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[scorpireads]

How Steve Harrington Gets a Family

The first time it happened, Steve didn’t remember. He had no idea why Hopper was acting so weird until Joyce took him aside, sighing softly.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs. “You don’t remember, do you?”

He frowns at her. “Remember what?”

“You called him dad, Steve.”

“I-” he gapes. “What?”

It goes like this.

He’d been hospitalized, after the Russians; he doesn’t know all the details, won’t for years, but Hopper had escaped from the reactor, thrown his weight—and title—around until someone had put Steve in a room, in a bed, gotten an IV into him, run whatever tests doctors run.

He was delirious with the truth serum still in his system and the adrenaline wearing off, groaning in pain and mumbling nonsense.

Hopper had put a hand on his head, said, “I’ve got you, Steve. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

“Dad,” Steve had mumbled, shifting into Hopper’s hand, and promptly passed out.

“Oh,” Steve whispers after Joyce tells him. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, no shit he’s been acting weird, I mean why would he want me as a kid- shit, I need to apologize-” 

“Whoa,” Joyce says seriously, hands on his shoulders. “Slow down, Steve. You know Hopper loves you, right?”

Steve bites his lip on the snark that wants to come out, instead choosing to just blink at her.

“Christ,” Joyce laments, “I’m going back to school, everyone need so much damn therapy.” She takes a breath and looks Steve in the eye. “Hopper loves you, Steve. He’s considered you his kid for a long time now.”

Steve gapes at her. “No he hasn’t!”

Joyce raises a brow. “Uh-huh. And how many parties has he busted, exactly? And how many marks do you have on your record?”

Steve snaps his mouth shut. “Oh, shit,” he whispers, looking up at Joyce. “He- he does? Really?”

“Really,” Joyce confirms, pulling him into a hug.

“Oh,” he mumbles, before letting himself enjoy the hug.

Later, when he’s about to head home, he stops in front of Hopper, glancing nervously over to Joyce, who nods encouragingly. “Can I, uh. Talk to you? For a second?”

Hopper narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “No, nothing! Just-” he sighs, runs a hand through his hair, gestures Hopper out the door and around the side of the house. “So, Joyce and I were talking, right? And I was wondering why you’d been acting weird around me, and I didn’t even remember what I said in the hospital, so Joyce told me, and- and I don’t expect anything from you! At all! And it- how I feel doesn’t have to change anything-”

“Christ,” Hopper says, but he’s smiling. “I think you’re worse at emotions than I am.”

“Well I’ve never had to tell anyone I think of them as more of a father figure than my own father before!” Steve blurts out, then freezes.

Hopper bursts out laughing. “Jesus, kid, do you think before you talk?”

Steve’s not hurt. Really. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but at Hopper. “I’ll leave.”

A hand on his wrist stops him. “C’mere, kid,” Hopper says, pulling him into a hug.

Steve stiffens. “What?”

“Boy, you’ve been my kid since the third time I didn’t write you up for one of those damn parties,” he grouses.

Steve relaxes into the hug. “So. If I, uh. Were to, maybe, call you dad again…”

“Just see what I’ll do if you don’t,” Hopper says gruffly, and it’s really not that funny but Steve’s just so relieved that he cracks up anyways.

They pull apart after a minute, and Steve has a giddy grin on his face as he backs up. “Bye, Dad,” he says, before turning and running to his car. Hopper’s laughter follows him.

He’s been close to Dustin for a while now, but still refuses to call his mom Claudia. The most he’ll do is Mrs. H, even though every time she sees him, she tries to get him to call her by her first name.

He can’t do it. He can’t make himself. Maybe it’s the manners instilled in him, maybe he’s just awkward as fuck, who knows. But he chickens out every time.

That’s why, when she answers the door, he smiles. “Hey, Mrs. H.”

“Steve,” she greets him warmly. “Come in, come in. Call me Claudia. Oh, what is this? I told you you don’t have to bring anything!”

“Just some cookies,” he promises her, putting them down where she directs and falling into the hug she gives him.

“Dear,” she asks him later, when they’re sitting at the table with Dustin, “call me Claudia, please?”

Steve can’t look at her; passes the butter Dustin’s silently asking for. “Sorry, Mrs. H.”

“Jesus,” Dustin groans, buttering his roll. “If you can’t even say her name then at least call her mom.”

Steve’s cheeks are on fire. “That’s not exactly up to me, Dust,” he grits out.

“Oh, dear,” Claudia sighs. “I would love for you to call me mom.”

“Then we’d be brothers,” Dustin adds, “which we basically are anyways.”

Steve snorts. “I don’t think that’s exactly how it works,” he tells Dustin, but takes a breath and smiles at Claudia. “Thanks, Mom,” he says quietly. Claudia beams back at him.

“I don’t give a damn!” Claudia yells at the hospital receptionist, who really just looks exceedingly bored.

Steve knows the look of someone who’s grabbing their pepper spray. “Mom?” He calls, wet and wobbly, and Claudia spins around, running to his side.

“Oh, Stevie,” she murmurs, gently cupping his hands. “Oh, goodness, your face- have you gotten looked at? Has someone come to see you? Where’s Dustin?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer and promptly bursts into tears. “He’s f-fine,” he manages. “Ankle. Getting- getting helped. But- Mom-”

She hushes him, pulling him down into a seat next to her. “Let it out, Steve, there you go. Mom’s here, I’ve got you.”

He finally composes himself enough to pull back and look at her. “It’s not good, Mom,” he whispers. “I tried, I really did, and I know CPR but he was losing so much blood-”

“Steve,” she stops him, “I thought you said Dustin was fine?”

“He is, it’s just his ankle, but Eddie, Mom… he’s back there, they’re doing surgery, but he- I felt-” he grabs at his own chest, and somehow Claudia knows what he means. “Oh, dear,” she murmurs, pulling him into another hug. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into his ear. “You did what you could, you kept him stable until the doctors could do their job, and now it’s their turn, okay? Let them take care of it. They’re gonna do everything they can.”

His eyes well up again. “He didn’t kill anyone, Mom.”

“Oh, I know that, sweetie. It’s okay. I never thought he did.”

“But they do!” He sniffs, wipes at his face. “And what- what if-”

She pulls his attention back to her with a hand on his face. “Did I tell you about the time a known serial killer came in?” She whispers. He shakes his head. “He’d been in an… altercation, with the police. Shots had been fired. We all knew who he was, but when he flatlined on the table, we got his heart beating again.” She grips his hand tightly. “Doctors take an oath, Steve. They’re going to do everything they can. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, letting her pull him into another hug.

“Y’wanna tell me about Eddie?”

“You know Eddie.”

“Mhm, from Dusty. I’ve never heard about him from your perspective before.”

“I didn’t really know him before today,” he admits. “I knew of him, in high school, a little bit, but then I graduated and he didn’t and then Dustin started raving about him and… I got jealous.”

“Oh, Steve.” She cards a hand through his hair. “You know Dustin will always love you. You’re brothers.”

Steve sighs. “I know, but… we’re also not. I love you more than I love the woman who birthed me, and I love Dust as much as I’d love any biological sibling I could ever have, but-”

“I know,” Claudia says. “It’s okay, dear. Keep going. Tell me about Eddie.”

“Right. So I got jealous, and then I really didn’t wanna meet him, ‘cause he actually sounded kinda cool and I’m just… me. And I know what you’re gonna say, but you’re biased as my mom.” Claudia just chuckles. “But then I met him, and… he’s really nice, Mom. He really loves the twerps. And he’s, like… kind? And I know nice and kind are synonyms but it’s different. Like he’s just… an inherently good person. That’s kind. Nice you can fake. But you can’t fake kind. Y’know?”

“I know what you mean,” she agrees.

“Okay, good. Well he’s kind. He-” Steve sniffs. “He called me a good dude.”

“Well,” Claudia says, smiling, “you are.”

Steve chuckles wetly. “I am now, maybe, but I wasn’t when we knew each other in high school, and I didn’t really expect him to say anything. And he’s so passionate, Mom, and he’s talented, and he’s selfless, but that backfired because it landed him here-”

Claudia hums, strokes a hand through his hair. “How long have you liked him?” He stiffens. “Oh, please, like I haven’t known this entire time. Honestly, Steve, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not some backwards idiot especially who thinks two boys who love each other are the greatest sin.”

“No, it- Mom, you love Robin, of course you’re fine with it, I just- I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

“Oh, Stevie,” she sighs, running her hand through his hair again. “When he gets out, are you gonna do something about it?”

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe. If- if he even wants to be friends-”

“Okay, now I know you’re talking crazy,” she teases him, grinning.

Just then Hopper walks in, looking around with wide eyes, stopping when he sees Steve. “Dad!” Steve yelps, standing and walking quickly towards him, stopping about three steps in. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, because he knows the way the room is spinning and his vision is going out.

He’s out before he hits the ground.

He wakes up later to find he didn’t hit the ground, actually; Hopper had leapt forward and caught him the second he’d stopped walking and started swaying.

He blinks bleary eyes open and finds himself looking at a ceiling tile. “What-”

“Don’t move,” comes Hopper’s voice from beside him.

He turns his head to frown at him. “Dad? What happened?”

“You passed out. Jumped outta Claudia’s arms like she’d burned you when you saw me. Much as I love you, kid, the parent’s gotta go first this time, ‘kay? No more self-sacrificing bullshit and not getting medical attention when you need it.”

“M’kay,” Steve says. “Sorry, Dad.”

Hopper puts a hand on his head. It’s comforting. “Go to sleep, kid.”

When he wakes up again, he’s more lucid. He looks around, sees Claudia asleep in the chair next to him. Looks on his other side, and his breath catches when he sees Eddie. His eyes are closed, he’s still asleep, but he’s alive.

“Mom,” he whispers, tearing his eyes away from Eddie to look at her. He feels bad, a little, waking her, but only a little because he knows she’d tear him a new one if he didn’t. “Mom.”

She starts awake and tears up when she sees him. “Stevie,” she murmurs, cradling his face with her hand.

“Mom,” he says again. “He’s here.”

Claudia chuckles. “You can thank your father and I for that one. We raised hell.”

“I bet you did,” he says appreciatively.

“And you, young man,” she says, too full of love to really be mean, “next time you tell me when you’ve been half eaten, okay? Or have you forgotten I’m a nurse?”

“Didn’t forget,” he murmurs, nudging her hand with his face. “Just wanted to stay with you.”

“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs. “You beautiful boy.”

He falls asleep again.

He wakes up again later and looks over to see Eddie also awake, and also looking at him. “Eddie,” he breathes.

It’s hard to tell from where he is, but it looks like Eddie’s blushing. “Looks like I’ve got you to thank for saving my life.”

Now Steve’s blushing. “Ah,” he eloquently says. “No, I mean, just- what anyone else would do?”

“Are you asking me?”

Oh, god, is he teasing? Steve barely survived the flirting before, but now there’s nothing else to keep his attention off Eddie, nothing else he can blame the blush on. “…I just didn’t do much,” he belatedly says.

“Bullshit.” He shifts and hisses in pain. “Fuck, those bastards got me good. But that- that’s proof, y’know?”

Steve blinks. He doesn’t know. “What?”

Eddie grins at him. The stitches in his cheek pull, but don’t tear. “That you saved me.”

Abruptly, Steve tears up. He looks away, up at the ceiling, wills the tears to stay inside. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you-”

“No,” he answers quickly. Too quickly. There’s an awkward silence now. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I- I felt your heart stop, okay?” He looks over again, knows the tears are there, knowing they’re leaking into his hairline and across the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t sure the doctors were even gonna try that hard to save you. And now you’re joking with me, and-” he takes a quick breath, holds it. Releases it slowly. “‘M just glad you’re okay,” he finally says.

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “I, uh. Didn’t think you really… cared. About me.”

“I think I care more than I should.”

Eddie takes a breath. “I’m about to say something way too brave, and I’m only saying it ‘cause we’re both in hospital beds and I’m assuming you can’t just, like, walk over and punch me.”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. But, uh. Anyways. I don’t… people don’t care about me. My uncle Wayne does, sure, and the kids, but that’s different, and- well. I’ll take whatever care you wanna give me. It won’t be too much.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “well I definitely don’t want to punch you for that, what the hell, but I hope you know you’re gonna get hugged for that as soon as I figure out how to undo all this shit.” He gestures to the tubes in his arms, and Eddie starts to laugh, then stops just as quickly with a hiss.

“Okay, abs got eaten, no laughing,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Shit, dude, stay in bed, you had like five people in here earlier who all told me specifically to not let you out of bed, though how I’m supposed to do that I dunno.”

Steve blinks over at him. “Five?”

“Well- four, now that I count. Dustin was here with his mom, he’s getting released later but was allowed out of bed for a minute and came to see us. Robin, and she looked angry, are you two, like, okay?”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, she’s just worried.”

“And then Chief Hopper, which- do you wanna explain why the actual Chief of Police was in here?”

“Ah,” Steve says, and blushes again. “He kinda, like… adopted me? Not officially, obviously, but he’s… well, I call him dad, so-”

“And Claudia?”

Steve hums. “‘S my mom. Dust’s my brother.”

Eddie snorts. “Jesus, Harrington, d’you just go around collecting people to call your parents? How many d’you have now, four?”

“Nah, just two. My parents fucked off pretty permanently by the time I was nine. And before that I had nannies when they were gone.”

Eddie blinks at him. “You- wait. Back up. You’ve been alone for the entirety of high school?”

Steve thinks. “I mean, I had Hopper, kinda, but that was before he became Dad, so… I guess?”

“Goddamn,” Eddie whispers wonderingly. “And you’re still sane?”

Steve snorts. “Jury’s out on that one, I mean I do willingly hang out with the twerps, so-”

“Fuck, don’t make me laugh, man.” He sighs. “I get it, though,” he says quietly. “Mom was an angel, but… Dad got to her, y’know? Tore her wings off, rubbed her halo in the dirt. Poured alcohol down her throat until she was dependent on it. And him. And when she-” he shakes his head. “Then it was just Dad, and he got sent away ‘cause apparently his new car wasn’t his, y’know? And I went to live with Wayne at twelve.”

“But now you’ve got Wayne.”

“Mhm.” He smiles a little. “Call ’im pops sometimes, ‘cause he’s my real dad now. Sometimes Wayne, sometimes Uncle Wayne. He doe’n’t care much.”

“What’s it like? Living with him?”

“It’s been a dream, honestly. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, and he’s got patience to rival a saint. Doesn’t care when I play my music loud, or forget to eat, or bring boy—uh, girls—over.”

Steve hums. “There’s still the house in Loch Nora, but I stay with the Hendersons most days. I tend to bring people I meet to Loch Nora, just ‘cause it’s empty, y’know? I mean, Dust’s a little shit, and he’d tease me regardless of who I brought home. Mom wouldn’t care. Hell, she’d probably give me a condom and lube,” he laughs. “And she’s teaching Dustin to be the same way. He’ll get there one day.”

“He’s a twerp,” Eddie agrees. “I didn’t know you, uh-”

“Mhm,” Steve answers. “Robin says I’m like Bowie.”

“Like Bowie- you’re bisexual?”

“That’s the one!” Steve says happily. “I can never remember the name.”

Eddie looks at him wonderingly. “Who are you, Steve Harrington?”

Eventually they get out of the hospital, and eventually they stop circling around each other. Eventually they kiss, and fall asleep on the couch, and make each other breakfast, and do certain things behind closed doors that Steve still can’t think about without blushing.

Eventually they’re outside the Munson’s trailer, working in the garden that Eddie, surprisingly, loved.

“Imma go in,” Steve says eventually. “Get a drink.”

“Alright,” Eddie says, not looking up from where he’s pulling weeds near his tomatoes. “I’ll be here.”

Steve has a bit of a headache already, and he knows drastic temperature changes don’t help. He didn’t think the trailer was that big of a difference, but it’s cool enough he’s got goosebumps breaking out along his arms almost immediately. Then he’s hit with a blast of freezing air when he opens the fridge, and his head begins to throb. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting the door and grabbing for a glass, hoping the sink water isn’t too cold.

It’s cooler than he’d like, but it’s all he’s got right now, and he knows if he doesn’t hydrate it’s going to end up worse. He chugs two glasses, sets the cup down, and goes to sit at the table, rubbing his eyes.

It gets worse almost without him realizing: one second his relatively fine, the next he’s groaning in pain, trying to block out all the light by laying his head on his forearm.

A hand on his back startles him. “Dee?”

“Wayne,” comes the gruff voice. “Not Eddie. Y’got a migraine?”

“Mhm.”

“Y’take anything for it?”

Steve waves a hand. “Had water.”

Wayne leaves for a minute, comes back and presses two pills into Steve’s hand. A glass of water is placed in front of him.

He takes the pills, squinting, and lays his head back down.

“Nuh-uh,” Wayne says, “up you get, c’mon, you’re sleepin’ this off.” Hands at his shoulders guide him out of his seat, shuffle him slowly down the hall to Eddie’s cool, dark room. Lay him down and pull the blankets over him.

Steve sighs and relaxes into the bed, cracking an eye open to look at Wayne. “Thanks, Pops,” he murmurs, then winces when Wayne freezes. “S’rry. Wayne.”

Wayne pets a hand through Steve’s hair. “Pops works just fine,” he says. “I’ll tell Ed you’re in here.”

“M’kay,” Steve breathes, and lets himself fall asleep.

They’re at Hopper’s cabin, an annual We Saved the World semi-party that usually ends in at least one disagreement.

Eddie’s got most of the kids corralled away in the living room, with promises of an epic one-shot. The adults, Steve, Max, and El are in the kitchen.

He doesn’t know who started it, but someone teases him, and Hopper ruffles his hair with another jab. “Dad,” he complains good-naturedly, laughing.

“Steve?” El asks.

“Yeah?” He looks at her.

“Hopper is your dad.”

Steve glances at Hopper, who’s listening, but making no move to answer. “I mean… not, like, biologically, but yeah.”

“Me too,” El says. “Are you my brother, then?”

Steve flounders. “I- I guess if you want me to be?”

“You’re a good brother to Dustin,” she answers. “I haven’t had any good brothers besides Will, and we are the same age. I would like a good older brother.”

He smiles, tugs her into a hug. “I guess I’m your brother, then.”

She goes willingly. “Does that mean Joyce is your mom too?” She looks up at him, big eyes serious. “She is a good mom.”

“Uh,” Steve says, “that’s kinda up to Joyce.”

“Oh, honey,” Joyce says, because of course everyone had stopped talking the moment El had started. “Why don’t you call me Mama J?”

Steve smiles bashfully, accepting her hug. “Sounds good to me.”

When he tells Eddie later, his boyfriend laughs. “You really do collect parents!”

[scorpireads]

For a few weeks, Claudia thinks that she’s collecting her son from the hospital after he’s visited Max Mayfield.

Then she finds out that’s only partly the truth.

Usually Dustin’s already waiting in the parking lot for her, Steve by his side. They chat, Steve insisting that he could drive Dustin home, it’s no trouble, and Claudia thanks him for the offer, kindly refuses; the poor boy looks run ragged these days.

One day neither of them are there, so she heads inside. There’s still a long line at reception, the aftermath of the earthquake, so she finds a nurse in a corridor, describes Dustin—my boy, about this high, curly hair (smiles like the sun, she wants to add)—and the nurse smiles, says, “Follow me, ma’am.”

She has a passing thought that this isn’t the direction to Max’s room, but reasons that she must’ve been moved. The nurse leaves her at the door before being called away.

Claudia opens the door quietly.

It’s not Max who’s in the bed.

She recognises him from the posters—his eyes first, then his long hair. He’s holding a battered copy of The Hobbit, the spine broken, and he’s reading so softly that she can’t quite make out the words.

And there, lying so peacefully against Eddie Munson’s shoulder, is Dustin. He’s fast asleep.

Eddie’s got an arm around him, and he’s slowly running his fingers through Dustin’s hair the way she used to when he was little, to help him drift off.

He looks up from his book at the sound of her entering the room, and his face goes as white as the bedsheets.

She takes one step forward.

Eddie inhales, breath stuttering, and it’s a fragile, heartbreaking sound.

Dustin stirs. “Hmm? Wha’s wrong?” He lifts his head up from Eddie’s shoulder, and his eyes meet Claudia’s, and he’s suddenly wide awake, scrabbling upright. “Mom.”

Eddie’s mouth keeps moving, like he’s desperately searching for words. “I-I’m not—” His breathing catches again, eyes wide; Claudia realises, with a heavy heart, that he’s deeply afraid of her. “It’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”

“Mom,” Dustin says again. Pleading.

And of course, Claudia never once believed the frenzied cries about Satanic rituals. Still, throughout that awful Spring Break, knowing that her son was lying to her, all she could think was that she was once a teenager, too—remembered how easy it could be to get caught up in something scary, something beyond your control.

She looks into Eddie Munson’s eyes, and knows deep in her bones that she has nothing to fear from him.

She beckons Dustin over, hands him the car keys.

“There’s a pillow on your seat, hon,” she says softly, because there’s a sleepy haze returning to his eyes despite his obvious concern for Eddie.

Dustin blinks, so unsure.

She smiles reassuringly. It’s okay. I promise.

“Okay,” Dustin says slowly, and he looks back at Eddie, raising his eyebrows like he wants to convince him of something. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t speak.

He lifts his hand in a weak wave as Dustin leaves. It’s shaking. Claudia sits down by the bed. Puts her hand in his.

Eddie stares at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what we did to you.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You didn’t—” He clears his throat. “It wasn’t you.”

Claudia shakes her head, too, slowly—prays that he can really hear this. “No, no, please. Listen to me. I’m so sorry.”

It would be an easy thing to say, that the town of Hawkins wronged Eddie Munson. But that would make it sound so impersonal: like it was inevitable, just one of these tragic things that happened, nothing to be done about it. Like earthquakes.

But that wasn’t true. People were behind this, and Claudia knows that they are all the town, every single one of them. And what did it say about them, that the fear and mistrust and cruelty spread like wildfire? That not one adult in the town hall stood up, begged people to stop, to think again?

“Th-thank you,” Eddie says. It sounds so uncertain, almost like a question.

Claudia squeezes his hand. “You were with Dustin, weren’t you?” she asks. “When the earthquake…”

His hand is shaking again.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I-I’m sorry, I—” He swallows. “I didn’t want a-anything to happen to him.”

“Oh, honey.” She reaches out cautiously, and when he doesn’t freeze up, she cups his cheek; her heart breaks at the rough indent of a scar beneath her palm. “You’re not God.”

Eddie reaches up, pressing her hand further against his cheek. He’s crying.

Claudia wipes his tears away as much as she can. She keeps up a steady murmur: “Shh, shh. I know you kept him as safe as you could. I know, I know. Shh.”

When he starts to calm, she thanks him again, but for something lighter.

“Dusty… he was so nervous, starting high school. But his first day, when I picked him up, all he could talk about was getting invited to have lunch with… well, a club.” Claudia smiles. “Oh, he was talking a mile a minute, I could hardly keep up. But I… oh, Eddie, I understand now. That was you.”

Eddie grins back. His cheeks are still wet.

“I didn’t do much,” he says. “You’ve…” For a moment, his eyes fill up again, but they look like happy tears. “You’ve got some kid, Mrs Henderson. He’s—he’s a real gem.”

She laughs. “Oh, I know.”

It’s one of the many things she loves about Dustin: that he’s always been so unashamedly, so joyously himself.

And Eddie had clearly seen that in him, had taken him in and nurtured everything that made him so.

The door abruptly slams open.

Steve’s in the doorway; he must’ve been running, is still gasping for breath as he says, panicked, “Claudia, I can—”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, and that’s all.

But it’s clearly enough, because Steve’s shoulders drop in relief, and then he’s shutting the door, coming to Eddie’s bedside like he belongs there, and Eddie’s smiling at him, so tenderly…

And oh, she was young, once. She knows what she’s looking at.

Of course, she doesn’t mention it, can still sense some residual anxiety radiating from them.

Instead she looks around the room, spots a pile of laundry in the corner. It’s been stuffed into a bag; she recognises that as belonging to Steve, but there’s some shirts in there that are definitely Eddie’s, entwined with Steve’s things.

She stands, but before she can even pick up the bag, it seems like Steve’s read her mind, because he’s stepping forward, stopping her with a touch to her forearm.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’m taking care of it, Claudia.”

She pats his cheek, lingers there until he smiles. “I know, sweetheart. But… would you let me? It’s the least I can do.”

Eddie reaches up from the bed, squeezes Steve’s elbow. Steve sighs, briefly leaning into him.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s… thank you.”

“As long as you do one thing for me.”

“Of course,” Steve says immediately. “Anything.”

Claudia brings out a notepad and pen from her bag. “Write me a list? Anything you’d like, I’ll be shopping anyway.” She looks Steve in the eyes, adds firmly but with a smile, “It’s no trouble.”

Steve takes the notepad, twirls the pen hesitantly.

“Anything you’d like,” Claudia repeats. She glances at Eddie, says, “You know, if you want a different shampoo than what they have here, things like that, or—”

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Eddie says quickly. “Whatever’s on sale is—”

“I know, honey,” Claudia says patiently, “but what would you actually like?”

The last extended hospital stay she’d had was fifteen years ago; Dustin had been a preemie, and one of the few things that kept her calm was the familiar: scents, food, people…

Steve chuckles. “I’ve got it.” He writes on the notepad, and Eddie must be able to read it, because he suddenly turns a little pink.

“How did you know that?”

Steve shrugs, smiles. “I notice things.” He writes down just a couple more things, then hands the list back. “Thank you so much, Claudia.”

“Any time, sweetie, I mean it.” She hugs Steve goodbye, then reaches one last time for Eddie’s hand on the bedspread. “It was lovely to meet you, Eddie. Hope you can go home soon.”

“Yeah, me—me too. Thank you, Mrs Hend—” Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie stops. Smiles. “Thank you, Claudia.”

She looks back once to shut the door behind her. Steve’s pulling up a chair, as close as he can get, and as the door closes, she hears him tut softly, gently swiping at the remaining trail of tears on Eddie’s face: “Hey, what—?”

They look like they belong together. Dustin’s boys.

Dustin’s asleep in the car, pillow pressed against the window. Claudia puts the bag of laundry in the trunk before quietly slipping into her seat.

Dustin wakes anyway as they drive out of the parking lot. “Eddie… okay?”

“He is, honey. Steve’s with him.”

“Mm… good.” There’s a pause, and Claudia thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then he says, tentative, “Mom?”

“Yes, Dusty?”

“If I tell you something… d’you promise to keep it private?”

“As long as it’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s not,” Dustin says firmly. “Um. Steve and Eddie, I think… I think they’re…”

Claudia smiles, nods encouragingly. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Dustin hums in agreement. “They’ve not told me. Did I… do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You just keep doing what you’re doing.” Claudia feels a lump in her throat. “You’re a good friend.”

Dustin makes an uncertain noise.

“You are, baby. They love you very much, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Dustin sighs. “I know.” His eyes are closing.

“Sorry, baby, just before you sleep—are there any candies Steve and Eddie like?”

Dustin nods. “Eddie likes anything sweet. An’ Steve…” He yawns. “Anything w’peanut butter.”

“Great. Thank you, honey.”

Dustin’s already asleep.

Claudia knows that even with what she’s learned today, she still only has half a story, if that. That there’s something more to Dustin’s exhaustion, to just how Eddie ended up in a hospital bed.

Today, she’ll do all she can. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Laundry and shopping, reading the brand of shampoo Steve wrote with a careful eye. She’ll fill her cart up with treats, things that won’t solve anything; they might make staying in that hospital room just a little easier, though. Make it feel a little warmer, a little more like home.

But first, she’ll take her boy home; she’ll park the car as close to the front door as she can get, and when he doesn’t stir, she’ll run a hand through his hair, gently put him to bed.

[scorpireads]

Oh moony..... You and your foot on your mouth, if i were yn i'd not let him get off the hook that easy but damn i too would fell in love with him ig so that makes sense

you and me.

REMUS LUPIN X FEM!READER | fluff

summary: the aftermath of fake dating. | kofi

Can I feel sad over breaking up with someone I never dated? Remus thought, sipping his glass of butterbeer.

Gryffindor had won their gazillionth Quidditch match in a row, and the party was in full swing. He might be the only person not intoxicated, but the urge to let that record go became more and more persistent when he watched you laughing with that blonde prick from Ravenclaw.

Why are Ravenclaws even allowed in here? Didn't they freaking lose to Gryffindor?

"Yeah mate, but Darcy is an exception 'cause our Y/N likes him," Sirius explained, his words slurring.

"Did I say that out loud?" Remus wondered, looking at his butterbeer. "This is my first glass. How can I be drunk already?"

"My beautiful girlfriend," James sighed, patting Lily's head — who was already asleep on his lap. "Had the beautiful idea to do a Refill Charm on all utensils, so your first glass will always stay your first glass."

Remus groaned. "For Prefects, you guys do a lot of troublemaking."

"Hogwarts nearing its end, Moony," James said dreamily, his eyes soft as can be. "It's the season to let all hell break loose."

Remus grunted something inaudible, which Sirius found funny. He fell from the couch laughing.

"Woah, woah," James turned his mom-mode on. "No more refilling glass for you, Pads."

"Take it away from him first," Sirius pointed at Lupin. "He's the one crying over his ex-girlfriend."

"I thought they were just fake-dating?"

"We were!" Remus said defensively.

"For Darcy to get jealous?"

"Yes."

"And he did get jealous so they broke up?"

"We all know the story, thank you very much."

"Oh my god Sirius, do you think Remus fell in love with Y/N while they were fake dating?"

"Can you please stop talking like I'm not here!" Lupin said, throwing his hands up in protest. "Y/N is dumb to go after him and I would never like her. Most importantly, I do not like that asshole Darcy, who got the name and character of an egoistic 18th-century pig! She only liked him because he's hot and popular!"

Silence fell among your friends, one that seemed like he was in trouble. Following their line of gaze, he turned around to see you towering over him, your hands on your hips and an unmistakable hurt look.

"Y/N—"

"Is that what you think of me?" you asked softly, anger slowly tinting your voice. "And of Darcy? You helped me get him jealous and now you think he's a pig?"

"I'm drunk?" Remus tried helplessly.

"You think I went after him because he's popular and hot?!"

"Well, he is popular and hot—"

"I haven't even gone on one date with him yet and you guys are already talking shit about me!?"

"It was just Remus!" Sirius said defensively. Remus shot him a sharp glare.

"I cannot fucking believe you guys!"

You stormed off before Lupin could open his mouth again.

"For what it's worth," Marlene said earnestly. "I do think he's a pig. He's been dating that Slytherin girl on the down low. Real casual, everyone says."

Remus sat up straight. "What about Y/N then?"

"Well, my sources say he already tried asking her out on a date. And she said no."

"What, why?"

"Girls tell girls and they tell more girls. My guess is she found out about the Slytherin girl and didn't want to get involved in their mess."

"Then why on earth would she bring him to this party?" Remus asked in exasperation. "Why does she have to be so confusing!?"

Marlene shrugged.

--------------------------------------------------

Once you get mad at someone, you shut them out completely. Being your close friend, Remus knew this already, but he never expected to be on the receiving end. Over the next few days, you mysteriously disappeared whenever he saw you and never sat next to him in classes. While eating, you always came in late and sat two rows of people down, and while he tried to come up and talk to you, you'd disappear yet again.

If he didn't know better, he would have thought you mastered how to disapparate within the Hogwarts wall itself.

After Potions class one day, Remus was more determined than usual. He stayed behind when he spotted you clearing a doubt with Professor Slughorn. He'd just have to ambush you when that was done.

"You're wasting your time," Lily came by his side. "Slughorn talks her ears out for hours. And if she sees you, she'll just run to the loo, which happens to be just down the hallway."

"We're not in first year! She wouldn't be that childish."

"Oh, don't let her hear you that."

Remus sighed. "Alright, fuck it."

"Wha—?"

Before Lily could finish that question, Remus barged over to the front desk, where you were talking animatedly to Slughorn. Your eyes widened when you saw him, but before you could react, he bent down and scooped you up, and threw you over his shoulders. His werewolf strength had never been more helpful.

You yelped in surprise, but he walked off before Slughorn could react.

"Let me down!" you yelled, but he remained as quiet as ever. The last thing you saw before you talked out of that room was Lily trying to hold back a laugh.

------

Remus put you down when he reached an empty classroom, and he closed the door behind him before you could pull another disappearing act.

"You have got to stop acting like a kid!" he started, completely ignoring what Lily had said.

"Excuse me?" you scoffed, though you felt a little embarrassed yourself. "You're the one who basically called me dumb for liking a freaking guy!"

"He is a dumb guy. I didn't call you dumb. I just called the act of liking him dumb."

"How is that any different, Lupin?"

"Wow!" Remus laughed, though he looked anything but friendly. "One fight and I'm on last name basis? Over your fucking boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Then why the hell did you bring him to the party?!"

"I didn't! He came with Alice, you utter buffoon!"

That shut him up. But you weren't finished.

"You're always quick to judge and I never thought you'd include me in that list and—"

"Y/N—"

"—no, you listen to me. If I did go on a date with someone, it's none of your business since you said you'd never like me. So stop pretending like my fucking boyfriend because we stopped that act weeks ago! He and I are no more than friends than you and I are!"

Whatever he was about to say choked and died away in his throat. You felt guilty, though you didn't know why.

"No more than you and me." Remus gritted his teeth. "Makes sense."

You watched him walk away in all kinds of feelings. But before you could call out, before you could react in any way, he stopped and turned.

"Ah, fuck it," he said for the second time that day and walked straight back to you.

You felt his hold on your face and then his lips were on yours. Your eyes widened before closing altogether. You grabbed him by his collar and kissed him back, as hurried and passionate as him.

"Still friends?" he asked in between the kisses, picking you up again to put you on top of the benches.

"Not by a long shot," you smiled against his lips, pulling him closer.

----------------------

Lily's face was red when she reached the common room.

"What happened?" James asked, sitting up straight.

"Next time we have a meeting with Dumbledore, we should ask him to soundproof the dungeons." She said, shuddering.

[scorpireads]

— warnings: stalker!rhiannon. i guess. i mean, is it really stalking if the original intent is killing you? speaking of which: violence. murder. etc. etc. you name it. she’s a serial killer so. duh. obsessive!rhiannon. gn!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

— a/n: saw this post by @spidermasc and felt insane inspired!!

obsessive!rhiannon whose obsession with you starts like any of her usual kill lists: you work at the gazette too, holding the position rhiannon has been pursuing for ages. she's put in so much hard work to get this job and felt certain she had it secured. that’s until you came along and took it from her. so, obviously, this lands you a spot on all of rhiannon’s mental kill lists.

obsessive!rhiannon who puts effort into the perfect plan: she follows you home, finds out exactly where you live, what you like and dislike, at what time the light goes off behind the windows of your apartment. she finds your socials too (accidentally likes one of your posts, then impulsively blocks you and uses a fake account from this point forward)…she learns your schedules for weeks, always following you around from a safe distance and plotting the perfect plan to kill you. she spends an excessive amount of time picturing it and only makes it through her shifts with the thought of you on her mind.

obsessive!rhiannon who finally wants to get it over with. so, she waits around the office, knowing you sometimes work late (stupidly hardworking job thief, she thinks), and follows you all the way to the canal towpath which you usually take on your way home.

obsessive!rhiannon who has it all planned out, down to the smallest detail. she’s got her beloved knife ready, her fingers wrapped around the handle in the pocket of her coat. it’s all perfect, until it’s suddenly not: when a drunk guy approaches you from the shadows, rhiannon has to stand back and watch from a distance. the interaction ends with you rushing away to the safety of your home, as he shouts drunken nonsense after you. of course, rhiannon has to kill him for ruining her perfect plan now. —and definitely not because he’d approached you with god knows what in mind. definitely not because she feels a surge of possessiveness wash over her. you’re her perfect victim. hers for taking, not anyone else’s.

obsessive!rhiannon who grows extremely protective over you without even really noticing. fine, she thinks after that first encounter, she’ll find another way to kill you. except that, the next time she follows you home, there’s a whole group of men ogling you as you walk past. one who actually starts following you. one whose body will be found in the canal weeks later. you hear about it, of course, about the bodies found in the area where you live. little do you know that they’re both linked directly to you.

obsessive!rhiannon who thinks about you all the time and whose kill lists start to contain all the names of people who might’ve wronged you in the past: the people you go to the pub with, who talk behind your back the moment you leave. the checkout lady at the supermarket who’s always unnecessarily rude to everyone -but especially to you. one of your coworkers who’s been ignoring rhiannon with a passion but flirts with you whenever they get the chance…and the list goes on.

obsessive!rhiannon who learns where you keep your spare keys hidden, so she sneaks into your house while you’re out, just to be in your space: coming home to the scent of your perfume lingering when you definitely didn’t put any on that day, and your bed messy and unmade.

obsessive!rhiannon who takes her sweet time to wander around your empty flat, studying your surroundings: the dishes in the sink, the pictures on your fridge, your notebooks and pens scattered across your desk, the pile of clothes on your floor…

…obsessive!rhiannon who snoops through them until she finds your underwear. rhiannon who feels so dirty for it and still shoves the piece of clothing into her pocket to take it with her. she lays down on your bed afterwards, her face nuzzling your pillow until the only thing she can sense is your scent. before she knows it, she has put your pillow between her legs, humping it in until she creams her pants <33

obsessive!rhiannon who keeps your underwear in her pocket until she’s back in her own home. only then, in her own bed, does she get it out, either covering her face with it as she touches herself or straight up rubbing herself raw with the fabric. (omg rhiannon who sees you on a date and, even though she promised herself not to, goes back to your apartment at night and steals the underwear you wore for your date.)

obsessive!rhiannon who has to lock herself up in the office restroom because she will leak through her pants/skirt if she doesn’t get to fuck herself to the thought of you, that’s what the mere sight of you does to her horny, desperate ass.

obsessive!rhiannon who has no idea how to actually approach you, though. she’s so protective over you, has done all of these things to look after you, and yet you don’t even know her name. she doesn’t have the slightest clue how to change that either :(( obsessive!rhiannon who’s lowkey sooo awkward!!

you obviously do notice, eventually: that your underwear is missing, that you’re overcome with a strange sense that someone is watching you, that somebody leaves notes on your desk and/or sends you anonymous emails to your business account…it’s just that you have no idea who’s behind all of it.

── c.ai link

also, if anyone has any rhiannon thoughts/requests they would like to share; please know my inbox is a safe space!! otherwise i will keep violating my notes app 😆

[scorpireads]

lowkey only logging in for the smut, cant find it elsewhere like this place frfr

[scorpireads]

Oh hunny youre halfway on the 6th, its been hell

oh a little update, entering 5th semester rn and fuck it all i want to burn the whole shit idk if I'm strong enough for this

[scorpireads]

omg hello??? Its been a fucking while.....

[scorpireads]

delicate - m. murdock

        

a/n: hi everyone :) it's been a while since i posted here but i am back with a fic on my latest hyperfixation! hopefully you all enjoy it and i appreciate any feedback you have on this little passion piece :) warnings: slight nsfw (no real smut but making out, teasing, etc) below the cutt, slight power dynamic because matt is readers boss, afab reader with no specific characterstics, shy!reader, matt being a tease, suggestive fluff ! lmk if i missed any! word count: 1228           now playing: delicate by taylor swift “is it cool that I said all that? / is it chill that you’re in my head?’

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Every time you look up, it’s like he’s already looking at you—Every time.

            It’s honestly beginning to creep you out, and you’ve been meaning to bring it up with him privately, really, you swear every time you find yourself alone with him, you want to discuss it. Except every time you want to, he’s kissing you before you can find the words.

            Matt Murdock cannot get enough of your lips, and he’s starting to worry he might have to check himself into rehab, pray, something, anything, to stop his growing addiction to you.

            Like right now— Foggy was on lunch with Marci, eating peacefully in his office. Karen had run out to investigate a possible lead on a case the firm had just picked up. When Matt had called you into his office, you, half distracted with the papers that were in your hands, didn’t think of the possibility of ulterior motives on the man’s part.

            He closed the door behind you as you kept reading the papers, muttering something about how you knew that a break in the case was quickly approaching, before turning to him.             And he’s just looking at you.

            “Everything okay there?” You ask, the papers landing on his desk, as he hums, a playful smirk on his lips.

            “Just thinking about how beautiful you are, sweetheart.” He charms, and you just scoff, your throat drying, heart racing, face flushing.

            “You don’t even know what I look like.” You defend, leaning against his desk. He hums, slowly approaching you, maybe even stalking you, wanting to make sure you won’t run off if he gets too close. He gets close enough to you where you almost want to run away, just as he fears you will. It’s not that you don’t adore the proximity, it’s just that Matt has a way of making you nervous, even shy. Which was not like you at all—Sure, you were never particularly popular in school, but everyone knew you and you were liked. When you got the job at Nelson, Murdock & Page, Karen and Foggy became friends of yours instantly, your wit drawing them in like a moth to a flame.

            But the man with the red glasses had made you nervous.

            It was as if he knew it too, despite his lack of vision, because he was cocky about it. And holy shit, if that didn’t make you want him more. So, when he finally kissed you last month, in the back of Josie’s dingy dive bar, it was almost impossible to come up for air. And he only chuckled when he heard your shaky breath, telling you to relax as he began to press kisses along your jaw, cheek and neck.

            You haven’t come up for air since.

            He finally stopped moving when he was just in front of you, before wrapping his arms around your waist, hoisting you into his desk. Then, his hands traveled down to your thighs, humming at the soft feeling of your skin, radiating this nervous heat about you. He stepped between your legs, hands never leaving your thighs, and brought his forehead to yours.

            You quietly, a little in awe of him, reached up, removing his glasses from his face, to admire his pretty brown eyes.

            The papers on his desk have been long since forgotten.

            “You’re right, sweetheart, I don’t. But maybe you could tell me.” He said, taking your hands in his.

            You let out a nervous giggle, and it made him grin.

            “This is funny to you? I’m trying to romance my girl, and you’re laughing?” That has you laughing again, and he lets out a chuckle to accompany it.

            My girl, he had said.

            “I’m sorry,” You started, “You just make me so damn nervous. I’m not used to this.” You explain, and he lets out a sympathetic hum.  

            “Mm, I know, baby. But you’ve still got to tell me what you look like.” He says softly.

            You exhale, taking his hands and bringing them up to your face. First, you bring his left hand to your hair, letting him play with the ends of it. You tell him the color and let him feel the texture and length of it for himself. Then both hands come back to your face and cup your cheeks.

            “Your cheeks are very warm... Am I making you shy?” He asks, that teasing tone lingering in the question.

            You scoff softly at him, before you bring his right pointer finger to your nose, running it along the shape of it, so he can imagine it well. “This is my nose.” Then you close your eyes, and bring his fingertips up to your eyes, describing the color of them for him before adding, “I use these for looking at my very hot boss, who has every idea of the effect he has on me.” You grin.

            “Sounds like a dick.” He quips, his fingers landing on your cheeks again.

            “Mm, sometimes.” You joke back. Then, you guide his fingertips towards your lips, “And these are my lips... You know all too well what they can do.” At your teasing, it’s his turn to exhale shakily.

            “Do you know how badly I want you when you say things like that, sweetheart?” He asks, and you make a noise of faux confusion. It makes him chuckle—not in the same lighthearted way as before, though, there’s something darker about it now.

            Not that you have much time to process that, because suddenly he’s kissing you, his hands back on your thighs, and you react quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him close. When he breaks the kiss for air, just for a moment, it’s torture, enough to have you grab his tie and pull him in for another, and another.

            It’s been a while since you’ve come up for air, remember?

            After a few more minutes of kissing, you with all his passion he might save for other facets of his life, Matt’s hands travel up your thighs, pushing your skirt up, and he pulls away, a whine coming from your lips.

            “Sh, sh, sh... Easy, sweetheart. Gotta breath remember?” He says soft, and you hum in acknowledgement. “Good. Good girl for me... Isn’t that right?” And you just hum again, but he tuts in disapproval. “Gotta hear you say it for me, sweet girl.”

            “Yeah...” You finally say, “Always wanna be your best girl.” You manage out. It makes him smile, and he steps away, taking your hand and leading you off the desk. He pulls your skirt back down, and you fix your hair, before grabbing his hand. He looks at you quizzically, before you start to fix his tie.

            He grins when he realizes and presses a kiss to your forehead, before telling you gently, in the quiet solitude of his office, where no one can hear you and no one is any wiser to what you were just doing, “Be a good girl for me for the rest of the day, and I’ll take such good care of you when we get home. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

            It’s almost too much for you, but you manage out a small, “Of course, honey.”

            He’s still smiling when he says, “That’s my girl.” Before kissing your head again, and opening the door, beginning your countdown to when you finally get back to his apartment.

[scorpireads]

PLAY DATE- P.B PARKER

Pairing:  Peter Parker x Innocent!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: you’ve had a crush on peter for quite time now, and when he shows up for your guys weekly study session, he walks on something he probably… shouldn’t have.

Warnings: pillow riding, innocence/ corruption kink, pet names, smut implied, peter fucks readers mouth with his fingers, swearing, masturbation

Note: this is so self indulgent. peter pls be my chem partner!1!1! the readers experience with chem relates to my own, as in freshman year i broke a bunsen burner and nearly set the school in fire on top of almost frying my eyebrows off, and the fire department got called. not my brightest moment! it still haunts me all these years later. ANYWHO this was inspired by the song play date by melanie martinez <3  as always, enjoy!

-claire bear

It was adorable- truly. 

The way you looked at Peter. 

Your small, shy little smiles and your little waves to him in the halls made his heart flutter. You had always been extra sweet to him, ever since the two of you were partnered together for chemistry.

  Can I sit here? That sweet, quiet voice was still music to his ears. Peter was a whizz at chemistry, there was no doubt about it. 

You on the other hand, not so much. It’s not that you were bad at it for say, you just got distracted easily. Instead of mixing the right chemicals, or measuring anything, you’d often throw stuff over a bunsen burner and call it your “special potion”, looking up at him with those doe eyes and a smile. 

It never got dangerous, because Peter was always there to supervise, often teasing you while he helped clean up your messes. 

The tic-tac-toe matches in your notebook turned into little notes and smiley faces during lectures. Because the two of you were partners, you often had group projects. Peter would always come over to your house, waving hello to your mom before trudging up the stairs to meet your face adorned with a wistful smile, pen and homework in hand. 

It was always safer in your room, as Peter would joke because there were no chemicals or open flames. You’d often respond to this with a playful slap of your notebook, giggling away to his jokes instead of getting any actual work done. 

You drove Peter insane and you didn’t even realise it. 

The flirtatious little jokes, your sweet smile you always had plastered on your face whenever you saw him and the outfits you wore drove him mad. 

Especially the outfits. 

Your style came straight out of a comic book, and he adored it. You often wore a white button-down with a short skirt, knee-high socks and Mary Janes to complete it. Every day he had to resist the urge to slid his hand under the lab bench and stroke your inner thigh and play with the little bows that sat upon your socks, Every day he had to fight the urge to slip his hand up your skirt when you had to bend down to get the safely goggles from the bottom cabinet. And every day he had to resist the urge to palm himself whenever you walked in the room, that damn blush tinted across your cheeks.

 He wondered if you’d be flustered like you were when raising your hand to answer a question if he was holding your head into that pretty pink pillow that was on your bed as he fucked you so hard you cried. 

Peter tried so hard to think innocent thoughts when you were around, but he just couldn’t. 

You were so innocent it made him painfully hard, whenever someone would make a dirty joke and you’d tilt your head in confusion instead of laughing. He shouldn’t feel this way towards you, he shouldn’t want to corrupt you so badly. 

But he couldn’t get you off his mind. 

You were like a drug, something he craved relentlessly.

—————————————————————————————————-

Like a buyer getting his fix, he stood outside your house again, not able to stay away. In his defence, the two of you did have a project to work on. But he was here earlier than normal.

 No cars were in the driveway. Only your bike lay propped up by the closed garage, the only indicator that you were home. Shrugging, he set his skateboard by the door, kicking lightly. No answer. 

He knocked again. Knock knock knock! No answer. He opened the door a tad, glancing around at the empty foyer. 

Slipping inside, he took off his shoes and decided to head up to your room, the one place he knew in this house like the back of his hand. There was no Mrs. Y/L/N to wave to this afternoon, so he continued his trek up the wooden stairs. 

Then he stopped. 

There was a muffled noise coming from behind a door, he realised. Your door. 

He slowly crept up the stairs, attempting to make out your muffled noises. Gently, he pushed open the door to poke his head inside, to make sure you were okay and that nothing was wrong. 

That’s when he saw it.

—————————————————————————————————-

You didn’t mean for Peter to see you this way. 

You didn’t mean for him to see you humping the pillow and gripping it like it was your lifeline as you slid your panties over the fabric, emitting tingles on your clothed core. It just felt so good. 

A small wet patch had formed on the pink satin case, and you had thought nothing of it, just focusing on how good you felt. You didn’t care about your stuffed teddy bear Mr. Snuggles watching you judgingly.

 All you could think about was Peter, so much so you couldn’t help a moan of his name as you continued to ride the pillow. Not even bothering to change out of your school uniform, you allowed the friction of the fabric to spread the tingles, giving you a sense of euphoria. 

Little “uhs uhs” escaped your parted lips as the dampness between your thighs began to grow- and that’s when you saw him. Peter stood at the doorway, eyes wide and in shock. 

Immediately, your cheeks became heated, and you scrambled off the pillow in a hurry, frantic and afraid. “Peter I am so sorry-” you spat out, anxiety filling your tone as he slipped in your room and shut the door quietly behind him. 

“Shhhh princess. It’s okay. Don’t get shy.” he murmured, stepping closer to your quivering frame. Peter towered over you as he let his schoolbag slump to the ground, reaching his hand up to cup your chin, stroking his thumb on your lower lip.

 “It just appears somebody needed to get off hmm?” You nodded frantically, at a loss for words. You melted into his touch like butter, his soft gentle caresses making you go soft. 

“ Needy lil thing. I’m here now baby don’t worry.” he cooed, eyes soft and warm. His gaze was so loving you felt your body go taut, and you were overwhelmed with the feeling of him. Your lips wrapped around his thumb, and you sucked on it like you often did your own when you were overwhelmed or confused.

 Peter’s eyes darkened a shade, a coy smirk appearing on his face at your sudden actions. “ So pretty for me. Do you think you can finish the mess you started baby? Give me a show?” You let go of his thumb with a pop, a string of saliva attached to it from your plump lips. 

“Yes Peter.” you compiled, wanting to do anything this man asked of you. The way he looked right now, dark chocolate hair tousled and messy, his eyes wide and lust filled, lips parted and eager… you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to.

 A squeal escaped your lips as his hands snaked down to grip your thighs to pick you up, lifting you with ease as he set you back on the bed with your wet stained pillow. He sat behind you as you straddled it once more, catching sight of the two of you in your vanity mirror. 

“That’s where you’re going to look at me while I help you okay? I’ll make you feel so good I promise.”

 “It tingles so bad Pete.” you whined as his hands rested on your hips, beginning to set the pace for you to grind against the pillow again. “I know baby. I’ll take all the tingles away pretty girl. Can you tell me what you were thinking about before I got here?” he pressed, hands starting to rub little circles on your hips as you moved. 

“ I was thinking about you- Oh!” you cried as he shifted the pillow, the friction against your tingling clit making you squirm. “ What about me princess?” he pressed, smirking as he saw the wet patch get larger and larger with each roll of your hips through the mirror.

 “ Was thinking about how pretty you are.” 

“ Well isn’t that adorable.” he cooed gently, lifting you up slightly to bounce on the pillow. Moans and whines continued to escape your lips as he guided you against the fabric, your core on fire. Peter’s gaze narrowed in on your tits bouncing through the reflection, just begging to be free from the white cotton draped across them.

 “ Wanna see your pretty lil tits after this baby, wanna fuck em with my cock.” he growled, glossy eyes meeting yours. “Peter it- uh-uh- it tinglessss- so ba-d ohh god!” You were a whining blubbering mess at this point, unable to think a coherent thought. 

All you could think of was Peter, and how kind he was being to you right now, helping the tingles go away. You’d give him anything he wanted after this, striving to make him happy. This was exactly how he wanted you, blissed out and unable to think. Your mouth was hanging open, the pleasure too much. 

Two fingers soon filled it, slowly sliding in and out of you as you stuck your tongue out to allow him access. Gagging noises filled the room as he spurred you on, praising you of how you were his good little girl, his good little toy. 

Salvia trickled down your chin, your juices seeping down to the little pink bows that adorned your socks. “You gonna cum for me baby?” You nodded the best you could with his fingers in your mouth and he grinned, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Cum for me silly lil thing.” he cooed lightly. You came with a cry, juices squirting everywhere. 

You felt as if you were on cloud nine, your legs shaking and eyes rolling back to the whites as his hand left your mouth, slowly wrapping around your throat gently. “God fuck princess.” he moaned at the sight of you, your juices seeping through the pillow and coating your thighs.

 “ Now I wanna see those pretty little tits. I got plans for em baby.”

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peter parker tag list ( (let me know if you want to be removed and or added, or if i forgot to add you!): @phildunphyisadilf , @sonnydevils , @reyathens @ph1na @lassmich1 @myrapottah @s0upisgood @ayleehweasleyobrien @littlepeanut03 @moo-b1tch @gaiaparker @zaddygrinch8756 @lilostif16 @withahintofpestoaioli @froggyy06 @fangirling-galore @lup1nsl0v4 @fearlessritz29 

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do you ever watch videos of youtubers reading their own crappy wattpad x self insert fics and think to yourself man i would love to explain the sold to one direction trope to these kids, it would absolutely break them

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oh a little update, entering 5th semester rn and fuck it all i want to burn the whole shit idk if I'm strong enough for this

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sometimes i wonder about marriages.

like, what do you have to do to make other people not to get tired of you?

how do you know if the other's feeling secure in the relationship?

do you, do you stay because you love them or do you stay because you respect them?

or do you just stay because of the children?

could love really lasts that long?

and for those older people(couple) who (i know) can't stand with their own spouses do you just... stay there? in the marriage? because i just kinda know my grandparents are very fucking different than the other amd it just made me wonder, do they stick together bc they love each other or is it out of obligation? or is it just respect? I can't get over how my nan always yells or give snide remarks towards him. I hate her, she's always so negative.

I just dont get how this works, and what if it's my bloody time to marry but i just can't get.... through whatever the fuck it is?

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TURVIIIIII HI OMFG I'M SO SORRY I KNOW I'M SO LATE BUT I'M SO PROUD FR YOU DESERVE IT ALL

Ok so something weird happened. I saw 4 days ago that I was reaching to 600 followers and I will have time to plan celebration but boom

I reached 700 followers. Crazy how quickly the numbers grew man. Crazy. Ok I know there are slow updates from my side but I'll post the fics soon ok. Thank you to the people who sent me asks for being patient with me. I love you guys.

Special thanks to: @fieldofsecretss @milivanili99 @moon-witchs-world @misschanadlerbong @scorpireads @sageskisses444 @igncrantbliss @wzrd-wheezes

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hi, life got away from me a bit.

how are you all?

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why do i feel like this term is especially hard.

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I keep seeing posts about mother's day and Steve Harrington, and it's all in good fun, I don't wanna ruin anyone's fun times. But also, Steve is actually a teenage boy whose parents are never around and has sort of adopted this weird little nerd boy as his little brother. This weird little nerd boy has a mom who loves him very much and supports his interests and worries about his well-being constantly. Somehow, Steve has gotten included in this and he's got this woman fussing over him, if he's eating enough, if he's dressed warmly enough for the weather and please let her know how much he needs for gas because he takes Dustin places all the time.

And then mother's day is coming up and Dustin wants to get her the perfect present but has no idea what to get her because his mom is focused on him all the time and never really mentions anything she wants or needs so he's low-key panicking when he finally gets a hold of Steve and asks him for help. So Steve and him start going to all sorts of shops trying to find something good, something worthy of Claudia Henderson.

Steve helps him buy an extravagant bouquet because moms and flowers right? Dustin finds a bowtie collar for Mews2. They find a cat themed mother's day card. They order a whole fancy carry out meal from Enzo's. He helps Dustin bake a homemade chocolate cake.

Steve puts on the finishing touches to the dining table while Dustin coaxes Mews2 into the bowtie collar. Then it's almost time for Claudia to come home from her shift look idk what she does for a living in canon but I always imagined her as a hospital nurse and hospitals don't close for holidays or weekends so Steve checks Dustin's hair one last time because Dustin wants to look nice for his mom's nice mother's day dinner. Then Steve is grabbing his keys and saying goodbye.

"Dude, where are you going?" Dustin asks, genuinely baffled.

"Uh, home? You're all set up, and your mom's home soon," Steve responds like, duh, where else would he be going right.

"Yeah, so you should clean up! I can't be the only one looking good for Mom."

Steve blinks. "Man, your mom's not gonna want me getting in the way of her day with you."

"what are you talking about? Have you MET Mom?"

And before they could continue arguing, Claudia walks through the door. She sees the dining table laid out all nice, and her furry boy in a bowtie, her little boy with his hair done, and her other bigger boy looking kind of caught out and blushing.

"oh, my boys!" She says. "Did you do all of this for me?"

"Dustin actually--" Steve tries to give Dustin, her actual kid, the credit because he's not about to steal his little bud's thunder but Claudia scoops them both into her arms and peppers them with slightly damp kisses.

"you two didn't have to!" She says. "Oh, let me go get changed from these scrubs. You both sit down, I'll be just a minute. I'm so lucky to have the two sweetest boys in the world." Mews2 takes that moment to meow loudly. "sorry, THREE boys, I didn't forget you, baby."

She shuffles hurriedly to her room, leaving behind a smugly grinning Dustin and a frozen, baffled Steve.

"you heard her," Dustin says, pushing Steve towards an open chair. "We can't disappoint her on mother's day!"

And that's how Steve ended up spending mother's day in a warm home with a loving family, instead of spending the evening alone trying to get a call through to Mrs Harrington with little success.

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It starts with the wavy haired brunette he'd spent half of junior year crushing on. It's been almost 3 years since then, but Samatha Birch is still as pretty as Keith remembers. Her bright blue eyes slant up ever so slightly, button nose dotted here and there with freckles. There's still that honeylemon scent clinging to her clothes.

They've spoken only once, because she'd dropped her lipstick in their shared history class and tapped his shoulder when it rolled under his seat.

"Grab my lipstick for me love?"

Keith could smell the watermelon from her breath at the time, a product of the gum she'd spent the entire class chewing. He still smells it now, as she taps her nails impatiently on the counter, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance while he tries his best to be quick with her tapes.

Keith's dropped them once already, a slight tremor in his hands due to the intensity of those bright eyes. And as he watches one slip past his slippery fingers yet again, he knows he isn't getting away with it this time.

"Seriously Kevin? Is it that hard to told onto something?"

Keith knows she can see his name tag, that the wrong name was entirely on purpose. But he apologizes anyways, hands her the tapes without any other fumbles.

"Sorry. Um' you look nice today Sam."

Keith's not sure why he says that, but it slips out on its own. She's clearly in a bad mood and girls like that aren't supposed to give guys like him the time of day. He knows it was the wrong move the moment her bubblegum lipgloss wraps around a sneer.

"Ew."

Is all Samatha Birch says before turning to leave.

And really Keith shouldn't be surprised, shouldn't even be upset. It's not like graduating high school means there aren't social laws in place for these kind of interactions. Still the sound of the store bell feels a little heavy on his eardrums as he watches the door close behind Sam's back.

"Huh. What a bitch."

The words are a perfect reflection of Keith's subconscious, a thought hidden behind the resignation high school has drilled into him. But Steve fucking Harrington who was well above all the wounds of that hellhole, naturally has no issue voicing it.

Keith lets irritation settle on his brows, pretends he doesn't feel a sliver of thanks for hearing someone say what he'd been thinking. Instead he turns around, takes one look at Steve– the type of guy Samantha definitely would not consider disgusting.

Steve doesn't look smug like Keith expects, instead his brows are pinched, lips downturned ever so slightly as he glares at the door. He supposes it should feel nice to have someone on his side at the moment, but Keith doesn't really want the King's pity. Not when he knows for a fact that the guy has probably done worse.

"You gonna just stand there or rewind those tapes?" He bites, and leaves before Steve can say anything else.

It's pretty fucking frustrating that Steve Harrington is so hard to hate.

Seriously, Keith knows that he's a spiteful guy, that finding someone irritating shouldn't be all this difficult for him. Especially someone who stood around with a metaphorical crown while his goonies went around terrorizing helpless teens. He'd kinda wondered what on earth had gotten Robin of all people–equally cynical if their brief band friendship had meant anything–to hang aroung with a guy like that. He's sorta still waiting for that duo to blow up spectacularly so he can pull up with an 'aHA, called it.'

But Steve Harrington isn't terrible. Terribly uncultured yes, but not terrible. He takes most of his shift with Robin so Keith rarely has to be stuck alone with him. But on the rare days they're together, all the guy does is lean against the counter and browse through some of their displayed magazines when there's nothing to do. They don't talk a lot and those shifts are often slower, but when they do it goes a lot better than whatever the hell Keith expects.

It's still relatively impersonal, and Keith has enough ingrained anger to still get very snappy after Steve Harrington gets a new number added to his collection, or another name for his friday night calendar.

It's unfair as hell, but he still can't properly hate the guy. Not when said guy mumbles the snarkiest and admittedly funniest shit under his breath after dealing with difficult customers. Not when his brows dip in intense concentration whenever Keith pointedly retells the difference between Star wars and Star trek.

And definitely not when Samantha comes back a few weeks later, twirling her wavy hair flirtatiously around her fingers, and Steve calls her a different name each time he addresses her. Each name is more off-target than the last, and when Steve waves her out with a 'Come again Marlene' Sam looks positively livid as she slams the door shut on her way out.

It should suck completely, in fact he should hate the idea of Steve-the hair-Harrigton doing anything for his sake. But when Steve pulls away from the counter with Sam's returns and sends a stupid looking wink in his direction, Keith actually snorts.

It irritating that he can't hate Steve Harrington, but even worse that he actually starts to like the guy.

It's why he does the unthinkable and actually lets Steve Harrington talk him into this bullshit.

"No no no" Steve Harrington is saying as he climbs back over the counter.

"I said look unbothered, not constipated. And lean on your left dude, that's your better side."

To demonstrate, Steve braces his right side against the counter, body angled slightly so he's still facing forward a bit. True to his instructions, his body is relaxes, eyelids drooping with boredom for a second before snapping back into focus.

"See? Like that. Except I get to lean on my right cause that's my better angle." He pushes himself off and vaults over the counter again, leaving the space open for Keith.

"Okay let's go again. And this time try to sound like you aren't being held at gun point okay?"

Steve Harrington backs up to the door, takes in a breath and walks back to the counter. There's a smile on his face when he leans forward on the counter, voice a higher register as he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Hey Keith."

It's so so stupid. This whole thing.

And Keith doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry. Because Steve Harrington of all people, is pretending to be a chick, just so Keith can practice talking to the girl he's sort of crushing hard on right now. It's a combination of hilarious, pathetic and bizzare. But apprently this is his life now.

So Keith coughs, leans on his left side like Steve had showed him, tries to look bored and shifts his free hand through his significantly less luscious hair.

"Sup Edith." He says and cringes internally at how dumb he sounds. "Um. What can I do for you?"

Steve stares at him, eyes piercing like he's scoring Keith on some mental rubric, which is probably exactly what he's doing. A moment passes then he nods.

"Needs some work but we're making progress. Okay next thing."

Then he's talking about the best ways to slip in compliments and Keith honestly kinda just wants to die.

But it's not the worst thing. Goofing off with Harrington like this.

By some twisted miracle, Edith does say yes to a movie. She's the kind of girl who keeps her eyes down, mumbles a lot under her breath but actually has a lot of great opinions. She's not shy per say, just doesn't enjoy expending energy on people (her words). She's super cute too. At first Keith thinks she just doesn't know it, but Steve had shaken his head when he mentioned the theory.

"Nah she definitely knows it dude. She's just mastered the art of using it without coming off as vain."

And when Keith had told him he could learn from her, he'd gotten one of those noogies he absolutely despised. Threatened to fire Steve when he'd let out a cheeky 'awee so you think I'm cute.'

Needless to say, he gets a date and sort of kinda has Steve Harrington to thank for it.

Which is why he's doing this. Whatever the fuck this is. Payment for the date? An act of kindness? Keith doesn't know. But he's got two tickets to some show/competition in Indianapolis that his cousin had pawned off of someone before deciding he didn't want it anymore. It's for some band that Keith knows for a fact Steve doesn't listen to.

But he's pretty sure its the kinda shit Eddie Munson would like.

And yeah, he also doesn't know how the fuck Eddie Munson got wrapped up in all this, but the heavens must really love Steve Harrington cause it's honestly kind of funny how hard these miscallaneous as fuck tickets are to get on a regular day.

He's not sure how Steve Harrington made friends with the town freak but at this point Keith knows not to think too hard about who the guy spends time with. Between Robin and all those kids always trying to sneak out with R rated movies, he knows the guy flows with a totally different crowd now (he's not adding himself to that list just yet because denial is comfortable and he has some pride!)

But what Keith does know is that ever since that Dustin kid dragged Eddie Munson into the store to engage in a 3 way bickering session with Steve, the guy just kept coming back. And it's fine or whatever, Keith doesn't care about employees getting a little off task so long as what needs to be done is done and customers aren't forgotten. It's all just a regular case of friends bothering each other at work.

At least it was.

Before Steve Harringon helped him score a date.

Keith is kind of shocked he even picked up on it, he'd thrown that entire lesson out the window the moment it had happened, had stuttered his whole way into the first date even.

But he remembers. The store is empty and he's trying to think of a good place for a third date with Edith, and that's when the store bell rings and Steve's eyes snap up from his magazine. It's like watching a flashback, replaying movements from all those days back in crisp detail.

Steve leans on his right–his good side–schools his impression into something bored, flips a page on the magazine before running his hands through his hair.

And Keith can already imagine whatever pretty babe must have walked in. Christina maybe? with her straight dark hair and full lips. Or maybe Evelyn since she's got two overdue tapes to return and could probably take a modelling gig if she wanted to.

He's turning to verify his theory, but doesn't even get halfway before he hears the telltale greeting of none other than Eddie Munson.

"Good afternoon Stevie~"

And well– shit.

How does one even react to that?

Keith doesn't think he's like‐ against it or anything- can't imagine changing his entire view of someone just because they're into different things. It's just– how many fucking surprises can Steve Harrington possibly have. It's like they're stacked under that hair of his, popping out every once in a while to slap at Keith's worldviews and laugh at his face for it.

He probably isn't supposed to know, but now he does, and Keith isn't sure what to do with the information.

And then his cousin places those two tickets into his palm and he remembers Eddie saying something about Metal and music for his soul– the guy has too many monologues so it's hard to keep up, Keith definitely doesnt try to anyways.

So here he is now, thumb brushing over the sides of the tickets as he wonders if this is even going to do anything. If Eddie's even into Steve like that.

But it's better than nothing right?

The guy did sort of–barely–scored him a date. It's the least he could do.

"Hey Harrington." Keith says, coughs awkwardly cause he hasn't really called Steve that in a while. Steve seems to find it odd too judging from the quirk of his eyebrows.

"Harrington? What, am I in trouble?" He jokes and Keith rolls his eyes, feels relieved that Steve is at least still a little annoying.

"You know anyone that would be into a huh.." He squints at the tickets. "band battle?"

Steve frows slightly, tucks his magazine away and comes closer. "A what?"

Keith shrugs and shows him the tickets. "My cousin gave these to me. For some metal competition in Indianapolis next week. Parently it's a pretty small venue so the tickets are limited as fuck." He's not sure why he's pitching it so hard when Steve is clearly going to take them.

"Both new and rising bands like audition for it or something then hash it out on stage and for some reason people want to watch that."

But Steve isn't even listening. Keith can see the gears turning in his head as he scans the tickets over and over again.

"Shit dude is it okay if you give them away?" He says eventually, even though Keith can see the way his fingers are gripping tightly onto the slips.

"Like if they're so limited."

Keith shrugs again, thinks he's paid off all his years thinking the worst of Steve Harrington with this gesture– especially since not all of it was undeserved.

"Yeah it's whatever. My cousin didn't want it and it's not my thing so you can have it. It's that or the trash man."

It seems to put Steve's hesitation at ease, and it's clear that the dude is trying very hard not to smile– and failing tragically by the way.

"Shit okay" He says.

"Thank's man."

Steve Harrington spends the rest of his shift with the dopiest look on his face, and it's honestly only then that Keith realized that it's been ages since he saw the guy end a day with a new number or a friday night plan.

And isn't that something. Cause damn. Exactly how long has Steve Harrington been crushing on Eddie Munson?