#Steve is actually secretly pinning

[starkidmunson]

damned if i do (give a damn what people say)

It seems Steve Harrington is back off the market

The latest news on the pop star’s love life comes mere weeks after word of a fallout with longtime beau, journalist Nancy Wheeler. While neither party has confirmed the rumors, many of Harrington’s closest friends have hinted at the end of the relationship in interviews and on social media.

One thing everyone failed to mention, however, is that Harrington appears to have moved on and is now dating Corroded Coffin front-man, Eddie Munson.

The two have been friends for years, tracing as far back as the early 2010s, though it’s difficult to put a pin in exactly when they met. Neither are particularly vocal about their personal lives and often change the subject when the other comes up in an interview; a diversion tactic they’ve been playing for years.

Still, the alleged new couple has been spotted around some of Harrington’s favorite Manhattan hot spots several times over the past week.

The rockstar has a bit of an edgier vibe than Harrington’s usual flings; more outspoken and unpredictable than the ‘type’ Steve has typically shown an interest in; at least publicly.

Only time will tell if “Steddie” (so dubbed by the fans in support of the relationship) is true… and if they’ll last.

_____

“I can’t believe they think I’m dating Eddie,” Steve grumbled into the pillow on the floor of his hotel room. With a huff, he turned his head and looked off to the wall on the far side of the room. “I mean, it’s crazy that I can’t go out to dinner with anyone besides you and not be on a date.”

Robin leveled her foot to the center of his back, before shifting her weight onto it, then grinned in satisfaction as Steve groaned and his back popped loudly in several places. “It’s not like it’s that surprising. The tabloids went feral over you and Nancy breaking up after they were convinced you guys were already secretly married.” She shifted her weight back off him, dropping to sit cross-legged beside Steve. “Plus, it’s not that much of a stretch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asked, pushing himself up until he was sitting with his back against the wall, leg stretched out against Robin’s.

“It means you two have never looked at each other the way friends do. It makes sense that they’re picking that up.” Robin shrugged, brushing off her comment like it wasn’t shattering part of Steve’s bubble.

“We look at each other totally normally!”

The look Robin leveled Steve with had him pushing himself up off the floor and making his way toward the bathroom.

“I don’t have time for this right now, I need to start getting ready, but we don’t do anything normal friends wouldn’t because that’s what we are, Robin!”

“Are you trying to convince yourself of that, or me?” Robin asked and sighed heavily when Steve slammed the bathroom door closed in response.

It was only about five minutes before there was a familiar knock at the door; three in quick succession, followed by two after a short pause.

“I think we need to talk, sweetheart,” was understandable, despite being muffled by the door, before Steve was racing out of the bathroom to beat Robin to undoing the locks and letting Eddie in. “Why didn’t you tell me we’re dating?” Eddie asked through a pout, leaned against the doorframe.

Steve rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, letting Eddie follow him inside, before pointing at Robin. “See! Very much not dating!”

“Well,” Eddie started, teasingly, only to get hit in the face with a pillow from Steve’s bed. “I’m kidding, Steve. It’s not even a bad thing. I mean, they’re actually being really fucking cool about you being bisexual.”

“Being out as bi doesn’t mean that every person, regardless of their gender, is automatically my love interest just because I breathed near them.” Steve snapped, obviously frustrated despite Eddie’s attempts to ease the situation.

“Hey. Don’t get mean. You know what’s not what Eddie meant.” Robin responded. Steve looked back and forth between the two of them for a long moment, before he collapsed, face first, onto his mattress with a loud groan.

“C’mon, there’s no need to meltdown over this. If you want me to, I can post something about catching up with old friends to try to make it go away.” Eddie offered, gently, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from Steve.

It took a long beat, but Steve eventually lifted his head from his pillows and shrugged. “I don’t want to make you do anything like that. It’s fine. It’ll all work out in the end. I'm just having a weird day, I guess.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, and when Steve didn’t elaborate, he turned his head to Robin, who shrugged.

“Nancy texted him this morning asking to not talk about her at shows and he’s been in a sour mood about it since.”

“Robin!” Steve groaned, pressing his face back into his pillow miserably.

“Have you been, though?” Eddie asked, confused. “Talking about her, I mean? I thought I was doing a decent job at getting the highlights and I have no memory of you dropping anything profound about you and Nance on any crowds.”

“Not directly,” Steve spoke into his pillow, before turning his head and staring at the wall as he answered. “I made a few comments about my songs. How to get someone back. How to gaslight someone into thinking you love them before letting everything go at the drop of a hat for one of your best friends.”

A silence settled over the room for a moment, before Eddie burst into giggles, which set Robin off. Eventually Steve joined in, turning his attention to the two of them with a heavy sigh.

“I guess I was an asshole about it, huh?”

“I think it’s justifiable.” Eddie offered, to which Robin nodded in agreement as she started toying with Steve’s hair. “If you feel like you’re going to say something about Nancy, you could always say something to me instead. Really confuse the shit out of everyone.” He teased, but Steve beamed.

“Wait, that’s actually a great idea.”

Robin looked apprehensive, holding her hands in the air. “Steve, you remember you just freaked out about this, right? And now you’re going to play into it? Publicly?”

“It’ll be fun. I’m not gonna say anything directly about Eddie. But just. References. And then we can watch the fans lose their shit on TikTok later.” Steve reasoned with a grin, and Eddie smiled back at him.

“I promise to spend the entire show dancing my ass off and singing along. For the bit.” Eddie said, his hand over his heart.

“You do that anyway, you’re just usually backstage.” Robin pointed out, and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Well, obviously, I have to join you and Dustin in the family tent tonight. Duh.”

“Yes!” Steve agreed with a laugh. “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You’re both psychotic.”

_____

“Indianapolis, you're making me feel awfully special tonight.” Steve bit at his lip as he looked around Lucas Oil Stadium to thousands of people screaming back at him. “This is as close to a hometown show as I really get these days, so thank you for always making sure to remind me how special of a place home is.”

The music started to pick up again, but Steve kept talking. “I kind of spent the last few years coasting by without anyone paying too much attention, but now that I’m back on the road, everyone’s suddenly deeply invested in my life, and it's strange to be back so close to somewhere I called home for so long, in the same position I was in five years ago.” He ran his fingers through his hair, before huffing out a laugh.

“But you guys, you've always been there. Unwavering in a way I will never be able to express my gratitude for.” he paused to glance around the crowd again, grinning as they cheered. “Not many people can say the same, you know?”

“Where is he going with this?” Dustin asked, leaning close to Robin, who shrugged, trying not to have a visible reaction. There were always cameras on them in public like this. Any reaction would be taken out of context and exaggerated.

“Did you see the tabloid rumors about Eddie and Steve?” She replied, and couldn’t help but smile as Dustin’s head whipped back forward to Steve.

“I mean, there’s Robbie, the kids I used to babysit. And, uh…” he trailed off, which Eddie took as his cue to move to the front of the family tent. “Maybe someone else. This one's for you.” Steve said, leaving the “you” ambiguous enough to be open for interpretation.

Eddie, hamming it up, made a heart with his hands, before immediately starting to headbang along to the love song next in the setlist.

_____

In a surprising twist, Dustin managed to wait until the security team had moved them out of the crowd and behind the stage with the crew nearly two hours later before his outburst.

“What the fuck?!” He asked as soon as the were away from the crowd. “Why are you two playing into this? It’s just going to get more headlines and attention on the two of you, which neither of you usually like!”

“But it’s different if it’s on our terms.” Eddie responded, not even looking up from his phone as he answered Dustin.

“Is it, though? Is it really on your terms if it’s not even true?” Dustin sounded exasperated, and while Robin could relate, she was planning on sitting this one out until Eddie shoved his phone into her face.

“It’s already on TikTok. 4 videos in.” He said with a grin as Robin watched Eddie make a hand heart toward the stage before his hair started flopping all over as he sang along. The clip was captioned “steddie is real!!!”

“So you’re proud you’re deceiving fans?” She asked, which made Eddie’s grin fall.

“Don't be so dramatic,” Steve called as he approached from the stage exit. He was covered in sweat and still in his performance clothes, holding a half empty water bottle. “It’s all in good fun. They never need to know if it was real or not.”

“I think you’re downplaying this by a lot. What happens the next time one of you is seen out on a date?” Dustin pressed, and continued despite the way Steve rolled his eyes. “I mean it, an honest to god date. People are going to lose their minds, trying to figure out what broke up Steve and Eddie, when you were never even together in the first place! They’ll turn you against each other, they always do. And if you weren’t dating, isn’t that just as bad of a look?”

“Woah. Henderson. Chill. It’ll be fine, man. You’re WAY overthinking this.” Eddie said, before he grinned at Steve. “Could you see my hand heart from the stage?”

“I could. Did you catch the wink I sent your way at the end of the song?”

“I did, nice touch! I patted my hand over my heart, so maybe that’ll end up on social, too.”

“I’m going to throw myself into the White River.” Dustin groans loudly, to a round of laughs and elbow nudges.

_____

Steve could pinpoint the exact moment things finally felt out of hand two weeks later.

He was getting ready for the show that will wrap up his first weekend at his “home away from home” in 5 years when Eddie texted him about being late to that night’s show.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

Eddie had missed the last two shows in Chicago

It shouldn’t matter.

Eddie’d been there, religiously, at the 4 shows before Chicago on the tour, and 6 others before that when his band wasn’t playing their own concerts. Steve even made 3 trips of his own to Corroded Coffin shows, around his own obligations.

But it still made him frown at his phone for a moment too long. Long enough Robin caught him.

“More headlines about Steddie?” She asked, slipping the phone from his hands before he could stop her. When she read over the message, though, her expression softened. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no big deal.” Steve rushed out, snatching his phone back and shoving it into his pocket. “It’s fine. I’m not upset, there’s no reason to feel sorry. Besides, he just said he’ll be late, he didn’t say he isn’t coming.”

“Would you be upset if he wasn’t coming, then?” Robin asked. Steve glared daggers at her, and sighed when she held her hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“I don’t know.” He mumbled, honestly.

___

The intro tape was just about to start as Steve was making his usual trek toward his starting point, when he heard someone running and calling his name from behind him, rather than out in the crowd. He paused and turned, to see Eddie rushing toward him.

“I’m so sorry, I just wanted you to see that I made it before you went on!” He was out of breath, his hair more wild from running than usual, and Steve…

Well, frankly, Steve was tired of pretending like Eddie wasn’t the hottest person he’d ever seen.

So Steve met Eddie halfway, threw his arms around his neck and pressed their lips together in a move Eddie seemed to have anticipated because he wasted no time returning the favor.

It was only Steve’s cue music that had him breaking away, biting at his lip and grinning at Eddie, who grinned back at him, before using the hands he’d placed on Steve’s waist at some point in the interaction to turn Steve toward the stage.

“Go, before you miss the start of your own show, superstar. I’ll still be here after.” Eddie said.

“Promise?” Steve called over his shoulder as he made his way toward the stage’s catwalk.

“Cross my heart, big boy.” Eddie drew an x over his heart for dramatic effect, then laughed and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched Steve run to make it to his place on time.

[spiderfunkz]

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where the avengers team thought it was a good idea to spend the holidays in your cabin by the woods. where they know you and nat won't get along well, but hey, it's not an avengers holiday without a bit of drama.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where she secretly gets jealous when steve holds you by the waist to help you balance while you put the star on top of the tree. where she'll 'accidentally' spill hot chocolate on your shirt so you can borrow one of hers, because apparently 'hers fit you the best'.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where you find her up late at night drinking half of your bottle of wine. where she'll complain that she couldn't sleep because it was 'too cold'. where you'll eventually join her to the point you're both drunk and laughing, where you actually start to get along for once.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where all of that wine makes natasha drunkenly confess to you. and since you have been drinking the wine too you didn't process it correctly. but as everyone says, drunk words are just sober thoughts. thoughts that both you and nat have been hiding.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where nat wakes up in your bed with you sleeping beside her, her head dizzy from last nights wine. she must've complained too much about her room being too cold to the point you suggest sleeping in your bed together.

where you wake up with nat staring at you confused, rubbing her head. "what are you doing in my bed?" you groan, rubbing your eyes as you try to remember what led to this. "you snore loudly." she replies, causing you to roll your eyes. "get out of my bed. you have your own room here." you stare, natasha smirks teasingly before getting out of your bed.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where a small saying leads into a heated argument. too heated the point nat pins you near one of the door frames that leads to a hallway. where you'll send her a flirty remark before looking up to see she's under a mistletoe you strategically hung.

enemies to lovers with natasha . . . where she'll look up to see the mistletoe, one of her hands still pinning you against the door frame. "are you scared of a little fake plant?" you'll challenge her, "no." the tension between you and her growing. "well then do it." you smirk, "do what?" — "kiss me." and so she did, which left you speechless and blushing.

"do you want me to do that again? this mistletoe isn't going anywhere."

requested by @patriphagy ! (my reqs for nat r open btw)

[bluemirrorangel]

outsiders headcanons

Darry and Dally are secretly terrified of each other.

Johnny has really bad nightmares.

Dallas met Ponyboy and Sodapop first and then two-bit so when he goes to a drag race with the gang, meets Johnny Cade, and mishears his name as Johnnycake he doesn't even question it.

although he spends all day at the Curtis household Dallas actually never really stays the night. the gang just assumes that he's with Buck or sofa surfing but in reality, Dallas has spent so many nights at the shepherds that he basically lives there.

Dallas wants tattoos.

curly, Johnny, and Dally all have their ears pierced. They got them at the same time it was at the shepherd's house on a Friday night, both Curly and Dallas were drunk Johnny was just sober and easily persuaded. Dallas and Sylvia had broken up for the tenth time that month and Dallas was complaining about how he'd lifted some earrings for her and everything, real nice ones too from real jewellers and everything. Curly told him to just wear them himself and stop complaining so long story short Dally and Johnny pierced their ears with the earrings and Curly used a safety pin he still wears.

the reason dally spiralled so fast after Johnny's death is because Johnny was the only good thing in his life, like a symbol of hope because if someone that's been through so much but is still able to have some semblance of hope in the world to still trust people and have morals then maybe there was a chance for him too but shit went south and now we're here sooo.

Dallas has an obvious soft spot for Johnny. he also has one for Ponyboy but it's barely noticeable.

if not for Two-bit they'd all be hopelessly touch starved.

Curly and Ponyboy are forbidden from seeing each other because of how much chaos they cause and everyone knows it, they still hang out tho they're not even secretive about it.

Two-bit's banned from every library in Tulsa.

Soda can't do math.

the only reason Steve still goes to school is because Sodapop made him promise to keep an eye on Ponyboy.

The third time Curly goes to reformatory it's for stealing a couple of classic books. he didn't do it. Ponyboy did, they were for Darry's birthday. He felt terrible about it and almost turned himself in but Curly wouldn’t let him. they didn't even get caught not really it's just that the cashier saw them come in and knew who Curly was, so she was immediately on edge, and Ponyboy looked nervous, so she called the police. they didn't check them just arrested Curly on the spot.   

[bleedingoptimism]

I have a prompt for you! Steve or Eddie finding out that the other one collects something. Maybe it's weird or silly or just surprising. I feel like one or both of them secretly collect stuff.

Eddie collects things, lots of things, he's a collector. He collects rocks he likes, every trinket, key chain, necklace, or ring he finds with a shape of a lizard. He collects dice and zines, cassettes, you name it, he collects.

When Steve realizes this, he starts saving weird rocks he sees to give to him later. They don't really talk about it, Steve never says anything and he actually kind of doesn't notice he's doing it. But sometimes Eddie will get in his car and Steve will tap the headboard and say, "There's something for you there," and Eddie will open the compartment and find a metal pin with the shape of a lizard and grab it a hold it and look at Steve and Steve will shrug, like its nothing and Eddie will continue to stare at Steve for a few minutes while he drives, and he'll pin and long and love him in silence.

He asks him once if he collects anything, but Steve shakes his head no. No trophies, no love letters, no polaroids.

They are hanging out at Steve's one lazy sunday afternoon when he finds it. He was looking for a lighter, Steve had refused to move from where he's lying limbs stretched like a star on the floor of his bedroom and pointed somewhere over his desk when Eddie had asked for it.

He's rummaging through the desk and opens the second drawer, starts moving things around when suddenly Steve is right behind him,

"It's not there! There's nothing there." he yelps, trying to close the drawer, and Eddie laughs and looks closer at the contents, thinking he'll find Steve's porn stash and make him blush a little, but instead he finds a movie tkt, a receipt, a napkin, and other things that don't make a lot of sense until it does.

Because the ticket is from a movie they saw together, and the receipt is from when they went to Indianapolis and ate greasy burgers at a diner in the middle of nowhere, and the napkin is from The Hideout and there's a leaf carefully pressed with duck tape that he's sure is the one he once gave Steve, when they were walking through the forest, sharing a smoke. A leaf, just a silly little leaf, he had grabbed it off the floor because it was brown and speckled with yellows and greens and it reminded him of the color of Steve's eyes when the light hit them just right. He'd given it to Steve without a word and Steve had smiled and twirled it in front of his face and then he had completely forgotten about it and here it was, in a drawer in Steve's room, along with a whole lot of things, mementos, of them.

Eddie looks at Steve, who is standing just to the side of him, completely red in the face and with his hands suspended in the air, either to push Eddie away and close the drawer or hold them up as surrender, he doesn't know.

They look at each other, both searching for something, asking questions, seeking answers. They look at their eyes, roam their faces, and end up on each other's lips, and Eddie smiles, big, happy, and enamored, he slowly moves to face Steve properly, closing the drawer with his hip and holds Steve's face between his palms and Steve leans into the touch closing his eyes for second before going back to stare at Eddie, and shily, he smiles back.

And Eddie dives in and kisses the boy who gifts him weird rocks, lizard trinkets, and dice. The boy who collects mementos. The boy he loves.

[lexirosewrites]

Hello! Long time reader here and I thought I’d give this a try for once. Espescially since there were so few this past week. I love Slick Sundays.

This is a long one.

Scifi/Space Voyage enemies to lovers AU because I love scifi and couldn’t help myself. CW for noncon body modification because I’m fascinated with how omegaverse biology could start but its not in detail.

Steve Harrington is hired onto a space ship as an exercise physiologist (It’s like a very educated personal trainer). It’s a relatively small ship, with an equally small crew of scientists and engineers who’ve been given the chance to research the biology of other planets around the galaxy. He likes the crew just fine, even if they hate the physical excersize that’s required for this type of trip. One such member is Eddie Munson, the ship’s handyman and published fantasy author going on this voyage to hopefully find inspiration for his books.

Eddie annoys the shit out of Steve, constantly pushing his buttons and making his job difficult. The institute they’re working for has strict guidelines for the crews’ physical state to maintain safety, and the person responsible for keeping them there is Steve. But Eddie is practically allergic to anything he deems exercise, and as such fights Steve about doing the exercises he needs to. The others on the crew also don’t do all of their needed exercise, the nerds, but at least they look guilty about it. Eddie’s just prickly. (Eddie is just trying his best not to get a violation for jumping the pretty man, because when Steve was demonstrating an exercise, unknowingly showing off his pert ass, Eddie nearly pinned him to the equipment and pounded into him until Steve couldn’t cum anymore. Eddie’s only idea on how to avoid that was making Steve not like him and not be in any setting where he might see Steve’s ass.) (Steve may or may not have been showing his ass off on purpose. Sue him the guys hot.)

It doesn’t help that they can’t stop running into each other, gravitating towards the same secluded observation deck. Most nights Steve gets there first, and Eddie will silently slip away to another deck. But one night when Eddie gets there first, Steve startles him by sitting next to him. They sit in silence for a bit before they tentatively start talking, reaching a point of camaraderie. They meet there every night from then on, becoming close friends, maybe something more.

One day, the scientists discover an interesting planet where most organisms have a very strange dynamic between genders. Further studies show that their tend to be 6 combinations of two sets of genders. The omegaverse genders.

When a sample container breaks one day due to someone’s clumsiness, the entire crew get sick. High fevers, severe soreness, and sinus pain are the common symptoms, but some have abdominal and genital pains, describing it as their organs are being rearranged. The scientists have theorized that a highly infectious bacteria escaped from the broken sample tube and it’s been changing all of the crew to follow the gender biology of the planet they’ve been studying. They are all developing secondary genders.

Steve ends up growing all the equipment he needs to carry a baby, something he’s been secretly envious of not getting to experience, and Eddie ends up with a knot on his dick and a new breeding kink. Now they can smell each other, easily picking out emotions they couldn’t before and realizing that all the bickering was a strange form of foreplay. They don’t immediately act on it, actually they sit on it for a week, before Steve breaks the silence and telling Eddie that if they follow these wants it has to be because Eddie wants him as a long term partner and not a fun passtime.

Eddie, being the secret romantic he is and knowing that he’s been slowly falling in love with Steve, blurts out that he wants Steve forever. Eddie wants to build a den for him to nest in, wants to help him through his cycle and breed him, give Steve the big family he’s always dreamed of, and be his mate. It’s a really strong come on and Steve feels crazy for loving it, espescially with the newness of their biology. It doesn’t stop him from leaning into his alpha’s side and whispering into his ear:

“Take me to your den and breed me. We’ll worry about our first date later.”

Steve ends up being the first human omega male to give birth.

(On the fence of whether or not I’m actually going to turn this into a fic. The writing goblin in my head has been very loud lately.)

i’ll take 100k words please 🤲

[pouringmyheartoutforpaper]

girl i see you. stevie is so strong. he’d hold your legs apart and push your torso in to the bed to keep you from moving until you use your words like a good girl.

“stop squirming honey, you know i’ll give you whatever you need. cmon don’t be shy, it’s just me. use your words for daddy, cmon be a big girl for me.”😵‍💫

yes!!! yes!!! yes!!!

mdni! this is kinda filthy im sorry :)

he just loves manhandling you. it makes him so happy to see that you trust him enough to hold you down while he smothers you in kisses. he loves having an arm around your waist in public, making sure you’re safe and that he can see you. he always helps you in and out of the car no matter how many times you assure him that you can do it by yourself, he just will not have it. i think steve doesn’t really need “alone time” like some couples do. but if he does (or you do), its always when he works out or goes for a run. i think he definitely gets restless really easily, so if he doesn’t exercise for a day or two he’s literally bouncing off the walls. and he always comes back and gives you a big sweaty hug that your (not so) secretly obsessed with. or if he did a lot of work and he’s sore, you will run him a bath for when he gets home and he literally almost tears up every time. i also genuinely believe that steve is one of those guys who is literally a food vacuum after they exercise. you’ll buy some french bread and come back after a few hours and it is completely gone. and you’re like steve what the hell r u ok but he looks so cute and happy that you cant bring yourself to be annoyed. (he also definitely makes sure you eat a good amount everyday bc he cares abt your health ( and also bc you get grumpy when you don’t eat)). he also loves picking you up and carrying you. just doing it whenever he wants because its fun. definitely will put you over his shoulder and walk around with you prodding at his back and telling him to “put you down!!” but you both know if you actually wanted off you could get down easily. also likes kissing you while he carries you around, maybe setting you down on the counter so he can keep going without getting too tired. and when he does carry you off to bed, he will take (or rip, depending on the day) off whatever you’re wearing that day before doing the same for himself and just lay on top of you and kiss you for a while. your hands gliding across his back because its so pretty. all the little moles dotted all over his skin. all the freckles on his shoulders. just inhaling each other as he lays his full bodyweight onto you. and when he starts touching you :0 his hands are so big and nice. he trails them up and down your torso and your legs. rubbing them lightly over your panties before taking them off and touching all around your cunt while you whine. he knows exactly what hes doing. he starts by your legs and slowly makes his way to your clit, rubbing it in little circles while he looks at you so adoringly before pressing two big fingers inside you. then moving down so his face is between your legs. holding each of your thighs firmly in his hands, holding you in place while he licks at your cunt and fucks you with his fingers :(( soft little “i know baby, i know,”’s falling out of his lips. and when he finally comes back up all you want is for him to be inside you. and you’re too fucked out to properly communicate through your shyness. which leads to him completely pinning you down. your legs over his shoulders while hes on top of you, his hands placed on yours against the pillow behind you, holding your arms down. “stop squirming honey, you know ill give you whatever you need.” and you know better than to keep trying to move against him without telling him exactly what you want. “cmon dont be shy, its just me. use your words for daddy. cmon, be a big girl for me.” he coos at you. and you tell him how much you want him, the rest of the night was him fucking you into the mattress. strong man!!

[atimeofyourlife]

Cracking the egg

wc: 354 Steve realizes that she is actually a transwoman. he/him pronouns used until she has the realization, then changes to she/her written in honor of trans day of visibility

He didn't know how to feel as he held the shitty, cheap blonde wig in his hands. Pointedly looking anywhere other than the mirror, trying to avoid seeing himself with the full face of glamorous makeup that had been so carefully applied. Trying not to admit to himself that the tiny glimpse he had gotten had made him feel more himself than he ever had before. He cursed Robin for talking him into this, she'd begged him to help out a friend of hers who was working on a project and needed people to "break the boundaries of gender", whatever the hell that meant. He hadn't expected it to mean this.

He finally made the move to put the wig on, his natural hair pinned and gelled back. The hair on the wig felt a little too scratchy, but it wasn't that uncomfortable. A quiet knock on the door startled him, and he turned quickly, only to get distracted by what he could see in the full length mirror beside the door.

'There she is,' was the first thing that entered his- her- mind. She took a step closer, barely allowing herself to breathe. The girl that had been buried so deep inside for so long. The woman she'd always secretly desired to be, hidden so far away that even she hadn't known, covering up with the masculine role she always had to play.

"Steve, are you ready yet, we've been waiting on-" Robin burst into the room, and trailed off as she took in the scene in front of her. "Are you okay?"

"I-" She couldn't find the right words to describe what she was feeling. "This is me."

"What's you, dingus?" Robin asked gently.

"This. I think this is who I'm supposed to be. This woman. I. Steve isn't me anymore, I don't know if that was ever who I was. Robs, I think I want to be a girl." She said, hoping Robin would accept her.

"Well, if you say you're a girl, then you must be a girl." Robin replied. "And you're one of the prettiest girls I've ever seen."

[xxchthonicreaturexx]

I've got another request but I just love your writing sm. How do you think the boys (Curtis gang + Shepards) would act during and after an argument (like would they be cold to their s/o, would they be clingy, how long does it take to make up etc). I'm honestly such a sucker for angst like it's not even funny💀. Sorry, this is kinda a long one.

-🤍🤍

You're adorable :) <3 thank you for being patient.

Tim Shepard

Tim doesn't yell unless absolutely necessary. If you're the type to raise your voice and not listen to a thing he's saying, he'll probably yell a few times, but he easily will out yell you. It's quick and it's scary. He has that scary parent voice like Darry-

He's usually a quiet type of angry with a partner. A snide, backhanded comment here and there followed by the silent treatment until you're begging like a puppy for forgiveness. Or if he realizes he's being too harsh and he gives in first but usually it's the latter.

Fights can last up to a week depending on what it was. Usually it's only a few days before it's resolved, but if you're the stubborn type then sadly he can also hold a grudge. He'll never let it go past a week though. After y'all have time to cool off he decides it's time for y'all to act like grownups and talk it out calmly. Nothing really changes after the fight though. He's still Tim. He's still an asshole. 🤷

Curly Shepard

Motherfucking Curly Shepard can kiss my ass. I love Curly with a passion...BUT he can get slightly petty. When's he's upset with you, you'll know. Trust me. He's a fighter, and can be violent, but with his partner he'll channel his pissed offery in other... More annoying ways.

Oh, you need your morning coffee? Sorry babe, he just drank the last of it and the fucker doesn't even like coffee. 🤷

Oh, you're missing your work shirt? He "accidentally" spilled water on it so you can either go to work without your uniform or wear it wet.

Oh, you wanna makeout and watch a movie? Sorry, he's already getting ready to go hang out with friends even though you guys specifically planned to hang out that day.

He's a little shit but eventually it'll get so ridiculous you can't help but laugh and that's kinda how you guys makeup? 🤷

Darry Curtis

I mean- how the hell do you think that'd play out? He's a yeller. He pulls a loud disappointment card and talks with his hands a lot. If he's too mad he'll yell from a different room because he's scared he'll push you or something like what he does Pony. He really doesn't want to hurt or scare you, so he puts distance in between y'all.

And I swear, if you FOLLOW him while he's trying to put space in-between you, you just might get pinned into a corner. Not that Darry would ever lay his hands on you but the second he sees your scared expression, he's a mess. The yellings out the window and he almost looks like a kicked puppy.

I'd like to say that fights actually happen frequent with Darry but they're usually over things like your or the boys' safety and stuff like that. Doesn't matter if you're his kid brother, one of the other Greasers, or his spouse, he's overprotective. If he likes you even a tiny bit he's protective as hell. However, Darry is usually the type to apologize with a lame offer of a date or alone time within 24 hours.

Sodapop Curtis

Another silent type. This little shit will be kinda immature when it comes to the silent treatment. "Oh, Steve? Did you hear someone saying something to me? I could've sworn an annoying little voice was talking to me."

Yeah he pulls that shit. Kick him him in the shins and run away and he'll chase you. Honestly might end up with y'all play fighting despite him trying to be mad. He just can't keep it for long 🤷 unless it's serious that is.

If it's serious, I could see him raising his voice for a second, but never super loud. He'll do it to get his point across and then he'll want space. He might secretly cry if it's something bad, but Pony's got him, don't worry. Nothing a late night talk won't fix. Soda will probably phone you within a day or two and ask if you guys can take a walk and CALMLY talk things out.

Ponyboy Curtis

He's such a freaking whiner bro :/ y'all probably fight all the time with how whiney he is about shit. I like Pony, don't get me wrong, but Pony can be kinda sensitive. Don't even lie.

He's a sarcastic little shit that will make comments and pout whenever he's upset with you. Visibly less playful and acts around you how he does Darry most times. Sometimes if you guys start to actually argue though, he'll actually run away. He'S a TrAcK sTaR-

Trust me, just give him an hour or two. If he's out longer than that, check the lot. 🤷 Probably got lost writing a little sob story or reading a book. Also the type to write you apology letters though in a form of a poem. The poems are sweet I guess but kinda cringey when he's all awkward about it lmfao.

Johnny Cade

Probably guessed it but he hates fighting. He'll avoid it the best he can but it's unavoidable sometimes. You yell and he'll shut down. Come back and talk to him when you've cooled off. He refuses to be yelled at, reminds him too much of home, but he also refuses to yell at you.

I could also see Johnny giving you semi-playful pinches. You guys are talking about something and you're getting worked up and you're starting to raise your volume? Pinch. You're ignoring him because you're pissed off? Pinch. You guys made up and he's feeling a little cheeky when you guys hug it out? Pinch.

Fights never last long. He doesn't let you guys go to bed angry like his parents. He'll give you time to cool off, of course, but not angry.

"I know we're fighting right now, but I just want to remind you that I still love you, ya dig?"

Dallas Winston

Honestly, despite him being an asshole that deserves a majority of the fights thrown at him, he's a strong believer in not going to bed angry when he really likes someone.

"Oh come on, don't be like that!"

Cue the dramatic eye roll as you slam the door. A few cigarettes later and you guys are sitting side by side on the porch of Buck's place. Or yours, depends where y'all are.

It's quiet, he's just taking drags off his cigarette and suddenly his jacket is around your shoulders.

"I like ya, doll. We can talk about it in the morning if you want to cool off, but come to bed and we'll cuddle or something, capiche?" Usually you have to initiate cuddles, so the fact he's even mentioning it first is a total win for you. You're weird if you don't take the offer.

I could also see him allowing you to hit him if you're angry too. He's low-key a masochist so 🤷🤷🤷

Steve Randle

He's kinda dumb, fights are probably started because he did something dumb and didn't realize. Or he said something kinda insensitive without thinking. He won't even know that you're mad unless you tell him and then he kinda gets defensive? "Don't be so sensitive."

Go on, you can hit him, I don't mind. He'll probably glare at you, use that stupid mocking voice under his breath. Kinda childish? I also see him as the type that would avoid his partner once they get into a fight. Kinda scared of them and doesn't want to have to deal with the negative emotions, you know? He might run away a few times but he'll eventually come back. Threaten him. It works. Tell him if he doesn't call you back within 24 hours you're done and he'll be on the phone within 5 minutes.

He really does care, he's just not the best with lover quarrels. Probably one of the worst here because if you don't say anything this dude can go up to like two whole ass weeks avoiding you. It gets a little ridiculous. Once y'all make up though he's definitely more careful with his words for a while. Compliments you a lot more.

Twobit Matthews

Honestly? He laughs it off. You do most of the yelling. He'll make sarcastic little comebacks. Definitely the type to make petty comments whether it be bringing up your faults when you're ripping on him or trying to gaslight you into believing you're overreacting. He just doesn't want to deal with it. Let him have fun, you know? He just doesn't get that he can't be that way 24/7, especially now that he's in a stable relationship.

Fights don't usually last long. Few days tops as he's not one to hold a grudge. He might even forget you guys are fighting lmfao on the occasion that he didn't forget and he just misses you, he'll probably just say a quick sorry and go back to pretending it never happened.

Definitely the type to half-ass apologize even though he doesn't think it's his fault. He's just kinda a people pleaser? If his sweetheart is mad at him and he's cooled off, he's like a kicked puppy.

[hotluncheddie]

... do you think that Steve would keep wearing his old clothes for as long as he could as he puts on weight, secretly enjoying the pinches of his waistband as it gets tighter, revelling in the little sharp reminders that he's getting bigger? 👀

i completely and utterly, totally so so so much think he would

i am obsessed with this anon, 👀 big time

this was going to be short but then while i love 'and they were roommates' it was also like, well, obviously, robin is there too...

and then i also had to include my actual baby girl steves blue henley

and then a safety pin to keep his jeans closed was just too good to pass up..

so, ya, have nearly 4k of belly and pining and confessions :3c

-

Every week, it takes Steve just a little bit longer to get dressed. 

He has to suck in a little more, feel his sides spill out of the waistband a little further and his belly is fighting harder and harder against the zipper of his jeans. Taking up more and more room. Until, one day, it's all going to burst. 

Steve cant wait. 

‘You’re really packing it on Harrington.’ He'll whisper to himself. Smoothing his hand down his shirt and feeling where his belly button is indented in the fabric. He’s started untucking them to try and hide how his jeans button is straining. But now his shirts are straining too. It won't be long until they can't contain him, letting a sliver of belly show no matter how much he pulls at them. 

Today he's wearing the blue henley that used to sit comfortably at his hips, a loose layer over a t-shirt. But, now it sits snug and taught, his wider shoulders filling it up, lower band snapped against the underside of his growing spare tire. Still just reaching his jeans though, thankfully, and covering how his white t-shirt does not - slipping up to his navel with the slightest of moments. 'Really let yourself go.' he mumbles, gut stirring with heat, twisting to look at his ass and belly from the side, liking they way they both jiggle just little now when he moves. 

Then he goes and makes breakfast. 

He's been on a cereal kick lately, keeps craving the sweet and sugary whole milk at the end of the bowl. He usually has some to go with his toast and eggs. 

He says good morning to Eddie, who just grunts at him, like normal, and reaches for the box on the top shelf. 

'...Steve.' Eddie says, slowly, coffee mustn't have kicked in yet. 

Steve is focused on pouring his cereal. What?' He asks. 

'Steve.' Comes Eddie again, clearer now. 

Eddie.' Steve finally looks over, Eddies eyes wide. 

Eddie gestures to his own midsection 'you, your.' He mumbles, circling the whole area, his lean stomach and hips.

'The shirt looks good on you Ed's I dunno what you want.’

Eddie coughs 'I can see your, like, everything.' 

Steve looks down at himself, his stretching had pulled the henley up, belly and sides keeping it up. 'Oh.'  He says, pale skin and dark hair on display. The stretch marks at his hips can be seen too, pooling over the waistband. His cheeks go as pink as those new lines. He really has packed it on. 

'Thanks man.' He says, trying to keep his voice level. He readjusts his shirt, pulls at his jeans that don't budge, shivers.

He has two bowls of cereal with his toast and eggs that morning. Eddie excusing himself quickly as Steve chugged the last of the sweetened milk. 

Leaving Steve alone to pat his stomach and settle the food there, dig the heel of his hand into his crotch and simmer over the mix of feeling he has for the whole situation. 

He'll deal with that properly later though, after work, he doesn't want to go through re-buttoning his jeans again just yet. 

-

A few weeks later Steve takes so long to get dressed he almost doesn't have time for breakfast. 

Or breakfast with Eddie as it's seemed to have become. Eddie always staying at the table even after he finishes his second cup of coffee, waiting and watching as Steve makes and eats his meal. Sometimes pushing to near fullness if there's time, sometimes still bloated and sluggish from the night before. (He sneaks snacks home sometimes, to have after dinner, after everyone is in bed. Extra to pack on top of whatever he had that day, help him reach a fullness that makes sparks burst behind his eyes when he finally lets himself touch, lets himself sink and feel and finish all over his swollen gut.)

And Steve thinks, sometimes, that Eddie stays through his breakfast so he can watch. Thinks he waits for Steve to have his fill, maybe enjoys their time together in a similar way Steve does. Always gravitating towards Eddies company, harbouring what he has accepted is a massive crush on the man. 

Steve really hopes he not reading Eddie wrong. 

He mentions it to Robin, who always leaves the apartment before the both of them. Mentions how Eddie looks at him, stares, his gaze lingering and roaming over the parts of Steve that are changing. Steve’s cheeks pink, mumbling his way though a half explanation that he wants Eddie to look. That he likes how his body has changed. 

Robin says she'll keep an eye out, do some ‘research’, but only if he promises to keep her out of whatever weird sex shit it might involve. 

Steves cheeks heat further, nervous - what if he is wrong and Eddie thinks it’s weird too, doesn't like it. Doesn't actually like Steve or what he's chosen to do to himself. Maybe Steve is the real freak in all this. 

But Robin hugs him, called him a dingus in that way that sounds like I love you. Corrects and soothes - that she's not judging, doesn't think he's weird, and Eddie would never judge him either. 

Even if Steve is wrong about how Eddie looks at him, he'd never stop being Steves friend, she knows that much for sure. 

She's right, he guesses. And it’s his body, his life, it shouldn’t matter how he looks. He just never wants to loose them… 

And then he's forced to face it all head on. Test the waters - see Eddies reaction to a situation that solidly fits into the realm of what Steve’s discovered he’s into. The weird sex shit as Robin artfully put it. (Eddies opinion on it all still very much up for debate, even after Robin watched Eddie watch Steve eat a whole large cheese pizza to himself - she said she couldn't tell if he was impressed in a bro way or a gay way.)

But, Steve takes so long to get dressed that morning because no amount of sucking in, or laying down or pulling up then pulling down, will put his button through the hole. 

His pants won't do up. 

He gets the zipper half way, and his shirt is long enough to hide the worst of it, but he needs a safety pin, if he's going to get to work and look half way presentable.

'Eddie?' He calls, from right by his door. 

There's shuffling, the scrape of a chair. 'Yeah?' Eddie asks.

'Uh, I have good news and bad news' Steve shouts, not really sure what to say. 

'Okay...' Eddie says, slowly, closer now. Right by Steves door. 'Whats the bad news?' 

Steve swallows, bites his lip. 'I ah, I need your help.' He settles on. 

There's a pause, Steves heart hammers in his ears. 'Steve, what? Are you okay?’ Eddie says, confused. 'I'm coming in, okay?' And he pushes at the door before Steve can give an answer, pushes as he saying it, a tinge of stress to his voice. 

Steve is standing with his shirt up, staring at himself. Belly pushing the flaps of jeans apart, muffin top and stretch marks on display. He feels himself go red, palms sweating over how Eddie will react to this, to him. 

'Just, do-do you have a safety pin?' Steve stammers, embarrassed, but, he really needs one. 

Eddies eyes seem to be glued to his middle. 'I, yeah, yeah man.' He says and steps away, leaving the room, pulling his eyes away last. 

Steve sits down heavily on the bed, burying his red face in his hands and groaning.  

Eddie ambles back into the room, pin in hand. 'Here, sit back.' He says gently, kneeling between Steve thighs. god. 

Steve rests back on his palms and then drops onto his elbows once it becomes apparent that hands aren’t enough to give Eddie the access he needs. 

And then Eddie’s nimble fingers are pulling at his waistband, his warm skin brushing against the sensitive underside of Steve’s stomach. And Eddies eyes are soft, and kind. 

Steve has to bite his lip to stifle a noise, feeling it in his groin. embarrassed by the whole situation. 

That he likes it. 

That he likes it so much. 

He’s turned on by so much that’s going on right now. But it’s all too raw, and he feels so vulnerable under Eddie. Under the dream that he might like it too. Under the fear that he won’t, won’t like Steve because of this. Or, maybe worse, could relent and just like Steve in despite of it. 

And thankfully his jeans are so tight there’s no way of knowing that his cock is half hard as Eddie tugs lightly on the secured pin. And Steve aches because there’s a pillow crease on Eddies cheek and sleep still stuck to an eyelash and his t-shirt is worn and stretched and faded and Steve yearns. He likes Eddie so much, has done for so long. 

But he ate himself out of his jeans. Did it every morning with Eddie’s eyes on him and he still doesn’t know that it means. Doesn't know what to say. What to do. 

And Eddies eyes are soft, all of him so kind. 

‘And the good news?' Eddie asks, looking up again at Steve finally. 

Steve makes a noice, confused. He's feeling foggy and strung out and he wishes so bad he didn’t have to work, could just burrow under his covers and hide instead. 

‘You said there was good news and bad news, what’s the good news?’ Eddie smiles up at him. He’s so pretty in the morning, all day. Always. 

'You uh, just, won't need to sit through me eating breakfast this morning.' Steve says, huffing but it doesn't really feel funny. He feels exposed and too hot. But maybe it is funny, in fact, that he also feels really really hungry. 

And Eddie’s eyes widen slightly in shock, his cheeks dusting pretty pink. 'I uh, really like having breakfast with you dude, don't uh, you skipping? Thats not good news.' And his hand is on Steve’s knee, big brown eyes looking up at him. 

Steve bites his lip again, mouth morphing into a small shy smile he can’t stifle. He nods. 

He goes and makes breakfast. 

-

Steve gets new jeans and keeps eating while Eddie watches. They haven't said anything but sometimes Eddie refills Steves cereal bowl unprompted, sometimes he sits with Steve and Robin at dinner too. 

The next time Steve eats a whole cheese pizza to himself while Robin and Eddie are present they’re all high but Robin is now positive that he’s impressed in a gay way. ‘A very, very gay way Steve. I saw that pillow move into his lap, shoot your shot bud, weird sex shit and all.’ 

And Steve is growing impatient, the tension and subtext sending him a little insane. He just, he needs to know. If Eddie could like him back, if their friendship can survive Eddie not reciprocating. If Steve can keep exploring this part of himself - but with someone. If he can have everything he ever dreamed of, maybe, with Eddie. 

Steve needs to know, so one Saturday, he goes out and he buys breakfast…

It’s a few months later and Eddie notices that Steve recently upgraded his shirts, again. Now they sit looser, flowing down and following out over the crest of his belly. Eddie thinks they're the same jeans though, that Steve bought at the end of that day, the day with the safety pin. The first time he got to touch. 

He then spent the day thinking about how he actually feels about Steve. Half freaking out, half feeling like everything finally made sense. Too scared to act on what he realised were real feelings, a real crush. He thought about it, at least. 

And now that Eddie’s thought about it, come to some conclusions for himself. He notices more. Like how he notices that, now, after what is arguable a pretty short amount of time, Eddie can see that these jeans are tight too. Straining, restricting Steves movements slightly as they fight against his thicker thighs. He notices Steve wearing sweats a lot more, or just not changing out of his pyjama pants, if he's home from work. The drawstrings on them never pulled tight. The seams of them though, along his thighs and over his ass. Those are pulled tight. Pulled to bursting. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

They still have breakfast together every morning. Steve upgrading to a cheese and egg omelette, toast, and a bigger bowl of cereal in the mornings now. Eddie still sticking to two cups of coffee and wandering eyes. Allowing himself to join Steve and Robin for dinner when he can, when schedules match up. Its fun, ordering pizza and watching movies, but Eddie has had to get skilful with their pillows, subtle as he pulls them onto his lap. Due to Steve now being in the habit of finishing large cheese pizzas all to himself. In his tightening pyjama pants, lips shiny with grease. 

Eddie kind of feels like a freak, noticing these things about Steve. But, it’s Steve. And maybe he’s reading it all wrong, but he thinks Steve maybe likes what Eddie likes. Thinks maybe they might be more similar than he ever thought. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do. But something’s gotta give. 

It’s Saturday when it all comes to a head, Steve comes home with breakfast for them both, jeans criminally tight and slung low like most things he owns, allowing his belly and soft love handles to sit above, to breathe. His t-shirt is one of the older ones, criminally, obscenely tight, highlighting his curves and width and softness. But still long enough for him to be covered fully, fabric tight but covering the jeans waistband fully. 

Surely Steve won't hate him for it, that Eddie is a little breathless over the sight of him, not once Eddie explains. Explains that it's all of it, all of him. That it’s always just been Steve, with or without the weight. 

Robin's away visiting her parents and Eddie said yes to an egg and cheese bagel. Steve sets the contents of the brown bag out on the table, bagel and a hash brown for Eddie, large coffee. Two bagels and four hash browns, a side of sausage, an orange juice and coffee, for Steve. 

He also bought a dozen donuts, for some reason. 

Steve sits down heavily in the chair. A soft oof as he lays a hand on the side of his gut and reaches forward for his juice, chugging about half in one sweet go. 

Eddie smiles at him over the rim of his coffee, Steve blushing ever so slightly. Eyelashes casting shadows across his softer cheeks. 

‘Thanks Stevie, this is really nice.’ Eddie says, doesn’t say that it almost feels like a date. Could feel like a date. Something intimate about it being a quiet Saturday morning alone together. 

'Almost feels like a date.' Steve says, taking his first big bite of sausage. 

Eddie coughs. Steve’s blushing again. He shifts in his chair, but he has this set to his jaw, like he’s being brave, like it’s scary, but he’s being brave. 

Eddie puts his coffee down, picks up his sandwich and holds it out to Steve in cheers. ‘To our first date.’ He says, smiling, looking Steve in the eye. 

Steve laughs, sunshine and fizzy apple juice. He cheers’ Eddie’s sandwich with his own. 

Eddie can be brave too. 

They talk about work, and Robin, and Dustin back home. About when Eddie’s next thinking of visiting Wayne and how they still need to fix the lock in the bathroom door. Eddie makes his way slowly though his food, Steve is a little quicker but he has more. Big bites filling his cheeks and a dollop of sauce falling onto his shirt. Eddie smiles and hands him a napkin. Steve smiles back, licking his fingers clean and letting that hand migrate back to the side of his belly. Fingers rubbing and prodding lightly again. Eddie tries not to stare. 

‘I probably shouldn’t eat that.’ Steve says, motioning to his second bagel, crushing the hash brown bag in his fist. The last part of his breakfast. His belly noticeably a little bigger, a little fuller on his thighs. 

‘Why?’ Eddie asks, taken aback. 

Steve huffs, self deprecating. ‘I dunno if you’ve noticed Ed’s but, I’m getting kinda fat.’ He says, embarrassed sort of smile on his face. ‘Who’m I kidding, of course you noticed, you had to help me when I outgrew those jeans last month.’ He dips his head, hand rubbing over his face and then resting at the top of his stomach, smoothing over the dome, belly button outlined in the tight fabric. 

Eddie snaps his eyes away from the movement. ‘Steve.’ He says. ‘You, you look good.’ He swallows. ‘You look, really good. And I, I think if you wanna eat that bagel then, well then you should.’ Eddie stammers, but his voice is clear and strong, he feels fire in his eyes. 

Because it’s true, everything, all of it. 

Steve’s smile stretches, blooming across his face, blinding, beautiful. ‘Yeah?’ He asks softly, sweetly, with awe. 

‘Yeah, yes.’ Eddie says, nodding his head and leaving forward to nudge the bagel closer to Steve. He wants him to eat it, Eddie realises. ‘I, um, I want you to, to eat it.’ He says, clearing his throat but refusing to look away from the bright eyes before him. 

Steve breaks eye contact first, ducking his head and unwrapping the sandwich with his big, delicate fingers. Taking a bite and letting the grease run down his wrist. 

Steve swallows, licking it up, eyes back on Eddie. 

‘Fuck.’ he breaths. Fingers fiddling with his empty coffee cup.

He scoots his chair around, bringing it in close to where Steve sits. Needing to share space with him, feel his body heat. Aching to touch.

Steve keeps his eyes on Eddie as he moves, biting and chewing and swallowing his way through the bagel methodically. Like it’s a reflex, an extension of himself. 

Eddie reaches forward and wipes away a rogue smear of ketchup from Steve’s cheek with his thumb. Bringing it up to his own mouth and sucking it clean. It’s sweet, and tangy. 

‘I gotta, uh, show you something. A, a secret.’ Steve says. Last bit of bagel held still in his fingers. Eyes wide and a little crazed, voice tinged with fear or glee; Eddie’s not really sure. 

‘Okay?’ He asks, voice quieter than he means. Reverent. 

Steve shifts slightly and presses his fingers into the bottom most curve of softness. Lifting his belly up and out of the way. Revealing his button and fly to Eddie. 

Which is no longer able to fasten, instead held together by a safety pin. The same one as before, on that morning. 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie shivers. Looks back up at Steve in awe. ‘Can i kiss you?' He rasps, fingers falling onto Steve’s thigh as he leans forward. 

Steve gasps quietly and nods, resettling his belly on his thighs. Eddie leans in further, their lips connecting. stars exploding behind his eyes. The soft press more infinite than anything he’s ever felt before. Because, maybe, maybe because it’s Steve. It’s Steve’s lips he’s kissing. He digs his fingers into the meat of Steve’s legs. Grounding himself in the kiss so he doesn’t float away entirely. 

Eddie lick over the seam of Steve’s lips lightly but Steve pulls away with a small gasp. Hand covering Eddie’s as he pants. ‘Sorry. Getting full.’ He huffs, blush rinsing on his cheekbones again. He shoves the last bit of bagel in his mouth and slouches further in the chair. He looks round and soft as he takes a deeper breath of air. 

Eddie laughs, delighted and leans forward once more, knees knocking against Steve’s. ‘Can I?’ He asks, hand hovering over the warm side of belly that Steve’s been petting all morning. Eddie swallows thickly as his eyes flick from Steve’s face back down to his hand. 

Steve smiles, nods. The blush running down his neck. 

The first press of fingertips on warm skin is heaven. Eddie almost can’t believe it’s his hand doing it. Finally. Steve is so soft; pliant and arching under Eddie’s soft hold. 

He splays his palm over it, cupping it with both hands and marvelling at the width, the weight. 

Steve’s finger taps Eddie on the chin. He looks up, snapping his mouth shut. Steve smiling at him, eyes sleepy and relaxed and he looks so happy. 

‘What took us so long?' Steve sighs, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face. Arching up further into Eddie’s hands. 

'Was worried you'd think I was weird.' Eddie admits quietly, leaning forward to steal another soft kiss, hands rubbing small circles into the flesh beneath his hands, can feel Steve’s short breaths fanning over his face, his lips shiny with spit. 

Steve smiles, charming and biting and so so Steve. ‘You? Weird? Never.' He teases. 

‘Wanna be weird together?’ Eddie asks, licking over Steve’s lips, making them wet. 

‘How about uh, you pass me those donuts?' Steve motions with his head and spreads his legs wider in the chair. His hand dwarfing Eddie’s as he uses it up to lift his belly again. Grunting as he forces the safety pin open and tugs it from his jeans. 

Eddie lingers, enamoured, helping to hold Steve’s belly out of the way. Watching his sides spill wider once they’re released from the tight denim. 

Steve tosses the pin on the table and resettled his belly again. Looking pointedly at Eddie and lifting his chin again cheekily. 

Eddie places the box within reach. Steve plucking one from the lineup. 

Steve doesn’t say anything as he ploughs through the first. Only half way through the second does he pull Eddie’s hand more firmly onto his gut, urging him to move them again. 

‘Feels good.' Steve says around a mouthful, sighing. He’s eating them in two or three bites, already on his third. 'like, stretched but, grounded, maybe.' 

‘Oh, it’s, so, you do like it? The, the weight?' Eddie asks. 

'Mostly I just like eating. But, can't say the weight is anything bad... Just, it feels good, all of it.' Steve talks with his mouth full, sugary glaze stuck in the stubble on his upper lip. 

Eddie nods, cheeks slightly pink. He reaches over and picks up a donut, scooting closer so he’s between Steves spread thighs. The view of his belly a little more above, pale skin spilling out of his hiked up T-shirt. Spreading over his open fly. He has a stretch mark on his arm, on the inside, over his tricep. Eddie never notices it before. 

He holds the donut up to Steves mouth, he'd only have to lean forward slightly to take a bite. 'This okay?' Eddie rasps, hand shaking slightly. Steve looking up at him though his lashes. 

He rests a hand over Eddie’s own on his stomach again. Smoothing them down and then up, causing his shirt to lift more, sitting snug under his pecs. He dips forward, chair creaking, biting into the donut enough for Eddie to feel his fingers brush Steves chin. His cheeks bulge as he chews, hand moving again.

‘More than okay Ed's, this is, it’s.' Steve can’t finish so Eddie shoves the rest of the donut into his mouth. He doesn't need him to explain, rationalise what he wants. 

He just wants Steve to feel good. 

Eddie reaches for another donut. 

-

WG Taglist (open): @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[evansbby]

Question for Poyt Steve.

I know this is nothing like omega, but how would Steve react if she tried to wrestle with him.

Would he react all smug and tell her to knock it off before she regrets her words.

Or play along with her as he knows the outcome of thier little game.

Anywho! I love you and the way you write! Plsass never stop writing!

Why is this the cutest thought ever??? I can’t get enough of these two, I want them in any and every cute scenario ever!! 💕💕😩😩

So, it would be super OOC for omega to want to wrestle Steve. I mean, she’s too shy to even talk to him properly half the time😩 also, she’s not stupid and she knows that she could never beat him at anything physical😌 but let’s say one day, poyt!Steve is watching wrestling on TV and he gets a depraved idea 😏😏😏😏

He calls omega over and of course she comes immediately (she was in the kitchen, baking cookies bc she is trying to perfect her cookie recipe bc she’s compiling a little recipe book secretly except she wants no one to know this bc she’s shy and insecure about her abilities and thinks it’s not good enough😩) ANYWAYS, Steve calls her over and she comes in her little cherry print apron and Steve gets hard immediately😌

Steve’s like, “baby, let’s play a game😈” and omega is like 😕😕 bc she knows Steve’s “games” usually end in him railing tf out of her. And Steve’s like, “let’s play wrestling. If I win, you give me something I want, and if you win… I’ll give you anything you want.” And omega’s like, “b-but I’ll lose😔” and Steve’s like “don’t be so pessimistic baby.”

And of course Steve gets what he wants and he figures this is an easy way to maul her around and mess with her (somehow make her cry bc that gets him hard too). He also likes how weak, docile and submissive she is with him, that makes him hard too. And he easily pins her, laughing all like “c’mon omega, try harder. Isn’t there something you’d really want me to do for you if you win?“

(And omega can’t help but think that if she wins, maybe she’d ask Steve for a bubble bath and a cuddle, maybe a movie and a quiet night in that doesn’t end in sex. Or maybe she’ll ask to be excused from cooking him dinner tonight since she’s already kind of tired from all the baking? She knows she’ll never win and she’s too shy to ask him for all this anyways, but a girl can dream, right?)

Anyways, back to the wrestling. Steve basically commands omega to try harder and she really doesn’t want to bc she’s not violent and she hates the thought of hurting him (as if she ever could). Anyways, the wrestling itself is kind of funny, just them rolling around and omega giggles and Steve even lets out a snort of amused laughter bc his omega is really so fucking cute when she’s play wrestling

BUT ANYWAYS as an omega she’s actually quite quick so she manages to wriggle out of his grasp and dodge him at one point and Steve is like !!!!! And then Steve gets… weirdly competitive and actually grabs her and throws her on the bed really hard and she’s all like ow!! 🤕😣😩 bc her arm twists 😔😔😔 and she’s a baby when it comes to pain so she starts crying bc it hurts!!! And Steve is like… half kind of feeling bad for accidentally twisting her arm and half turned on as fuck bc she looks hot when she’s helplessly crying.

Guess which feeling of his wins out? 😅😅😅

He ends up fucking her hard then and there. But he babies her extra extra extra afterwards. Like, condescending babying and he actually does draw them both a warm bath as a form of ultra rare poyt!Steve aftercare! So omega kind of gets what she wants… 😌😩

[strangerweirdo15]

The King will fall pt2 (King Steve Harrington x Fem! Henderson reader)

Warnings- Bullying, angsttttt, one sided love, mutual pinning,eventual  smut (soft love), crying, bad home life(steve), best friends-enemies-friends-lovers <3. 

Summary: you remember the day you met him, the day you fell in love with him, and the day you fell out of love with him. Then the day that everything changed what happens when two strayed souls are pulled back together and forced to question what happened that day. The day Steve Harrington broke your heart, and will he be the one to fix it?

Chapter 2: snowball

Pt 1:

WC: 1,536

Memories they are. Wonderful, terrible, horrible thing. Some are good, great even but some are not. Some keep replying in your head over and over again and all you do is wish you could forget.

Age 12 I was in 7th grade and Steve was in 8th. It was winter, 1978. The Hawkins middle school snowball dance was slowly approaching. Steve told you it was a stupid dance when you had told him you wanted to go. 4 weeks ago “Come on Steve, it will be fun,” I said .  He looked at me with an annoyed look but slightly smiled. “Okay fine care bear  we’ll go”  “Yay okay be at my house at 7? My mom can take us”. “Yeah, yeah okay let's get going now”.

You and Steve had been friends since that day in 3rd grade. 5 years and you had so many adventures. So it was weird when this last year Steve has gotten distant. You could feel it you thought maybe his dad had been hard on him again or something. You and him bonded over things even if they weren't great. When your father left he was there for you and made you feel a sense of normality. When his parents left him to go on business trips or forgot his birthday, or yelled at  him you and your family were there for him. So now when he kept making up excuses and reasons of why he couldn't talk or come hang out you thought the worse.

He obviously had other friends as did you. You had a really good friend named Robin. You guys were in band together. But Steve started making a lot of new friends who were mean. You had seen them around school; they just weren't good kids. All the girls have crushes on him now and to be honest it kinda hurt. Everyone has grade school crushes but you've seen him the real him and it just feels like everyone is faking. 

You were standing at your locker grabbing your stuff when Robin walked up to you. “You're coming tonight right” - “Yeah I’m excited” I say looking at her. “Yeah because you're going with Steve Harrington” she says laughing. I could feel my cheeks start to warm up and my heart beat quicken. “Omg Robin shhh, and stop, you know we're just friends”. She looks at me and rolls her eyes “mhhh yeah okay i’ll see you tonight”. I separated as i waved bye to her

 I walked outside to my moms minivan. I see Steve by the sidewalk talking to his friend Tommy as I walk over to them. “Hey Steve, my moms here you ready”. Their conversation halts and he turns around “oh um actually Tommy is gonna take me home today cause we're gonna go play video games”. I look over at Tommy as he waits for Steve, then I look back at Steve. I stare down at my feet “Oh.. okay um see you tonight rig-”. I look up and Steve is already walking away with Tommy as he shouts over his shoulder. “uh yeah”. I stare at them walking away wondering if I did something to make him upset at me. I just don't understand why he's being so short and nonchalant as if he hasn't been basically ignoring me the past month. I try not to let it get to my head as I climb into my mom's minivan. I say hi to my little brother Dustin in the back. "No Steve" my mom questions "no he got a ride from his friend Tommy" I say and we leave it at that.

It was 6:30 my mom let me go buy a new dress. It was blue and sparkly. I felt so pretty in it. I secretly hoped Steve would think I Looked pretty in it. I couldn't help but find myself having a crush on him. All year long I had hoped just maybe he would ask me but even getting to go as his friend was okay. He was my knight in shining armor. He's   always there. He was kind and caring and sweet I don't know what happened the last couple of weeks but i wasn't worried he would always be my best friend. 

I sat waiting on my couch as 7:00 p.m rolled around. Then 7:15. Then 7:30. I called his house with no answer. I waited 10 more minutes. I started to worry maybe something happened or- "Honey You should get going, where's Steve?" my mom walked into the living room. "I'm sure he just got a ride from somebody else or something we can get going". I arrived at the school and it was decked out with lights and streamers. I saw Robin over at the bleachers sitting. "Hey Robin" "Hey"she says back. We talk for a minute when she sees me looking around the gym. "He's here already, they all got here like a half an hour ago" she says. I looked over at her, slightly embarrassed had I really been that obvious. I say thank you as I look away from her sheepishly. I spot him at the drink table with a couple other boys. I get up and start walking over to him. I feel frustrated. I want to ask why he didn't call and why he didn't show up but I think at least he's here. I think maybe I'll get my chance to have a dance with Steve Harrington. I'm almost to the table when I hear one of the boys Tommy start to say something. "Dude why are you even still friends with that weirdo, you have a crush on her or something?". I stop in my tracks when I hear Steve laugh. "Ew man, as if i'd ever like that nerd I've been trying to get rid of for a while. I met her in grade school. She's just stuck to me. I can't get away” they all start laughing. I feel My eyes start to well with tears then I feel like I can't breathe. It's like the world goes quiet like I'm dreaming like the boy that I've known for 5 years is a stranger. I come back down to earth when I hear Tommy say "Uh-oh". Then he points over Steve's shoulder as he turns around and sees me. He looks shocked as he opens his mouth and closes it again. I turn around on my heals and take off running . It feels like my world is falling. The Steve I've pictured in my head, the one that asks me to dance and holds my hand is no more. He's just like the rest of them cruel. I hear him shout my name as I leave the gym. I I went out the front doors and breathed in the air. It was cold and my head felt fuzzy. I could still feel the hot tears running down my cheeks. I didn't know what to do. I hear the door open and I don't even need to look back to know it's him. my back to him "please go back inside I don't want to see you you made it very loud and clear how you felt I never want to talk to you again"  "y/n....please".  i chocked back a sob "no Steve I really don't want to hear anything, someone who could say something like that something so awful is no friend of mine and clearly you don't want to be my friend anymore and you could have just said it to my face instead of going behind my back and talking to all your asshole friends about it". i feel my voice breaking as it slightly wavers "I don't know what happened to you Steve, when did you become so fake". I look over my shoulder to see a distraught Steve. I stand up and shove past him as I feel him grab my wrist. I pull it away and out of his grasp and walk back inside. I walked to the payphone to call my mom. "uh Hey Mom will you come pick me up please" - "yeah alright honey is everything okay". I feel my Tears start again. "no mama it just really need you to come get me". "Okay sweetie I'll be right there".  I stand in the empty hallway As my back slowly slides down against the locker, put my head in between my knees and I let myself cry. I let myself have a moment to grieve the friendship I just lost. I guess it's true your first heartbreak hurts the worst. 

I try not to remember him this way. I really try not to relive this day. Honestly the whole year leading up to it. I like to think about my friend my friend who came over and played the prince and princess with me  who like to play ninjas or help me up off the ground when I scraped my knee or who sat and listened while I cried when my parents were splitting up not the kid who crushed my heart, not the kid that completely betrayed me and forgot me in the past.

ahhh idk its 3 am im tired and this is probably horrible anyway not proof read. enjoy and lmk if i should continue this thx.

[hersterical]

(quick disclaimer: I only know the very basics about punk culture. This isn’t supposed to be very serious)

If MCU Steve Rogers was a teen/young adult in the 60’s/70’s/80’s he would’ve been a hardcore punk (this is just for fun so I’m not going to talk about Vietnam) He’d do the safety pin earrings and the handmade patches on his old and ripped clothes and the whole thing with lots of diy and thrifting and painting his clothes. He’d go to protests and make sure everyone was properly hydrated and snacked up and do his best to keep the peace between the protesters and the police. But as soon as the first protester is unjustly harassed by an officer he’s throwing punches. If he looks like pre-serum Steve this leads to him being beat up a lot more but that obviously doesn’t stop him from getting into fights and hurts himself more than the person he punches. Bucky and Peggy take turns bailing him out of jail (whoever’s not bailing him out is usually in jail with Steve). He is impossibly nice even by punk standards.

Peggy would also be a punk but she’s not as hardcore as Steve when it comes to the aesthetics. She’s just as hardcore punk when it comes to attitude though she’s more careful about thinking things through than Steve is. She goes to all of the same protests and rallies as Steve (and is sometimes even one of the organizers) but she wasn’t usually arrested until she fell in with Steve and Bucky who encourages her more reckless side.

Bucky isn’t hardcore when it comes to the aesthetics because it can make it difficult to find dates but he’s right there with Steve through everything. Mostly he just wears a lot of eyeliner, and leather/denim jackets and has an eyebrow piercing. He did at one point have a mohawk but he didn’t like it. He doesn’t care quite as much about the causes as Steve and Peggy who are both unhinged, but he is still passionate about civil rights (partially because of Steve). He’s even more passionate about the people he cares about and keeping them safe (mostly Steve because everyone else usually has a basic sense of self-preservation).

Sam is there as well. He’s the last one to join the group and is a hippie (I’m not going to talk about that because I know even less about hippies than I do about punks). He’s even more passionate about civil rights than the other three but he’s a lot more careful about not being caught (Sam’s the most self-aware about the groups tendency to lose brain cells when they’re around each other and there’s also the necessity of him having to be more careful of racist cops). Sam is also less prone to getting into fights as the others, but he still gets into a surprising amount of fights for a hippie. Especially when he has to back the other three up. He’s quickly added to the paying for bail rotation because he gets into his fair share of trouble as well. He gets the other three to do some drum circles and go on camping trips with him. Bucky secretly loves doing these things even though he pretends to hate it while Steve and Peggy enjoys it more for the bonding and making Sam and Bucky happy than the actual activities. They still have fun though.

It’s funny seeing them all hang out together because there’s three punks, two of whom are some of the scariest, most intimidating people you’ve ever seen, an impossibly skinny dude who’s dressed even edgier than the scary ones, and a really happy and nice looking hippie. Sometimes the Howling Commandos show up and then usually gets them kicked out of wherever they’re hanging out.

[avengersrewatch]

E16: Widow's Bite

Speaking of lady superheroes, here is something else I don't like about this series (and it seems like I have a lot of complaints even though I am rewatching this cartoon because I like it better than other versions): the Hawkeye and Black Widow subplot.

Since the beginning mini-episodes, Hawkeye has thought Black Widow betrayed him to Hydra and that she was a double-agent. And that's fine, even though everyone watching knows she's not evil by now because Black Widow has appeared in the movies at this point. So she's actually more familiar than Hawkeye to a lot of viewers.

So he has been hunting her down and this episode is a lot of continuation of that. I think it makes Clint look stupid that he hasn't figured it out. Because it is definitely made clear in this episode, as if it wasn't set up before, that she is still working for SHIELD and trying to protect him while she is undercover.

I feel like Widow should be part of the Avengers team by now, but instead both Widow and Mockingbird continues to work for SHIELD and Janet remains the only lady on the team. I can't quite figure out why this should be.

Of course this is also the era of "Marvel thinks girl toys don't sell" so maybe that is why?

It's also unclear exactly what the Avengers are at this point. Tony points out that they are supposed to be dealing with the Breakout (the super villains who escaped prison which is the whole start of the series) and Widow isn't one of them. Which would make sense as a reason the organization exists. But they also do other missions, like the alien robot we just saw in the previous, so why can't Barton try to bring this criminal to justice. Nick Fury tries to say because HYDRA is too complicated, but... is it? It doesn't seem that way on the show.

What I like about this episode:

Captain America and Black Panther duo. It's such a fun dynamic. Steve and T'Challa go after Hawkeye, but without permission from Tony. Steve says no one can take on HYDRA alone and T'Challa says he knows what it is like to be blinded by vengeance. So together, they know better than Hawkeye but don't actually stop Hawkeye, just hover like parents hoping their kid will make friends at pre-school.

I repeat T'Challa and Steve are acting like they are Clint's two dads, hoping he and his new bff Bobbi, beat all the Hydra agents up but if he doesn't, they will swoop in and rescue him. (Which they do.) Meanwhile, they are secretly high fiving in the Quinjet that Hawkeye made a "little friend."

After Mockingbird pops up and Hawkeye decides to team up with her, T'Challa says "at least we know his weakness now if he were to turn on us." Like that's a thing he's been worried about. T'Challa is going to fling women at Clint if he goes rogue. I don't know why this makes me laugh so hard. (It's kind of a Batman thing to say.)

There's also a funny bit when they lose Hawkeye, Tony is mad and says he told Hawkeye not to go after Hydra why did they help him? And T'Challa and Steve are both like "I didn't hear you say that." (Steve says it sounded more like a suggestion than an order, and T'Challa says in Wakanda the words of avenge and revenge are the same. So you guys were just confused about the definitions of words, I get it.)

Just when Steve is freaking out that Hawkeye's signal is lost, T'Challa's like "I have faith he will contact us," and an unknown signal appears in the middle of the ocean. Hawkeye's location. T'Challa's like, "That's my boy."

Cool shots of everyone running at the hydra guys. Panther shreds Grim Reaper's arm scythe.

Odd thing:

Madam Hydra (Viper edition) is introduced and there is a scene where she pulls the pin of a grenade out with her tongue, that is cool but also weirdly suggestive for a kid's cartoon.

Unless this cartoon isn't intended for kids in which case Hawkeye is REALLY dumb.

[thequeerdungeonfanfiction]

Broken Routine

I’m playing with writing styles. This isn’t my norm, so it might not continue like this, if it continues.  Either way--enjoy! Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington World: A/B/O Note: Italics means dialogue, depending on the situation.

Wake Up - 5:00AM.

Start the coffee. Listen to it drip and gurgle. Float in the aroma of cheap coffee beans and count the equally cheap tiles until the sound of his father’s door creaks open.

Yes, sir. No, sir. 

Tread lightly because there are only so many split lips and bruises he can shrug off in practice. Hold his hand out. Accept the pills and the lecture of how disappointing he is for presenting the way he did. Yes, sir. Swallow the pills dry and only leave the room when he’s dismissed to make sure Max is up, as a responsible brother should.

Snarl through her door about getting the fuck up because they can’t be late, barely flinch when the sound of something hits the wood. Look back at the kitchen. Maybe he didn’t hear. Maybe he didn’t notice–

He did.

Fuck.

So much for showing up without another busted mouth.

Susan is asleep. She worked the night shift. Doesn’t he have any respect? Yes, sir, no, sir. The familiar burn of a backhand, Neil’s military ring, anger bubbling under his skin.

You’re almost of age, son–

Panic. Nausea.

What am I going to do with you–

Swallow blood. Don’t spit it on the floor.

Maybe the highest bidder. That’s all you’re good for.

Anger draining into fear, full body chills, disbelief.

I have friends, William, who would pay a pretty penny for you.

Swallow bile, the urge to vomit. Yes, sir, no, sir. A flash of red–Max is ready to go to school. His only saving grace.

Get out of my sight.

Get out of the house. Don’t run. Predators chase prey that run. Turn the engine over. Blast Black Sabbath. 

What was Neil talking about–

Shut the fuck up, Maxine. It’s none of your business.

If she’s lucky, she’ll present alpha.

No pills. No hiding. No flinching whenever an alpha gets too close.

No fronting to ensure staying hidden.

Park. Get out. Listen to Max bitch about having to board over to the middle school. Flip her off.

Catch sight of Steve Harrington–resident alpha shoved off his throne.

Winter. Pine. A bonfire. 

Addictive. Dizzying. 

Off limits.

Off limits.

Tell his instincts that.

Sneer. Front. Grin at the mild look of disgust on Harrington’s face.

Off. Limits.

Keep looking, Harrington. You’ll never get a piece of this.

Not even if you were an omega, Hargrove.

Cackle. Ignore the pit of oil and anger churning in his gut.

Lick his teeth, step close, secretly breathe in Harrington’s scent. Drown in it. Keep it for later.

Maybe steal a sweater, if he can, for his isolated heats in his military-esque bedroom.

If I was an omega, Harrington? I wouldn’t fuck a has been.

A flash of hurt, then disgust again. 

Twist on his heel. Walk away.

Harrington must be in a mood. Billy stumbles back, surprised by the yank on his jacket. Turns so their faces are close, breaths mingling, eyes nearly level.

King Steve, huh–

Definitely a mood. Billy hits the ground, his breath spilling out of him. Tastes more blood. Spits it out instead of swallowing. Harrington steps close, leans down. Billy twists, tries to roll to his feet, grunts when Harrington’s hand shoves to his chest and pins him to the ground.

If you aren’t an omega, Hargrove, what’s that scent coming off of you?

Pills. Did he check the pills? The grooves? The numbers?

Would his father actually–

Sugar pills? How long?

Panic.

We need to get you out of here. Harrington, local fucking hero, golden babysitter, goody two-shoes.

Sneer. Throw a punch, awkward from the ground. Harrington catches it, shoves his arm down.

You smell like rosewater, Hargrove. Let’s go.

Neil’s threat, fresh in his mind. Of age. Highest bidder.

Hargrove.

Fear. Visceral.

Shit, we gotta get you outta here. Get up.

Get up. Get up. Get up.

Get up, boy.

He wouldn’t.

Neil would.

[superblysubpar]

I am a FUCKING MESS. Wow. Your talent is inspirational and this story...God I'm sorry I feel like I just can't even wrap up into words how I'm feeling right now. I don't know if I've ever devoured something so quickly because I like, needed to. I could feel myself panicking while reading it and crying and just...wow. I'm amazed and look forward to be annoying about everything you write forever 💛 now excuse me, I'm off to print this for my bookshelf.

“I’ll never forget the first time you pinned me to the mats,” he spoke soft, catching you off-guard. You could feel his smile against your ear, the upturn of his lips. “You knocked the wind clear out of me, had me seeing stars, and then you leaned over me to help me up. You had this big, beautiful grin on your face, like you’d never had more fun in your entire life. Robin was doubled-over laughing in the corner.”

“Steve,” you breathed, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt.

“But when you asked me if I was ready for round two, that’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Harrington,” you grit your teeth, slammed your eyes shut. The pulse compelled you. Vines like tendrils slithering beneath booted feet to find you.

“Because I knew you were resilient, and any bullshit I could throw at you, you could survive. Are you listening to me?”

“Harrington. You know, big brown eyes, floppy ears, a tail that wags when you pay him attention.” 

HAHAHAHAHA I love Vickie.

It makes me so sad that she was like in this story but not - like that we just have this version of her we don't actually know and all of that grief and hurt surrounding her storyline. I love that she helped reader fight and reminded her to not carry that memory anymore 💛

Your version of Vickie and this story make me semi okay with her being a big part of season 5. May you secretly be a Duffer or the Duffers are wise enough to let you write with them.

You dove again and again, dives decreasing in length each time until you finally surfaced, gasping for air and screaming for someone to help, screaming for Steve, screaming at Vickie, at Vecna, at the world for doing this to you, and that’s when you found him.

Several yards off, face down, like driftwood bobbing along the shoreline. 

"Amanda, respectfully, I'll kill you" Taylor thought as tears threatened to spill from her eyes and she forced herself to keep reading.

“Steve,” you wheezed, straddling his body. You tilted his head back. “I promised Vickie. I promised her we’d get married. I promised her we’d have a dozen babies.”

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY?! I SAID I DIDNT LIKE THAT IMAGERY AND NOW HERE WE ARE HOLDING OUR LOVE IN OUR ARMS AND HE'S DEAD AND I AM ACTUALLY SOBBING I HATE YOU

You didn’t like the blue, cast across hard features like the frigid chill of a drowned man. You much preferred the warmth of sunshine pouring in through easterly windows. If you stayed long enough, you’d catch a glimpse of that, honeyed light caressing soft skin, tousling the golds in his hair.

Real life image of Taylor being like, yeah fuck you and your great writing DONT DO THIS TO ME AMANADA

You pulled away with a sad laugh, mopping the tears from your cheeks to slide into the arms of the man beside him. 

“Hey, Harrington, you doing okay?” Steve’s voice rumbled against your cheek, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. He hadn’t stopped calling you that in months, and you delighted in the way his honeyed gaze lit up when he said it.

*insert that clip of Tyra asking who else was really scared*

JESUS CHRIST AMANADA

AND THEN HE CALLS US HARRINGTON?!

Wildfire • Inferno

The last march into the Ether is fraught with uncertainty. You stumble forward, partner and friends by your side.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 10,887

Warnings: This chapter contains gore and horror, including character injury and allusions to character death. • enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

Fic Masterlist • Navigation • Masterlist

Chapter Six: Combustion

---

THEN

May 1988

The woods sprawled forever, rows of monotonous chaos stretched to a sunless sky. You scrambled through, boots squelching in inexplicably moist soil as you toed over the twist of vines and fallen limbs. A shock of orange guided your way, a light in the greyscale abyss, just out of reach, dipping into underbrush and up the hillside.

You’d made this trek through dozens of times, the steady climb from Roane County Farms to Mary Hill Lane. Countless nights of your youth were spent feeding cows apples from your pockets and scurrying home before the sun crested its final valley. 

You knew the resemblances were eery. The first time you’d stepped into this horrible place, the first time you felt the pull at your navel and the spin in your skull, you’d been nauseated by the carbon copy version of the town you called home. Grocery stores and public libraries crumbled beneath the weight of disembodied tentacles. City sidewalks crumbled beneath your feet. And even after all this time, after countless trips through the portal into the Hellscape, the similarities to your childhood never ceased to unsettle your stomach and itch like anxiety in your chest.

A different panic clawed there now, making the ascent more difficult. Your pack weighed you down, and your mask hung from your throat, lungs burning with strain and inhaling toxic air.

“Vickie!” You cried out for her again, your voice hoarse and cracked. A handful of mulch fell away to make room for your boot, and you pulled yourself up through the tree line and onto Mary Hill Lane.

The asphalt was torn up, a pot hole down the center of the little lane, right where they’d patched it that summer you turned 8. You used to take turns jumping it on your bikes. Once, Vickie hit the lip, and her frail little body went flying over the handlebars. You watched the blood ooze from her knobby knees in horror, and admitted delight, and helped her limp her bicycle two doors down to her house.

A wave of orange flickered in your periphery, and you steeled your breath. Two houses down, with pale yellow siding and a metal storm door, was your best friend’s childhood home. It hadn’t changed since her family moved to the little neighboring town of Hawkins. The tree out front was a little taller, the grass a little sparser, and of course the entire facade was succumbing to the overgrowth of demonic vines that curled and whipped beneath the shutters and peeled back the roofing tiles.

There was a residual off to the Ether, the dip in your stomach that never left once you’d crossed the gaping maw threshold, but now, staring up at a home you grew up in, the off settled into your ribcage like a bad breakfast. “Vickie,” you whispered, following your feet to her driveway. “What the Hell are you thinking?” 

You reached over your shoulder to remove the flamethrower from its holster. Your hands shook around the cold metal. You tried to even out your breathing, panic clinging like condensation to your neck. 

Bang! Something large smacked against the garage door, rattling the whole thing on its hinges.

You scrambled backwards, foot slipping on a rogue bit of gravel. You gasped, catching your fall before you heard another loud thwack to the door.

Then you saw her. Grimy, fogged glass lined one of the garage panels, through which you caught the terrified look of your best friend, a shock of orange and pale skin. 

You called out to her, ran to the door, smacked your fingers against the glass. 

“No,” she shook her head, slamming her hands into the other side of the wall. “Get out of here! Run!” 

“Vick? What’s going on?” You shook your head. “Are you trapped? Stand back, I’m going to torch it.” You squared up, readjusting the trigger behind your forefinger.

“No!” She cried out again. “You don’t understand. You need to run.” 

“Is there something in there?” You asked, trying to peer between her and a stack of boxes to look within the confines of the garage. 

“Yes.” She said. “Me.” 

She disappeared for a moment before she lifted the garage door, one strong push to expose herself and the rotting boxes abandoned beside her. 

“What the Hell is wrong with you?” You growled, dropping the weapon to your side.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” she said, stance square. There was something in her eye that tickled at the base of your skull, sent a shiver down your spine.

“Vic?” 

“Really, your friend held on for so long. She really tried to fight. The two of you had years of good memories for me to lose her in.”

Years of training stalled your reaction, running through your mind in reverse, hours spent on the Scorch course echoing in your skull. You raised your weapon again, and her name left your throat in a whisper. 

“You wouldn’t burn sweet, innocent Vickie would you?” She took wide strides your direction, hands in the pockets of her pants. “Not here. Remember when we called this place home. You and I?” 

You scrambled for the walkie on your shoulder, hands trembling. “Team Lead to Scorch team, requesting emergency evac.” 

“Yes, yes, bring in the troops,” she smirked, something miserable and uncanny, something so un-her. 

Steve’s voice echoed through the speaker, startling you. “Where are you?”

“Roane County, Mary Hill Lane. Quarantine required.”

“Her old house? Is Vickie okay? Vickie?” Robin’s voice called out before Steve cut her off.

“Copy that. We’re on our way.”

“R-Robin?” Vickie’s voice broke, and you noticed a distinct change in her demeanor. Her teeth were grit, fists clenched and shaking at her sides. 

You caught her gaze, eyes filled with terror, and took a few steps closer.

“NO!” She cried out, holding a hand up to stop you. Tears welled in her eyes, spilled over, tracked through the ash on freckled cheeks. She whispered your name, bottom lip trembling beneath her two front teeth. “You have to do it.” 

“Vickie, no. Just hold on. Steve and Robin will be there soon. We’ll take you back and -” 

“It’s too late,” her voice cracked. “He’s in here, and I can’t hold him back much longer. You know I love you, right?” 

“Vickie, stop it.” You shook your head, tasting salt. You didn’t realize you’d started crying as well. 

“Please?”

You shook your head again, obstinate, every bit of you fighting the pleading look in her eyes, fighting the sad smile on her face, fighting the way she said your name.

—

NOW

October 1988

Your blindfold was made of wool, something thick and itchy against your nose and the tips of your ears. You scratched at it, exposing a sliver of light, and you hand was promptly snatched away.

“Will you stop that?” Steve huffed, voice a warm rumble to your left year.

“I’m not going to take it off,” you grumbled. 

Your anxiety had peaked the moment he put it on, relieved only temporarily when he pressed his lips against yours. Then, you were promptly carted down the clanging elevator and shoved past a sea of whispers until a heavy steel door was opened, and brisk autumn air caressed your cheeks.

The familiar rumble of a truck bed chattered your bones, knees knocking against various others’. You sat in silence, sensing a handful of watchful eyes. You were desperate to ignore the gnawing at your brainstem, the villain clawing himself to the surface, desperate for air, for a hint. You focused, instead, on your breathing, on the warmth of Steve’s hand in your own, of the buzz in your fingertips and the weight of something that had been strapped to your back.

Steve’s grip tightened as you came rolling to a halt. Engines idled. The smell of diesel fuel burned at your nostrils. Your stomach churned. 

Your partner pulled you upright with a strong hand beneath your armpit, and you teetered on your feet as the balance shifted with each body that jumped from the bed to the dusty ground below. 

“Wait here,” he muttered, and then released your hand. 

Panic curled into your organs. You reached out for him again, listening for the fall of his feet. Cold replaced him beside you. The ground shifting beneath you. You extended your toe until it hit something, a wheel-well, by the sound of it, maybe a tailgate.

A hand found yours again and pulled you to the cool metal. The machine trembled beneath your clammy fingertips. 

“Sit here, swing your legs over. I’m going to catch you, okay?”

“I don’t need to be caught,” you scoffed, though you followed instructions, feet dangling over the bed’s ledge until you slid into Harrington’s strong grip. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, gentling setting your feet to pavement. 

You shoved at his chest, and promptly chased him until his hand slipped firmly into yours again. 

“Dudes!” A familiar voice called from not-too-far away, and you felt yourself led toward them.

A fist tapped your shoulder, and the sickly sweet smell of marijuana filled your senses. 

“Argyle?” You smiled.

“You got it, dude.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, remember that time we played those pranks on Munson?” 

The levity of his sentiment didn’t match the intensity of the situation you were all stepping into, and it caught you off guard. Your memory strained to strum up images of hiding Eddie’s notebook and replacing it with a replica you and Argyle had doodled crude images in. That felt a lifetime ago, when you were all just kids caught up in a war you didn’t understand. 

“Well, that gave me the idea to doodle a dick on the dragon on his new notebook.” Argyle spoke it like a confession, whispered to you from around your veil, words muffled by the thick fabric.

You crinkled your nose. “You did?” 

“Yeah,” he barked out a laugh. “So you’ll have to come back to see the look on his face when he sees it.”

The fear that had settled like a pit in your gut fluttered a little, a glimmer of a heartbeat added to the future you weren’t certain you’d have. 

“Deal,” you choked out, and you felt a hand reach into yours to shake on it. 

“Harrington!” Someone yelled from a few yards away, and you free hand was tugged with careful instructions to follow. You bid Argyle goodbye and stumbled after Steve, slow steps dragged along dusty streets. 

You couldn’t tell the direction, though something deep in you longed for them. Something wondered if you could peer beneath the blindfold and make out a location based on the stones you kicked along with the steel toes of your boots. Something sensed the wind caressing your cheeks, your chest, wondered if it blew in an Easterly direction. 

Another warm body pulled up beside you, blocking the wind. Your shoulders fell in gratitude. You hadn’t realized you’d hiked them up.

“Mind if I lean on you?” Byers muttered, wrapping a soft hand against the crook of your elbow.

You shook your head and accommodated for his weight. You noticed a limp in the sound of his walk, slowed your gait to match his. Another spring of panic fluttered at your chest. “No offense, Jonathan, but… should you be going on this mission? How’s your leg?” You squeezed Steve’s hand on your other side.

He squeezed back.

“Remember that day we took bets on the mats? The one where you wiped the floor with Harrington?” 

“Alright,” Steve huffed on your other side. 

You snickered, remembering the flow of cash into the hands of your best friends. High fives were exchanged. Munson had set up a hydration station in your corner to fan you off between rounds. 

“I won like five hundred bucks thanks to you, you know?” Byers spoke softly beside you, breath a little labored. 

“Oh yeah?” You swallowed back a lump. “Sounds like a deserve a cut of that.” 

He laughed at that, Steve too. “Yeah, you do. Here’s the deal. You kick major ass in there, I’ll give you three hundred.” 

“Double or nothing?” Steve said over your head. 

“Deal,” Jonathan chuckled and squeezed again at the meat of your bicep. “What do you say?” 

“Yeah, okay, deal.” Your voice sounded hoarse. When Jonathan released you, you nearly halted your walk to stay with him, but Steve tugged you along with a firm grip, and you stayed in line with the footfall all around you.

You kept your eyes squeezed closed, resisting the temptation to gain some sort of bearing. You thought of Argyle’s doodles and Byers the bookie and tried to push back the emotion clawing to escape you. 

Then you felt it, the pull. You’d felt it before, dozens of times, that warped tug of gravity that started from behind your navel and led you onwards and upside downwards. It had to be close. You felt the pulse of a gaping maw as if it were your own, the steady thrum-thrum of a heartbeat. Or two heartbeats, in tandem to the pulse you felt in Steve’s wrist against your own. Or three heartbeats, the rhythm of dozens of soldiers falling into line.

A familiar voice called your name from up ahead, and you heard the stamping of feet as someone approached, others moving out of their way. “Hey,” Wheeler breathed. “Have you figured out what we’re doing yet?”

You couldn’t respond, overcome with emotion and terror, that call of the Ether drawing you closer with each step.

Nancy fell in sync beside you. “Remember our first run in the Scorch course? Me, you, Vickie, Robin?”

You remembered being terrified at the prospect of setting monsters ablaze. You remembered spying an intimate “good luck” between Steve and Nancy before she went in with you. You remembered Vickie and Robin exchanging nervous smiles. You remembered sweaty palms around a weapon you’d never used, and you remembered the heat that licked at your skin. 

“We did it in record time, and they were still extinguishing three hours later.” 

“Nancy, I…” You weren’t sure what to say, exactly, couldn’t understand the meaning.

“Us girls have to stick together.” She stuck a bony elbow to your side, then she shouted. “Ready? Let’s go. Battle stations, everyone. You know what to do.” 

You heard the unsettling squelch of vines, the clearing of a membrane from the jaws of the gate, and the tug of your arm halted you. “Steve?” You muttered. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re going in,” his breath was warm against your ear, and he brought your hand to his chest. His heartbeat was rapid, racing your own to the finish line you couldn’t see, couldn’t fathom.

Your mouth was dry. Things within you battled: the urge to turn heel and run and the urge to go diving headfirst into the Ether, into the frigid embrace.

“I’ll never forget the first time you pinned me to the mats,” he spoke soft, catching you off-guard. You could feel his smile against your ear, the upturn of his lips. “You knocked the wind clear out of me, had me seeing stars, and then you leaned over me to help me up. You had this big, beautiful grin on your face, like you’d never had more fun in your entire life. Robin was doubled-over laughing in the corner.”

“Steve,” you breathed, clutching at the soft fabric of his shirt. 

“But when you asked me if I was ready for round two, that’s when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Harrington,” you grit your teeth, slammed your eyes shut. The pulse compelled you. Vines like tendrils slithering beneath booted feet to find you.

“Because I knew you were resilient, and any bullshit I could throw at you, you could survive. Are you listening to me?”

“Steve, are we ready?” Nancy called from several feet away, voice drowned by the thundering in your ears.

“You have to fight him, okay? I promise I will protect you, but you have to promise me you’ll fight back, that you won’t give up. Do you promise me?” He was holding your face now, large hands on either cheek, and you longed to see his brown eyes again, that furrow between his brow.

“I promise,” you nodded, and his lips were against yours, hot and soft, and then they weren’t, and you were chasing for his touch. 

He hooked something into your belt, and you felt cold plastic, with a long cord attached. “Whatever you do, don’t take your blindfold off, or these,” he tugged headphones over your head, the foam around the ears amplifying the pounding of your heart. “I will stay as close to you as I can, but you just need to trust that I’ll be there to protect you. Are you ready?” 

Again, the opposing forces within you pulled in separate directions. All at once, your senses will filled with pop music and panic that you had to swallow back as Steve took you by the hand and led you once more toward the door between worlds. 

—

The Ether smelled damp, like mildew, the rotting flesh of vegetation left to spoil. It tasted of ash and ruin. Static lingered in the air, clung clothes to your skin. The music in your ears was muffled, somehow, like there was too much room for sound waves to travel, so they thinned out and became tinny. The blindfold itched at your nose, and you stood alone, cold, in a void. 

You tried to focus on the happy memories your friends had presented to you, but with every chill that wracked through you, all you thought of was her. 

That shock of orange had been extinguished, had vanished into the grime of this Earth, had smoked out. Happy memories of her turned to ash at your fingertips, laughter to choked screams. 

Then, you smelled gasoline, sweet and strong. You were used to the fumes, that chemical after burn with each torch of the flamethrower, but this was stronger. This stung at your nostrils, made your mouth water. You took a few steps forward to ensure you hadn’t stepped in it and were waiting for someone to light a match.

You felt dizzy with it, that wobble as you walked. You called out for Steve, unable to hear your own voice though the music. You received no response, felt no tug on your arm, no warm hand to your waist. You were only cold, and you were all alone. 

He’d left you. He made a promise he couldn’t keep, just like Vickie had, and you supposed like you had to them. 

Then came the rumble, that slow wave of nausea that drifted from far-off, from mountain tops and Great Lakes, that cosmic sway of land that chattered your teeth and sent you off-kilter, to your knees. You caught yourself on a hand, feeling the snap of your wrist beneath your weight as the Earth continued to rock beneath you. You cried out, though you couldn’t hear it over shrill music.

Then you felt it, the searing agony of torched vines, every vein and nerve ending ablaze, punching the air from your lungs. Screams rippled through you, not yours but the screams of others, of them, agonizing, writhing in horror, screams from gaping mouths with rows and rows of jagged teeth, and you were them and they were you, and you felt it all.

You thought you might rip in two from the pain, maybe you already had, and you lie prone against a cold, hard ground, willing your body to push it away. Everything in you scorched, and everything in you begging to fight. How could you fight fire? How could you fight an unseen force?

Desperate for air, you ripped your blindfold from your face and stared up into a storm-filled sky. Bright red lightning flashed inside a black, billowing cloud. Your eyes ached at the orange glow, and when you turned your head, you came face-to-face with an entire forest ablaze. 

It caught like wildfire, an inferno that scorched the Earth. Beautiful bright whites and yellows, oranges and reds painted the night sky, casting the forest in silhouette as limbs groaned and trees crashed down upon an army of soldiers. 

You sucked in a breath, sputtering to the sand as you rolled over to gain your footing. Your wrist cried out under your weight, but your vision had shifted again. 

It was as though you ran through the woods, double time, rushing to escape the fire. It was as though you flew through smoke filled skies. Your targets wore tactical attire and carried flamethrowers on their backs, and millions of teeth sunk into them, filling your mouth with the taste of their blood.

Something found your ankle, a thick vine that wrapped itself there and pulled until you slammed back into the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut and kicked at it until you felt the satisfying squelch, the burst of ice cold liquid, and you scrambled away until another could find you.

Then your eyes were on him: Steve torching the wood. His face was tanned, dripping with sweat and grime. He picked up a barrel and threw it into the trees, shielding his face from the explosion as Nancy cocked her rifle and hit her target. Only, you were looking at Steve from an odd angle, and you reached out a clawed hand toward him. 

“Steve!” You cried out, but it was too late. The demogorgon’s claws pulled through his chest to the bone.

Nancy fired rounds into the creature until it had backed into a truck. From there, it was blown to pieces. 

You watched them now, from a few yards away, unable to lift yourself from the ground. She tended his wounds, and he staggered, glancing your direction. Tears stung in your eyes. Somewhere nearby, a song echoed through tattered headphones. Behind your eyelids, allies were being ripped open, guts spilling to the forest floor, but the fire raged on. 

—

The pain subsided, and all was numb and black and void. 

You sat at a desk, sunlight filtering in through a window overlooking the woods. You had a pencil in one hand. Times tables were etched into the paper in front of you. The lines of the numbers flipped and blurred, and you stuffed your tongue between your teeth in frustration. God, you were so stupid.

Your mother called from down the hall. Dinnertime. 

You set your pencil down, and it rolled across the desk top before halting against a terrarium. 

You stood and stretched, rubbed at bleary eyes. You pulled your sweater from the back of your chair and swung it over bare shoulders. 

You crossed to your door, traced the wallpaper in your hallway with fingertips like you did every evening.

Dad’s chair was empty as you passed the living room. The television played something dull and quiet, reruns. 

You rounded to the dining room, table stacked with food for two. Dad must be on another work trip. 

Light filtered in through the sliding glass door. Winter had just begun. The leaves had all browned and fallen. The trees stood like soldiers, all limbs and armor.

You took your seat at the table and sipped the carbonation from your soda. The bubbles fizzed at your nose, and you itched at it before dumping a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes to your plate. 

A slam at the glass door startled you, and you looked up to find Vickie. She looked different, old and grizzled. Her jaw was sharper, the muscles in her arms more defined. She rolled her eyes and peeled the door open. It rolled on its track, and she let herself in. 

“This is where he’s keeping you?”

“Wh-what?” You blinked back at her, wondering if the times tables had messed with your head. 

“Vecna, come on, idiot. You’re flayed. He’s got you by the strings, and he holed you up in the third grade for some reason. Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?” 

Her words processed like sludge, letters mixing and swapping like they had on the page. 

She leaned over to dip her finger into the bowl of mashed potatoes. She tasted it and blanched, spewing the soft white back onto your plate. “Jesus, there are some tricks he really can’t master. Now come on, we don’t have much time. You need to snap out of this.” 

She tugged at your wrist, and you cried out, a sharp pain zipping through you. You stared down at the tender and bruising limb. 

“That’s a good start,” she nodded. She glanced out at the backyard, forehead creasing in thought before clicking her fingers together. “Quick, think about Steve.”

“Who?” You winced, nursing the dull ache in your wrist with a gentle touch. 

“Harrington. You know, big brown eyes, floppy ears, a tail that wags when you pay him attention.” 

“What?” Everything felt fuzzy, a slog of jumbled words that fell from soft lips and onto deaf ears. You hadn’t remember Mom giving you cough syrup, but perhaps you had a cold.

With a groan, Vickie grabbed you by the shoulders and lifted you from your seat. She shook you a little. “Come on, damnit, remember. You aren’t here in your mom’s kitchen, you’re in the Ether. The Scorch Team is blowing it up. A demogorgon got Steve, and I have a feeling he’s going to die if you don’t snap out of this.” 

“Steve?”

You saw a flash of him staggering toward you, Kevlar shredded, blood tainting the inner corners of his perfect lips. 

“Steve!” You cried out, but you were back in the dining room. The breaker had been flipped, everything dark, everything caked in a layer of rot and decay. Everything but Vickie. 

“Nicely done,” she grinned, yanking at the sliding glass door. “Let’s get out of here!” 

You didn’t hesitate to follow, staring up at the sky scapes of your mind as they began to implode. The woods beyond turned to the craggy, rocky shores of your grandmother’s beach house, and as you stepped through the bog water that had filled your backyard, everything turned to concrete and asphalt and tar.

“Yeah, this’ll do,” Vickie’s sneakers slapped against the tarmac as she ran toward the compound. 

You took off after her, wind sweeping at you like wispy tendrils, desperate to hold you in place. “What do we do now? How do we trap him?” 

“I don’t think we do,” she responded. “It’s kind of like a lucid dream. You’re in charge in here. We just have to get rid of all the places he can hide.” She bypassed a passcode to unlock a familiar steel door and held it open for you to go inside. 

You entered the small hallway, floor-to-ceiling munitions lockers. “And how do we do that?” 

“Well,” one locker opened with a creak, “they’re blowing his shit up on the outside. Maybe it’s time to turn the heat up in here, too.” She reached in and procured a flamethrower.

—

You scorched the Earth. You set fire to the Roan River bed where Vickie had tumbled. You set fire to the little covered bridge and all the horrors that lay within. You set fire to the little farmhouse where you lost her. You set fire to the woods that surrounded your childhood home, to the little fenced in backyard, the rope and plank that swung from the oak down the street. You torched the roof and watched it crumble inward over mashed potatoes and the tv turned to static in the corner. You watched the pages of a times table curl and fall to dust. 

“Making record time,” Vickie grinned, slapping a hand to your shoulder. “Just like Nancy said. Us girls really do make a good team.” 

She turned from you and began to jog down the little lane, pack bouncing, light on her feet as though the world wasn’t crashing down around her. 

When you didn’t follow, she turned, fire lighting her eyes, and gestured for you to join. “You coming or what?” 

The flames made no sound as they consumed your house, a dreamscape of embers in reds and oranges and yellows to the ringing in your ears. The roof fell first, like the house that nearly ate Steve, and then the windows burst and the walls came next. As the fire spilled out across the front yard, chewing at tires and overtaking flowerbeds, you stumbled backwards to join Vickie in the lane.

“One last stop,” she promised, intertwining her fingers in your own. 

“How do you know that’s enough?” You asked with a frown, wheezing a cough into your free hand. Your wrist ached, and the purpling bruise was beginning to crawl up your arm. Your chest felt tight, and the faster you ran, the harder it felt to breathe. The smell of gasoline filled your nostrils.

“We’re running out of time,” she smiled sadly and turned into the driveway of her own childhood home, the place you found her, the place you watched the life leave her eyes. 

“Vickie,” you warned, screeching to a halt just at the end of the driveway, where concrete turned to rubble. Looking to your left, you saw the pothole. To the right, flames had spilled to the neighbor’s house. 

“Don’t be a baby. This is his favorite place to hide. We have to make it uninhabitable.” She explained, stacking lawn furniture to a pile between the garage and house. 

It was his favorite place to hide because it was your worst memory, the place you refused to go back to, the truths you kept hidden under lock and key. 

Something went boom far in the distance. Your ears rang again, and they hurt. Something hot and wet splattered your right cheek. You reached up to find blood spilling from your ear. “Vickie!” 

“Hurry!” She removed her pack, added it to the pile.

“What’re you doing?” You crossed the driveway as she opened a can of lighter fluid from beside the grill and began trailing it across the closed garage door. She splashed some onto her shoes. The cuffs of her pants were soaked in it. “Be careful!” 

She looked up at you then, a sadness behind the mischief in her eyes, and she shook her head. “Don’t you get it? It’s me. He’s hiding himself in me. I’m the safe space for him. He knows you’ll never touch me. You’ll hide from him in the good memories: the pranks with Eddie, the bets with Jonathan, the sing-a-longs with Robin. He’ll hide from you here, with me.” 

Another boom rocked the world around you in ripples. Scratches clawed themselves into your right side, your cheek, your chest, your arm as shrapnel lodged itself within your skin. 

Vickie rushed to your side, wiped blood from your cheek with a thumb. “Hey, I love you, and I will always be with you in your heart and your good memories, but this?” She gestured to the pile of furniture, to the scorch mark in the drive. “You need to let this go.”

You wheezed another cough, violence that clawed at your insides, squeezing every drop from you. 

“Go back to Steve. Get yourself out of this Hell hole, as far away as you can, you hear me? Get married, have a dozen babies. Follow your dreams. Live the life I didn’t get to. Promise me?” She touched her nose to yours. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” you managed, though tears blurred your vision and smoke choked at your lungs. 

She kissed your forehead and took ten paces back, until her feet were touching the spilled can of fluid that had begun to weep down the driveway. “You promise?” She called. 

You nodded, hands trembling as you lifted the flamethrower. “Promise.” 

“Good,” her face lit with that mischievous grin, a smile of peace and of love, and she maintained it as the flames engulfed her.

—

Your ears rang, and your body thrummed, and every nerve in your body stood at attention. The smell of burning flesh and gasoline stung acrid in your nostrils. You blinked your eyes open, expecting the bright oranges of flames and finding only grey, only smoke, and then two big, brown eyes. 

Steve came crashing into focus, and you pulled him into you with desperate hands. The side of his face was torn and bleeding. Thick, dark red spilled down his jaw and throat to gaping cuts across his chest and abdomen, but he was crouched over you, and he was mouthing something. No, maybe he was screaming. 

He looked beyond you before he covered you with his body, and you felt the rain of something down on top the both of you. 

After a long moment’s rest, you shoved at him, desperate to find his eyes again, and he sat up and looked around before he pulled you both to your feet. 

The Ether was chaos all around you, a cloud of smoke and ash. Soldiers and monsters alike disappeared and reappeared through the cloud in flashes of thunder-less lightning and the splatter of blood.

You ducked into the crook of Steve’s arm and followed his lead as he ran, both of you a little wobbly, dodging vehicles and bodies. 

He tripped over a vine, and you caught him under the arm, pulling him upright again so you could continue your journey. He stopped, peering around once more, shouting into the smoke cloud with a hand over his mouth until he was doubled over in a wheezing cough. You covered your own mouth with the crook of your elbow, but the smoke was too much, and the oxygen too small.

You threw yourself to the ground and pulled him too, breathing what air lie between particles of sand in the empty lake bed.

 Steve lie beside you, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and defeat, and he leaned sideways to thumb blood from a stinging wound on your cheek. 

That’s when you noticed the vines. Thick, black, oozing with ichor and something fouler smelling than the ash and smoke, these vines were reaching for something, crawling for air of their own. 

You yanked on Steve’s sleeve and pointed to them, and the two of you crawled after the vines to the edge of a gaping wound in the sandbar. 

The membrane had been popped and water bubbled below, steady waves that brought forth the prospect of life, of fresh air, of home. 

Steve threaded his fingers through yours and nodded, spoke words you couldn’t hear. “I won’t let go.” 

You nodded and took as deep a breath as you could muster before diving headfirst through the portal to the waters below.

—

Righting yourself felt different without gravity, the weightless tug of your body that begged to be back on the other side, back where up was up and down was down. But here? In the void of frigid cold and screaming wounds, of empty lungs? Your body and your brain couldn’t comprehend anything but out and now.

Steve’s hand remained in yours, though you couldn’t see past the blur of dark and sting in your eyes. So you just kicked and pulled at the space around you, weightless and yet too heavy all at once.

Something wrapped itself around your ankle, but you just kept kicking, feet as paddles and anchors. 

You wrist ached, the numbing pull of something as Steve tried to yank you upward, and then you felt his arm around your waist and then your knee, and he was fighting something off, and then nothing. Then he was gone and his warmth and his weight, and your body was surging you upwards and outwards and now as fast as you can.

It hurt. Everything hurt. Your lungs screamed and your soul ached and your heart hurt, but when you burst through that surface and through your head back and filled your lungs at least that was right again.

You slapped your hands to the surface in an effort to stay afloat, and you gasped and sputtered and took in the fresh, clean air. 

Starlight glinted above you, miles and miles upward, not shying beyond clouded skies. God, you’d missed them. 

You floated for a moment, on your back, body screaming for rest, exhausted, eyes drifting closed while you drifted like a log on the water’s surface. Alone and weightless, but free and alive and alone.

Alone. You sputtered, coughed out water that spilled in through your nostrils, and when it had cleared, you looked frantically around you for Steve.

Your distress caused ripples in the water, ripples in reflected starlight, ripples alone.

You took a deep breath, weak, lungs pained, and dove. Your eyes stung and the darkness filled everything below the surface, so you reached out with frantic arms until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore and your body rocketed you back up for another gasp of air.

You cried out for Steve, a wheezing sound that had you coughing again. Your teeth chattered. You could barely hear your own voice above the ringing in your ear. 

You dove again and again, dives decreasing in length each time until you finally surfaced, gasping for air and screaming for someone to help, screaming for Steve, screaming at Vickie, at Vecna, at the world for doing this to you, and that’s when you found him.

Several yards off, face down, like driftwood bobbing along the shoreline. 

You swam to him, one stroke at a time, aching legs kicking until the tips of your fingers met the back of his head, and you turned him to face you. Liquid poured from his open mouth, the sweet curve of his lips. 

You pulled him under your arm and dug in hard to the silt and soil, pulling him up and over the banks where cattails bloomed and crickets chirped. You pulled yourself up too, both of your bodies scraping the sand. 

“Steve,” you wheezed, straddling his body. You tilted his head back. “I promised Vickie. I promised her we’d get married. I promised her we’d have a dozen babies.”

You ripped open what was left of his shirt, bits of material sticking to his shredded skin. You held back a cry and interlaced your fingers. Your wrist screamed, bruising crawling to your elbow. Gingerly, the palm of your hands found his sternum, and you began compressions. 

“You have to stay with me because I love you, and I can’t do this without you.” You tried to keep time to the adrenaline thundering your heartbeat in your skull.

More liquid spilled from his lips.

“No!” You cried out. “Stay with me. Damnit, Harrington!”

You clenched your jaw until something snapped, a tooth, maybe his ribs, maybe your arm, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t stop.

—

Your throat was so dry, a swallow that burned down your esophagus like sand paper. Your insides smarted with it. Everything was red, too bright, vicious like wildfire. You winced, turned your face to shield yourself from the light. 

The beeping got louder, a steady rhythm that matched the thump-thump of your heart in your skull only fuzzier, dials turned down, a bit of static ebbing and flowing like waves, a current.

Then you heard a mumble, or at least, it sounded like a voice. No, two voices muttered to one another from over top of you, one louder, clearer, the other soft, strangled, too-far away. 

“Have you been here all night?”

“If they try to pull me away from this bedside, I’ll kill them.”

“Have they woken up yet?” 

“Not yet. No one can tell me if that’s good or bad. Do medical charts make sense to you?” 

“Let me see.” 

Something clattered beside you, too close to your head, and your reflexes startled your eyes open. You winced to find everything was no longer red, but stark white and too bright, and your eyelids were crusted over and burned. You groaned and shielded them with a hand wrapped in gauze. 

“Holy shit,” someone spoke your name. 

“Should we call the nurse?” 

“Hold on a second. Sweetheart, are you awake? It’s me, Eddie.” A soft hand reached for yours to pull it from your eyes. “Hit the lights, will ya?” 

Stark white dulled to softer blues and grays, and you lowered your hand from your face. Your eyes adjusted, room and faces blurred until the sweet, sad face of your best friend came into focus. 

Munson smiled back at you, hair swept back over his shoulders, black t-shirt hugging his chest. His body was pressed to yours, butt pinching the wires that were jabbed into your hand and the crook of your elbow. “Bet those drugs are feeling really nice right now, huh?” 

His voice was sweet and low, like molasses, and it buzzed through you warm and soft. You hummed, but the dryness in your throat cracked until you coughed and sputtered and gasped.

“Okay, I’m calling the nurse.”

“You want some water?” Eddie scrambled, snapping his fingers at something on the other side of you, and you turned your head to find Robin with a clipboard under one arm, frantically pushing a large, red button that hung on a cord beside you. 

You tried to say her name, but once again the wheezing and sputtering halted your attempt, so you reached for her instead.

“Water? Yeah, here,” her voice trembled, and her hand as she lifted a large plastic cup from the bedside table and held the straw to your lips. She looked scared, frantic, and tears brimmed in her big, blue eyes.

“I got it,” Eddie took it from her, holding the straw steady for you to drink. 

The cold water soothed your throat, and your eyes closed in the relief. You were exhausted. Your entire body sunk further into the soft cloud you laid upon and wanted to stay there. 

“What’s going on in here?”

“You fall back asleep on us?” You felt the rumble of Eddie’s chuckle, and the tug of a smile played on your lips. 

You peaked one eye back open, and the nurse who stood in the doorway dropped her arms from where they were crossed over her chest. “Well, good morning, sunshine. How’re you feeling? Don’t talk, but give me a thumbs up or thumbs down.” She pushed into Robin’s space to jiggle the tubes attached to you.

You managed a thumbs up, the world still a little fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, I bet you’re feeling good.” 

“Your vitals are looking good, but you should probably rest. It’s the fastest way your body can heal.” 

Yeah, rest sounded lovely. You nodded and closed your eye again, sinking farther into the warm cloud embracing you. 

“I’m going to go check on Nance,” Robin muttered from beside you. “You going to stay here?” 

“Try and stop me,” Eddie said, and it pulled another smile to your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

—

Seventeen gates had sealed themselves over night, leaving naught but severed vines and wet patches of pavement. Bits of equipment and body parts slowly began to wash up on shore, but when the lake beds were dragged, no gates had been found. 

Your drug-induced dreams had been void of smoke and screams, void of ash and ruin, void of that shock of orange and the chill in your spine. 

You’d gotten to your feet faster than any of your comrades, despite being one of the last living recovered by the Evac team. You joked about your competitive nature through wheezed coughs behind your cast. 

You and Munson raced walkers down hallways. Much to your chagrin, he let you win. 

Weaning off the drugs, your body ached, bones stiff. The stitches around your cheekbone and shoulder and hip itched something fierce. Your voice came back after a few days, scratchy and raw, but your hearing never returned on that right side.

You begged Eddie to read you the novel he’d been writing every night as you drifted off to sleep. You played card games with Jonathan and Argyle during the days, stuffing aces into the bright blue plaster of your bandaged arm. 

Hopper visited when he could, cursing at a nurse under his breath when she came in to tell him to put out his cigarette. He did so in your abandoned jell-o cup, and before he left, he squeezed the fingers of your hand and said, “I’m proud of you, kid.”

Nancy’s recovery came along quickly, always two steps ahead, and you spent evenings distracting her while her bandages were changed. Burns covered half of her slender frame, but she grit her teeth through the agony. You helped her to her feet when she asked and held her hand to the bathroom and back to her bed. 

Robin came bearing gifts smuggled from the outside, warm socks and soda in glass bottles, a record player and later, hummed tunes. She tried to teach you French one night, Russian another, and if she hadn’t fallen asleep at Nancy’s bedside, she was slumped onto Eddie’s shoulder, the two of them wide-mouthed, snoring out-of-sync. 

Some such nights, you’d sneak out, carrying your IV so the wheels didn’t squeak, the pads of your feet cold against stark white linoleum. You’d bypass the common room, illuminated by the vibrant colors of candy wrappers from a vending machine, and tiptoe down the hall past the nurse’s station. You’d slip into a room two doors down, on the left, masked under the faint blue glow of a heart monitor and sidle up beside the patient there.

You didn’t like the blue, cast across hard features like the frigid chill of a drowned man. You much preferred the warmth of sunshine pouring in through easterly windows. If you stayed long enough, you’d catch a glimpse of that, honeyed light caressing soft skin, tousling the golds in his hair.

You glanced at his heart rate on the monitor, the steady but slow rise and fall, and then you slipped your fingers to the pulse point on his wrist to double check. “Harrington, I’m always saving your ass, aren’t I?” You tutted. 

You tugged his torso to warm exposed shoulders, careful not to drag the material against the plane of his chest, where skin had been grafted together with vicious knots of needle and thread.

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, taking solace in the warmth of life, and swept hair from the wrinkle in his brow.

You pulled up a chair and tucked your hand into his, resting your elbows and head beside the dip of his thighs, listening to the subtle beat of his heart until your eyelids felt heavy and your rhythms matched with his.

—

May 1990

Sunlight dappled the landscape in pale yellows and vibrant greens, pouring in from between the limbs of trees and spilling onto the grass like paint to a canvas. A breeze brew through, sweet florals on the wind. You helped it sweep fallen, wilted petals and debris from letters carved into stone. A petrified bouquet was replaced with a fresh one, and you primped rose petals and wiped lily pollen off on a pant leg. 

Robin crouched beside you, freckled nose red and eyes bleary. She kissed a beaded bracelet before wrapping it around the little vase with the others like it.

You stood before her, helping her up by the hand, and both of you kissed your fingertips and placed them to the tip top of the headstone.

“You ready?” You muttered, giving her hand a squeeze. 

She sniffled, nodded, and you began your trek up the dappled hill toward the parked car. 

“Give a kiss for me too?” Eddie asked as you approached, frown etched between his brows. You sunk into his embrace, buried your face in the warmth of his throat. He smelled of the cigarette he’d stamped out on the asphalt. 

“Always,” Robin muttered into his other shoulder, burying herself there too. 

You pulled away with a sad laugh, mopping the tears from your cheeks to slide into the arms of the man beside him. 

“Hey, Harrington, you doing okay?” Steve’s voice rumbled against your cheek, his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. He hadn’t stopped calling you that in months, and you delighted in the way his honeyed gaze lit up when he said it.

You swatted at his middle, fighting back the grin that tugged on the corners of your lips. “I’m changing my name back,” you argued.

He hummed a protest, rocking you back and forth, large hands tracing circles of comfort up and down the length of your spine. He felt safe, a tall drink of relief, calm tides after a storm.

“Well, I think I’m ready for brisket,” Eddie clapped Steve’s shoulder, and you reluctantly peeled yourself from your husband’s embrace to help your friend into the back seat. 

Robin rounded the car to join him, and you accepted Steve’s sweet kiss to your temple before he climbed in behind the wheel. 

With a sigh, you turned to cast one last look down the hill at Vickie’s grave. Light poured down sweet and soft. This place had never felt like her, a disconnect between the girl you knew and loved and the monument for soldiers fallen. 

“Steve,” you turned to see him, big brown eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Can we make one stop first?” 

“Of course.” 

—

The new owners painted it blue, still pale, but it matched the sky now. The garage door had been painted stark white like fluffy clouds, and a mini van was parked out front. Toys and bicycles spilled out onto the yard like it had when you were young. Someone paved over the pothole in the lane.

“Want me to come with you?” Steve mumbled, fingertips to your wrist as you opened the passenger side door. You noticed his glance in the rearview. 

You shook your head. “I’ll only be a second.” 

The wind ruffled the trees, forest curving downhill toward farmland and beyond, but you turned your back to the trees and took cautious steps up the driveway to the garage door. Two daisies had been chalked beside a hopscotch course. 

You closed your eyes and breathed in all of the memories from childhood: running back and forth from your house to hers, her incessant humming, the sound of her laughter, dancing in circles in a thunder storm, the feeling of her slender fingers between your own, her nose to yours. 

With a smile, you opened your eyes again and turned to go back to Steve’s idling car. That’s when you saw it, a shock of orange out of your periphery that ducked between slats on the porch and flew directly at you. 

Your breath caught in your throat, anxiety clawing at your chest, when you felt the wrap of tiny limbs around your knees, knocking them together.

“Baby, what are you…? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Honey, let go!” A woman launched herself from the front door.

You looked down to find a child, no older than three, with bright red hair and a toothy grin etched upon freckled features. You smiled back, tears welling in your eyes, and patted her little head. “Hi, sweetie,” you chuckled. 

“I’m so sorry. We just learned what hugging is,” the little girl’s mother reached for her pudgy little hand to pry her off of your legs.

“Oh no, she’s okay,” you let out a wet laugh. 

“Thank you,” the woman huffed. “Can I help you with something?” 

You waved her away. “Oh no, my um… my friend used to live here, before the Earthquake. I came to check in on the place. We um… we used to play hopscotch just like this.” You fumbled for a reason to be stood there, in this stranger’s driveway. 

“Oh, I see,” the woman’s face fell in understanding. “Would you like to come in? I might have lemonade.” 

“That’s alright,” you smiled at the girl in her arms. “Your little one gave me just what I needed. Thank you. Have a nice day.” 

“Bye-bye!” The girl waved before hiding, shy, in her mother’s hair. 

“Bye.” Emotion swelled with a lump in your throat, but you turned to find that wash of relief in your partner, who stood, leaning over the hood of his car, knowing smile stretched across handsome features.

He waved at the mother and daughter behind you and waited until you were safely inside before getting back in himself. A large hand came to squeeze at your knee, two others squeezed your shoulders from the backseat. 

“That baby was pretty cute,” Steve mumbled from his seat, shifting his car into gear to start rolling again.

“Yeah,” you smiled, letting the groans of your best friends fade into the background as you watched the colors of your childhood roll on by.

---

[[A/N: And here we come to the End. I'm a bit emotional here, and would like to, if I may, wax a bit about how much this story means to me.

I haven't written a story this long (haven't finished a story like this) since November of 2019. Like most of us, 2020 took a toll on my mental health, my physical health, my self-esteem, my confidence as a writer, and I think this year, with your help, I'm slowly gaining that confidence back. This story really proved to me that if I put myself into it, my values, my fears, if I truly tie myself to a piece of work, I can do it again.

Wildfire will always be my baby, my favorite, the reader and Harrington and Vickie and all of them mean so much to me, much more than even I know, I'm sure. And I really want to thank all of you for sticking along for the ride with me. I'll never be able to express just how much your words of encouragement have meant. So thank you, so so much, for reading xo]]

[empress-of-snark]

Yeah Lonnie definitely taught Jonny to fight. I forget which ep but when Jonathan went to his dads house looking for Will he pinned him against the wall and when Jon shoved him off he commented on how Jon had gotten stronger. I don’t think Lonnie was super violent but he definitely pushed Jon around in the name of “teaching him to be a man”. And even though he hated it, he learned the only way his dad would lay off was if he pushed back. Plus he prob figured the more Lonnie focused on him, the less he focused on Will. Jonathan is primarily a “violence is not the answer” kinda guy -except in life or death moments obvs- but insult/threaten his loved ones and all that repressed anger inside him just jumps out.

Eddie and Steve totally wouldn’t believe Jonathan can fight, and bc Jonathan doesn’t like fighting he lets them believe it, and even though the girls know they don’t say anything either bc they know Jonathan’s not exactly proud of that part of himself. And it turns out underneath all that bravado, Steve and Eddie have no idea what they’re doing 🤣, and when they start getting hurt, Jonathan gets pissed off and has to step in and put an end to it.

I could definitely see Lonnie being that kind of dad—he probably didn’t, like, outright hit Jonathan, but he probably wanted him to “toughen up” and so wasn’t exactly gentle with him. And Jonathan would absolutely take the brunt of it if it meant Will didn’t get hurt 🥺

Steve, as we all know, talks a lot of shit but isn’t much use in an actual fight, and I feel like Eddie can probably hold his own unless he’s up against someone who is a lot stronger than him/actually knows what they’re doing. I think he relies too much on being unapproachable and is caught off guard when things get violent.

It’s funny because in canon, Ross actually takes karate classes and prides himself on being super tough when he actually isn’t, so I love the reverse of Jonathan secretly being a competent fighter but never talking about it lmao