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andy-wm · 6 months ago

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Back to WHO : the MV

This is a continuation of the earlier post that discusses the song WHO, by Jimin. That post was a first impression focused on the lyrics - while this one looks more closely at the MV.

(Remember this is my interpretation, not an official statement by Hybe)

The more times I watched the music video, the more I wanted to yell, because look...

IT'S REALLY STARING US IN THE FACE.

And again, kudos to Jimin's team because it's the most obvious thing in the world ever but only if you ALREADY KNOW what's going on.

Here's a summary:

The music video loosely represents Jimin's attraction/sexuality/love life as a timeline.

New colours - a new spectrum shall we say - filter into his life even though he's trying so hard to 'keep to the program'.

He searches high and low for a girl to love, but alas, nobody makes the fireworks happen for him. Then Billboard Boy crashes into his life, threatening to destroy everything. Jimin has to weather the storm and figure out where his place is because Billboard Boy is a major disruptor - a tornado in fact. In the end, the fireworks are popping and the chaos is happening, and Jimin has to just go with it and finds his place again. His colours have been getting brighter and louder as he goes along and in the end he's prepared to walk away from everything in order to be the spectrum he is.

<<I'm not saying it's literally a count of how many girls or boys or enbys he's kissed. I hope his kissed all of them and then some, frankly, but that's none of my business.>>

A few things to pay special attention to:

Burning cars > cars = masculinity. fire = hot. 1+1=2.

Dancers > people he's interacting with

Rough weather, as represented by the wind-whipped papers and eventually even cars being tossed about the set > His attraction to men (and dare I say it, culminating in a focus on one man in particular)

Colour flares, machine text, and marks on the tape (horizontal lines etc)

Are you ready? Let's go...

Jimin enters the scene looking like sex on legs (no surprises) and strolls casually onto the road. Immediately our view of hm is blocked by a pop-art style poster blowing across the screen. It's immediately followed by a car coming around the corner onto the road. The car is on fire. Jimin watches it pass by and follows it.

He follows the burning car.... and so it begins.

The narrative starts from before BTS even exists. Jimin encounters several female dancers who he has brief and sexy interludes with. In fact i don't think there's a single woman in this MV who he doesn't at least look at. He really does try everything (and everyone) in his efforts to find HER.

BUT WAIT.... rewind...

Let's go back to the poster... it depicts a street scene much like the one we see here, with the words:

WHO IS!! TORNADO OF LOVE

Note: those are exclamation points not question marks.

It's not a question. This is telling us UP FRONT IN BIG LETTERS that 'WHO' is tornado of love.

I could probably stop here and just say 'ok go watch it again' but it's too much fun to go through all the details.

So let's continue...

Jimin has a little more steamy choreo with the female dancers before the lyrics tell us he has so many people to see and places to go, and he leaves them and joins 6 other men in what looks like a work environment....

Hello we are BTS!

Yes you guessed it... like Yoongi did in Haegum, Jimin has his members represented here. (Fan chant going off in my head...) and more delicious choreography follows.

Notice that while Jimin was dancing with the girls, the only signs of rough weather were a few glittery specs floating through the air, barely noticable. Those bits of glitter multiply when he joins the 6 men, and instead of a sprinkling of glitter, it starts looking like a light snowfall.

That's all about to change....

The first moment of reckonning:

At the end of this section of choreo, as Jimin sings 'who is my heart waiting for' and moves into the next phase we have a barely visible flash of light across the screen and rainbow colours bleed into the footage (at 1.14).

This is also the moment the significant rough weather starts. I'd say this is where Jimin starts noticing how he feels, and the turmoil begins, because this is also where he makes eye contact with the camera (1.23).

He sees us watching.

Fuck. I had a moment here. There's a look on his face as he walks past the camera and stares right into it.

AUTO CALLIBRATION...

As another millisecond flash of light and rainbow colours seep into the footage, The machine text 'AUTO CALLIBRATION' appear on the screen and flash there for a couple of seconds.

CALLIBRATE: To standardise... by determinning the deviation from a standard so as to ascertain the proper correction factors (Meriam-Webster definition).

"Get a hold of yourself, Jimin. Reset (your behaviour and desires) to correspond with expectations"

Jimin makes a very determined bee-line for the nearest girl and dances with her, ignoring the burning car in the foreground.

This brings us to the next phase of the narrative, and the next location - the performance space in front of the OASIS cinema.

(Do you see the doors of the cinema - BTS referenced again).

As he dances with this girl, the camera zooms out and we see that a crowd has gathered outside the cinema, watching them, but the crowd does not seem friendly and the dance seems performative - the movements are exagerated and obvious. The girl has Jimin in a headlock at one point and then she pushes him away and leaves. All in all it's an unpleasant event.

At this point the BTS members return (Although now there's one missing) and they dance with and around a number of female dancers. flashes go off in the crowd as the choreo is performed.

As they dance the wind picks up quickly and papers and cans are blown about. Even when Jimin is obviously interacting with female dancers the weather continues to pick up. Dancing with the girls isn't helping.

The camera pulls back and we see the same car as before, still on fire.

This is the moment when the penny (or billboard) drops.

All the other dancers scatter, dissapearing in a matter of seconds as the billboard comes crashing down. The billboard blocks his path. Wherever he had been planning to go - or whatever course of action he had planned to take - this man on the billboard forces a new decision. Jimin has to rethink his plans.

Jimin turns and goes in the opposite direction to everyone else. (A similar scene occured in Like Crazy, Jimin going the other way, rejecting the norm, going against the tide).

The machine text flashes "REWIND ... REWIND" on the screen and we see Jimin heading back to where all this started... where the original car on fire was seen.

He's travelling his own path now, but as he walks, alone in what seems to be the wrong direction, we see the store lights brighter, reflecting off cars and filling the space around him.

He's going through the motions with the girls he passes but the interactions are brief and in one case he actually dodges the girl completetly.

He retraces his steps amidst the chaos, and the weather really goes nuts. Now there are cars being thrown through the air, streetlamps exploding. The storm is almost upon him.

As Jimin steps into that original street again, the one with the neon letters spelling BLISS, the machine text reads PLAY. It's almost ike he's having a redo, where he accepts who he is from the start and allows the chaos to happen. And the chaos DOES happen, because the tornado has arrived.

THE TORNADO OF LOVE.

There's a flash and the whole screen is flooded with colours, blanking out the footage.

Jimin can no longer dance in step with everyone else at this point. He's doubled over, belting those high notes at the climax of the song while the chaos rages in the background. Without the music to give his actions context, it almost looks like hes in agony.

Sparks fly, lights flash, even the film itself is affected...

He eventually gets it together and rejoins the choreography, picking up his life so to speak. But his callibration is forever changed. the colours that bled into his life are there for good now, and and as he walks away after the music stops, we see that those colours are not just for the performance, they exist outside of that.

A note about the light flares we see throughout the MV:

It was really hard to catch these, some of them were literal milliseconds. I had to slow the MV down to play at .25 original speed and even then they were fleeting - well hidden.

Only the one at the very end was really visible.

In this one, the word PAUSE appears, as the MV ends. I wonder if that relates to their military service?

The flares of light and colour, those rainbow flashes, aren't always easy to find. Youvhave to be prepared to seek them out.

We will find them if we look for them, but i think Jimin won't show his true colours until after the lights go down and the performance is over.

I respect his decision (if that's what that is) and i will continue to meet him here his stands. I'll support everything he does knowing what I know and I'll continue to search for and uncover the hidden messages he sends us.

#park jimin #jikook #국민 #bts jimin #park jimin who #jimin who #tornado of love #jimin muse

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s1aywalker · 7 months ago

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꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ straight to video. ꨄ

↷ ✩ —— video store clerk sam monroe headcanons. (nsfw 18+)

warnings: smutty smutty smutty. minors do not interact or else i'll collect your kneecaps. porn (duh), masturbation.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who lingers and hangs back a little too long in the furthest section of the video store every time he has to put away the lazily disinfected x-rated returns back into their designated slots.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who makes a bad habit out of scoping out the newest releases when he unboxes them before they hit the shelves. it's not usually anything super crazy— the same old titles with "busty" and "hot" in big bold letters. most of the covers are on the classier end, displaying lingerie clad women tantalizing the potential renter with what lies within. but some of them... some of them lacked any subtly at all.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who has to take a sneak peek at all the dirtier titles that occasionally came through their doors. the ones marketed as more "hardcore" that don't bother teasing or leaving the viewer wondering— instead showing blondes with fake tits on the cover, one or two or more cocks shoved into their mouths, full cunts on display and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination before even hitting play.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who doesn't always bother checking the most interesting ones out. they don't even make it out of the fucking store, let alone into the privacy of his own bedroom. he's instead taking his pick and inquisitiveness into the back room at the end of his shift when he should solely be focusing on putting a rewind on the stack of returns. the ones that are being dragged along under his arm with the selected gangbang in brand new condition that he gets to test run first.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who puts his curiosity before his nonexistent work ethic because he's known to be impatient, and immediately feeds the tape into the mouth of an older model vcr that brings the film to life with a mechanical whirr.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe whose impatience in question forces him to press fast forward as he sits on the shitty couch with stained cushions from spilled lunches and dinners. forwarding and forwarding until he finds a scene that makes his whole body react and his dick twitch, and he knows he has to make this quick.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who lets the explicit sounds of pornographic moans and skin against skin fill the space of the small room, and he's about to add to the harmony of it. his fingers are quickly undoing the buckle of his studded belt and letting it fall open just as the film plays at a normal pace, and he can't reach his hand into the confines of those baggy hot topic bought tripp pants fast enough.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who works his wrist at a deliberate and desperate pace that might've left burn marks if he weren't a seasoned, jerking off professional. he's trying to match the rhythm of the video playing out before him of a stretched cunt getting repeatedly fucked and hammered into, while her stuffed throat can't make any sound other than lewd gurgles. he doesn't even know what this chick really looks like, he didn't catch enough of the beginning. but he also doesn't fucking care what she looks like. his eyes are too busy glued elsewhere and he refuses to let them screw shut.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe whose teeth are clicking against the labret pierced through his lower lip as he sucks in harsh breaths in between groans, and bites at the skin while his chest heaves with whimpers. "c'mon please, please, please—" he's not sure what exactly he's begging for... the sweet release, he supposes. every tug and stroke from his fist brought him closer and closer and—

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ sam monroe who doesn't waste much time after cum coats his hand. the mess is lazily wiped on his shirt after he shoved his cock back into his boxers and it's like nothing happened at all. he reaches to rewind the tape back to the beginning until it clicks and the machine spits it back out, and it's shoved back into the pristine sleeve to be put aside before he moves on to the stack of returns.

#꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ch: sam monroe.#꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ alyssa writes.#꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ alyssa edits.#sam monroe #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe smut #hayden christensen

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formosusiniquis · 19 days ago

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a smile for the in-laws at the holidays

written for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six-ber challenge - It’s just dinner. It can’t be that bad

WC: 5414 | T | No Archive Warnings Apply | platonic Stobin & pre-steddie | AO3

It starts with the red light on the Harrington answering machine. Blinky and out of place, he's shouting, “Who would leave you a message?” Before he even stops to wonder if anyone can hear him. Steve had followed Robin straight to the bathroom when they'd gotten back to his place, he's given up on trying to figure out just what had them joined at the brain, hip, and bladder preferring instead to just wait and see which of the hundred and fifty bathrooms in the McMansion they would re-emerge from.

“I talk to more than just you.” Steve’s voice echoes off the walls of the hall bathroom barely audible over the sound of running water and Robin’s half of the conversation the two of them were still actively having.

Echolocated, he moves to the door they're hidden behind to continue to conversation at a volume that hurts his fucked up throat less.

“Jury's still out on that. But it's not like Wheeler is gonna leave a message.”

He can feel Robin’s spiritual hum of agreement, his conversation with Steve now interesting enough that she's paused hers.

“I keep telling you that Nancy and me are friends.”

His personal jury is playing a game of 12 Angry Men on that subject. Seven months post apocalypse and what started as one especially delusional voice insisting that there was “lip looking” and “chemistry between himself and the prettiest boy Hawkins has ever seen” has now become a beautifully hung 6 versus 6; with the part of him that was hoping he would get to learn if Steve Harrington was as beautifully hung as the rumors said gaining traction.

“If Nancy Wheeler needed you, she isn't leaving a message,” Robin picks up the track Eddie's wishful thinking abandoned, “she’s going to get your machine, hang up, and call me and then Eddie and then the Hendersons and then Family Video, the arcade, the-”

“Assuming it's life or death.”

“It's always life or death.”

Through the bathroom door, Steve's eyeroll is practically audible. “It is not.”

“I don't think Nancy Wheeler has ever once shot the shit, the breeze, or anything that wasn't an active threat on her life, so again not leaving a message.” Eddie calls out.

He's rewarded for his status as shit-head as the door swings open and he gets to see Steve's fondly annoyed face. Bitchy eyebrows raised and lip curled into something pretending it isn't a smile. He wipes his hands down Eddie's shirt in a failed attempt at returning the annoyance. First the backs then the front running down his chest from collarbone to chest.

Maybe it's his imagination but he could swear it lingers. The tips of his fingers taking their time on their pass down his chest to his sides. The jury will be accepting it as evidence.

“Dustin then,” Steve says.

“This is the Professor to the Hair, come in Hair.” Robin comes out of the bathroom mimicking the familiar sound of the walkie.

“Claudia then.”

“If it's Claudia, that means dinner.”

And that's the best thing about Robin, he thinks, her attention to the important details. Then there's her follow through, as she leads the charge back to the end table where the answering machine sits, all before Steve's hands have fully left his sides.

Her rewinding is unmatched, she takes the tape back to the final seconds of the outgoing message.

When it plays his first thought is honestly that Steve should probably replace the tape soon. The “Sorry I missed you,” has the warped and wobbling sound of an overplayed ribbon. But the woman speaking is not any more familiar as the tape levels out. “The lawyer recommended some time separated, I would have preferred actual separation. What's the point of this no-fault thing after all, but I suppose threatening to castrate a man at a public dinner doesn't make for a very good case for favorable asset division.

“Listen to me blabber on. I've got some things to see to here, but then I'll be on the first thing that gets me home. I’ll see you for Thanksgiving! I love you, Shadow, see you soon.”

There's enough detail there to pick out the obvious: he's now heard what Steve's mom sounds like. Which rattles his world the same kind of way learning that Freak lived with his grandma and her ‘best friend’ did.

And well maybe he has spent the last seven months, and a good five years before that, convinced that Steve doesn’t actually have parents. That he sprung into a fully formed, perfectly manicured existence like the Athena of Midwestern gay bait. Which is to say he’s too busy realigning his entire world view to notice how Steve is reacting to the sudden introduction of his mother until the door is already slamming shut behind him.

“Shit.”

The first time he sees Steve after that he’s alone.

It’s unnerving enough that he touches his back pocket to make sure his walkman is there. Steve might be smiling but it doesn’t meet his eyes, his hair flops at the awkward angle it does when he’s been tugging at it. It’s the Right Side Up Family Video, so he tries his best to approach the object of his possibly reciprocated affections like he’s a normal person and not like he's afraid that a secret pod person is behind the desk.

“Stevie, hey,” the probably Pod-Steve finches at the practically inside voice level way that Eddie has greeted him. He assumes that all further communication should be done in the same style he uses to talk to Tom Bombadil, the tray tabby he is going to coax into the trailer.

With both hands raised in a subtle non-threatening gesture, he tries for levity when he says “ I know it's Thanksgiving, but it’s just dinner. It can’t be that bad.”

“This is the first time she'll meet Robin.”

He says it in the easy way Eddie has learned is habitual for Steve. He tosses out facts like putting them out in the world like they aren’t a big deal will make it so. But unlike admitting he knows a teenager with psychic powers or that he helps reset Hawkins expiration date on a yearly basis, this time he can’t hide the quiet desperation in his eyes.

“Oh.” His rings tap on the clamshell box in his hands, the dull sounds of each contact annoying even him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s Robin.”

Normally he likes when Steve’s eyes linger on him. It makes his stomach flutter and his heart race, and it's the closest thing anyone will let him get to high now that he's technically died, twice. The vacant way Steve's eyes hold on his doesn't feel like that.

The thing is Eddie isn't sure if the jokes Dustin keeps making about Steve and Robin having their own little hive mind are actually jokes. It's sort of a reverse Clark Kent situation, he's never not seen the two of them in the same place at the same time, and now that he has Superman is looking pretty vincible.

“Exactly,” Steve says, after pausing for too long. “It's Robin.”

His improvisation fails him. It feels like his brain is moving a thousand miles an hour and not coming up with anything. His foot is on the gas but the road is wet, and his tires are spinning without catching on anything. He thinks maybe, maybe, he could bullshit something about good parents and families you make being just as important as the blood ones. When the bell above the door chimes saving him from fucking it up.

Steve straightens up like someone in the sky just yanked on his strings, smiling like he doesn't have a care in the world; and like Mrs. Johnson isn't glaring at Eddie like she has the Ronald Reagan given power to kill him with her eyes.

Eddie escapes before she can move to trying to bludgeon him with a copy of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly that she's returning.

He's safely in the van.When he realizes he's still holding the movie Wayne asked him to return.

He'll try again later.

Robin is behind the counter when he comes back. Alone. She looks adrift. Staring out over the counter at the wide expanse of shelves and tapes, she doesn't seem to be taking any of them in. Just staring, empty.

There's a movie playing, Back to the Future, but it's noise. Just noise. Because Robin is in Family Video right now the same way that Steve is.

Video in hand once again, Eddie approaches the wide-eyed thing at the counter cautiously. Robin's shirt collar is popped on one side and he doesn't think it's a fashion choice. Her face is bare and it doesn't move when he reaches the counter. Not when he sets the tape down. Not even when he says, hey.

“Did you rewind that?” She asks. Her eyebrows don't furrow, her mouth only moves enough to get the words out.

“It's Wayne's.”

Robin grabs it from the counter, scans it, and adds it to a stack that only looks taller than it did this afternoon.

“Look, Robin,” he tries more gently than he spoke to Steve this morning, still smarting from the way he had responded. “It's just dinner. It can't be that bad.”

She blinks once. Twice. Three, four quick times before she finally seems to be looking at him. A lemon pucker frown twisted across her face.

“She knows we're married.”

Robin turned 18 three days after the end of the world didn't happen. She spent the day in the hospital, in a chair that sat in the space between his bed and the bed they ended up putting Steve in. He hears one doctor call it, “Miraculous, really,” that he had been standing at all this long after his injuries and with the infection that had set in.

He collapsed in the middle of the Hawkins High gym with someone's donated sweater tossed over his shoulder.

And they won't let Robin in the ambulance. Tears streaking down her face, voice hoarse, and the EMT who survived doing his job in a place like Hawkins has the balls of steel to look her in her red faced, dripping nose glory, and tell her only family can travel in the back of the bus.

Wayne Munson, who was only in the gym to put up more posters of Eddie when he was caught by a limping Dustin Henderson, is the softest touch on this side of the Ohio River. Wayne Munson found himself playing taxi, making a quick stop at the Buckley house before taking all of the loved ones that the ambulance left behind to Hawkins General.

Inside the backpack she forced Wayne to let her grab, is a change of clothes for both of them. A strange amalgamation of pieces from both of their closets and, more importantly, a blank marriage certificate waiting to be signed.

You can, it turns out, get just about anything with the right forms mimeographed from the library or a bright enough smile when you ask for them.

And what Robin got with the correct forms was getting to request a marriage license without anyone at the county clerk's office looking at her twice. And with the smile she gets the hospital notary ready to officiate their marriage once Wayne and a sour faced nurse agreed to be witnesses. Eddie only gets to watch, too shaky still to sign his name on the license, he chose privately to think of himself as the flower girl with some extra special buds he could give the happy couple once he could get out of here.

It wasn’t storybook, but Robin and Steve were smiling so wide that it made the stitches on the side of his own face hurt. He could tell from the set of Wayne’s shoulders that he was trying not to cry and if they had him on a little less morphine he might be on the same boat. He called for the first cheers to the happy couple and it didn’t feel weird at all that neither the Harringtons nor Buckleys were there to watch their two children get hitched.

Eddie is the only witness left when later that night the cot comes out and Robin and Steve Harrington-Buckley bed down separately for their hospital honeymoon. It's not like he wants to overhear their marital pillowtalk, but even though he knows he's supposed to be asleep it won't come.

It’s Robin’s voice he notices first, a rough whisper that soothes something in him. The words wash over him for a second before his brain catches up. “In two years,” she pauses, but even Eddie who barely knows them can tell that Steve is and always is riveted to whatever she is saying. “When we get out of this shithole, I'm gonna have an affair with the most beautiful woman you've ever seen.”

"Is that the feminism Glory Steinway is teaching people, women doing men's jobs?” Steve’s little giggle makes his heart monitor jump, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and hopes they think he’s just dreaming. “That would explain why my dad doesn't like her.”

“A Steinway is a piano. It's Gloria Steinem.”

“And you can try, but I've seen your taste,” Steve continues his part of the conversation like she hasn’t even spoken.

But Robin continues hers too. “And anyway, I don't know if that second part even applies anymore anyway, asshole. Not after that stuff we've been talking about.”

He’s not a good person, he knows that, that’s the only explanation for the way he was straining to hear like he could make his ear stretch across the floor toward them to hear better.

Steve blows a raspberry, surprising enough that Eddie flinches back in his bed. “I can't think about that if I can't sleep on my back.”

“That's not how it works,” Robin says with the confidence of someone who isn’t sure what she’s saying and lets Eddie be sure that he’s not going to learn anything else about whatever stuff they had been talking about.

“It is how it works. I've got to have my arm all funny to get comfortable enough to sleep.”

“Make sure I'm in here when Nurse Ratched comes to check on you and learns you dislocate your shoulder to sleep on your side.”

“I don't think that's Becky's last name, I think it's Collins.”

“Who cares. Now scoot over, one of us should get some sleep tonight and this cot is worse than Eddie's floor.”

He understood the bone deep instinct for protection Steve had now. The same drive that had Steve, still high on painkillers and a lack of sleep, stumbling out of the bed beside Eddie’s in the hospital. “They always say it’s gone, and then it comes back,” he’d whispered while clutching Eddie’s hand tight.

Underneath the warning, he’d heard the want. The desire to take Robin and Eddie and the kids and everyone he cared about, to shove them all in the back of a car and drive as far away from Hawkins as he could. To stop them all from doing something stupid that shouldn’t be their responsibility anyway, to drive until Hawkins was a stain on a map that couldn’t be seen in the rearview mirror.

That’s how he feels right now.

It’s been three days and he hasn’t seen Steve and Robin in the same place at the same time. It feels like a sign he should have been looking for that this thing is coming back.

So he tries to think of his next steps as self-preservation. He has a certain reputation to uphold and going to the mall isn’t very counterculture. But Sam Goody is Sam Goody and getting his nearest and dearest their favorite tracks on cassette feels like the same kind of practical as the thick wool socks Wayne gave him last year. If he brought Steve and Robin then their presents wouldn’t be a surprise, is his reasoning And maybe that’s self-preservation too, it’s a long drive to Bloomington and it’s hard to imagine mirror-Steve and Robin being very fun to road trip with.

He’s talked himself around on it by the time he’s window shopping the Gap. Nancy is trying to organize a Christmas party from Boston with the single minded determination he would expect of a general arranging a siege. She had them pick names for Secret Santa while she was home for fall break and he’d drawn the short straw and ended up with the general herself. Which puts him outside The Gap, all he really knows about Nancy is her penchant for guns and a good sweater and he’d hate to get her a 9mm she’s already got.

The pastel colors are probably some kind of danger signal, but he’s already stepped inside and has his hands on a sweater he hopes says ‘I’m a badass and there’s a gun in my handbag don’t fuck with me’ in prep when he spots the danger.

The danger being Steve, alone still, with a dark plaid skirt pinched between his fingers.

He drops the sweater and slips back out the store, hoping he hasn’t been caught. He’ll find Wheeler a fancy pen or a nice notebook somewhere in Indy.

It's two days before Thanksgiving and when Eddie walks into Steve's place the first thing he hears is shouting.

Hand on the door knob, he pauses, listening as Robin's voice carries throughout the house. “I'm not wearing it.”

“Robin-”

“No, listen to me! I am not wearing that. I’m not gonna meet your mom looking like some, some-”

“Nancy.”

“You said that, not me.”

“Robin. Robin!” Footsteps, Eddie hears footsteps. Robin’s angry heels slamming down hard on the floors beneath her enough that he can track her movement through Steve’s house even though she’s only wearing her socks. He takes a step back toward the door. Puts his hand back on the door handle, ready to pretend that he had just walked in. Ready to pretend that he hadn’t heard the two most in-sync people in his life arguing like the Wheelers.

“Let me storm out! Let me leave. I can’t just stay here and argue with you until we both say something-” The knob twists in his hand to the sound of the desperation in Robin’s voice. Eddie’s feet don’t move, frozen in place by courage or cowardice or the seven years of high school engrained need to hear every last bit of gossip possible.

Steve has always been good at making good gossip. “Robin!”

“I’m not wearing that fucking thing just because you want to and can’t!”

He knows the sound of an argument ending when he hears it. The holidays always leave him a little more tuned in for the sounds of smashing glasses and raised voices.

The silence that comes after a landing hit.

The door knob gives in his hand, pulling it just wide enough that he can feel the chill of the late November air, Eddie is a little surprised at what side of the door he finds himself on when he slams it shut again.

Footsteps moving faster toward him, heavy heel first steps. He starts putting on the production of arriving: shaking his shoulders like he’s shaking off the frosty chill of the early winter hitting Hawkins like the latest plague. He’s got a toe at the heel of one boot, ready to kick it off when Robin comes barreling toward him. Barrelling into him, he stumbles over his tangled up feet to keep them both from falling to the floor.

She’s got a hand pressed into his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, using it to drag him impossibly closer. He can smell the coffee on her breath when she hisses, “As one of the people responsible for saving your life, I need you to put me in that death trap you call a van and repay your debt.”

“I-?” Closer than he thinks he’s ever been to Robin, the fight he just overheard playing through his head once again, he tries to parse through the pissed off urgency in her voice that’s now being directed at him.

Her eyes are wild and she only looks more insistent as Steve’s voice carries from the kitchen. “Is that Eddie? Eddie, come in here and taste this.”

“If you have never trusted me before, trust me now, if you value your life you'll leave.”

There’s a part of his brain that believes her. There really is.

But then Steve whines, “Seriously, Eddie, I need you.” It’s a tone of voice Eddie has only heard in his wildest fantasies, and sometimes not even then.

“Oh that's a cheap trick,” Robin snaps.

“Please?” He drags the word out into a moan. Something sultry that Eddie wouldn’t dare dream of, so it has to be real.

“Cheap trick,” he pats Robin on the shoulder as he walks toward the vision he can only just begin to imagine in the kitchen. “Yeah sure, put them on.”

“This is for your own good.” For a band geek, she’s strong. Maybe it’s the world saving.

Eddie has only managed a step toward what has to be everything he’s ever dreamed of when her hand closes tight around his arm and pulls him back toward the door. The jury in his head has just reached the unanimous decision that he does actually have a shot with Steve Harrington as he’s being lifted kicking, but not yet screaming, by a scrawny band nerd and now they’re calling for her head.

“Eddie?”

“I’m taking him with me. Maybe between the two of us we can get the right onions.”

“Who would use a sweet onion for a green bean casserole?”

He’s stunned, still enough that Robin can finish pushing him back out the door he just walked through. Not because Steve was being a bitch, Steve’s always kind of an ass, but that Robin wouldn’t respond. The ‘god you never listen to me and I’m actually mad about something else but this is the thing that’s broken me’ tone is one he associates with the bitterly married Mr. and Mrs. O’Leary from the trailer two down, the frowning couples in the grocery, not Steve and Robin.

Steve and Robin had full conversations in their brains with nothing but facial expressions and laughter, they didn’t storm out of the house angry and resentful.

It feels like something is broken, waiting to be fixed. Broken things have always preoccupied him, and they’re halfway down the road before he realizes they aren’t headed toward town.

And that he isn’t the one driving.

“Um, Buckley? Did you get your license when I wasn’t looking?”

“I have my permit. We have the beamer, it's not like we’re going that far.” He grabs the oh shit bar as she rounds a corner without breaking.

“All due respect to the royal carriage- Shit, brake. Brake! Arwen doesn’t exactly handle the same.” He recognizes where they’re headed now, if only because the edge of the quarry is quickly approaching. Maybe he hasn't given enough weight to the amount of stress she’s under.

“It’s ridiculous. The whole thing is ridiculous.”The edge of the quarry is looming and her foot is too light on the brake. Even as the dust flies out behind the van, he’s torn between listening to her and watching the windshield. The brakes squeal as her foot finally presses down hard enough to actually stop the van all the while chanting. “It’s a dinner. A dinner. All this for a dinner.”

They stop. The car rocks back, Eddie lunges for the column to make sure it’s in park while Robin launches herself out of the cab.

He can see her pacing beside the van in the side view mirror, her mouth moving in a rant he can’t hear over the sound of his own panting breath. “Okay, this is okay,” the words leave his mouth but they might as well be coming from some third tag along in the van. “Robin is freaking out, so you can’t freak out.”

He scrambles into the back, knees smarting as he crawls across the blankets that aren’t doing enough to cushion the floor. Robin almost gets hit, when he tosses open the doors to usher her in.

“Climb in, we’ll partake in the time honored tradition of escaping from family, getting high, and bitching.”

She doesn’t look convinced, hands shaking when he grabs ahold to help her get into the back. Eddie makes it a point not to look at her as she settles. She fusses, fidgeting with pillows and smoothing out the afghan that Steve picked out from the thrift store, and he holds any comment about how Steve had done the same thing the last time they hit the drive in mostly because he knows she was there for it. His time is better spent carefully rolling up a fresh joint, lighting it, and taking a big hit.

He still doesn’t know everything that happened to them before he got involved with the Upside Down. But he knows that the Harrington-Buckleys don’t handle being high well these days. But with the doors open, the ambiance, and the faint second hand smoke it isn't long before Robin is speaking.

“It was funny when he was showing me the best way to climb into a girl's window or scale a trellis.” She isn't looking at him while she speaks. Her eyes are locked on the toes of the new Chuck Taylors that she and Steve had lucked into at a thrift store in Seymour of all places. One blue and one red, they'd split the pair after decorating them. The two of them so in sync they even share a shoe size.

Still the words keep tumbling out, slow but gaining speed like a snowball rolling down a hill. “It was fun learning the best way to shotgun a beer and the flirty hand thing. And I liked, like, having someone who will gossip with me and we can paint our nails.”

She stops, breath shuddering and it's worse, now that he's got the smell of weed around him but none of the haze, when she looks at him with red, watery eyes. “But now I'm gonna be the girl who isn't girl enough who ruined her perfect son and made him not boy enough and ruins their relationship forever. He loves his mom.”

“And he loves you, Rob.” There's no right amount of emphasis to put on the words. It feels like he’s repeating facts to a conspiracy theorist. DnD isn't devil worship. The Earth is round. Steve Harrington loves Robin Buckley, no matter what.

And just like spouting facts, he isn't met with a good reaction.

“I know,” she croaks, voice breaking as she holds back a sob. “I know and he knows better than anyone that loving someone isn’t enough to keep you from resenting them.”

It's miserable. He feels miserable. Robin looks miserable. And if there’s anything he hates more than injustice it’s misery.

“What can I do?”

She sits up further, grabs the wrist that’s holding the forgotten joint, a look on her face that makes him think of the urgency of a quest. “I can’t be someone he ends up resenting in a year, in five.”

“What can I do, Robin?”

“Say you’ll come Thursday?”

That sounds like the worst idea in the world, Eddie Munson, former murder suspect, joining in at the Rockwellian dinner table. But he isn’t good at denying his friends much of anything these days. “Will it help? Me being there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. But you’ll be there for me, for him, for us.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

Thanksgiving comes and Eddie’s hands are sweating around the wheel of the van as he sits in the Harrington driveway.

He hasn’t celebrated the holiday in earnest like this since he was little. When his own mom was still alive and they would load up in the pick up to drive to his Mammaw’s house where it would smell like roasted turkey and fresh baked bread. Now he and Wayne need the money too badly to skip out on the holiday pay. They would have turkey sandwiches for lunch before he would leave and Eddie would float around town selling to the teens who had slipped out their front doors for a “walk” before dinner so they could stand to be around their overbearing relatives.

Which leaves him in the position of trying to figure out his role here.

Is he the dirtbag that Steve has somehow managed to befriend, there to take the heat off of Robin and make her better by default?

Is he the reformed killer that the two of them have fixed through the power of their goodness, there to make them both look like the power couple that they are?

Is he there as their friend Eddie, there to be moral support in a stressful situation?

He isn’t sure and each different version of himself that he can imagine looks different. Each a different performance that requires different costuming.

It’s left him arriving late, wearing a hodgepodge of pieces that speak to each version. Stitched up jeans and a thrifted band shirt, overtop that one of Wayne’s cowboy shirts and he’ll kick off his trusty Reeboks at the door if he can get himself to go inside. He isn’t sure what anyone is going to think if he manages to make it in the door, but he can imagine what the neighbors are thinking right now.

Trudging up to the door, nerves prick at his fingertips but he doesn’t regret coming. Not even as he tries to anticipate the stuffy, frigid silence he’s about to walk into.

At least the food will be good, the stuff Steve made anyway.

Through the door he hears laughter.

When he knocks, it doesn’t stop.

And then he’s looking at Steve wearing that skirt from the Gap with his hair pinned back. “Eddie!” His eyes are wide, sparkling with a bright joy that Eddie hasn’t seen in days.

From down the hall voices, Robin’s he knows too well not to identify and the other’s can only be Mrs. Harrington, chorus, “Oh Eddie!” Before he hears the sounds of giggling laughter once again. Steve’s face flushes a beautiful, distracting pink.

“I should have brought something,” Eddie finds himself saying. Empty hands clenching even as his eyes are locked on those two moles on Steve’s cheek and how they stand out on that blush.

“You never have to bring anything, Ed.”

“Stevie! Quit hogging Eddie, we want to see him,” Robin’s voice has the slip sliding quality Eddie has come to associate with drinking.

“There’s still time to run, if you want to avoid everything,” Steve teases.

“You know I’m not a runner anymore, and anyway your missus invited me.”

“And nobody has ever accused Eddie Munson of being rude.”

“Got that right, baby.” Eddie can feel the smile on his face broaden as Steve rolls their eyes, a smile tugging at their lips, and that sweet pink kissing his face again.

But when Steve’s hand runs down his wrist, a tentative touch reaching to tangle their fingers, the situation he’s in fully cements itself in his mind. Fingertips brush past one another as Steve keeps walking and Eddie stays put. He can hear Robin’s familiar cackle and a pleasant laugh that shares the same cadence as Steve’s coming from the kitchen. Warm brown eyes look him up and down, he tries to ignore that as he listens for whatever conversation is accompanying that laugh.

“She wants to meet you, y’know.” Steve says finally. “Hasn’t shut up about how my tastes have gotten better now that I’m back to my old self.”

“And she means me?”

“She means Robin,” he laughs, “but she’ll like you because I do. Because you haven’t said anything about this,” he flicks his hand down to his skirt. “Because you won’t say anything when you see she’s wearing the same outfit.’”

“Mama’s boy?”

“Something like that. C’mon, I need someone on my side in there.”

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie agrees, reaching out to grab Steve’s hand for real, “It’s just dinner. It can’t be that bad, right?”

#spicysixbermonthchallenge #steddie #platonic Stobin #steddie fic #my fic #lavender married Stobin #Steve and Robin #pre steddie #gonna be so fr with you Tumblr tags not completely happy with how this one turned out #but it's a week before Christmas and i'm posting thanksgiving fic so we live with what we have #it ran away with me a bit and I think in an ideal world I would have spent another hundred years tweaking the Stobin gender of it all #but this is where we're at just know that stobin have some gender fuckery going on even if its just implied and not all out there #Steve harrington's mom #who is named Stephanie #please ask me about my steve's mom headcanons #i wanted to get them all in here and I think I featured absolutely none of them on page because it felt too awkward #so the gender and the steve's mom got left on the cutting room floor

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ash5monster01 · 2 years ago

Text

More Than You Know

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader(Plus-size!)

Warnings: fat shaming, body image issues, swearing, angst, lots of yelling, fluff

Summary: You had liked Steve since the day you met but you never entertained the idea of being with him because you figured a popular guy like him would never date a girl your size. Coming to terms with this didn’t mean you’d stop defending him in a world full of ungrateful girls. So you reach your breaking point when you’re sick and tired of watching girls miss out on something that would be so good for them. Thing was, Steve heard everything you had to say.

word count: 2047

Masterlist

“Looking good today Lola” you could practically see the smirk on Steve’s face from the sound of his voice. Looking up you saw his eyes trained on the blonde beside you, who had yet to put returns you had finished rewinding back on the shelf, her nail file much to important.

Lola Grant was everything you were not. Blonde, primp, perfect. Steve loved her for all of those things including her tiny waist. You on the other hand hated her for all of those things. She wore dresses with flower patterns and you still wore the same tattered converse, ripped and worn in all the best ways. Your jeans and Motley Crue T-shirt didn’t compare. You were not the same.

“Thanks Stevie” you hated the nickname, especially how it brought a smile the shaggy haired boys face.

“I was wondering if you were free Friday night, I’m having a movie night with the kids and was wondering if you wanted to join?” you had lost count of all the attempts Steve had made to ask the girl out. There had to of been a billion by now.

“Sorry Steve but that sounds pathetic spending Friday night with underage kids” she sneered, meanness dripping from her tone. Steves smile faltered only slightly and despite how much you hated him for still trying he was still your friend.

“Then what’s your ideal date Lola?” your tone was sharp, accusatory, and just plain angry that she couldn’t see how great a guy he was. Not that she deserved him anyway.

“A fancy dinner, wine, making out in a movie theater, third base in the back of a BMW. Nothing to do with babysitting” she responded promptly. Steve hummed with satisfaction, a dopey grin on his face. The sentence immediately making him forget how rude she was in the first place. His mind now only in the backseat of a BMW.

“Classy” you quipped, and she offered a forced smile but knew you were judging her. Yet a girl like you didn’t really get under her skin. How could you when you guys weren’t even in the same league of girls.

“We could do something else, maybe a movie?” you didn’t hide the roll of your eyes as Steve tried again.

“Maybe another time Stevie, I’m busy this weekend” a lie and you knew it, and maybe he did too. Finally picking up the stack of tapes you rewinded she moved off to place them on shelves.

“Get real Steve” you snipped, the moment she was out of ear shot.

“What’s your deal?” he asked and you shook your head, amused he couldn’t see how shitty she was.

“My deal is that girl sucks, you’ve got so much more going for you” you said pushing a new tape into the machine and hitting rewind. Steve moved behind the counter, taking Lola’s previous spot.

“She doesn’t suck, she’s cool and hot. Hard to get but I don’t give up” he smirked as he crossed his arms and you groaned, annoyed that he was so blinded by her fake appearance. She was nothing more than a girl who peaked in high school and Steve was so much more.

“She’s not cool nor is she hot. Don’t you ever think? If she actually had anything going for her she wouldn’t still be stuck here working in a video store” your anger caused the words to rattle out and Steves face dropped.

“Wonder what you think of me then?” you instantly realized your mistake and began shaking your head. You wished Robin wasn’t at school and was here to defend you.

“That’s not what I meant Steve-” but he was already shaking his head in offense and pushing himself off the counter.

“It’s exactly what you meant Y/N” he spoke harshly, hurt by his friend and the words you had spoke as he walked into the back room. Sighing you dropped your head on the counter, upset you pissed him off.

“What’s wrong? Did he deny you?” Lola chuckled as she returned to the counter now free of VHS tapes. Lola viewed life as a social ladder. She was on the top, Steve right below her, which is why she never dated him, and you were all the way on the bottom. She was out of Steve’s reach but you were miles away.

“No Lola, thanks for having faith in me” sarcasm laced your tone as you lifted your head.

“How could I have faith in you, you’ve never had a date in your life” she chuckled, annoyed you gave her so much crap when she saw you as absolutely nothing. She didn’t even think Steve should be talking to you.

“Shut up Lola” you spoke, not wanting anymore shit, already angry enough.

“You want to know why you haven’t had a date Y/N?” Lola expression turned menacing as she moved towards you, mean girl genes firing through her bones. “Because you’re fat, and weird, and no guy is attracted to that”

“You know what?” normally Lola would get to you, break your heart and allow tears to pool in your eyes. But today was your breaking point. She could treat you as badly as she wanted but you were done with her treating Steve like that.

“What?” her amused expression didn’t falter as she waited for some lame comeback bound to fall from your mouth.

“You’re a bitch Lola. Nothing more than a washed up high school mean girl. You’re gonna spend the rest of your life in this God forsaken town, running though men like their a God damn marathon, until you end up stuck with some creepy old man who knocked you up, and you’ll never be anything more than that girl from high school absolutely everyone hated” Lola was shocked as you continued to raise your voice at her, alerting Steve from the back room.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about” Lola began to shake her head but you were beyond angry now, laughing as you approached her. Steve moved to the door, listening to everything you both said.

“Yes I do, because everyday you treat Steve like shit when he thinks you’re the best thing on earth. Do you know how crazy that is? Steve is the greatest guy I know. He cares for so many people when he doesn’t even have to, including me, he even drives Robin to school everyday even if he doesn’t have to be up for work, because he’s such a great guy. He’s the kind of guy who would treat you right and every day for no fucking reason you tell him no” Lola opened her mouth to speak but you quickly held up a hand, not done with your spiel.

“Not to say you deserve a guy like that because you don’t, and twenty years from now, while your holding your child on the porch of your trailer home, you’re gonna be wishing you said yes to him. Every day I hope he’s gonna walk through those doors and ask me out instead because I know what he’s worth. He may be way out of both our leagues but at least I appreciate him. The only reason he still asks you is because you are the skinny, pretty girl, and that fucking stings. Yet I guess that’s how this cruel world works. So leave us both the fuck alone from now on” heavy breaths left your mouth as you finished, Steve having heard the whole thing, shocked to hear such passion come from you.

“Okay, I’m sorry” Lola muttered, before rushing from behind the counter. “I’m gonna take off, my shift is up anyway”

“Bye” you snipped, and she wore a guilty expression as she quickly collected her things and fled the building. You dropped your head back on the counter, now worked up from the drama. Steve finally walked out the back room, knowing Lola was gone.

“You think I ask her out because she’s prettier than you?” your shoulders tensed at his voice, not realizing he heard the whole thing. “Because you’re way prettier than her”

“Don’t lie to me right now Steve, guys don’t date big girls like me” you looked up as you shook your head at him. Steve didn’t care the enthuse the idea.

“I never asked you out because I thought you were too good for me” you furrowed your eyebrows as he continued to talk anyway. Steve had always thought you were pretty and on top of that you were also the best person he knew.

“I’m nothing special and you’re kinda the coolest person I know. I ask Lola out because she’s the kinda girl I’m gonna end up with, not because of her looks compared to yours. I’m just not good enough for you” you scoffed, not believing a word because you truly had never heard kind words like this before. It was also hard to believe he could feel like same way you had all this time, used to people avoiding you because of your size.

“I’m not looking for the you’re not fat, you’re beautiful speech. You weren’t supposed to hear what I said. So can we just drop it” you said turning away from him, uninterested in this lame attempt at making you feel better. You had accepted your fate a long time ago.

“You are beautiful Y/N. Fuck, why can’t you see that? I never asked you out because you were the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen and I didn’t want to ruin that” tears pooled in your eyes because if you let yourself believe him and it wasn’t true you weren’t sure you’d ever recover.

“You’re a great guy Steve, you wouldn’t ruin anything. I would” Steve’s heart warmed because he heard how you had defended him like that. Not even he thought he was so great and apparently you noticed him more than he thought you did.

“Thank you for defending me, and it made me realize that I do deserve someone who would defend me like that. So go out with me Y/N, and not just because of this whole thing, because I’ve wanted to date you since the day we met” you shook your head, the tears now falling down your face.

“Steve if you hurt me, I just can’t. I wouldn’t be able to handle it” Steve felt his heart break as he looked at you. Really looked at you and he felt terrible he had never made you realize how amazing you were in the first place. He was selfish staying away because you deserved to be shown you were just as beautiful as any girl Steve had dated.

“Let me prove you wrong” he said gripping your arms and you looked up at him, tear filled eyes, and he felt the wind get knocked out of him from the look in your eyes. The fact he never realized you loved him back before was shocking because he could see it written all over your face.

“Okay” you muttered and before you could even react he tugged your lips against his. Arms gripping you for dear life and your eyes were wide as you realized what he had done. He had kissed you and you had never even expected it. Then you realized how soft his lips were, how he tasted like cherries, and his warm mouth soothed every ache in your heart. Your hands gripped his shirt as you settled into the kiss, relaxation taking over you, eyes fluttering shut as he moved to wrap his arms around you. If you had known yelling at Lola would make Steve Harrington kiss you like this you would’ve done it a lot sooner. You weren’t even fully sure you were supporting yourself anymore, knees weak from the fire he has ignited in your stomach.

“Holy shit” Steve panted as he pulled away, a dopey smile on his face, because he had never felt like that from kissing a girl before.

“I know” you panted right along side him and he let out a giddy chuckle, moving to pull you back into his arms.

“I may not deserve you but after that I’m not going down without a fight”

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus sized reader #steve harrington x you #joe keery #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x ofc #steve harrington x y/n smut #imagine #stranger things imagine #netflix

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mingsolo · 1 year ago

Text

pause + play

wonwoo x reader (f) / g: meet cute, 90s au, fluff, strangers to lovers / wc: 4k / warnings: cursing, some nipple action, mingyu being a sl*t, / r: nc17

written for Now, That's 90s! collab, hosted by @beomcoups and I! ngI struggled not because I couldn't write this one, but because life is kicking my ass and I couldn't find the time to really sit and think through it... anyways it turned out pretty cute please read if you can <3

A drop of sweat rolled down from your forehead, you blew some air to your face but of course it was hot and it made you dizzy. “Is this thing even on?.” you shouted from the other corner of the shop, to your co-worker, Mingyu.

You stood under the AC trying to feel if there was actually cool air coming from it but you couldn’t feel but a weak wave of hot air over you.

“Yeah, that thing is better off.” Mingyu shouted back, where he was lining up tapes in the kids section. “By the way, could you help me check the return box? There’s some tapes missing here, they should be there.”

You waved out, going to the returns box at the entrance of the store. A few tapes were in, three Toy Story 2, one Tarzan and a copy of 10 Things I Hate About You along with two Armageddon at the bottom. You placed the movies on the counter as Mingyu was approaching you. “We need to rewind them first, all of them!” You say inspecting the tapes, “Geez, why do they never do it?.”

Mingyu laughs and shakes his head. “The sign even says “Please” on it, right?.” He taps the hardcover of the vhs box, where “Please rewind before returning” signs reads on it.

“And it's so hot to be in the rewind room!.” you nag once more, taking the tapes with both arms and dragging your feet to the back of the store and rewind the tapes before someone comes looking for them. Mingyu returns to his previous spot on the kids section, not without laughing at you first.

Despite the whole minute that it took you to get there, you are now placing the tapes into the machine, leaving the door open so some of the air could get in, the small and dark room feels suffocating just by being two steps inside it. In the speakers of the store, the faint sound of Genie In a Bottle plays on and you start humming, partly because you have the song stuck in your head thanks to Mingyu playing the cd over and over when he is on shift, and because it somehow helps the task be a little less tedious.

While on it, you hear the bells ringing meaning a customer has come to the store. You peek out to see a familiar tall figure enter, waving his way in walking directly towards the back where Mingyu was at the kids section.

“Hey!” you heard the guy saying until he disappeared from your line of sight. You tried to peek out more but it won’t be possible without you stepping out of the room, so you hurried up the process to get another glance before he’s out.

In the month you have been working there, you have seen this guy come in at least once a week. You were sure he was Mingyu’s friend as he always walked directly towards him or looked for him especially after picking up some tapes. The past times he had come with you on shift without Mingyu, you had the bad luck of always doing something like rewinding tapes or in the bathroom, never getting the chance to even greet him when he entered the store.

One thing for sure, he was cute as hell. Cat like eyes and thin defined lips, huge black frames on his face, making it look smaller. And you noticed only by getting little glimpses of him, as he was always in a rush or something, never staying more than five minutes. You thought of asking Mingyu who he was but decided not to as you were still new in the store and even if you liked and had fun working with him, Mingyu has proven to be the teasing type, and he wouldn’t let you work in peace if you dare asking him about this other guy.

Just as you were cursing at Armageddon for rewinding so slowly, you heard them saying goodbyes and the chiming doorbell announcing he was out.

With a sigh you rolled your eyes and finished your task without hurry, hoping the cat boy would come back soon and you were luckily enough to be on the counter to greet him.

Today was a Monday, and the week promised to be a quiet one. Not many new releases came to the store yet so customers wandered a little bit before getting out, or just asking when would you stock Sleepy Hollow or why you had so few copies of The Sixth Sense. You tried your best to give every customer a smile at the beginning but after a month of getting the same questions over and over, you just shrugged and advised people to come back later, and maybe the previous customer had brought it back by then.

Mingyu was way better with customers, both girls and guys. ‘I’ll get it ready and rewinded this afternoon for you’ he said with a wink to a middle aged lady, who shamelessly smiled and flirted with him while her kid smudged chocolate from the bar he was eating on a copy of Inspector Gadget.

“Great, now I have to clean that.” you glared at Mingyu as he saved the piece of paper with the woman’s number on his back pocket once she and the chocolate kid were gone. “I swear to God I’ve seen her come in with her husband.” you arch your eyebrows at him.

“That doesn’t seem like a me problem.” He shot gun fingers at you and got back to his task on the counter, where a few other ladies waited for him.

You chuckled and started spraying windex on Mathew Broderick’s face covered in chocolate, laughing at how Mingyu flirted shamelessly with every single one of them, all at once, but they didn’t seem to mind.

Once good ol’ Mathew’s face was clean you left the tape back on the shelf, when you heard the bell ring. “Y/n, can you help?” Mingyu hurried to tell you, he was now surrounded by the women as he showed them a copy of Between Your Legs animatedly. “This one is from our exclusive foreign section, so exotic! And the plot is fascinating…” He looked at the ceiling and the ladies followed.

You shook your head and got up from where you were squatting, seeing the tall figure of cat-boy coming through the door. He looked at the commotion on the counter and figured out Mingyu was busy at the moment. He hesitated for a second before turning back ready to head out when you sprinted towards him, shouting “HI!! WELCOME IN!” maybe a little too enthusiastically.

“H-hi,” he said back, a little startled by your shouting. Mingyu also looked up to you for a moment, but he was quickly back to answering curious questions from his little fan club. “Uhm, I’ll be back later when-”

“No! Please, I know Mingyu usually helps you out but please tell me what can I do for you?,” you smiled with pressed lips and your voice two tones higher than how you usually speak, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing him in front of you confirmed your suspicions, he was stupidly handsome, freakingly hot even behind those thick square glasses. His hoodie smells like coffee and the cap he was wearing backwards made the earring on his left ear seem more dangly.

“I really would prefer to wait for Mingyu…”

“Nonsense!” you guided him towards a free counter next to where Mingyu and his harem were discussing Between Your Legs, quickly putting some space between you two before you would get inappropriately close and start sniffing his sweater, your eyes shining brightly as you spotted cat hairs on them.

God he is so hot for a nerd!!!

“So, what can I do for you today, I’m Y/n by the way,” you smiled again and you could swear you creeped him out by the way he started sweating. It was hot as hell inside but still, his ears turned red and the tapes he was carrying under his arm were starting to slip from his grip. He quickly put them in the pocket of his hoodie, smiling awkwardly and glancing at Mingyu behind his frames.

You glanced at Mingyu too, who began chuckling, losing for a moment his track on the plot of the movie he was explaining.

“Are you going to return those?” you extended your hand but he stood still, tapes still packed into his hoodie. “No?,” you asked again. He opened his mouth briefly but smacked his lips loudly looking at the ceiling.

He looked at Mingyu and his expression changed from mortified to annoyed. He bit his cheek and took a deep breath before taking out the tapes and laying them one on top of another before you.

Night of the Giving Head, A Beautiful Behind, Yank my Doodle! It's a Dandy!, and Throbin Hood laid on the counter before you.

There was a few seconds of silence, only broken up by Mingyu’s suppressed wheeze. You cleared your throat lightly, taking the tapes and checking if they were rewinded. “Oh a rewinder, that’s unusual!” you chuckled dryly not really knowing how to break the wall of ice that suddenly appeared in front of you.

“I didn’t watch them,” He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. “That’s why they are- anyway.” He sighed and stopped, releasing it seemed like he was making up excuses for not one in particular.

“You don’t have to explain,” You tried to sound friendly and not make a big deal, but you had so many questions and this selection was the last thing you expected to see him with. “We are a judging free video store,” the words coming out mechanically as you remembered the training video Mingyu played for you once on your first day.

“Yeah…It’s not… Can we please get this over with quickly?,” He returned to his mortified expression and you nodded quickly annotating the returns on the logbook. “Thanks,” He smiled awkwardly at you before tapping the counter once, glancing quickly at Mingyu one more time before sprinting out.

“He’s going to murder me, but oh god, it was worth it!”

Mingyu was now smiling ear to ear, waving goodbye to the last girl that visited the shop for the day, her phone number written on his palm. “I got no more sticky notes left,” he said before sticking his hand out to her.

“Yeah that was… I didn’t even know we had these.” you were sweeping the floors as the store was about to close, keeping yourself busy for the rest of the day still thinking about the Night of The Giving Head cover inside your mind. “Wait, he’s your friend, does he only watch porn?.”

Mingyu laughed loudly, helping you out by taking the trash bags out of the bins and emptied them in one big plastic bag. “Maybe, why do you ask?” he arched his eyebrows at you.

“No reason, it was just- he doesn’t look like the porn addict type.”

Mingyu laughed louder. “Wait till I tell him you think he’s a porn addict!” He collected the dust you were sweeping onto the plastic bag, making a knot and throwing it on his shoulders.

“Wait! Why would you tell him that?!”

“No reason…” he smirked, walking outside to take out the trash.

The next week the store got busier than usual, so Mingyu and you barely got to chat with each other about cat-boy or anything really. He had also switched shifts to train a new employee, a younger guy, probably a highschooler, who he spent most of the time in the mornings, leaving you alone to take care of the closing shift.

Saturday came quickly, and you were alone in the shop. Lights were almost all out, and you were finishing stocking some new tapes that came that afternoon, the last task before officially closing.

Somehow the humid air was insufferable even by night time, so you were sweating bullets over the thick fabric of your uniform shirt. You couldn’t believe they made you wear this in this hot weather, but alas, you were transpiring and melting under it.

As you finished putting the tapes on their respective shelfs, you walked towards the bathroom where you had a spare shirt, not before turning the volume of the radio a little, you played music a lot in the shop and the customers seemed to like your taste more like Mingyu’s.

Once there, humming to Bills Bills Bills, you were looking for your spare shirt when you noticed you it wasn’t there. “What the-?” you cursed under your breath, sure you had one hanging on the stall reserved for staff. One glance at the sweaty uniform shirt you just took off and you knew you won’t be wearing that again. “Come on, I already put roll-on….” you whined. Then you remembered there were a couple of uniform shirts in the lockers, maybe too big for you but that would do for today and you will return them tomorrow.

And so you were signing,

Can you pay my telephone bills?,

Can you pay my automo’ bills?

If you did, maybe we could chill….

When suddenly the tall figure of cat-boy appeared in front of you right by the counter. He stared. And you stared back. And his eyes stayed on your face for a a few seconds, but they quickly drifted a little down, on your lace see through bra, nonetheless.

“What the fuck?!” you shouted, sprinting towards the locker room.

“Im sorry! I knocked, and the lights were on…. I thought…” you could hear him speak but there was a high ringing pitch in your ears that made his voice fade away as you took one of the spare uniform shirts and slipped in over your head. “The fuck you needed to wear a see through one today, huh?!” you covered your face with both palms.

“I’m sorry… I better go…”

You heard footsteps and shouted “No!” back but when you were out you could only see his back walk out the door.

You blew raspberries, feeling insufferably hot under the hot fabric of the oversized uniform shirt, that covered you like a circus carp. “Too much for our second encounter, cat-boy.”

The next day you got to the store a little early, trying to catch Mingyu before he left for the day, and to your surprise, he was waiting for you.

“A nipple piercing!”

“Good afternoon to you too!” you sighed, walking towards the locker room with Mingyu’s tail wagging at your ankles. “And how could he notice that?! It was dark!” you threw your backpack at your locker, huffing and puffing, ignoring Mingyu’s curious eyes.

“I guess he was really paying attention,” he teased. You shot him a glare and he raised his arms signaling peace. “Hey, don’t be mad that he told me, I’m his best friend and well, he actually came looking for you, how could he know you liked walking around the store naked when you were on shift alone?”

“I-wasn’t-naked.” you slapped the locker room shut. “Wait… he came looking out for me?”

Mingyu wiggled his eyebrows in response.

“Tell me everything, or else.”

“He likes you, duh.” Mingyu moved toward his locker, pretending to roam for something but you knew there wasn’t anything there. “He has had his eyes on you, since the first day he saw you working here.”

“But why hasn't he talked to me? He always comes in and it’s gone in a second.”

Mingyu clicked his tongue. “He had a bad break up two years ago, and honestly he’s pretty shy, maybe that’s why we are such good friends, we balance each other…” you crossed your arms signaling he was deviating from the topic. “... So he wasn’t sure how to approach you, he has been coming here asking me to be a wingman but I refused, I was trying to encourage him so I told him you were going to be alone yesterday.”

You sighed, walking out the locker room with Mingyu behind you, ready to get off.

“Want me to tell W-”

“NOO!” you shouted, making the couple of customers in the store turn their heads at you. “Don’t tell me his name, I want him to tell me when he finally comes and talks to me.”

Mingyu chuckled and nodded, messing your head a little in sign of encouragement. “Get him, tiger. I’ll pass the note out.” He winked and you shrugged as he walked out the store.

Needless to say, all the way to the evening your stomach was swirling inside you. You jumped a little every time the doorbell chimed, and it sank back to your stomach everytime cat-boy wasn’t the one entering.

It was almost seven and you were waving goodbye to the last customer of the day before you changed the sign from open to closed, when you heard the bell one more time.

The couple of teens walked past cat-boy as he entered the store and they walked out. You could hear loud stomps inside your chest, and you were pretty sure they were so loud he could hear them too. You looked at the mirror wall to your left, and despite being a few feet away you could spot the newest shades of red adorning your face.

As he walked closer, you smiled shyly, spotting the same color on him too.

“Hey,” he waved so tiny that you felt like your body was becoming butter, cause despite standing up, you felt melted, all over the floor.

“Hi,” you replied back, not knowing what to say really. Dissociating a little from the awkwardness you focused on him. All of him. His fluffy hair, not hiding under a cap this time. The black thick frames. He was wearing a black sweater, a turtle neck one. Few noticeable white hairs on it. You remembered marshmallow, your cat, and smiled without noticing.

“Y/n,?” you heard his voice crack, noticing you smiling.

“Sorry! Seeing the cat hair on your sweater reminded me of mine.”

“You have cats?” his eyes became a little bigger. “Me too!”

“Yeah.. I can tell by the cat hair,” you chuckled.

“Right…” he scratched the back of his head. “Well I have a couple.. A few.”

“I love cats! I only have marshmallow because my landlord doesn’t let me have more, but one day I will!” you were glad you mentioned the cat hair cause this gave you a shot to talk more comfortably. “By the way, did Mingyu tell you my name?”

“I asked him, the first day I saw you here working.”

“Not fair, I didn't let him tell me yours.”

“Huh?” He arched his eyebrows, puzzled.

“He told me you came looking for me yesterday… Sorry you find me like that, I swear I don’t usually walk around naked when I’m alone here…”

He laughed. “Mingyu told me you probably did.”

You scoffed. “He’s the whore not I.”

“Can’t defend him from that,” He lowered his head a little, “Sorry I told him about your… well I was frantic after seeing you like that and ran straight to his dorm, I was too shocked I guess, I wasn’t trying to be a creep.”

“And what about the pornos? Night of the Giving Head, seriously?”

“That was Mingyu! He dropped them at my dorm the night before telling me I should distract myself from being a coward and not talk to you…” He speaked fast and you were trying to follow up. “I swear I didn’t watched them, I tried, but they were too tacky”

“There’s tasteful porn?” you laughed.

“There should be… somewhere” he laughed back.

“Bet the bastard wanted you to return them so I could catch you myself!”

“He a hundred percent did.”

There was a moment of silence after the laugh, and you felt like staring at the floor because looking at him was becoming addicting too quickly.

“Want me to help you close? I want you to walk out with me for a while, maybe get some coffee?” He suddenly speaks, and you snap out of the mental image of you two sitting on your couch, a few cats around.

“Uh- well I just need to take out the trash and I’m ready, I- would love that,” He smiles from ear to ear and stands straight, making you notice he’s like, really really tall.

“I’ll help you with that, be ready when I come back!” He sprinted towards the entrance where the two plastic bags laid one beside the other and took them out. You run towards the bathroom as soon as he’s out, changing your ugly uniform shirt into your spare one, feeling relieved when you notice is there this time. After putting roll on, combing your hair a little and putting some perfume you walk out, finding him waiting for you near the entrance.

He asks if he can wash his hands and once that’s done you close up, and you start walking beside him to nowhere in particular.

You suggest walking to your recent favorite spot, a part cafe, part flower shop near your apartment. Walking there you talk about your studies, the tedious but fun times at the video store, his job at the library (he was such a nerd!), his and your cat, about everything and nothing in particular, and time just flew by so quickly.

“This is so nice, I didn’t even notice the hour!” you say checking the casio watch on your wrist. And he does the same.

“Let me walk you home, I would feel bad by letting you take a cab at this hour.”

“It’s not far away…” you object but he insists. “Fine, but just by the door, what if you are indeed a creep or something!” He pouts and gives you the stink eye. You laughed, delighted how quickly you became comfortable with each other.

Once at your door you ask him to give you his palm. “I learned this trick from our dear Gyu,” you say, taking out a sharpie pen from your backpack and writing your number on his palm. “There, call me as soon as you get home, I’m not done talking to you.”

You thanked him for the coffee and sprinted towards your complex door without letting him say anything else.

A quarter to eleven, your phone starts ringing.

Grabbing the cordless phone from its base and throwing yourself over your bed you answer. “Hello?,”

“I was about to tell you my name and ask you on a proper date,” you heard his shaky voice from the other line. He must have literally run or sprinted towards his own apartment. “But you ran away.”

You smiled, twirling your hair, eyes closed remembering every moment since you closed the video store a few hours ago.

“Y/n?,”

“Not yet cat-boy, I want you to tell me only after you first kiss me.” A few moments of silence before he speaks again, you can’t see him but you know he’s smiling too.

“Deal, then I won’t be cat-boy much longer.”

@mingsolo please don't repost/translate to any sites.

#wonwoo fanfic #kvanity #svt x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #wonwoo fluff #now that's 90s collab #fic tag #my fic #oneshot #fluff #svt wonwoo

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seventeenpins · 8 months ago

Text

a little domesticity

pairing: Tess x F!Reader word count: 2.3k summary: You discover it's Tess's birthday. You decide you want to make it special. Tess fingers you while you cook her dinner. Same universe as Drive Me Home if you like?? content/warnings: basically just porn, no implied age gap, this is so domestic!!!!, established but new-ish relationship, lil bit of daddy Tess, fingering, very mild degradation, no outbreak or pre-outbreak AU, pet names (baby, honey), Tess works at a high-powered but undefined job a/n: For @ozarkthedog 🩷 Congrats on your 11k, and happy birthday Ozzie!! You've given us so much with your celebration, but you should be the one getting gifts! I know this is pretty extraordinarily late (sorry, love) but I hope you like it 😚

You are determined not to have to make two trips. Tess's apartment is up five flights, the elevator is on the fritz, and your legs already ache from the gym yesterday. You want to do anything you can to not have to go back and forth.

Three grocery bags hang off your left hand and two on your right, slowly cutting off any remaining circulation. A bottle of wine and a gallon of milk are tucked into your elbows as you heave yourself up the steps. Grocery shopping is a truly Sisyphean task, and the slog up to the apartment only confirms this.

By the time you turn the corner past the fourth landing, you're cursing yourself. It's so much. You know your arms will be aching, but of course you're stubborn enough to overdo it.

Finally, you make it to the fifth floor landing, and Tess's door is the third on the right. It's inelegant, trying to keep the bags steady while shoving your hand into your pocket to dig around for your keys. Your fingers are verging on numbness, and right as you move the key to the lock, you fumble and drop it.

That's the moment you hear the phone ring inside.

It sends you into a rush, and in your haste, you drop half the bags and still don't manage to open the door before the ringing stops.

Instead, you swing the door open right as the beep of the answering machine sounds, a bunch of bananas and a bag of English muffins fallen at your feet.

A man's voice chimes out, tinny and a little distorted.

"Tess! It's Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you well, and Sarah, too. I'll catch you later."

Then you hear the click of a receiver, and the machine stops.

You frown. Leave the groceries where they're sat and rewind the tape a few seconds. Hit play.

"'S Joel. Happy birthday! We're gettin' old, huh? Let's get dinner soon, on me. Tommy's wishing you--"

You click it off.

He definitely said Tess. And 'happy birthday'.

So why the fuck didn't Tess tell you it was her birthday?

You know it's not really a big deal. Maybe she's just not a birthday person. It wouldn't really surprise you; there's a nonchalance that she exudes that sometimes throws you off .

If you're honest, though, you love birthdays. The gift-giving. Getting to make a fuss over your loved ones. And, you reason, if the Millers can wish her well, then it's probably not a sore spot for her.

More than anything, you've been wanting an excuse to celebrate her. Maybe this can be it?

As you prop the door open and begin to drag the grocery bags in, as you scrubbing the produce and putting everything away, you allow a plan to form.

It's been a long day but a good day. Work was a series of tasks that required some creative problem solving, and Tess felt like a fucking magician the way she'd been kicking ass and putting out fires.

Trekking up the innumerable steps, she felt suddenly lighter when she remembered that you had offered to make dinner.

From the moment she turns the key in the lock, she immediately starts salivating.

"Babe?" she calls, shucking off her shoes and shrugging off her jacket.

"In here-" you call back.

A moment later, soft footfalls are padding into the kitchen, and she's slipping her arms around you. She rests her chin on your shoulder and surveys the scene in front of you both.

"Shit, hon, this smells amazing."

You do a happy wiggle against her and start pointing out everything in turn. "So, we've got garlic tossed broccolini. Parsnip ravioli in that one, only has a minute or so left. I'm just starting the sauce now, so it'll be a few minutes before everything's ready, but you've made it in perfect time."

"Ugh," Tess groans, appreciative, "You spoil me. What's the occasion?"

"OH, don't let me drain the pasta water without saving some."

"I got you," she promises, sliding past you to grab two beers from the fridge. She notices when your eyes linger on her hands as she pops the bottle caps. "Careful, don't burn-- whatever you've got on the flame there."

With a shake of your head, you roll your eyes. "But seriously, is that a real question, or are you testing me?"

She frowns. Hands you a bottle and takes a swig of her own, sliding back behind you. She presses against you and wraps her arms around your waist.

"What are you talking about?"

You grind your ass back a little more and she puts one hand on your hip, but now she's smiling at you, mildly puzzled.

"Do you know what the date is today?"

"Oh shit, did I forget something important?" she detaches. "Did I forget our anniversary?"

"You tell me." You nod your head towards the calendar hanging on the fridge. "I'll help you out, it's a Tuesday today. And we've only been together six months. And you brought me flowers for that, like, a week ago."

She stares at the calendar for a moment and then looks at you. Looks back and forth.

"I--"

She's frozen in an incredulous frown.

"Happy birthday, honey," you tell her.

"I can't believe I fucking forgot. And how did you know?" she laughs.

"Hah," you laugh, "Answering machine went off when I got in. Your friend, Joel, he was calling to wish you well."

She snorts. "Fuckin' Miller saves the day?" Then she looks you up and down. "And you, baby, you've definitely saved the day." She looks over the spread again and notices the counter covered in flour, the kitchenaid with a roller attachment, a piping bag nearly fully emptied, and various pastry cutters. "Shit, did you make all this yourself?"

"The ravioli? Sure did. Just wanted an excuse to spoil you."

Tess plants a kiss on your lips and you moan into her mouth. When you pull apart, you're panting.

"Now," you tell her, suddenly serious, "I prioritized dinner and didn't have a chance to get you a present."

"Oh, hon, you don't have to-"

You cut her off, waggling your eyebrows. "But you do still have someone to unwrap."

"Don't have to tempt me, honey," she grins.

"Just let me finish up with dinner-"

She has a different idea. "I bet you can finish up while I open my present."

You snort. "Be patient."

"I don't have to be patient--it's my birthday."

"Tess, I-"

She ignores you, pressing gentle kisses down the side of your throat.

She know's it's a guaranteed horny button for you, and she exploits that weakness mercilessly. You have to fight not to melt. Even so, you let your eyes flutter closed, bathing in the sensation and not wanting anything to stop or change. She lets you relax into it for a moment, before bumping her hip against you, nudging you forward.

"Go on, baby. Better keep cooking. I'm hungry."

You let out a deep breath and snap yourself back. You spark the cooktop and place down the sauté pan. (You prefer cooking at Tess's apartment. Hers has a gas range. Yours has electric.)

After checking the temperature, you place a stick of butter in the pan. Tess runs her hands up and down your sides at a leisurely pace. Just her touch is enough to make you weak kneed again.

She passes you a slotted wooden spatula and you start to push the stick of butter around, watching it sizzle and melt as Tess makes you melt. You hear the clink of her own belt before you feel her undoing the button of your jeans.

Your pasta timer dings and the moment is broken. You grab the pan and are about to drain it in the colander you have set up in the sink, but before you can tip it out, Tess stops you.

"Hold up, hon, save that pasta water."

"Shit! Yep, nearly forgot it."

You set a liquid measuring jug beneath the colander and let the pasta drain, before taking the pasta water and turning back to the melting butter.

Tess's hands are back on you, pulling down your zipper now. She shimmies your jeans past your hips, kneading your ass with one hand as she trails the other from your belly button lower and lower and lower-

You start to lose focus on dinner and can only pay attention to her.

Tess slips her hand down your front and gasps when she gets to your bare cunt, hot and wanting. You're wearing no underwear, clothed only in the curls between your thighs.

"Naughty girl," she praises, and you swoon as she starts stroking her fingertips along your cunt, collecting your wetness and smearing it on your clit before pressing harsh circles into you that make you shudder and squirm deliciously.

"Don't let the butter burn," Tess chides, and you blink your eyes open, reaching for the utensil and moving the last of the unmelted butter around the pan, watching it start to foam at the edges.

"What else do you need, hon?" she asks, "Got all your ingredients?

You glance around. The sage is there. The pasta water. Garlic. Pepper.

"Uh-huh."

"Good," Tess says, "'Cause I'm gonna need you to stay put and focus."

A surge of heat pulses through you and you feel Tess's breath on your neck, a delicious sigh.

You add sage leaves to the browning butter, savouring the sudden aroma as the sage begins to heat, releasing its fragrance.

Tess resumes her work, slipping your jeans down to your ankles and guiding you to step out, all the while you stir the pan.

As the sage sizzles in the butter, she presses a finger against your folds, finding your opening, and eliciting a gasp from you as she enters you with two long fingers.

Finding a rhythm, she starts pumping the digits, pulling whines and moans from you, pausing only to let you smash the peeled garlic with the palm of your hand against the flat of a chef's knife and mince it a little more. You toss it into the pan and, once the knife is out of your hand, she resumes.

Two fingers become three, and as you splash the pasta water in with the butter and sage and yelp as she picks up the pace.

"Love those lovely little whines you make for me. All those sweet noises, that's all for me, huh?"

"For you," you agree, another whine escaping.

"Messy fuckin' hole, taking my fingers so good. Such a good girl, baby," she praises, and you don't realise she's not referring to you until she says, "Look at her, gettin' all puffy and wrecked."

You let out another sound, this one closer to a growl. You can feel yourself beginning to drip down her hand as she fucks her digits into you, pressing into you so nicely, working you open, making your knees quake.

"Sweet little pussy opening right up for me. Think she can take another?

"Fuck, daddy, please-"

Trying to keep stirring while she works on you is a near impossibility. With a focus that can't be anything less than witchcraft, she smacks your cheek while you're moaning, eyes closed and keening.

"Don't let it burn," she scolds, and your eyes snap back open.

The sauce has started to thicken, and you turn down the flame so you can take a moment to grind yourself deeper onto Tess's hand.

"Wanna put on the strap?" you ask. "Want me to put on the strap?"

"I'd take either," she admits with a laugh, "But the dishwasher's running."

"Fuck."

"Did you just put the cycle on?"

"Yep. Are our dicks in the dishwasher?"

"Our dicks are in the dishwasher."

You let out a whine. She just maintains her pace and rubbing a fingertip in blinding, tight circles around your clit.

"Poor baby," she teases, "I barely have to play with you and your cute lil hole soaks me like a fuckin' whore. You're so fucking easy."

"Hnnnggg-"

"My pretty little slut. Just gotta give me one, baby, just one and I'll let you finish dinner."

Another whine.

"C'mon, honey, I feel you gettin' close. Clenchin' on daddy's fingers. Fuck, cum for me baby, let me feel you-"

She reaches around you and turns off the flame, the fingers of her other hand pumping faster and rougher. You're bent forward, gripping the counter for support, as you feel yourself start to tip over.

"Fuuuuckkk-" you cum with a cry, Tess's fingers working you through it as her other hand wraps around your waist, steadying you. You hear the splash of your release against the laminate floor as she keeps going, pumping her fingers fast and deep, hitting just the right spot, dragging your orgasm out longer than you knew yourself capable of.

It takes a couple of minutes, coming back down. You feel your slick cooling on your thighs and turn around to see Tess leaning against the hallway behind you, grinning wickedly as she licks her fingers one by one.

"You're gonna be the death of me," you tell her, and she slides back behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Not allowed to die. It's my birthday."

"Hmmph," you roll your eyes and begin to plate up.

The groan Tess lets out as she takes her first bite is more than worth it.

"Fucking fuck, honey, I mean- holy shit this is so good."

You grin. "Glad you like it."

"I know what I'm having for dessert," Tess smirks, waggling her eyebrows.

"Yeah," you agree, "I made you a tart."

"You're my tart."

You roll your eyes again. "I am, but I made one special for you. Dessert first, then you can eat me as much as you like."

Tess nods solemnly before breaking into another grin. "Thank you honey."

"Happy birthday, baby."

#tess servopoulos fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tess servopoulos x reader #tess x reader #tess x f!reader #okay it should PROBABLY be your birthday rather than hers but this is what flowed pls forgive meeeee

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desertfangs · 4 months ago

Text

Record and Play - Armand/Daniel - 1564

This is just a short little ficlet for the @vamptember prompt "Tape Recorder."

Daniel set the tape recorder on the table. Armand stared at it warily like it might jump up and bite him. But soon curiosity got the better of him and he snatched it off the table.

It was small, the size of a deck of cards and half the width, a hundred times smaller than the one Daniel had used in the 1970s when he’d interviewed Louis. Hell, this one didn’t even technically have a tape. It was all digital. He would have to plug it into a computer to extract the files when this was finished.

Armand turned it over in his pale hands. He pressed the buttons on its side: record, play, rewind, fast forward, stop. He studied the tiny little digital screen, a black and white read out that would provide a time stamp for the audio. A tiny red light on the black recorder’s corner would illuminate to indicate when it was recording.

“It’s small,” Armand said.

“Neat, isn’t it? Imagine just having that in your pocket! It can hold up to thirty hours of audio,” Daniel gushed. He and Benji had gone to Techland a week ago, a store in the East Village, where Daniel had spent hours talking to one of the workers about different recording options. He was amazed how much technology had progressed since he was lugging around his large tape recorder and microphones.

Armand continued to study the tiny machine, his head bent over it, his long russet curls falling into his face. Tension gathered in the air and Daniel worried he was going to bolt now that they were actually here, equipment literally in hand.

Armand had not dressed for the occasion. He wore an oversized sweatshirt—one of Daniel’s, a green one with an illustration of a trilobite fossil on the front—and jeans. Casual clothes. Daniel wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything. He’d expected Armand to wear a suit or finery, but then, why? This wasn’t a video recording. And his outfit did mirror Daniel’s clothes: a purple sweatshirt, gray t-shirt, and jeans.

After letting Armand fiddle with the recorder for a bit, Daniel held out his hand. Armand hesitated, then placed it in his outstretched palm. Daniel put it back in the center of the small round table and plugged in the microphone he’d purchased to go with it.

Once he was sure the set up was good, he looked up.

Armand was staring at his ring-adorned hands that lay flat on the table in front of him.

“Are you ready?” Daniel asked.

Armand did not move or speak.

Daniel swallowed uneasily, but he didn’t want to push too hard. So he waited, drumming his fingers on the table and looking aimlessly around the room. There wasn’t much to see.

They were sitting in one of Trinity Gate’s smaller sitting rooms. In it was the table with two chairs on either side, and a window that looked out into the courtyard garden. It was private, though that wasn’t really the point - they were alone now in this massive house. Everyone else was in France and soon they’d join them. He’d chosen this room because the small size, small window, and thick wallpaper would help the sound quality.

Daniel waited, his nerves jangling. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. The idea had come up during a hard conversation they’d had last night about Armand’s book. But he’d agreed, hadn’t he? Daniel hadn’t forced his hand.

Armand remained motionless. Infuriating how he could turn into a statue like that! It always driven Daniel past all reason when he went utterly still.

“Do you—” He started.

“It’s not for them, Daniel.”

Daniel blinked. “What isn’t?”

“Our story,” Armand said. “It’s not for David, or even Sybelle or Benji. And it’s not for public consumption, anymore than it already has been. That's why I left it where I did.”

Pain and frustration twisted inside him. He could still remember the way Armand’s dismissal of him in his book had felt like a knife right through his stomach, how he thought he’d never stop bleeding from that particular wound. Armand, his maker, the person he’d given up his entire life for, had reduced to him a few bitter paragraphs.

It wasn’t the worst thing Armand had ever done to him but it had stung—no, more than stung; it had cut him open and torn out his heart. Daniel had been freshly restored to his own faculties and eager to reconnect with him, only to read that he was hardly an afterthought, and not a fond one at that.

Daniel bit back a retort and took a breath. “You weren’t shy about discussing your past with Marius,” Daniel said, trying to keep his voice even, lest this explode into another fight.

“More time had passed.” Armand turned away, looking out the window. “With you, the wounds were still raw.”

Daniel looked down, a lump forming in his throat. The last time they’d seen each other before Armand dictated his story to David Talbot, they’d fought viciously and carelessly, venting their spleens and marinating in the bile. They’d been cruel to each other, maybe crueler than they’d ever been, and then Daniel, having hit his limit, walked out the door.

Not forever. He never intended that. But once he was gone, he kept going, and didn’t look back. It was fair enough for Armand to assume he was done with him when he’d yelled exactly that before slamming the door so hard it had cracked.

It had been mean of him and he’d wanted it to hurt Armand at the time.

He just hadn’t known what would happen next. That not long after Armand would go into the sun, without so much as a thought to how Daniel would endure the centuries without him.

Daniel ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands. Hot shame washed over him, along with regret and frustration. Armand glanced over at him and then reached across the table, taking his hand.

He squeezed, his hand cool against Daniel’s blood-warmed skin. Such a small, simple gesture. The touch tingled up his arm and his shoulders relaxed.

Armand let go and gestured to the recorder. “Do you wish to begin?”

Daniel swallowed and nodded. He reached over and hit the little record button on the device.

“So, tell me about the night we met,” Daniel said.

Armand straightened in his seat. He looked up into Daniel’s eyes which he held as he spoke:

“I heard a familiar voice from down the street as I approached the little house. I walked past it nightly, you understand, and checked on it.”

“On Lestat, you mean,” Daniel corrected.

Armand waved a dismissive hand. “Louis’ voice was grainy and I knew that he wasn’t there. I couldn’t sense his presence. But of course it was strange to hear his voice coming from the house. I went to investigate and I found the most curious thing: a mortal boy, desperate and feverish, with recordings of his voice.”

“Desperate and feverish?” Daniel asked, amused.

Armand cut his eyes at him. “No commentary, beloved. This is my story.”

Daniel held his hands up in supplication. “Yeah, yeah. Go on.”

Armand nodded sagely, but Daniel caught the ghost of a smile on his lips. “The tapes surprised me. I wondered why Louis had allowed his voice to be captured in such a way. But then I saw this beautiful creature pacing in the house, tall with soft blond hair and intense eyes. He had a frenetic energy and was walking from window to window as if hoping someone would appear. I knew at once Louis had probably been drawn to the boy’s beauty. Though I still didn’t understand why he’d spoken with such candor. So I remained outside and listened.”

“How long were you there?” Daniel asked.

Armand considered. “Long enough to learn that boy was there for Lestat, who still lay sleeping. Not long enough to decide if the boy should live or die. That was why I had to hold him until I could examine his belongings and learn more about him.”

Daniel, of course, remembered being knocked unconscious and locked in the cellar for three days. How delirious and desperate he’d felt when he’d seen Armand again, how full of awe and desire! Those days were a blur now, but he remembered the strange cocktail of emotions that would become his life for the next few years: terror, curiosity, and burning desire.

“And? What did you find?”

Armand smiled wryly. “That he was a harmless fool in pursuit of danger. But he was beseeching and bold and I found that fascinating.”

“Yeah?” Daniel sat forward.

“For all he knew of our kind, the boy’s excitement at seeing me was equal to his fear, and I was intrigued.”

“Intrigued, huh?”

Armand paused, tilting his head as if in thought, eyes burning into Daniel with such intensity he could feel the heat of it.

After a moment, Daniel asked, “Are you going to call me ‘the boy’ the entire time?”

“If you wish for me to continue, you must let me tell it how I see fit,” Armand said.

Daniel smiled at him. “Sorry, boss. Go on.”

Armand scooted his chair closer to the table and continued his story.

#armand #daniel molloy #armand/daniel #devil's minion #the devil's minion #armdaniel #devils minion #vc fanfic #my fic #vc #tvc #the vampire chronicles #vamptemper #prompted fic #vampire chronicles

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sundayoaksimpette · 21 days ago

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“Questers in tangled in ichor” soon to be fanfic

Part of my Au for a crossover between BABATQFTIM x Dandy’s world. This storyline in this fanfic crossover is my original idea. Though I was inspired by the separate fandoms. Please credit if inspired by this.

@theinkbunny also is making a BATIM x Dw so please check them out! They have some pretty cool ideas and I can’t wait to see their thoughts on mine. They also have their own unique storyline for this crossover.

Some background Au for Dandy’s world x Babatqftim. This isn’t the whole Au but background parts.

Au Name- “Questers in tangled in Ichor.”

Delilah found an ink machine part and as she experimented it she messed with the ichor or (ink) of the toons. Dandy helped at first but before he could fully realize what was going on his mind was severely affected. He grew in many ways gravely ill.

He fights off the induced ink illness but using tapes he can temporarily rewind parts of his illness and insanity.

The rest of the toons are affected as well, dying extra slowly of the ink illness. But when it kills them finally, it doesn’t actually fully do it.

Instead it their minds are in perpetual torture, stuck between the two planes of life and death. The pain of the illness but unable to relieve their agony.

Some replay what they can remember. Or their clearest goal in their life. Certain impressions or are mentally twisted.

The Questers in their search for an Ink machine piece. Take the train to Gardenview as the compass is sending them there. But the train is affected by the aura of the Ink illness. And everybody feels ill.

Mickey shows up by the ink illness train teleporting him as well. The semi sentient affected machine part, finds Mickey fascinating.

——-

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vanillabeanmachine · 6 months ago

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𝚆𝙸𝙿 𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 #𝟷

𝙽𝚘 𝙻𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙶𝚘: 𝙰𝚗 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚜 -- 𝙰𝚌𝚝 𝙸

Hello everyone 👋😊 I've been working on No Letting Go for a while now and am excited to share that I'm almost ready to post Act I, which currently stands at approximately 14.5K words. This seems to be shaping up as the average length for each of the four acts. As I continue to polish and refine No Letting Go, I’ve decided to start sharing snippets every Wednesday. This will not only give you a glimpse of the content but also some of the behind-the-scenes thought process. Stay tuned!

[...]

The recorder was not the same that Daniel had once owned in 1973. Indeed, Daniel couldn't quite recall the exact model or brand of his original device, nor the circumstances of its disappearance—had it been shattered in a sudden fit of rage? Perhaps it had vanished, lost in the swirling chaos of his drug-addled days? It was equally plausible that it lay forgotten in some distant apartment, nestled under a thick layer of dust, untouched and unthought of for almost half a century. Moreover, Daniel wasn’t certain that this Suga model had even existed in 1973. A wave of nostalgia had swept over him one day as he had strolled down Camden High Street, leading him to purchase this particular piece on a whim. Initially, it hadn’t worked at all, prompting nights spent poring over YouTube tutorials and hunting down obsolete tech parts on eBay in an attempt to restore it. Eventually, he had given up on pure restoration, instead cobbling together a functioning unit by marrying the surviving vintage Suga skeleton with the guts of a modern machine – a Frankenstein’s monster of resurrected technology that, despite its changed nature, still swallowed down tape with a voracious appetite.

He could have easily acquired a functioning Suga online, or even opted for a modern tape deck. Yet, Daniel cherished this battered machine, with its scratches and dents marring the case, the rust on the sprockets that added a squeak when rewinding tape, and the worn buttons that spoke of frequent use. It was a tangible relic of a human past, an artefact that Daniel clung to—not merely as a tool but a reminder of a life once lived.

Daniel meticulously arranged his tools for the evening—the Suga recorder, his sleek MacBook Air, a battered .99 cent notepad with its edges crumpled and pages unevenly torn from the binding, an elegant Montblanc Meisterstück pen, and a well-worn half-full leather cigarette case that had journeyed with him from the '70s.

Armand waited as Daniel organised, his expression the picture of serene detachment; yet beneath this stoicism flowed an undercurrent of acute attentiveness.

Armand's reddish-brown colour-of-dawn gaze, typically distant, tonight held a piercing clarity and focus entirely directed at Daniel. It was as if the full essence of his immortal being had chosen to anchor itself in this singular interaction. There was a palpable familiarity in Armand's intense stare, a comfort that Daniel recognised and found strangely reassuring.

Yet amidst this familiarity was a void—a poignant sense of loss, something indelibly altered. The once-constant press of Armand's mind against his own, a psychic echo that had lingered in Daniel's human consciousness, had vanished now with his vampiric transformation. The Dark Gift, poetically named but harsh in its realities, had not brought Daniel enlightenment or a renewed closeness to his Maker but a barrier, severing the connection the pair once shared. Where there had once been a flowing stream of thoughts and emotions, a psychic murmur that had connected him to Armand, there now existed only a silence—as if a door between their minds had been firmly shut and locked. This new silence was not peaceful but a cold absence, a reminder of what they had both sacrificed for Daniel's immortality.

Armand's intensive gazing at Daniel was justified now more than ever. Perhaps, in this new reality they shared, all that remained to bind them was the mere physicality of their being—something that Daniel found inexplicably more alluring now than ever before.

While Daniel clung to the remnants of his human past and habits still, Armand had always appeared unburdened by such earthly ties, having long shed them like leaves in an eternal, ageless autumn. But as Daniel now stood entrenched in this new existence, he began to perceive that what he once thought of as an uncanny stillness in Armand was not a marker of death but a vibrant, pulsating life, more profound and intricate than he had ever imagined possible.

The gravity of Armand's presence was magnetic, drawing Daniel inexorably in, as if each moment spent in observation tethered him more firmly to a spellbinding eternity. Daniel was acutely aware of the need for caution, knowing all too well how effortlessly he could become entangled in an everlasting gaze upon Armand. In such moments, time could dissolve into irrelevance—akin to Narcissus, spellbound by his reflection in the serene embrace of a forest pool. It was the mesmerising dance of light across Armand’s rich, dark skin, the lush curls that tenderly framed his face, and the impeccable symmetry of his sharp, angular features that seemed destined to rest in the contours of Daniel's palm. The striking yet harmonious contrast between Armand's finely sculpted upper lip and the plush fullness of the lower, coupled with the intoxicating memory of their kisses—

Caught in a dopey smile, Daniel realised Armand had observed the slip when a knowing look crossed his features. Perhaps the psychic bond they once shared was no longer necessary; Daniel's emotions were still as transparent to Armand now as when Daniel had been still human. And yet, frustratingly, Armand remained equally an enigma to Daniel, close yet distant in the same breath.

[...]

Author’s Thoughts™:

Indeed, the Suga KC-920 is a different model from the recorder Daniel used back in 1973. I deliberately chose a different tape recorder from the one shown in "Don’t Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape." This choice is meant to enhance the theme of an "odyssey of recollection," emphasizing the unreliability of Daniel’s memory. It reflects his efforts to piece together fragments of his mortal past, his reliance on nostalgic constructs, and his commitment to maintaining a connection to his former human self—no matter how shaky the foundations that connection is built on.

I'm very proud of the line describing the tape recorder as "a Frankenstein’s monster of resurrected technology that, despite its changed nature, still swallowed down tape with a voracious appetite."

Daniel's choice of a Montblanc Meisterstück pen—which retails for between $460-680—for use on a 99-cent notepad creates a conceptual contrast. This disparity is further heightened by his combination of a modern MacBook with an archaic tape recorder. This deliberate mismatch across items of differing economic and temporal values introduces an element of dissonance—it feels almost jarring, and in a way, disrespectful? Using a luxury pen on low-quality paper subverts expectations of propriety and value, while opting for obsolete technology over more efficient modern alternatives suggests a conscious rebellion against practicality. I wanted to set up space for a future commentary on value, utility, and nostalgia, and highlight a bit more of this tension between the past and present in Daniel.

I wanted to explore the impact of Daniel and Armand’s severed mental connection. Daniel's transformation into vampirism brought with it the loss of his psychic link with Armand, a shift that necessitated a new way of Daniel perceiving and connecting with Armand. Since he no longer can feel Armand’s emotions directly, Daniel becomes reliant on interpreting Armand’s physical cues—a necessity that alters the nature of his gaze. This redirection of focus towards the physical can be seen as a form of objectification, where Daniel's longing is intensely projected onto every visible detail of Armand, focusing not on his emotions or his interiority, but rather his most striking features instead. This gaze is not merely observational; it is charged with desire and a nuanced romanticism, making it palpably lustful. Daniel's gaze is transparent to Armand.

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #devil's minion #daniel/armand #armandaniel #armanddaniel #No Letting Go

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castlebyersafterdark · 24 days ago

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Speaking of porn do you think that individually mike and will would watch or read porn (probably more likely to read because they could find porno mags aimed at girls - idk how widely available gay porn was in the 80s)? Honestly not just as teenagers but as adults too, maybe when the other is on a trip and they're horny and pent up. Or they just need to get off, idk. If they do, what kind of porn do you think they get off to?

(If you need to make this easier than this could also be considered as a modern au lol. What kinda gay porn would they be browsing on the hub if they weren't repressed 80s gays 😔?)

It was definitely around, but I don't know the logistics of finding it. I mean, I wasn't there of course so this is all research and general knowledge, but they came of age in the golden age of the video store. VHS was kiiiiing. Porn was available. Gay porn? I have no idea where a teen in 1980s smalltown Indiana would find it. Maybe they sneak the straight stuff and look at the men in them? I'm reading forums and - mixed bag, everyone has a different take and I don't own a time machine! Yet.

You know Mike started off sneaking Karen's smut novels. Feeling embarrassed reading all the ways the hunky men are described, but copying down all the descriptions and terminology in a secret notebook, then writing his own stuff. Getting off to his own romance stories!! That's our naughty little writer. He's stealing a muscle mag, athletic magazines, which are suspicious as hell but it's accessible at least. I don't think there's much either boy would get their hands on until they leave town and get out into the world. That's why Will's stashing away department store catalogs for the underwear section and rewinding suggestive scenes in movies. Making do with what's around. I don't personally see Mike or Will ballsy enough to get a porno tape from a video store, gay or straight, as teens. Later in life, more likely. But not then. They're too self-conscious and paranoid, it's risky. If they saw anything - honestly? It's something Dustin got from Steve or Lucas and gives to Mike to check out for himself, not knowing Mike's actual deal.

In the 90s they're nerds, and they're prioritizing being on the forefront of internet usage early on. The reality that as technology changes - so does sex. Mostly photos at the beginning, but of course they'd find stuff online, the kind they queue up to download overnight to enjoy the next day since it takes so long and they don't want to tie up the phone line all day 🤭 But also - Will would collect really nice photography books. Finds from queer bookstores and specialty places while living in whatever city they end up. He'd be really into gay erotic photography. Vintage anthologies and modern art collections with that edge. Mike's forever a big fan of the skin mag, even as time goes on. A classic is a classic for a reason. But older - he's not stealing. He's a man with a hot partner and a steely scowl for anyone who judges the flavor of mag he slaps down on the countertop. Whatever.

Modern AU? You know Mike's getting off to femboy solo action videos. And beefy muscular guys doing the same. He's got his types, ok? He's watching sounding because he's too scared to try but he gets so hard watching it, he's into guys getting off in spandex superhero costumes and he's totally looking at foot stuff. Will likes watching fetish videos of guys tied up with intricate ropeplay and edged or engaging in tickling kink or getting pounded by a fuck machine. Stuff that's a little odd and makes him both anxious and horny. Also he likes hearing men whimper. He's into bizarre kinky ASMR stuff like breathing and heartbeats. Will likes stepfather/stepson scenes because, well 😉 And then, sometimes a little gangbang scenario starring guys who look like him.

They're both into watching tiny twinks take those massive dragon dildos - but individually for different reasons. They're also totally watching super sexy romantic couple's amateur porn together because they're saps and it's arousing watching others - and then using it to get ideas and make their own, even if it's just to enjoy making and watching it back together ❤️

#Spicy Byler #Agree or disagree with my random ideas? Got any suggestions? Would looove to hear more!!#Queued #HC

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temptingfatetakingnames · 1 year ago

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The Last Steve Harrington Part 13

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Steve’s first few days at Family Video passed by without incident. He started during the week so it wasn’t very busy and Robin was a good teacher. She talked a lot. A constant stream of chatter. It made him feel comfortable, oddly enough. She never seemed to mind that he didn’t have a lot to say himself, but he tried to contribute. Tried to share bits of himself with her.

She had been going on about the other part time employee who called in sick all the time, Rick. He always left her high and dry on Friday afternoons. After the first few times, Steve would have stopped scheduling him for the shift but apparently there were rules that Robin had to follow. Sounded like bullshit to him.

“So, last weekend I had to work alone and there was a huge rush, because there’s always a huge rush after five. And this woman kept yelling at me, like that was going to make me go any faster.”

“But Robin,” Steve deadpanned, “the customer is always right.”

She barked out a quick laugh.

“She sounds like a real bitch, though. At least if Rick calls in again this Friday, I can come and help you.”

She looked over at him with a smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

They went back to their separate tasks and worked quietly for a few minutes. Steve knew it wouldn’t last long.

“Nancy has really been nagging me about college since she’s been back,” Robin said, breaking the silence. Steve kept his finger on the rewind button and looked up at her.

“What were you gunna do?”

“Criminology.”

“What the heck is that?”

“The study of crime and criminal behavior.”

“Sounds cool.” He didn’t know what job you could do with it, but it did sound badass.

“Yeah, it’s cool.” She said and laughed a little to herself.

He wanted to ask her why she didn’t want to go but he already knew the answer. She didn’t want to leave him. It made him incredibly angry, all of a sudden. Because if the kids had left him where he belonged, Robin would probably be ready to move on. She had been heartbroken when Steve died, and all her plans had fallen apart. Now, she was putting them on hold again. For him. Making sacrifices. For him. And she shouldn’t.

“Nancy is right, you should go,” was all he could think to say.

She went quiet again. Steve took the tape out of the machine and put the next one in.

“Not yet,” she finally said. “I’m gunna save up a bit more. Apply next year.”

As if Steve wouldn’t be able to see through that. Saving up for college wasn’t why she didn’t go last year and it certainly wasn’t why she didn’t want to go this year.

“That’s a long time to wait.”

She hummed noncommittedly. “It’s not that long.”

“I don’t –” Steve paused, trying to get his thoughts together. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I don’t want you stay or put your life on hold for me.”

“I’m not.”

“Rob –”

“Steve!” She interrupted. “I’m not!”

She wasn’t looking at him.

“I’m not him, Robin. You don’t need to stay for me. I don’t want you to stay for me.”

“I’m staying for me, asshole!” Robin yelled as she walked over and shoved him hard. “I know you’re not him. I am so aware you are not him, Steve. I want to stay because I want to know you.”

Steve rubbed his chest and gritted his teeth. Robin glared up at him. He glared back.

“You stubborn ass – I told you I wasn’t leaving. You trying to push me away isn’t going to work. College will be waiting for me when I’m ready to go.” Her face softened and she reached for his hand. “And even when I do go – I’m not leaving you. You’re stuck with me forever. Got it?”

He looked away and swallowed against the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to start depending on her, didn’t want to keep liking her so much. Better to push her away now, let her get on with her life, than have her leave him after he became attached. As if he wasn’t attached already…

Robin was the first person he could reasonably call his friend here. He knew Dustin wished they were closer, but he couldn’t get past the weight of expectation in his eyes. The eyes that still saw Steve and not… him. It hurt, because Dustin was his brother and he was holding himself back from him. Eleven and Will – well, he was starting to love them dearly and that scared the shit out of him. And Eddie was becoming something…maybe. Which also hurt and scared the shit out of him.

But Robin? She didn’t hurt him or scare him. She didn’t treat him like something fragile that was on the verge of breaking. She shoved him and got angry and called him out when he was being an idiot. She was a good friend and deserved better than Steve trying to push her away.

Gripping her hand back, he nodded.

“Got it.”

She smiled and shoved him – more gently this time.

“Good. Now get back to work.”

Steve laughed and went back to rewinding tapes.

---

The day continued. Robin went into the back to do some paperwork leaving Steve to main the front store. The bell chimed as the door opened, signifying a customer had walked in. He looked around the display he was setting up to see a teenaged boy standing at the entrance, looking around with wide familiar brown eyes.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked.

“Stephanie?” the boy asked, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Uh… no. Steve.” He corrected.

“Steve? Steve Harrington?”

“Yeah, Steve Harrington.” The words were barely out of his mouth when the boy threw himself at him. Steve caught him on instinct, thinking about the last time a teenager threw themselves at him. The boy was skinny but damn was he strong. When he was done hugging the absolute life out of Steve, he leaned back a bit and started poking at his cheeks and touching his hair.

“So strange,” he said wide-eyed. “My Harrington was a girl.”

Steve blinked down at who could only be another Eleven.

A boy Eleven.

And his universes’ Steve was a girl!?

“I am so glad you lived!” Eleven said with the same devastating conviction and happiness that the other visiting Eleven had used. Tears immediately sprang to Steve’s eyes. Because this time he knew it was a choice. He had chosen to live and every day he chose it again, the beautiful and painful torture of it.

He looked into Eleven’s face, picking apart the similarities and differences between him and the other Eleven’s he had known. It was always the eyes that were the same. The wide brown eyes that always seemed innocent despite all that they had been through. He realized that they really were all looking for him. That an infinite number of Eleven’s couldn’t accept that he was gone, that just needed to find one of him for it to all be okay again. He thought his chest might burst with the feelings building up inside him.

Steve didn’t know what else to do so he smiled and said, “hello, Eleven.”

Eleven beamed up at him and stepped back from their hug but stayed close to his side.

“Who’s this?” Robin asked, coming out of the back room.

“I am Eleven!” he said, “and you look like Rob!”

Robin eyed Steve questionably before turning back to the boy. “I’m Robin.”

“Robin,” Eleven exclaimed in wonder and went over to poke at her cheek too. She allowed it for a moment before waving him away when he started playing with her hair.

“So, I’m guessing you’re from another universe then? Visiting Steve?”

“Yes,” Eleven replied with a smile. “I am visiting.”

“Is everyone the opposite gender to us?” Robin asked. “Our Eleven is a girl.”

Eleven scrunched his nose at that, Steve understood the feeling.

“My Stephanie was a girl and my Rob is a boy,” Eleven said and shrugged.

“Stephanie!” Robin shrieked. “Oh, I wish I could have known her! Steve as a girl…”

“I bet she was badass and hot. Tell Robin she was badass and hot, Eleven.”

“Stephanie was very bad ass… and hot.”

Steve winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

“What about Dustin?” Steve asked.

“Dustin?”

“Henderson.”

“Ah. Tina Henderson.”

“Tina!” Steve repeated, cackling at the thought.

Robin laughed too. “He’s going to hate that!”

They talked and traded names back and forth. Eleven was just as curious as they were to find out how different their universes were. Steve wasn’t surprised by most people’s parallel names and he and Robin were able to figure out most of them. Mike was Michelle, Nancy was Nathan, Max was Max. It was only Eddie’s that was holding them up. There just weren’t that many feminine ways of changing Edward. Robin guessed Edwina and Edith and Steve guessed Emily and Emma. All no goes. Eleven seemed to be really enjoying stumping them on this one and Steve had a feeling they already guessed it but he was messing with them.

“Edie.” Robin tried. Eleven shook his head.

“It’s Lucy,” he finally admitted.

“Lucy!?” Steve and Robin exclaimed at the same time.

Eleven nodded. “Lucy Munson.”

“Well… that doesn’t make any sense at all!” Steve spluttered.

Eleven just smiled and shrugged.

Steve narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “You’re messing with us, aren’t you?”

Eleven laughed full out and shook his head. “Her name is Lucy! Friends don’t lie.”

Friends don’t lie.

Steve’s heart clenched. Those damn echoes.

“I should get back,” Eleven said. “I have never been gone this long before and everyone will be worried. Is there anything you would like me to tell them for you?” he asked, looking at Steve with the weight of infinite Eleven’s in his eyes.

“Tell them,” Steve began slowly. “Tell them that I’m okay, and that I love them. Tell them that I know that surviving is hard and moving on is harder but that their Harrington wouldn’t want them to – to hurt themselves with missing her. That if she was anything like me, she’s proud of them. So proud of them. She would be proud of you too, Eleven. Tell them to look after each other like she would have and remember her with laughter. Did she like to swim?”

“Yes,” Eleven replied softly.

“Tell them to go to the lake if they want to feel close to her. It’s where I would choose to be. They can go there to – to swim with her and talk to her… if they need to.”

Eleven nodded, tears pooling in his eyes. “I will tell them.”

Steve moved closer and opened his arms and Eleven fell into them as his tears turned into sobs.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He knew the words were coming but they still felt like a punch to his gut anyway. He didn’t need to ask what for this time.

For living.

He looked up and blinked quickly, holding Eleven tighter. Suddenly realizing that every time he was visited by an Eleven… he healed an entire universe full of the people he cared about most – simply by living. By being here to say that everything was going to be okay and to let them say goodbye. And if that was true… it meant helping an infinite number of Elevens, and Dustins, and Eds, and Robins… and on and on and on.

And Steve thought about the sacrifice of that.

Of taking on an infinite amount of love and grief. He wondered if this was the moment that Other Steve had mentioned feeling to Robin. A different sacrifice, he knew. But a sacrifice all the same. And he couldn’t help but rage inside… at the injustice of fate. Because if it was Steve Harrington’s destiny to die saving his loved ones but leave them in grieving pieces – how was it fair that it was his destiny to put those pieces back together? How was he supposed to heal an infinite multiverse amount of grief?

He didn’t know if he was strong enough. His own grief was a black hole that sucked in every sliver of happiness he managed to feel. But… maybe that was why he could do it. Because he knew it. Had become intimately acquainted with it. Felt it. Understood it. Breathed it. Lived it. Cherished it.

The loss.

The grief.

The guilt.

… and the love.

And they helped to heal pieces of him, too. The visiting Elevens. The first had found him, pulled him to safety and gave him a home and a family. The second had saved him from a literal cliff’s edge, and then gave him a reason to try living again. And this Eleven…proved just how much the universe…loved him.

Every instance of him.

Another sob broke free at his side and he looked over to see Robin with her head in her hands, shoulders shaking as she tried to cry quietly. She didn’t manage it. She cried just like she did everything else – loudly.

“I miss you,” Eleven said into his chest.

“I know,” Steve replied softly.

He took a deep breath and then stepped out of Steve’s arms, wiping his eyes.

“It helps to know you are here. I can’t wait to tell the others about Steve Harrington. They will be so shocked!”

“I’m excited to tell everyone about you, too.”

Robin came over and slipped her hand into his and Steve was grateful for her grounding presence.

“Good-bye, Steve,” Eleven said and smiled brightly, despite the tears still in his eyes.

Steve smiled back. “Good-bye, Eleven.”

The bell over the door jingled as he left. Back to a universe without a Steve or Stephanie in it. To tell them that he loved them and that everything was going to be okay.

Because he did.

And it was.

Part 14

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues

Huge thanks to those who offered to be sounding boards for an idea: @newtstabber @stevie-crow @queenie-ofthe-void @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36 Thank you all so so much!

-I have all of the alternate names written out and I am so mad I couldn’t figure out how to get Wayne (Winnie) into this conversation. -I don’t know why everything I write turns out sadder than I originally intended. This was supposed to be a fun chapter and instead it became…This. Cried like a baby writing it. That said, it's my favourite so far so I hope you all like it!

#steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #multiverse #angst with a happy ending #robin buckley #the last steve harrington

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