a note of snark.
Who was crying? You were the only girl in the club now that Ronnie had graduated, save for the times Erica Sinclair served as a substitute. Which meant…
“Way to go, asshole.” Lucas thwacked Mike across the chest. 
“I didn’t know he was there!”
The purple fabric of your shirt darkened beneath your arms as another disconcerting flash of heat hit you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Maybe you’d get lucky and the floor would open beneath you and swallow you up. 
“I need to get some air.” Whether you spoke the words aloud or said them silently to yourself, you weren’t sure. 
Your feet seemed to carry you out of the room and through the school’s front doors. Tears blurred your vision, and you swiped them away before any other lingering students could see. 
The air was warm, teasing of the approaching summer. God, summer—you always spent it with Eddie, lounging by the public pool or sitting down at Lovers Lake. You’d read a book while he pored over his Hellfire notebook, scribbling notes for future campaign ideas. 
Would he still want to do that, to spend those long days with you, now that he knew about your pathetic crush? 
It wasn’t until you reached the parking lot that you remembered: Eddie drove you to school that morning. If you started walking now, you’d definitely get home before dark. Or maybe you could call your parents from the payphone if you managed to scrounge up the change—
The sound of your name stopped you in your tracks. You should’ve kept walking the moment you saw Eddie, his frizzy curls bouncing as he jogged over to you. 
“Hey.” His hand brushed yours, though you pulled away before he could grab ahold of it. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
He sighed. “Okay, let me rephrase that: Why did you leave? Because of what Wheeler said?” Eddie let out a small, disbelieving laugh when you nodded. “He’s such a little shit. Always messing with me. I’m gonna kick his sorry ass one of these days.”
Your eyebrows shot up. Messing with Eddie? “What are you talking about?”
“That joke about you being in love with me. He obviously saw me in the doorway and said it to embarrass me.” A blush crept onto Eddie’s cheeks. “Y’know, ‘cause…”
But you didn’t know. You had no idea what he meant. And as much as Mike was a menace, he seemed sincere when he said he didn’t realize that Eddie was there. 
“Because why?”
“Because,” Eddie’s gaze shifted to his van’s tires before he finally looked at you again. “Because he knows I have this dumb crush on you, and he thinks it’s hilarious to fuck with me about it.”
Words evaded you. This had to be some sort of elaborate set-up. Eddie had a crush on you? When girls like Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway lived in the very same town? 
Impossible. 
Not privy to the argument playing out inside your head—thank God—Eddie babbled on. “I know it’s weird. That’s why I haven’t told you—well, until right now. And I’m starting to regret it, because you’re looking at me like I have three heads. So maybe I’ll just shut up now.”
“No.” Summoning all of your courage, you took his hand in yours and managed a smile. “Eddie, Mike was teasing me because I like you. More than a friend should like a friend.”
Eddie’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. “What if I told you…I don’t want to just be friends?”
You let your eyes meet his. “I-I don’t want to just be friends, either.”
He took a pause before he asked his next question. Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears as you waited for him to speak.
“And what if I did this?” One palm, callused from years of guitar playing, cupped your cheek. Eddie moved closer, his nose bumping against yours in a clumsy attempt to close the gap between you. “Shit, that–that was supposed to be suave.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Munson.” The words left your mouth before you could think them through. Your fingers tangled into his hair, pulling him back towards you and finishing what he had started.
His lips, soft and tasting vaguely of the cigarettes he’d smoked after school, crashed into yours. One hand snaked around your waist and pressed you against him until you felt his metal belt buckle through your shirt.
You moaned softly, letting his tongue into your mouth without hesitation. More, more, more…you needed more. You needed all of him. 
It was Eddie who broke the kiss, much to your chagrin. But what he said next made up for the loss.
“Sorry…I’m trying to be a gentleman. But it’s, uh, getting a little hard.” He chuckled, stealing another quick kiss. “Pun very much intended.”
A quick glance proved that Eddie wasn’t lying: His erection tantalizingly strained against his fly. What you wouldn’t give to feel him inside you…
“Y’know, take you on a date, tell you how pretty you look,” Eddie continued, shifting his stance in a pitiful attempt to quell his desire. “I don’t wanna go at it in the school parking lot like some feral rabbits.” He waved his hand haphazardly. 
You bit your lip, weighing your options. A date would be nice; perhaps a night at The Hawk, his arm around you as a movie played on a giant screen. Or maybe he’d take you to dinner—nothing as expensive as Enzo’s, but somewhere more romantic than your usual Benny’s hangout. 
A date with Eddie was something you’d only ever dreamed of. But right now, you needed to live out a different fantasy before you combusted from an overload of lust. 
“Remember the first campaign you created this year?” Your soft voice held a sultry air despite your nerves. “It was your most sadistic one yet. We were all ready to forfeit, but you took pity on us and gave us a hint.”
Taking a deep breath, you plunged your hand into his front pocket. “Do you remember what you said?”
Eddie shook his head. “I can’t remember my own goddamn name right now, Sweetheart.”
You laughed, your finger hooking around his keyring. “You said that sometimes, it’s better to work backwards.”
With a triumphant grin, you plucked the keys from his pocket. 
“You’re gonna be the death of me.” His own smile betrayed his exasperated exterior as he grabbed your hand. His van seemed a million miles away, though it was parked in one of the closest spots in the lot. 
Eddie yanked open the back door, waiting just long enough for you to get settled before he scrambled in behind you. The moment the door closed, he pulled you on top of him. 
You could feel him, feel his hardness, against your core. You rolled your hips instinctively, savoring the friction. 
Hands clamped down on your denim-covered thighs. “You gotta…you can’t…” Eddie choked, struggling for words. “We’re already about to do it in my van. I don’t wanna look even more pathetic by coming in my pants.”
Warmth blossomed in your body. You could imagine him sputtering out a stream of swear words as he came, flooding his own boxers with his release. 
Maybe another day. 
Buttons were undone, flies were unzipped, clothes were discarded into a pile in the corner of the van. It was only you and Eddie, not a single scrap of fabric between you. 
Sweat glistened on his chest, matting down the sparse hairs that curled around his nipples. You leaned in, kissing just above the demon head tattoo etched on his pec. 
“Baby,” he crooned. The new pet name wasn’t lost on you. Your heart beat faster, a butterfly frantically flapping its wings. “Baby, I need you.”
He did need you, unless he was going to take care of his achingly hard cock by himself. The pink tip leaked with pre-cum, and if you had more room, you would have licked it clean off. 
You settled for swiping it away with your thumb, his abdomen tightening at the sudden contact. Eddie nearly passed out on the spot when you sucked on your finger, savoring the salty taste.
“Baby,” he groaned again. “I w-wanted to get you off first, ‘cause I know I’m not gonna last like this.”
“S’okay.” You lined him up with your entrance, ignoring the way your hands shook as you slowly sank down onto him. His hips bucked up almost of their own accord. “F-Fuck, Eddie…”
Eddie looked up at you, brown irises wide. He paused for an extra moment; maybe he really had forgotten his own name. “I know, I know,” he said finally. “God, I fucking know, baby.” 
His thumb found your clit the second he composed himself, rubbing delicate circles until your toes curled. His other hand held you with just enough force to keep you stable while still being able to ride him.
“You’re so beautiful.” He let out a breathless laugh. “If I wake up and this was all a dream, I’m gonna be pissed.”
You shared the same thought. What if the Eddie laying before you, curls splayed against the worn carpet of his van, groaning your name–your name–was all a mirage? Another fantasy conjured up by your lovesick brain?
“I’ve never had a dream this good before.”
“Me either,” he admitted, “but the only ones that’ve come close involve you.”
You tightened around him, your hands flush against his chest. The fact that you occupied his thoughts, unconscious or otherwise, sent a wave of arousal rolling through you. You wanted to hear every last detail of those dreams, to know exactly what turned him on.
Maybe later. Right now, your focus stayed on the way he touched you. So intentional, so precise. And Eddie worked you through your orgasm, keeping his same rhythm as you came around him.
“There you go, pretty girl. That’s it,” he murmured. “‘M close. Where do you–where can I–”
“Inside.” You’d never been more grateful to be on the pill. 
Eddie let himself go, unleashing a torrent of desire. He thrust into you, chasing his own release now that he knew you’d gotten yours.
It was only when he slowed his pace, milking the last drops of cum from his cock, that reality began to settle in.
You just had sex with your best friend in the back of his van, a few hundred feet away from where your friends were gathered around a DnD board–
“Oh my God, Eddie!” Your eyes snapped open in realization. “Hellfire–they’re still there.”
Eddie pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. You relaxed into his chest. “They’re smart guys when they’re not being idiots.” The words vibrated against your skin. “I’m sure they figured out that we weren’t coming back.”
He sighed, wrapping one arm around you. “Can I take you on that date now, baby? Y’know, once we get dressed.” He smirked. “We can go to Scoops Ahoy and split a sundae. And then, if you want, I’ll take you back to my place and undress you again?”
You scrambled for your clothes almost as quickly as you’d shed them, Eddie following suit. And as much as you wanted to have sex with him again, to really take your time and cherish each second, you were equally excited to cuddle up in a booth and share some ice cream.
Friday, May 16, 1986: the day Mike Wheeler’s lack of filter didn’t completely backfire. Because it was also the day that you and Eddie Munson became boyfriend and girlfriend.
--
2K notes · View notes
writersdrug · 3 months ago
Note
Heyyy I hope your doing ok! Wanted to send this tiktok cuz it reminded me and made me think of bartender!Simon and hope it makes you giggle as much as it made me!! 🤭
https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP8Rx8F9q/
This is perfect lmao, but I imagine reader replacing things during his shift while he isn't looking.
He's busy pouring a tap, listening to Mike talk about his new promotion - you sneakily swap his corkscrew off of the Prosecco bottle for a pink one, stuffing the old one into your server apron as you pour waters for your table. You're gone just as Simon walks over to the POS.
He pulls the next ticket from the printer - three Tequila Sunrises. He looks behind him at the table in the far corner; three middle-aged women. Makes sense. He grabs the glasses and a jigger, pouring in tequila, then grenadine - he drops the jigger into the wash sink and reaches for the champagne, popping off the corkscrew-
He thinks he's gone insane for a moment, as he stands there and stares at the corkscrew in his hand. It's pink. It's... pink. Has he gone insane? Did Price order new corkscrews - and why the hell would he get pink ones?
He slowly sets it down on the countertop, then finishes pouring the champagne into the glasses. He tops them off with orange juice and sets them on the end of the bar with the ticket, right when you appear.
"I'll grab those in a sec." You say, snagging a glass and filling it with ice. You look at Simon with a furrowed brow. "Everything alright?"
He's looking around the area behind the bar, hands on his hips. "Lost somethin'."
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. "What was it?"
"Don't worry 'bout it." He says, turning back around. He pulls the next ticket, just as you go rummaging inside the bar fridge. "What're you doin'?"
"Someone wants a ginger beer." You say, grabbing a can and pouring it into the glass. Simon grunts, heading to the opposite end of the bar for the bitters. You take the moment to swap his bottle opener for a pink one, stuffing his into your pocket. It clicks against the corkscrew, and you manage to grab the sunrises and disappear from the bar before Simon comes back.
He's putting together an Old Fashioned when some bloke walks up to the bar. "Can I get a Corona?"
"You openin'?" Simon gruffs out.
"Yeah, we're waiting for a table." The man holds his card out. Simon takes it and starts a tab - he grabs a Corona from the bar fridge and shuts the door, grabbing the bottle opener and popping the lid off.
"Lime?"
The man huffs. "No thanks. Nice shit, though."
He furrows his brow as he hands the man his drink. He watches him walk away with a confused grunt, then goes to put the opener away-
It's... pink.
He holds it in his hand. He's definitely going insane. He looks down at the corkscrew, half expecting it to be back to normal, but it's still the same Barbie pink. He slaps the bottle opener back against the fridge with a frustrated growl, folding his arms over his chest and taking a thorough look around the bar.
There's a pink pen, complete with a pompom on the end, right at the POS. Both jiggers have been replaced with two others, except they're a rose gold and finished with a glittery sheen. The bar spoon, the shakers - even the fucking strainer, for Christ's sake - they're all fucking pink.
He looks around the pub, eyes narrowed as they scan the crowd, until they land on you; leaning against the server station, facing away from him. Clearly trying to hold back a laugh.
It's you. It's obviously you. He's a bit frustrated with himself for not getting it straight away. Your server apron is full and heavy with the evidence. He watches as you run off to one of your tables, your apron clanking as you walk. He scoffs, turning and grabbing his next ticket. He'll just have to catch you in the act.
Surprisingly, you don't make it hard for him the next time.
You come back when there are no drink waiting for you, no tables that need water... you just stand at the edge of the bar, flipping through your server book like there's something interesting along the lines of smash burger med no onion and tom soup lg. You tap your pen against the bar, eyes occasionally flickering to Simon.
He passes a pint to a patron at the bar. "Need somethin'? You don't have any orders in."
You shrug. "No... just bored." you say, scribbling something in your book. Your apron is so stuffed full of his bar tools he could laugh - you can't even hide yourself behind the bar without your pockets knocking into the wood - but he bides his time. He wants to catch you in the act.
He turns to the POS, pretending to close out a tab, keeping a close eye on you. You continue staring at your server book for a few seconds, making sure he's actually focused on something else. You quickly reach into your back pocket and pull out a handful of pink, glittery pour caps - you shimmy behind him and try to snag the ones off of the liquor bottles, hastily replacing them for the pink ones with a smile on your face; but you know you've fucked up when the stolen goods in your apron clank loudly as you knock into the bar counter.
"Absolutely not." he snaps, turning around. You shriek and abandon the pink caps, trying to scurry back out from the bar, but Simon catches you by your apron strings. He pulls you back, and your server book goes flying from your hands.
"Let's see what we got, hmm?" he spins you around, keeping two fingers hooked into your apron.
You laugh hysterically. "Simon, wait-!"
He starts grabbing things from your pockets and depositing them onto the top of the mixer fridge. "Christ, ya fuckin' thief-" his bar spoon, strainers, shakers, even his fucking peeler. Several pink replacements also get pulled out, your crimes laid bare on the surface next to you.
"'N wot the fuck is this?" he asks accusingly, holding up another bottle opener - not pink, but it has a Bob Ross paining as the background, and "Po da licka" written in cursive on the front. "Wot's that even mean?"
You're laughing, pushing against his arms and chest as he pulls your pockets inside out for good measure. He's secretly relishing in it, peals ringing in his ears as he dives into the water of your happiness - it feels good to make you smile like that, even if he hides his delight behind his mask and hard eyes.
You manage to wrench yourself free, and he barely misses a swipe at the apron strings on your back before you scurry off, disappearing somewhere back into the restaurant. He stares after you, a smirk on his lips and... surprisingly, his cock chubbing up beneath his pants. He's thinking about chasing your around he bar again, and this would have been the He huffs, folding his arms over his chest and staring at the items on the counter. He wonders where you even got all this shit, but he has to admit - you got him good. He can't even be mad.
The patron across the bar chuckles, leaning over to look at the evidence with Simon. "Am I invited to the wedding?"
Simon glares at the man; he has half a mind to grab the soda gun and spray him with tonic water, but he simply gathers the items off of the counter and drops them into the sanitizer sink. "Only if I'm invited to your funeral." he grunts out.
1K notes · View notes
munsster · 5 months ago
Text
fixer upper
A/N: IM ACTUALLY SO EMBARASSED TO ADMIT THIS IS BASED ON ‘FIXER UPPER’ FROM FROZEN 💀💀💀 does that mean it counts as a song fic…….. (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader (Season 3)
Summary: The kids aren’t saying you can change him, per se. They’re only saying that love’s a force that’s powerful and strange. 2.8k words
Warnings: fluff, babygirl steve, cursing, mentions of toxic (?) relationship, hopeless pining, pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Steve can barely see through his rose-tinted daydream, but he's sure he recognizes your smile as soon as you enter the food court. And you lead a trail of whiny teenagers right to his register. This is the fourth time this week you've heard about Steve's lusturous hair and dazzling eyes. You have to hand it to them, they're not bad salesmen, just a tad young to elicit ethos. What the hell do they know about love anyway.
That's what happens when you're licensed and free on a Friday afternoon: babysitting duty. Now, in the event that Steve had been the one saddled with the party on his day off, he would've argued that they're not really babies and they should be self-sufficient. Knowing Dustin, however, this argument proves to be false almost every time.
But it wasn't Steve, it was you. Steve doesn't think he's heard you complain about one thing in your life.
Not even your deadbeat boyfriend called Brad. Who, as Dustin and Max and Robin love to remind him, is utterly replaceable and on thin ice every other week. Steve knows better than to get his hopes up after three months of having them crushed, though. He's learned to live with the strong sense of yearning he feels whenever you're within thirty feet of him.
Take now, for example: you're coralling half a dozen brats into a somewhat single-file line without even having to raise your voice. He should think it's impressive, but he's too distracted by your lip gloss and your voice and the way you did your hair today.
"I hope you give discounts to distressed young women," you tease, brows knitting when you look up at him. This is the part where he's supposed to respond with something charming. Sexy and charismatic, maybe.
"Oh, uh," he chuckles, "No, I mean, yeah. Sure"—Oh, but you smile at him and all that pent up charisma flies out the neon-framed sliding doors. They chatter out their orders at lightning speed, and he can barely catch half of what they're saying when you look at him like that. You finally make it to the register and pay half price. And your cone is always on the house, of course.
"Isn't he such a gentleman?" Max says unenthusiastically. Lucas elbows her side before retreating with Dustin.
"He's also a great driver!" Will chirps, shuffling away to one of the booths with Mike and El who giggle the whole way there. You turn back to Steve who stares off at them incredulously.
"You see what I have to deal with?" you say with some degree of affection for the chaos.
"Aw, come on," Steve says, tilting his head with a shrug, "you love it."
"I think they keep forgetting I already have a boyfriend."
Not much of a boyfriend if you ask me, he thinks.
But what he says: "Ah, yes. The elusive Brad."
You roll your eyes and grin at him. You know Steve has a crush on you. Or else the kids and Robin wouldn't be so adamant on marketing him to you. It's sweet, really. And honestly, you don't think Steve's unfit to play boyfriend or anything, but you're also not disloyal.
Your scoop melts down the side of the cone between your fingers. Steve nearly hurls himself across the counter handing you a thick stack of napkins.
"Shit, thanks," you huff, lapping at the stream of sticky ice cream. His stomach churns as his face screws into a sickly smile.
"Yeah. No problem."
"No, really"—you wrap a napkin around the cone, shoving the rest into your pocket—"I don't know what I'd do if I had to pay the entire bill everytime one of them had a craving."
"Really, it's not a problem," he shrugs it off like it doesn't come out of his paycheck. "I like helping out pretty girls when I can."
You giggle and tilt your head. "Steve Harrington, you're my hero."
He's almost embarassed at how fast his face flushes red hot and frantic. He reaches for the back of his neck on impulse, and any attempt he makes at seeming suave is foiled by Robin patting him on the shoulder.
"If you think that's heroic, there was this one time he singlehandedly saved Hawkins with this sick baseball bat with nails—"
He huffs, "Robin—"
"No, seriously! Don't be so modest, Steve, you're selling yourself short!"
"I'm not trying to sell myself at all!" he says, turning her around and guiding her towards the door to the back room.
"Great seeing you!" she hollers over her shoulder just before disappearing behind the swinging door. You wave with a chuckle. Steve tuts, fixing his sailor hat and shaking his head.
"Did you really do all that? Save Hawkins, I mean?" you ask. And you seem genuinely interested which is why it guts him. The one girl who actually gives a shit is coincidentally unavailable.
"Yeah," he says, shrugging, "but only to clear my conscience. It's like penance, or whatever."
You giggle, not sure if he's being truthful or playing it off. He meets your eyes and he's sure his heart stops dead in his chest for a beat. Nobody pulls off mall lighting like you.
The kids come skipping back to the counter, declaring they've all got different wants and needs around the mall for the next few hours.
"Okay, hold on, I promised I'd have you guys back before my date," you say, Steve overseeing the conversation from over your shoulder.
"Well," he interjects, "when's your date?" All the attention shifts to Steve, and he suddenly wishes he could swallow up the words and take them back for good.
"Two hours from now. Across town," you say, looking a little guilty knowing he's about to make the kindest offer of the year.
"I'm off at five, so I can just"—stop talking—"take them home after my shift."
"Steve, really, you don't have to—"
El grins, eyes wide as she whispers in Max's ear.
Steve shakes his head, "Sweetheart, believe me, I want to. Besides, you've already been through enough with the rascals. Go have fun."
You turn to the kids, almost pleading with them to accept Steve's generosity.
"Is that okay with you guys? I don't wanna leave you stranded," you admit.
They nod in agreement, throwing out a couple yes's and sure's. They're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, but you still feel bad dumping them on Steve like this.
Dustin interrupts: "This really just goes to show how Steve is a great candidate for marriage and other domestic relations. He can be odd at times and he might care too much about his hair, but you can tell by his actions that he would be a very reliable husband, a generous life partner, and—"
"And a great friend," you giggle, trying not to let Dustin get too carried away. You have sat through enough of his speeches for one day. "Now, quit trying to set us up!"
Steve rolls his eyes at the boy. "Seriously, at least wait 'til she's single. Then she can reject me for me."
You whip back to face him with a sour look on your face.
"Steven! That's not—that's rude to yourself," you huff, "Say three nice things."
He chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting at you.
"You're pretty, I like your shoes, and you smell nice."
"About you!"
"Ohh," he feigns surprise, "No." But you reach across the counter to whack him on the arm with a shocking amount of force. The kids chuckle from behind you. Steve can't help but smile when you raise your brows proudly. "Fine! I am deserving of love, I am great company, and my hair looks particularly shiny today."
"Good," you nod, "I agree. And I have to go, see ya!"
"With which one?" he says, watching you jog out of the store waving. "Wait! Sweetheart? Agree with which one??"
Steve sighs sharply, hands perched decidedly on his hips as his gaze falls flat on the militia of pre teens staring him down.
"What do you want?" he says.
"You're hopeless," Max says, mouth pressed in a hard line before she wanders off, arm-in-arm with El.
"Yeah, dude. And kinda desperate," Mike shrugs.
"Hey," he grumbles. Who knew such harsh words could come from such little humans. You'd think they'd be harmless at this age. You'd be wrong. 
"You're a total virgin," Dustin says, very matter-of-factly.
Steve cocks a brow, honestly trying not to laugh at the severity of Dustin's demeanor when he says it. "I don't even think you know what that means."
Dustin blinks. "Well, I think you haven't had sex in long enough that you qualify as one."
"Shit."
...
Much to Steve’s surprise, it only takes butthead Brad two more weeks to absolutely shatter your heart. No one knows the complete details other than it happened at a frat party and you had to walk back to the dorms alone. But Steve doesn’t need complete details to know he wants to shatter Brad’s jaw with his fist.
But he also vowed to use means other than violence to get his point across. He should be awarded for the amount of restraint it took to see your bloodshot eyes and not speed immediately off towards Asshole University like a Brad-seeking atomic missile.
Of course, he’s thankful you felt comfortable enough to call him. In fact, he was the first one you rang. And he knows this fact because you told him while you were sniffling away tears a week and a half after the break up.
Now, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his beemer, curled into your sweater, and listening to late night soft rock radio while he focuses on the dark highway ahead of him. You hadn’t wanted to do anything else but sit in his car and think. His heart clenches everytime you wipe away a tear with your soggy sleeve.
He pulls off the highway during an ad break, finding a secluded diner surrounded by nothing but trees and gas stations. He pulls into a parking spot near the back of the lot where the overhead lights aren’t blinding, but you aren’t completely in the dark. He leaves the car on so the cold doesn’t seep in, engine still purring softly from under the hood.
“Who needs ‘em,” he says in attempt to lighten the mood. “Being single is way cooler. Take it from me. You get a bed all to yourself and you can fart whenever you want.”
You’re frowning, but you know he means well. You just can’t help the fat tears rolling down your cheeks.
“Oh, come here,” he whispers, leaning over the center console and dipping his hands over your shoulder and around your waist. His arms feel so strong and so warm where they envelop you entirely. Steve always was the best hug you ever receieved.
You can’t help but chuckle wetly into his collar after a moment.
“God, he was such an asshole, wasn’t he?”
“Uh, duh! Doesn’t take a genius to…” Steve laughs, pausing and brushing the hair away from your damp cheeks. “I know, sweetheart, and you deserve heaps better. You were always way too cool for that loser.”
You blink up at him in the low light. There’s a kind of twinkle in your eye that makes the tips of his ears hot. This time, you reach for him, weaving your arms beneath his jacket with a deep sigh. Your breathing slows against his neck, and he rubs your back while your arms tighten a little around his waist.
He can’t help but wonder what you’re thinking whenever you look at him with your doe eyes, seemingly sweet and far too inquisitive. He knows you’re probably just looking, maybe thinking of something else. But the hopeless romantic in him rattles his rib cage and shouts you might actually consider him this time.
“Wanna go get shakes? On me,” he whispers. You sniffle, wiping your aching nose on the cuff of your sleeve.
“I can pay for myself,” you tease, popping open the car door when he cuts the engine.
“Nope! Sorry, I don’t let girls pay, remember? Super sexist, I know. Plus the whole pretty privilege thing. Honestly, I should just be paying you at this point,” he says, hooking his arm around your back and feeling yours reach for his shoulder as you march towards the diner.
“I agree, rich boy,” you chuckle, “Reparations are in order for wrongdoings on behalf of your sex.”
He chuckles. He’s absolutely head over heels.
The waitress seats you at a cozy booth in the corner and makes a casual comment about the cute couple, asking how long you two have been together. Steve flounders at the question, flustered and pink in the face.
“Oh, we’re actually… not together,” you say, laughing awkwardly when she pouts and, again, remarks on how cute you’d be together. You order shakes for the both of you before perching your chin in your hand. Steve’s still reeling when the waitress walks away.
“Funny. We can’t even escape the third-degree from complete strangers,” you tease, winking at him from just a few feet away. Jesus, he’d think you were trying to kill him if you didn’t seem so lighthearted and playful.
“Yeah, pretty funny,” he sighs. And he’s probably being so obvious. Or maybe that’s how he is all of the time, so his heart eyes seem subtle. Or it’s obvious all of the time.
The waitress slides the shakes in front of you, and the bright red cherries sink further into the whipped cream.
“You know,” you murmur between sips, “I always thought you were pretty cute.”
He nearly chokes on his mouthful of chocolate malt, clearing his throat and trying not to crumble in on himself.
“Oh. Yeah, I get that a lot,” he huffs, “Mostly from little old ladies, but—Hey!”
You flick him and say, “Really! I know it’s not couth considering… Brad and all, but…”
“You’re being facetious,” Steve accuses.
“No—”
“Sarcastic!”
“Steve—”
“Ironic?”
“Try serious!” you hum, “I’m just saying, you’re very handsome. I was shocked to learn you were single when we first met.”
Steve’s blushing and puffing trying to maintain eye contact.
“What can I say? I’m just,” he huffs, “I’m not really worried about it.”
You tilt your head. “You’re not?”
“Nah. I know the right girl will find me in the end. Even if it takes a while. I don’t mind waiting for the right one.”
You settle back in the padded seat, wincing when it squeals beneath you. It makes you feel a little dejected, but you suppose he’s right. Especially because he seems so confident. So sure. It’s admirable. You want to be that sure of soulmates and love and the future.
“I feel the same way,” you whisper. He finishes off the rest of his glass with a smile.
“Though, it doesn’t exactly help having a bunch of little shitheads telling you to go get laid all the time,” he laughs.
“Oh, yeah, tell me about it” you lean in, “Just break up with him, steve is so much nicer. Dump that loser. Steve has a big crush on you.”
“They said that?” Steve’s not dumb, he’s sure you know by now, but he thought it was all conjecture. They will be hearing about this next time they want free ice cream.
“Yeah, that was like their main point. But I know with all the love in my heart they’re all full of shit.”
You shrug, and he chuckles dryly. He can’t decide whether you knowing is for better or for worse.
“Yeah,” he sighs.
Steve drives you home. You fall asleep in the car, and he keeps the radio low so as not to wake you. By the time he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t care about the time or the fact that he lives far. He does, however, care about the way you smile lazily and peck his cheek in thanks.
“Anytime, sweetheart.”
He says it but he wants to tell you what he’s feeling. He wants to ask if you’re over Brad. He knows you’re not and that’s okay, but he wants to ask if he can hold your hand to keep it warm. He wants to ask what kind of flowers you like and if it would be okay for him to drop them off on your doorstep tomorrow. He has so much he wants to say and do, but he doesn’t want to suffocate you.
He doesn’t know that you wouldn’t mind him asking.
more like this
masterlist
2K notes · View notes
sunrisesfromthewest · 7 months ago
Text
First Encounter
Tumblr media Tumblr media
|Summary: Your first encounter with Armando; based off of that one scene from bad boys ride or die. | Warnings: Getting shot at/slight suggestive language/Curse words/Slight Movie Spoilers | Trope: One sided interest or Enemies to Lovers| Notes: Hopefully you guys enjoy it's my first-time writing a x reader. | (Y/N/N=Your Nickname)
Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6
______________________________________________________________
After seeing the news about your dad, Uncle Mike, and some guy, you decided to leave work early. Confused on why there all the sudden wanted fugitives,you quickly drive over to Dorns place knowing that he’ll have answers.
Parking your car, you grab your purse and make your way towards his lake house. Since you hang out with him and Kelly 24/7 outside of work, you just walk in without knocking.    Which was a mistake on your end because not even a second later you’re being shot at, and you could hear a few people yell in shock.  Dropping to the floor you curse and yell "It's me stop fucking shooting it’s me Y/N!”  Looking up you see Kelly pointing the gun at the place you were just standing at with a shock expression.  “Girl what the hell you got going on” you said, scared to stand up.  Lowering her gun she said “OMG, Y/N, I’m so so—” Before she could finish you hear “Oh lord, you shooting at my baby!", recognizing the voice you look around to spot your father Marcus, running towards you with a worried look.
As he’s checking over you, you hear him sigh with relief after seeing you were fine. " Dad? what the fuck is going on!", standing up you dust off your nurse uniform, with a confused expression. 
Looking around the room you noticed shocked expressions from Dorn and Kelly who had put her gun down. Spotting Uncle Mike and the man that was with him on the news your eyes squint even more, Tryna put two to two together.    “Y/N/N, aren’t you supposed to be at work, "Marcus says confused on why his daughter was there.  Still shaking up from being shot at you say, “I was at work but when I was making my rounds with my patients, I seen you guys on the news ......but shit! I should be asking the questions! why are you, Uncle Mike and this dude, wanted fugitives …. matter of fact," turning towards the man, "Who are you?”.    Seeing the man smirk he says," Someone you can get well acquainted with.”  Just as you’re about to say something smart, your dad cuts in dramatically "Aye hell nah man! No hitting on my daughter, Mike get your son!” 
Shocked you run your eyes over the Latino man which you can now see have some of Mike's features, “Uncle Mike since when you have a son, and why the hell is he dressed up like a redneck.”  Running your eyes frantically over their forms you back up while pointing your hands at them and say, “matter of fact why are you all dress up like that.”  Feeling your dad pull you aside to calm you down, he explains everything that happened these past few days.    After getting the run down on what was going on, you rub at your eyes with a stressed sigh." So that’s Armando," you said shaking your head "I would’ve pulled my gun out as well if I’ve seen him, dad didn’t he almost kill you and Uncle Mike!", you said feeling frustrated about the situation.  “Y/n,I know this is awkward, but he has evidence to prove that Captain Conrad is innocent.”  Sighing again “Okay, fine but if he tries some shit just know Imma make him taste the rainbow.”  Hearing laughter you look back to see the Latino leaning against the kitchen counter looking at you with a smirk on his face.  Seeing your father look at you with a don’t do it expression made you huff and ignore Armando’s laughter.    Before you could move to grab your purse off the floor your dad stops you again and whispered, "How long Kelly and Dorn been messing around, "letting out a short laugh you say, “For a minute now”  Seeing your father smirk, and send a look to Mike, you knew they were up to no good but chose to ignore it.
Walking to the door to grab your purse and its spilled contents you feel eyes on you, gazing up you see Armando watching you with an unreadable expression. Rolling your eyes you pick up the rest of your stuff, but as you reach for your lip gloss, a hand grabs it.    Looking up your face to face with the Latino himself, annoyed you extend your hand out, while raising an eyebrow.  Watching his amused expression, you sigh and roll your eyes. 
“Boy if you don’t give me my stuff,Imma punch you in the throat." Hearing him chuckle made you more agitated, but you kept your cool. As he holds out the gloss to you with a smirk you huff and reach out to snatch it, only for him to pull it back in a teasing manner.
Looking at him as if he’s grown two heads, you’re about to cuss him out when he says”Demasiado bonita para una boca como esa”.  Furrowing your eyebrows you say “What?”    Armando’s smirk widens as he says, “I said to pretty for a mouth like that.”  Scoffing you snatch your lip gloss out his hands, putting it in your purse as you stand up and say, “First of all, my mouth is only like this because you almost killed my dad not too long ago, and secondly I can say whatever the fuck I want cause last I checked imma grown women.”  Watching his eyes glance down at your body, you hear a low whistle, "You sure are, but if you ever wanna fix that mouth of yours, "he pauses allowing his pretty brown eyes to trail back up to yours,”aquí estaré mami” (I’ll be here mommy) 
Shocked slightly at his boldness, you say “Boy if you don’t get out of m---,” but before you could finish, he was called over by Mike. At first Armando ignores him and continues to admire you until your dad says, “Boy get your ass over here," which made you break eye contact with him and look away.  
Glancing back up you couldn't help but admire his physique as well but as he reaches the others by the computer set up. He glances back to see you staring which resulted in him sending you a wink. Rolling your eyes you turn away with a smirk," You your daddy son for sure," you say to yourself with a smile.
_____________________________________________________________
Notes: Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :) and pls go see the movie it's so good
1K notes · View notes
aweina · 1 year ago
Text
ᥫ᭡. good luck charm , mike schmidt ( fluff )
did you … did you just kiss me ?
tags major spoilers !! gn reader. tension. friends to ( ? ). mike being shy + awkward.
Tumblr media
“do well for me, okay?”
mike blinks in surprise when your hands smooth over the noticeable wrinkles on his security vest — the comforting warmth of your palms melting through the black fabric.
all he’s ever done for the past few days was sleep heavily during his night shifts at the abandoned children's entertainment center, permanently haunted by the time loop of his younger brother — snatched from his youth and into the hands of a cruel stranger.
but he won’t tell you that, it’s more embarrassing to say he has slept through the only job willing to accept him.
“yeah, of course.” mike doesn’t elaborate further, much too flushed by your fleeting touches — every brush of your nimble fingers rendering his body hot and fuzzy.
you step away for a second until your eyes light up in realization. rummaging a quick hand through your pocket, a metal security badge glared over the warm ceiling light — the golden paint bruised in black blotches and dented from the grueling years of past security guards dropping it during their inevitable encounter with ghostly animatronics or even discarding it when they realize the horrors they would endured from keeping such a shitty, unfulfilling job.
mike won’t tell you that part either, for the sake of your sanity.
“don’t forget this too, you always seem to leave it at home.” your voice sounded so soft and quiet in his ear, too afraid to wake up abby down the dark hallway.
“r-right … sorry.” he nervously gulped when you gently tug at his vest. mike carefully gazed at the needle threading the cheap fabric that didn’t have his work title — all in effort to avoid looking at your pretty face. he tightly held his breath, unclenching his fists once in a while to ease his nerves. your breath fanned his face, the small details on your skin that were once blurry were much clearer with you so close — only he was too afraid to memorize them, in case you noticed his staring.
you pinned the badge into place and patted it down for safe measure, now completely satisfied with his more presentable look. mike huffs a deep, loud breath when you finally back away — eliciting a pleased brow at his adorable act to hold his breath. mike immediately sputtered at the embarrassingly loud gush that escaped his lips, quickly padding towards his backpack and keys — avoiding you as much as he could.
he darts towards the front door, his sweaty hand that gripped tightly around the backpack straps now hovered over the door handle. mike felt you linger behind him, much more distant and friendly to his own liking.
“i’ll see you in the morning?” mike mumbled with an ounce of hope, terrified that he made things awkward between the two of you.
you nodded enthusiastically, coming up to the door beside him to latch onto the door handle as well — soft fingers intertwining with his much more clammy ones.
“morning. with breakfast.” you quietly promised with a tooth aching smile. mike couldn’t help but sigh in relief, lazily smiling back at you.
the two you opened the door with a simple click on the lock, your hand still wrapped around his. the midnight air nip at his skin, calming the reddening blush that colored his cheeks and ears.
the heat flowed back to his face once again when he felt your balmy lips suddenly pressed against the corner of his mouth, your soft cheek grazing against his stubbled jaw. mike swore that his vision became hazy for a second.
“i’ll miss you mike.” you breathed, the frosty breeze passing through your lips like intoxicating smoke. before he could utter a reply, you closed the door with a loud click — your shadow filtering through the white curtains seemingly disappearing deeper into his home.
mike stood in front of his house in shock, lightly grazing his hand over the kiss mark that seemed to settle over his mouth — the ghostly touch of your lips now haunting his memory. still dazed in shock, he steadily makes his way towards his car — using his house key to unlock the damn thing all while dumbly missing the keyhole.
letting out a breath that he was holding onto, mike exhaled loudly as his consciousness slowly flooded back into his brain.
“shit.” he finally slurred out as he softly banged his fist onto the roof of his car, pressing his forehead defeatedly against the smudged window.
today he won’t use his pills. not when the feeling of your soft lips and your weirdly intimate farewell will keep him wide awake throughout his whole shift.
Tumblr media
add. note : okay but why does everybody hate him in the movie ?! he deserves some love and fluff in his life ( ̄□ ̄」) …
4K notes · View notes
tartarusknight · 10 months ago
Text
Steve had this habit, a habit which most of the party were annoyed by. They understood it, God did they understand. But after everything was over and the Upside Down was gone for good, it kept happening. Months and months of daily calls. Just Steve checking in and asking them about their day.
Mike hadn't understood why he was on the list of names Steve would call, but if he didn't pick up the phone, there would be a knock on the door within the hour. And Steve, sometimes followed by Robin, would stop by like he was that important to them. Once, it had been on their way to work, and Steve had only locked eyes with him and raised an eyebrow. Mike just flipped him off and continued reading his comic.
Dustin had told him it was Steve's way of coping, and Lucas had turned the calls into workouts with the older teen. Will had just gone a little red and nodded along. El smiled and told Mike about the tips for hair care she got. Max just rolled her eyes and said that Steve had taken to stopping by with food most days.
Steve would be there. He was always there. It was annoying, but it was a constant. Maybe that's why Mike laid awake as the clock ticked closer and closer to midnight. Normally, he could fall asleep within minutes, a habit he had inherited from his dad. But he could bring himself to sleep as his phone didn't ring. As the walkie stayed silent. As the door remained untouched, no knock to be heard.
And it was stupid. Because Mike didn't want Steve to call him every day just to ask him if he was okay. It made him feel like a kid. It reminded Mike of his mom, but even his mom wasn't that bad. No, no one really did that for Mike. No one checked in day after day even as he remained uncaring towards them. No one but Steve.
Until now...
Mike watched the clock as it passed midnight, and his stomach twisted into knots. Fear bubbled up, and he pictured Steve getting into a fight he couldn't walk away from. He pictured a car crash so great that Steve was unable to reach for the walkie he carried with him everywhere. He pictured the worst- the Upside Down still around. The demogorgon coming up and dragging Steve into that hellpit.
Mike was up and pulling on a warm sweatshirt before those images were fully formed. He crawled out his window and down the roof, not too unlike the way Steve had done to visit Nancy. It left him already out of breath by the time he climbed on his bike. But that didn't stop him. He pushed off the ground, biking as fast as he could towards Loch Nora.
The cold air hot his face, and the road seemed to go on forever, but Mike didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Not until Steve's place was in view.
Mike tossed his bike uncarringly onto the pavement before slamming his fist into the Harrington's nice door. He didn't let up. He couldn't as an image of Steve dead in his own pool floated in his mind.
However, then the door was opening. Steve stood there, looking like he hadn't been asleep either. A smear of white powder on his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes. But still, something eased in Mike the same time Steve lost some of that weight in his shoulders as well. "You- you didn't-" Mike started, still out of breath. "Call. Why didn't you- call?" He gasped and Steve looked at him with a weird expression.
"You- What?" Steve questioned, sounding lost.
Mike crossed his arms, "I- you can't just stop!" He gasped out, and Steve's brow furrowed.
"But you don't like it when I do? I annoy you," he tries to point out, and Mike huffs.
"God, of course you annoy me! You track our days more intensly than my mom, and you always make dumb jokes, and I hate that I find them funny! You always call when I'm in the middle of something, and you make it easy to stay on the phone! You are always there like some weird older brother that I never asked for!" Mike shouts and Steve's eyes are wide.
"You don't have to stay around or call, but you do! You do, and you actually care. Like when you call and ask me if I'm okay, it feels like you care, and I don't understand why! I don't get you! I didn't ask you to care about me, but even when you were dating Nancy, you cared! You took Holly and me to get ice cream even though Nancy had to study! You give me and my friends rides everywhere! You care!" Mike throws his hands up in the air.
He glares at the older teen, "You care so much that I stupidly care about you! I care enough to come and check on you because when you didn't call, all I could think was that you were like dead or something," Mike snaps and takes a step back. "But you're obviously fine so-" and he wants to run suddenly. To run from the way Steve's eyes are filled with tears or the stupid words he just told the older teen.
Steve runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly. "Mike, I stopped because I didn't think you wanted me to. You always acted like I was your least favorite person in the world and I guess I just- I didn't feel like it was fair to force you to put up with me just because I can't handle not knowing if you were okay." Steve said, and it didn't sound like the normal Steve. He sounded tired and nervous. He sounded like someone had finally beaten him
Mike bites his lip and tastes salt like he had been crying. Or maybe he still was. He crosses his arms like he can shield himself from this conversation. "But now you don't care enough to keep calling?"
Steve rubbed his face, a sigh shaking his whole body as he did. "I still care, kid."
Mike scoffs, "You didn't call."
Steve drops his hands to his sides. "Just come inside. It's too late for you to bike home. I'll call your place and leave a message." Steve says, his voice sounding close to tears. Mike is stiff when he lets Steve pull him inside.
They are quiet as Steve guides him towards the kitchen. The kitchen that has music playing softly and smelling like a bake sale. He blinks as he steps into the room and spots cookies cooling on a rack and a pie stilling uncooked on the counter. The top crust is sitting on the counter next to it. There's a smell of something in the oven, and Mike states at all of it in confusion.
"I bake when I can't relax," Steve admits, and Mike glances over at him. "I still care, and I was trying to give you space. I was trying not to crowd you, so I just," and he waves his hand around the mess everywhere. The smear of white on his cheek now makes sense.
Mike hugged himself, "I don't- I don't mind the calls." He whispered, and it got a snort from Steve.
He looked over at Mike, "I kinda got that from your speech."
They stood there in silence for another moment before Steve moved to finish putting his pie together. "I know that we aren't close or anything. But I care, it's not just the Upside Down making me anxious, it's just that-" and Steve went quiet. "I went overboard, I get it. But now I just- I can't stop." He admits, and Mike hates how upset Steve sounds. How guilty he sounds.
"I fall asleep easier knowing that if someone wasn't okay, we'd know because of you. It's like you take all the stress from me just by being around." He says, and Steve's eyes are wide. "Maybe we just do a sound off every night so you don't have to play phone tag all day." He shrugs, and Steve wrinkles his nose.
"I don't really get how to use the walkie. Like Dustin tried to show me, but he got distracted and started talking about radio waves and well..." Steve mimed it going over his head.
Mike snorted to hide how much that terrified him. The thought of something bad happening and Steve not being able to respond. But he pushed it away as Steve looked at him as if waiting for Mike to tease him. "That's fair. We did modify them, so they worked better. It's not as simple as your average walkie. I can show you," he offered, and Steve's face split into a grin.
"Cool, want to help me finish this so I can put it in the fridge until tomorrow? Then you can teach me the ways," Steve says, going all dramatic, proving to Mike he'd been spending too much time with Eddie. Mike groaned but came over only for Steve to shove him to the sink to wash his hands.
Steve showed him what to do, and Mike was glad to have Steve around. Because sure Steve's habit was annoying, and sometimes it interfered with Mike's plans, but it was nice too. Steve was nice. And that was something Mike ever believed would happen. But as Steve joked that Mike should not become a baker, he was nice. Like the way Mike was nice to Holly or how Nancy was nice to him. He was part of the family, annoyingly nice habits and all.
2K notes · View notes
fuctacles · 5 months ago
Text
you guys are feral for silly wereshifter Steve AU and I love that
Some meatheads are calling Eddie names again. The dog that's been tailing him appears out of nowhere and makes eye contact with him as it struts over to the group and lifts his leg, pissing all over the fresh wax on their BMW with the determination and focus of a dog that hasn't been outside for the whole day.
"Hey, get your fucking dog off my car!" One of the guys jumps up, but the warning show of canines stops him from shooing the dog away himself.
Eddie shrugs, though he's restraining a smile.
"It's not mine."
Later the dog finds him again as it always does, and he makes amends.
"You are my dog though, right? My good doggie. Who's my good boy?" he asks, scratching the overjoyed dog all over its furry body.
At home, Steve asks Robin to call him a good boy when he shifts, to see if it feels as good. It doesn't. Well, it does, but not in the same way.
It comes to the point when dog Steve spends more time with Eddie than human Steve. To soak in the happiness and love Eddie shows him.
"Is Steve okay?" Eddie asks one day, petting the dog beside him while they take a break from band practice. The rest of Hellfire is hanging out in the garage, with Mike jumping on every opportunity to learn guitar from Jeff and the rest usually following.
"Yeah?" Dustin cocks his head. "Why wouldn't he be?"
"I don't know." Eddie shrugs. "Haven't seen him in a while and you're never mentioning him anymore."
Dustin looks at the dog.
"He's fine. You're overthinking it."
Eddie thinks that might be it, but...
"I know we're not friends-friends but I don't even see him in passing! Hell, Buckley is there to hang out, and he's not!"
Dustin throws his hands up in the air, annoyed with the questions.
"Don't ask me, man! Ask him yourself! And, to be honest," he crosses his arms, glaring at the dog, for some reason. "I don't understand what's going on with him either."
Eddie frowns, looks at the dog that huffs loudly, and looks away with a grunt. He pats its fluffy fur.
"How am I supposed to ask him if he's never here?" he sighs. "I don't want to just corner him at his place."
Dusting looks at him like he failed elementary two times, not high school.
"There's this thing called phones?"
"Oh. Right."
"Jesus it's like you'd die without me."
"Well..."
"Not what I meant!" Dustin goes pale instantly, mortified by his own words.
"I know, kid." Eddie pulls his head down in reassurance and leans into a side hug. "Don't worry."
-----
"He's not picking up," he tells the dog while biting at a hangnail. "Maybe he's at work?" He wonders out loud and goes to the magazine pile on the coffee table. The dog struts behind him. He rummages through the papers under its watchful eye until he finds the Family Video pamphlet. He runs back to the phone with it and dials the number on the back.
"Hi, I'm looking for Steve? Oh, hi Buckley. Do you know if he's home? Okay. Can you tell him to call me when he's free? No, I just wanted to ask him something. Thanks. Bye."
When he hangs up, he's alone in the room.
"Buddy?"
There's a bark from the front of the trailer.
"Sure, sorry!"
He runs up to open the door for the dog already waiting there. But before it leaves, it nuzzles up into his hand, the wet nose and hesitance to leave reassuring Eddie that he'll be back sooner or later. He smiles at the dog, giving him one last scratch between the ears.
"Such a good boy. See you later, buddy."
----
Steve calls him not even an hour later.
"Eddie?" He sounds out of breath.
"Steve, hi!" He's relieved to hear him and suddenly realizes he doesn't remember the last time they actually talked. "Has Buckley talked to you already?"
"No?"
"Dustin then?"
"No- ah, yeah! He's mentioned you wanted to talk."
He's a bit disappointed Steve hasn't thought to reach out himself but it's better than nothing.
"Yeah, I Haven't seen you in a while, man. What have you been up to?"
"Uh, you know, just... This and that. Doing a lot of... Running. Exercises. You know."
Eddie doesn't know, but he's willing to nod along to keep the conversation going.
"Yeah, totally, you've been busy. Do you want to hang out maybe? Movie night, or, or..." He tries to come up with anything they could do together. "I got a new strain of weed we could test?" He offers.
Steve laughs at that, genuine and relaxed and Eddie relaxes at the sound himself.
"Sure, why not? Is tonight alright? I have a day off anyway."
Eddie's not prepared mentally and neither is his room but he agrees immediately.
"Sure, come over anytime."
"Okay I'll take a shower and I'm off."
When they meet up, everything seems normal. For about fifteen minutes.
Steve jumps whenever Eddie touches him, and his face is red, making Eddie look at him worriedly and ask if he's alright.
But all Steve can think about is “good boy” and belly scratches. When his leg twitches when Eddie touches his shoulder, he jumps off the couch, mortified by his body's reactions.
"Do you have a dog?!" he almost yells, looking around in panic.
Eddie blinks at him.
"Uh, no?" But then he frowns. "I mean, there is a dog," he corrects, and his brows crease in worry. "Wait, are you allergic?"
"Yes!" Steve points his finger at him. "I gotta go, man, sorry, I'm itching all over," he spits out fast, walking backward toward the exit and almost running into a wall. "But it was great seeing you, uh, bye!"
The doors slam shut and Eddie's left alone and confused, the reality show host still yelling from the screen.
834 notes · View notes
bloodtiesstilllives · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
This is the Author of the Blood Series books Blood Ties was based off of. Next to her is Henry Fitzroy actor Kyle Schmid and Mike Cellucci actor Dylan Neal.
I think this is RingCon 2009 but dont quote me on that.
10 notes · View notes