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#my fanfiction
hobbyistauthor · 2 days
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9 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
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"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie
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minors DNI please, Steve has some S P I C Y thoughts, although nothing too explicit yet.
TW: References to period-typical homophobia, brief discussion of HIV/AIDS crisis.
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Part I ┊ Part II ┊ Part III ┊ Part IV ┊ Part V ┊ Part VI ┊ Part VII ┊ Part VIII ┊ Part IX (📍)
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Arlene grins at him, although her smile is painfully awkward and more like a grimace to Steve’s eyes.
“Guess I wasn't as clear as I thought I was.”
She steps towards him, holding her arms out in invitation. “Baby Bear, I'm so sorry, I completely misunderstood the subtext.” She apologizes and Steve's heart immediately starts to mend itself from the damage his knee-jerk fear at being outed caused, healing by the grace of the heartfelt nature of her words. The cracks that widened along the well-worn fault lines that spiderweb across the shattered patchwork remnants of his heart begin to fill in slowly, rebuilding yet again. He should have known, he should have never doubted his mom because she always has his back. He chokes down a relieved sob as all of the stress from the last few minutes comes crashing down on him with all of its immense weight, sending him stumbling into his mom’s open arms. He feels safe and warm, cradled in an embrace he’s missed terribly for the past three years. He immediately starts crying, the tears coming hot and fast down his cheeks and leaving salty streaks in their wake.
“Ohh, baby…” Arlene shushes him softly, rocking Steve gently side to side while she cards her fingers through his hair. He feels like a child again, comforted after falling and skinning his knee playing outside. He clutches to her harder, the catharsis too great to hold back as he gasps huge wet breaths in between his long bouts of sobbing, choking cries. He has no idea what she's doing here, back home in Hawkins when it looks less like a small town and more like a war zone, but he’s certainly not complaining about her presence. He’s missed her, and right now he's going to relish being close to his mom again for as long as she sticks around. He knows how busy she is, how important her new position at Ellsco is and he refuses to be the reason that gets jeopardized. Arlene smells like good wine and expensive cologne–not perfume, she’d never liked perfume–and Steve buries his face in the crook of her neck, sniffles at where she's warm and her pulse is strong. His fingers are fisted tightly in the fabric of her button-front, wrinkling the expensive fabric, but she doesn't even flinch. She’s always had her priorities in line, and laundry ranks far below her only son.
“I'm so sorry, honey,” she murmurs again, cradling the back of his head in her palm. “I know how dangerous the world is for people like me, and I should have known better than just making assumptions about who you’d told or hadn’t told about your presumed sexuality. What I said and the implications could have put you in danger were we around prying ears, even if you aren’t queer, because rumors are powerful things. Granted, I don’t think Eddie is the kind of person to think less of you if you were queer, if it's any consolation? I told him I was a lesbian and he didn’t really bat an eyelash, very respectful… I don't think Eddie will remember what I said, either? He's fairly blitzed...”
Steve laughs, the sound weak and wet from all his weeping. “N-no. It's okay,” he wants to reassure her, because honestly the fact that she’d wanted to goof around with him about it, wanted to normalize his queerness just like she would have done if he were feeling this way about a girl means more to him than words can say. She hadn’t done that out of malice, she knows how dangerous it is out there for people like them, knows she made a mistake by outing him–even if he technically hasn’t confirmed or denied it, yet–and apologized for it, too. Knowing that his mom is like him, like Robin, warms him from the inside out, igniting a bonfire in his chest and comforting him like the way it would dispel the chill of an autumn night. He thinks he might be ready to finally give voice to the words he’s never let himself say.
“I'm… I mean…”
“... Baby Bear?”
Steve takes a stuttering breath, trembling as his grip tightens on his mom’s shirt, “I… I'm not straight, mom.”
Arlene cards a hand gently through his hair, her other arm pulling tight across his shoulders with a comforting weight. He leans into her embrace, his eyes squeezing shut as his heartbeat races in his chest. He’s never said it out loud before; never actually voiced the truth to anyone besides himself in the safety of his own mind, well and truly alone with his thoughts. Hell, he's not even told Robin yet, although he's pretty sure she suspects, as if squinty eyed knowing looks she's been shooting him lately weren't telling enough. It’s not that he’s in any way ashamed to admit his bisexuality, but. It’s always felt like something he’s just not allowed to talk about? He’s not greedy, it’s not like being bisexual makes him more likely to cheat or anything–that’s horrible, and he refuses to ever cheat on anyone–but he likes both. He has a luxury in being able to choose to take the safe option; the path of least resistance. It’s not like he’s truly sacrificing because it’s not a lie, is it? He very well can fall in love with and have a perfectly fulfilling relationship with a woman–it doesn’t mean he doesn’t also find men attractive or that the potential to have the same type of relationship with a man is miraculously no longer there, but. He has the luxury of appearing straight-passing. Robin and people like her can never have that, the illusion of safety, without cutting away a part of themselves and pretending to be something they’re not. Forcing themselves into boxes that don’t fit for the sake of keeping themselves alive in a world that wishes them dead.
“Thank you for telling me,” mom’s voice is soft and gentle, soothing as she continues to hold him, “it’s very brave of you.”
He laughs, the sound wet and full of self-hatred, “Is it?” he scoffs.
Arlene pulls back from him, tenderly cupping his cheeks in her hands and looking Steve in the eyes, an intensity behind her long lashes. Her brows are furrowed and her lips are pursed, deep sorrow intermingling with the upset painted across her face.
“Stevie, of course it is. Coming out is terrifying, every time. It’s sometimes the hardest thing you may ever do in your life, because it’s voicing something so deeply personal to someone you hope you can trust. And sometimes,” her lips twitch into a bittersweet smile, “sometimes that trust is broken.”
Steve smiles back, wobbly and wet as he sniffles some tears away. He chuckles, relief washing over him as it actually starts to sink in that his mom is okay with him, that she’s not going to abandon him, that she believes him. It’s freeing and the tears stream down his cheeks anew, a sob wrenching its way out of his throat. Arlene shushes him, a broken worried sound, as her thumbs wipe away the salty streams as they tumble down his face. His sobs are half laughter, relief tangling up with the remnants of his anxiety, the internalized self-hatred he’s been working on sweeping away. Robin has talked about internalized homophobia before, and he’s more than aware he’s been working on his own since that day on the floor of the nasty Starcourt movie theater bathroom. Having his mother here, supporting him, loving him so earnestly, helps to rip it from where it stubbornly clings to the walls of Steve’s thoughts, and with every tear track she wipes away, he feels himself grow lighter.
“Mo- Momma Bear,” he warbles out, unable to stop his crying even as he smiles, “Momma, I’m bisexual.”
Arlene pauses in her earnest wiping of his tears, blinking at him. Slowly, and with the warmth of the sun rising above the horizon in the breaking of dawn, she smiles at him. Her eyes crinkle with how wide her lips pull, glistening with unshed tears of her own, sniffling as she just looks at him. He can see the pride in her eyes, the happiness in her smile. 
“Baby Bear,” she says, “I love you so, so much.”
“Love you too, Momma,” he murmurs, throwing himself back into her arms, squeezing tightly. She’s smaller than him now, and it catches him off guard a little. Arlene has always felt larger than life to Steve, the biggest person in the room every time, but now he stands slightly taller than her and broader than her in the shoulders and arms. She fits against him differently than she used to–it’s still a shelter, but the comfort shared feels equal in exchange.
“So,” Arlene asks, her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms tucked under his to rest against his shoulder blades, “when did you know, Stevie-bear? Last I’d heard from you it was all ladies all the time. What changed?”
He chuckles, pressing his nose into her hair where it’s started to come loose from its’ styling. “I’ve always known, I think. I started noticing boys the same time I noticed girls, but context cues from people around me made it obvious that boys didn’t talk about other boys like boys talked about girls.” He shrugs, inhaling the familiar simple scent of her expensive shampoo. “I actually thought everyone had the same thoughts as me, finding everyone pretty and just choosing not to acknowledge the other side of things until later on. I um. I met someone who’s gay, actually, and they kind of made me realize that my way of thinking wasn’t exactly straight.”
“Oh?”
“Mmhm,” Steve nods, carefully considering his next words to keep Robin’s identity to himself. His mom might also be a lesbian, but he would never out Robin, even to another queer person. He couldn’t betray her trust like that. “We were talking and I asked them to choose between two celebrities, which one they thought was hotter. They said neither, and I was so confused. I said, ‘not even like, objectively?’ and they were just so meh about the whole thing I really had to reevaluate my entire life, really.”
Arlene laughs along with Steve, and he presses his forehead against the curve of her shoulder. Sighing.
“We took a few trips up to Indy, and there’s a couple of bookshops up there that sell, um. Zines? And other queer literature? So I kind of, immersed myself in that, and I realized I was probably bisexual all along and just hadn’t understood that liking both was an option.”
“Mm, sexuality is a fascinating thing, isn’t it?”
Steve chuckles, pulling back from Arlene for a moment to look at his mom. She seems softer in the waning light of the kitchen, hair falling from its styling, her shirt rumpled–blazer long lost–and standing in her socks on the tile. He can feel the fondness in his own bearing, no doubt mirroring the expression she has on her face as she looks back at him. His dad used to complain about how similar he looks to his mom–how closely he took to the Ellsworth family genetics rather than the Harrington genes. Steve’s never been more grateful for that.
“I mean, learning about the Kinsey scale was pretty interesting,” he says, “I’m not a perfect 3 I don’t think,” he admits, shrugging. He’s definitely pickier about what men he’s attracted to than he is about what draws him to women. The basics are there–brown hair, doe eyes, intelligent, a little mean–but otherwise, it’s just easier with women. He doesn’t have preferences or anything beyond his four main attraction points, but men? Men have to be pretty in some way… something about them has to strike Steve in a way that makes him pause, consider, and think wow, he’s pretty, huh? If that thought doesn’t happen, there’s no attraction, it’s just another dude. 
“I think the number was um, a 2?” he taps his lips with a finger as he thinks, “Like, women are just easier for me to notice, because women, right?” He makes a curvy gesture with his hands while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making his mom snort a laugh, but she’s smiling and nodding so he continues. “But, like, objectively, I notice when dudes are hot. I mean, it doesn’t really do anything for me, I just notice.”
He licks his lips as his thoughts drift to one particular man. He feels hot where the blood flushes the skin of his neck, his mouth suddenly becoming dry as a desert. “But… sometimes a man just floors me with how pretty he is, you know?” He kind of hates how dreamy his voice gets by the end of his little monologue, how telling he’s being in the way he talks about a not-so-hypothetical man. 
“Well,” Arlene says, raising an eyebrow at Steve that makes him feel so seen, “I do not know, because I am a big ol’ Kinsey 6,” she smirks and Steve groans. “But! I understand what you mean,” she laughs at his disgruntled expression, and the sound is so fond and teasing that Steve can’t help his blush and shoves gently at his mom.
“Shut up, mom! Oh my god, why am I talking about this with you!?”
“Because I’m your mother and you missed me and I’m also gay as fuck, Stevie-bear! You know you’re safe talking about your boy-crushes with me, now,” she croons softly at him, clearly conscious of her volume as she leans into his space, grinning mischievously.
Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile gives away his happiness with the continued ease of their relationship. His mom relents, leaning back against the kitchen island and smoothly exiting Steve’s personal space.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, Mom, but why are you here? Back in Hawkins?”
Arlene sighs, the sound heavy as though she’s carrying the weight of the world as she tilts her head backwards.
“I wanted to see you, Bear,” she admits, “and after the truly horrendous call I had with the financial advisor over the phone about how I wanted to adjust the terms of access for the trust,” she makes a face, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes, “I knew it would be simpler to come here myself and handle it in person. That it gave me an excuse to see you? A bonus that Charlene was all too willing to exploit to bully the rest of the board into getting me some well deserved R&R time.” 
Arlene preens a little, clearly delighted with the ingenuity of herself and Charlene–he’s glad that he knows how well his mom pays her, because honestly that woman has to be a saint to put up with the ridiculous energy and demands of his mother on a daily basis–she’s a tough business woman, and for good reason.
“You do work a lot, Mom,” Steve says, his smile going crooked with fondness at his mother’s dramatic flair, “I’m glad Charlene’s in your corner.”
“Mm, I’m going to make sure I can wrangle her up a good bonus again this year… or maybe a raise? The taxes they throw on bonuses are bullshit, anyway.”
“Definitely a raise, Mom.”
“I’ll do that, then, Stevie-bear. Thanks for your input,” she waves him closer and he goes easily, bending forward when she beckons, receiving a smacking forehead kiss for his obedience. It fills his heart with warmth and he realizes his smile has yet to fade. They stand together in comfortable silence in their kitchen for a long moment, just existing in each other’s space. It’s both strange and welcoming, a reminder of something he’s not thought he’d have again. Just being with his mom makes Steve feel safe, but it’s been such a long time, it’s foreign even through the oddly nostalgic tingle that dances across his skin.
“So,” Arlene finally breaks the silence, “can you explain to me what exactly is going on with Eddie?”
“I–”
“Look, Stevie,” she sighs, “you know I’m not judging you in the slightest, right? I just feel like I need a better grasp on the situation. I mean, I walked into my own home to the guy perched on my countertops eating fucking Spaghetti-Os over the sink and looking like some sort of fantasy monster out of one of Le Guin’s novels. I need a little more context than the vague garbage excuses Owens and Stinson spouted at me.”
Steve raises an eyebrow, surprised she even knows anything, “Um, yeah, about that–how–?”
“Ellsco works with government contracts, and that requires me to have certain levels of clearance regarding confidential matters,” Arlene replies, a smug eyebrow raise punctuating her statement, “So needless to say, they learned quickly that they couldn’t shut me out. Not when Ellsco is as intertwined and as important to their work as we are.”
“Mom,” Steve breathes, “you didn’t!”
“You bet your ass I did!” she scoffs, “What, you think I wouldn’t threaten to pull funding for their weird little projects entirely once I found out my son was involved in something they fucked up?! And they thought they could just not tell me?”
“Oh my g–” Steve cackles, “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking badass, holy shit!”
“Praise me all you want, Bear, but that’s not getting you out of explaining what the hell is up with the claws and the ears and fangs and the tail.”
“He’s got wings too, actually.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” He nods, “They’re small enough he can hide ‘em under his shirts now, if they’re baggy enough, but yeah.”
“Huh.” Arlene blinks slowly before she tosses her head slightly, as though she’s forcibly shaking herself out of her thoughts, “No distracting me, Bear. How did he get like that? Is it because of the, eh, what did they call it… Upside Down? The thing that caused the earthquakes and the weird cracks in the ground?”
“Kind of. It’s… it’s a really long story,” Steve sighs, raking his hand through his hair, “can… can we go sit down for this?”
“Jesus,” Arlene mutters, a concerned expression crossing her face, “how long is long, baby? You need to sit down to tell it?”
“Um.” 
“Baby Bear…”
“It’s been going on since ‘83.”
“Are you fucking–goddamn ‘83?!”
Steve cringes and shrugs, “I–I mean, y-yeah?”
Arlene pinches the bridge of her nose, “Shit. I might pull funding out of spite anyway, Jesus fucking Christ. And let me guess,” she spits, “you’ve been involved the whole goddamn time?”
“Uh–”
“Nope, no, Stevie-bear, that was rhetorical, you’re my kid, of course you were fucking involved. You’re too kind to not want to help, even if it was terrifying…”
“Um–”
“Did the fucking government just leave it all in the hands of fucking children?!”
“I mean, Ms. Byers and Hop were there the whole time–”
“Ms. Byers? Hop?” Arlene squints at Steve briefly, before she shakes her head, “Joyce and Jim? You’re telling me they were the only adults who knew about this?”
“I mean, yeah?” he shrugs, “It was mostly me, Nance, Jon, and later on, Rob? Oh, and the kids I told you about? The ones I babysit? And Ms. Byers and Hop were the adults in the know. We’ve kinda’ been like, the first line of defense, you know?”
Arlene looks distraught the more he talks, and Steve feels guilty for making his mom upset. He’d hoped he would have made her feel better, knowing he’s had adults on their side at least, but somehow he thinks he’s made it worse.
“Good God, baby…” she sounds winded, “how–how have you not called me for help sooner?”
“You’ve been busy, Mom,” he shrugs, “I’m okay, and you’ve got your own life. I don’t want to bother you with the trivial stuff.”
“None of that is trivial!”
He flinches.
“Baby!” He blinks in shock as warm palms fit smoothly around his cheeks, staring into his mom’s desperate teary eyes, “baby, nothing I do is more important than you, especially not if you need help.”
“I–”
“There’s nothing I can do about it now, it’s too little too late, but, please, Baby Bear,” she pleads with him, a frantic tone in her voice, “tell me next time, never assume it’s trivial, because I promise you, it isn’t.”
Unbidden, Steve feels tears well up again. He hasn’t cried this much since he was a kid, but he supposes it’s fitting now that his mom is back, bringing with her that feeling of safety he’d thought had vanished along with the warmth of his childhood summers in Italy.
“Okay,” he warbles, “O- Okay, momma, I promise.”
“Good,” she nods her head once, a jerky, emotional motion before gingerly focusing her attention on wiping the stray tears from Steve’s cheeks.
“C- Can we go sit now? If you still want to know about everything?”
“Yeah, Stevie-bear.” Arlene steps back away from him, her hands slipping from his face to his shoulders, sliding down his arms slowly, soothingly. Her delicate, manicured fingers gently encircle his wrists, holding him so softly with just the slightest pressure against the beat of his pulse. He smiles at her, feeling the way it wobbles on his lips in time with the tumultuous emotions roiling in his gut. She returns it in kind and together they head back into the living room, hand in hand. 
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Steve is half expecting Eds to be waiting for them like an eager puppy, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, but they aren’t greeted by his enthusiasm at all. Steve’s anxiety rises immediately and he darts away from his mom, bee-lining to the couch since that was the last place he saw Eddie. His heart calms when his eyes settle on the form of his sweetheart, curled around the blanket he snuggles under with Steve most nights, his nose buried in the folds and making soft huffing breaths in his sleep. Steve deflates, leaning heavily against the couch as the relief washes over him. He’s helpless to resist the urge that rises, reaching out and running his fingers through the beautiful boy’s hair, pushing it out of his face and tracing the shell of his long, tapered ear as he tucks the dark curls behind it. He knows how soft his expression must be, glad that his back is to his mom, because he doesn’t think he can stand her teasing right now. Eddie purrs quietly in his sleep, pressing into Steve’s touch and it pulls him back to reality. He straightens, turning back to Arlene. 
“Um, I’m going to sit here,” he tells her, aware his face is completely giving him away, but determined to not let it bother him. He squares his shoulders.
Arlene simply smiles warmly at him, pushing the armchair closer to the couch and settling into it, tucking her legs underneath her as she waits for him to get himself situated.
Steve exhales, looking down at the sweet, half-monster curled so cutely on the couch. He makes a quick decision and prays his mom won’t razz him too much for it.
He sits on the middle cushion, pulling one of the decorative pillows up against his side as a bolster before reaching over towards Eddie. Gently, he hauls the larger beastie towards him, eliciting some quiet grumbles but once Eds seems to understand that Steve’s thighs are to become his new pillow, Eds quiets quickly, purring loudly in pleasure and snuggling in, rolling over and pressing his face against Steve’s stomach. Steve sinks one hand into Eds’ hair, the other falling between his shoulder blades, skirting around the edges of where he knows Eddie’s wings lay flat against his back. He runs his fingers through dark curls, scraping blunt nails across his sweetheart’s scalp while Steve’s other hand rubs tender circles of delicate pressure against the knobs of Eddie’s spine through the yellow sweater he’s stolen from Steve’s closet. The purring sound increases in volume, the weight of his sweetheart doubling across his lap as the beastie goes boneless from Steve’s attention. 
“He’s very telling, isn’t he?”
“No,” Steve sighs, “he’s just affectionate, I think.”
Arlene scrunches her brow, “Really? Stevie–”
“Eddie died, mom.”
The sharp inhale he hears makes him squeeze his eyes shut as old pain rises to the surface. He hates thinking about it, but it’s the reality. Eddie is like this because he’d died in the Upside Down, and they’d–he’d–left Eddie there to rot.
“We… Spring Break,” Steve chokes out, “was the most recent incident. A- A girl was killed in front of him, mom. He- He had no idea about any of it before then, you know? He’d just run this dorky little nerd game club that the boys I babysit for are nutso about, and he was- he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he was trying to help her, really. Wrong way to help her, with drugs, but I mean, his heart was in the right place.”
Steve chuckles, tugging a little on Eds’ curls and pulling a soft whine from his throat, the sound smothered in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. He barely catches it, but the vibration against his stomach makes him shiver with want. He stuffs it down, because now isn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts, but he logs it in his memory for later.
“Anyway, she- she died really awfully, mom. Like, body-horror awful. He ran, and I don’t blame him. It made it look like he’d killed her, though, which fucking blows. Hop and the government spooks are working on clearing his name, but we don’t know how long that’s going to take. Anyway… turns out what killed this girl in his home in front of him is tied to the shit that’s been happening since ‘83. We all got roped in, and well… in the end, we had to uh, split the party. He went with Dustin–” he looks up at his mom, brow furrowed, “I’ve told you about Dustin, right?”
Arlene smiles at him, eyes soft and incredibly sad through all the fondness scrawled across every inch of her face.
“Yeah, Stevie-bear,” she says, kindly, “you have. You said he’s like the little brother you always wish you’d had, even if he has… Oh, what did you say? Ah, right,” she chuckles, “the biggest ego you’ve ever seen.”
Steve snorts, “Y- Yeah, that’s Dusty, alright. Um, yeah. So… Eddie went with Dust, they were the distraction, cause there were these other things that uhhh–basically they were trying to block us from stopping the evil guy who we’d been calling Vecna or One… and they did, but something went wrong. So to protect Dustin, he–”
Steve chokes on his emotions, fear and nausea rising in his throat as memories of finding Dustin wailing over Eddie’s corpse bombard his mind, filling him with grief all over again. He has to focus on not hyperventilating because fuck, Eddie’s right here, in his lap, breathing and alive–changed but alive–and while he’d left Eddie behind, Steve had gone back, he’d gotten Eds out of there, he’d gotten Eddie out of Hell. He exhales, shaking.
“To protect Dustin, he made the sacrifice play… and he’d not made it.”
“Oh, Stevie…”
He feels the tears spilling, can hear the agony in his mom’s voice, the empathy in her tone, sympathy oozing on every word. He sniffles, roughly wiping his face with the back of his hand, laughing humorlessly as the tears continue to burble down his cheeks, fat and unrelenting.
“I- I’d had to drag Dust off of him… off his corpse, mom. He- He was kicking and screaming, his ankle was broken, and he didn’t care, he just–” Steve chokes on another sob, “–he just wanted Eddie to be alive, and there I was, dragging him away from- from one of the only other older male figures in his life. And- And I had to leave his body there to rot.”
Arlene is on her feet between one heartbeat and the next, falling onto the cushion beside Steve and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly and rocking them gently back and forth. He sobs.
“I- I had to leave him behind, mom!”
“Shh, Stevie, shhhh…” she soothes, her voice broken and threaded with sadness, “it sounds like you didn’t have a choice, baby, you’re just one man.”
“I- I should have tried harder, mom! I should never have left him there!”
“Oh, baby… oh my Baby Bear, no…” Arlene chokes out, her arms trembling where they clutch tight around him, “It’s not your fault, and I guarantee Eddie would tell you the exact same thing if he was awake right now.”
Steve breaks.
He falls apart, crumbling into his mom’s embrace as she holds him, quietly murmuring wordless comfort. The weight of Eddie’s body across his lap is grounding, and it keeps him from completely disconnecting from reality as he weeps, clutching Arlene’s button front so hard he’s almost afraid he might tear holes into the fabric. His mom’s fingers thread into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, stroking with firm passes that make him go boneless with a pained whine, his face sticky with salt from all the tears he’s cried as he buries it in his mom’s shoulder. He feels a tight pressure around his waist, and he lifts his head from where he’s had it smashed against Arlene’s body, looking down to see that Eddie has wound one of his arms around Steve, snuggling in close and deepening his sub-vocal purring noises to the point that Steve can feel the vibrations strongly through his skin.
“I had a lot of time to get to know Eddie today, Stevie.”
Steve lifts his gaze, turning swollen, teary eyes to his mother’s face. She looks determined, a stubborn set to her jaw that makes Steve sit up and listen, because for all that his mother is playful and kind, she’s also fierce and refuses to not be taken seriously when the situation calls for it. 
“Not a single thing that he told me has led me to believe that he would for a single second allow you to go on thinking that his death was in any way your fault.”
“But–”
“Nor would he allow you to beat yourself up for leaving him behind. I’m certain that he understands that you had to decide between a corpse and a living person–between his dead body and Dustin, who if I’m not mistaken, you both adore–which he would agree is a no-brainer decision, Stevie.”
“I–”
“Steve.”
He swallows, blinking away the remnants of tears at the fierce tone in his mom’s voice.
“Eddie is a kind boy. He would hate that you’re beating yourself up like this. And he’s back now, isn’t he? If I know you,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “and I like to think that I do, you probably went back for him, didn’t you?”
Speechless, all Steve can do is nod. Arlene sighs, hanging her head.
“Steve,” she says on an exhale, “that decision alone is… it’s amazing, incredibly kind and thoughtful. You went back to collect a body, I’m assuming, to bring closure to a mourning family and to a boy you love like a little brother. How am I doing so far?”
“P- Pretty good, actually,” he chuckles humorlessly.
Arlene hums, “Figured. So when you went back, what did you find?”
Steve takes a deep breath, collecting himself. She’s amazing at this, refocusing the conversations when they deviate off the ideal pathways. It’s something that makes her an excellent businesswoman–distracting anecdotes don’t work on her.
“Um. He wasn’t human anymore. Eds was… he was basically a feral monster. But- But I took a risk, and it… it worked. He recognized me, and um. I think he imprinted on me or something?”
“Oh?”
“Y- Yeah, he got, uhh. Really affectionate? Um, didn’t want to part from me, liked to be touching all the time, very protective.”
“Animalistic, would you say?”
“Y-Yeah, that’s a good way to put it, I guess.” Steve agrees, nodding, “He seemed to run almost exclusively off of like, instinct or something, and it wasn’t human instinct. Whatever happened to him down there, it mutated him into whatever he is now.”
His mom’s face twists slightly in a disagreeing expression, “He’s not that mutated, Stevie. A little different maybe, with the ears and tail and claws, but it’s not completely inexplicable or unable to be concealed.”
“It was… it was worse, before.”
“What do you mean, worse?”
Steve exhales, dropping his gaze back down to the sleeping sweetheart sprawled across his lap. His fingers tighten in their hold within dark curls, pulling a thick, needy sound from Eds’ throat that’s thankfully muffled into Steve’s shirt. 
“I mean… it was more obvious that he wasn’t–isn’t–human anymore, mom. He didn’t look even remotely human when we found him. He walked on four legs, his face was more bat-like than human… hell, you’ve seen how big he is. I thought he was going to kill me at first, but…”
“But he didn’t.”
Steve shakes his head, a melancholic smile tugging the corner of his lips upwards, “Like I said, he recognized me, or something, and bonded with me somehow. The affectionate nature just… never left, and he’s been really tactile ever since.”
“So, if he was more–” Arlene’s words are cut off by the dinging of a timer. He looks in tandem with her to glance through the doorway into the kitchen, before returning his gaze back to her face.
“... are you cooking something, mom?”
“Ah, shit,” she says, clapping her hands on her thighs and standing with a quiet grunt, “Yeah, I was. I was actually teaching your boy there the patented Chiara family bolognese before we started drinking.” 
Steve’s heart flutters wildly in his chest, because that’s…
“Mom…”
She smiles at him, a knowing look in her blue-green eyes as she raises an eyebrow at him, “Stevie, the poor thing was eating Spaghetti-Os. What kind of Italian-American would I be if I didn’t offer to feed him?”
“Fair point,” he laughs quietly, resuming his petting through Eddie’s soft curls, looking down at the boy in his lap, “but you… you were teaching him..?”
Arlene shrugs, “I just get the feeling that this one wants to stick around, Baby Bear,” she says as she turns and walks away to the kitchen, no doubt to check on the bolognese. 
Steve chews on his lower lip after she leaves the living room, wishing horribly that he knew what the two of them had talked about while he was at work, or what his mom had seen in Eddie that makes her so sure of him. The Chiara family recipes are a closely guarded secret, and he knows how tightly she holds them, how fiercely she protects them. That she was so willing to share the family recipes with Eddie, it seems impossible. She’s said before that she would share them with his future wife, but he’s definitely not made a marriage announcement. (Although it’s not like his overly-romantic hard-and-fast heart hasn’t imagined it already… Maybe she’s considering it good-as, because technically actual marriage is illegal for people like them–like mom and himself?) Steve shakes his head and waits for his mom to come back, focusing on the happy rumbles coming from the sleeping beast in his lap.
Arlene saunters back into the living room five minutes later, smelling of delicious meat sauce and humming with satisfaction. She settles back into her armchair and smiles at Steve.
“So. Where were we?”
“Uhhh,” he blinks, “we were talking about how I found Eds in the Upside Down.”
“Right,” she nods, “you said he bonded with you, or something of that nature and became affectionate and tactile, and that hasn’t faded.”
“Yeah.”
“You mentioned that he was… hmm.” Arlene trails off, her brows furrowed as she clearly searches for the right word, “Monstrous when you found him, correct?”
“Mmhm, yeah. He didn’t even really look human, his hair was more of a mane and his face wasn’t even remotely human-shaped, he kinda had a bat-like smushed nose. And like, two sets of ears? Giant talons and huge wings, his tail was even way longer and stronger too.”
Arlene squints, “So then, how exactly did he start to look more… human?”
Steve smiles, “That was all Dustin.”
“Oh? You let Dustin see him?”
“Of course I did. I knew he would be safe, Eds loves Dust just as much as I do. Plus, he did really well with Wayne so it seemed perfectly alright to let the little shithead come over… besides, I didn’t really want to let him go on hurting and mourning Eddie’s death if he didn’t have to, you know? It really messed him up, mom. I hated seeing him like that… it was like he’d lost a huge part of himself, and here I had a way to help him heal from that wound.”
His mom’s eyes are soft, her lips pulled into a gentle smile that’s dripping with love and Steve squirms under the weight of her gaze, heat rising up his neck and making his cheeks blotchy with embarrassment.
“A- Anyway,” he stutters, “Dust figured out he’s some strange variation on a vampire, and so we tried feeding him blood to test the theory. It worked, and so since then I’ve been feeding him my blood, which has been helping him regain a more human appearance.”
“Your blood?”
“It’s not very much! I don’t even get, like, dizzy after he feeds!” Steve raises the hand that’s not buried in Eds’ hair, waving it frantically, “It’s barely even like donating blood–I don’t think he takes anywhere near a pint every time he feeds.”
“Okay… and you’re being safe, right?”
“Mom, this… this isn’t like The Crisis, okay?” he whispers, “And even if it was, I’m not stupid enough to take any chances with my own health or his, I promise.”
“Ellsco headquarters might be in Boston, but I’ve already watched a few of my friends just… disappear, and I’d…” Arlene squares her shoulders, “I would hate to watch my son fade away like that. I just want you to be safe, okay? Do you know… do you know how to go and get tested, Bear?”
He nods, “I- I read about it in a zine I got from Indy.”
Arlene nods once, decisive, “I’ll go with you, if you want to get it done while I’m here.”
Steve smiles at her, wobbly and grateful, “Okay, mom. That’s weird, getting tested with your mom, but… I’m grateful.”
“We can make a day of it,” she says, waving a hand and settling back in her armchair, “get some breakfast somewhere, get the testing–I should get my testing updated, too, honestly–and then just shop around and enjoy ourselves!”
“Ah–but, what about Eds?” Steve bites his lip and looks down at the sleeping boy, “I don’t think I’d be able to just… leave him behind all day to go have fun without him.”
“Hm,” Arlene hums, “well, we can wait a bit, of course. Oh!” her eyes brighten as a devious smirk spreads across her face. Steve’s heart races in his chest as his nerves blare alarm bells in his head.
“Mom… what are you…”
“I bet I could just con Owens into doing it for us.”
“MOM!”
“What? The asshole owes me.” She scoffs and tosses her head, a childish pout on her lips, “He tried to keep me from my own son, what absolute gall.”
Steve snorts, “Okay, okay. Alright, mom.”
“Plus, wouldn’t it be better for Eddie’s blood to remain with someone we have leverage with, rather than some random lab people who might report any abnormalities?”
“Wait–you’re including Eds in our weird little mother-son testing day? Mom!”
She shrugs, “Well, isn’t it better for you to know now? I mean, if you two are gonna be–”
“SHHH! MOM!!” he whisper shrieks at her, his face flaming.
“What?” she blinks, false innocence across her face as her lips threaten to break into a cheesing grin, “He’s asleep, he’s not listening.”
“Jesus H. Christ, you can’t just say that!! Besides,” he grumbles, “just because I like him doesn’t necessarily mean that he likes me, even if he has been really tactile and affectionate, okay?”
Steve hears the sound of skin slapping against skin and he looks up at his mom, brows furrowing at the sight of her with her hand pressed over her face. She groans, the sound pained and he wonders if she just smacked herself in the forehead or something, which is pretty unlike her.
“Uhh, mom? …You okay?”
“Peachy,” she grouses out. “Stevie-bear, light of my life; I adore you, but sometimes I want to shake you until your head flies off.”
“Um.”
Arlene peels her hand away from her face, leveling Steve with the flattest look he’s ever seen her shoot him before. She heaves a great sigh, shaking her head.
“You’re pretty convinced he’s not interested in you like that then, Stevie?”
“I mean…” he swallows, his blotchy blush filling in further as more heat floods his face, “I would be really happy if he were interested, but… I don’t, um. I don’t think he is? He’s been physically affectionate, but from what I’ve heard from Wayne, I don’t think he’s like us.”
She arches an eyebrow, “You know sexuality is fluid, so why are you being so rigid with him? Who’s to say that he couldn’t be interested in you?”
Steve chews on his lower lip, fidgeting with his handful of Eddie’s curls, “You’re… you’re not wrong, I guess. But, it sort of feels like I’m forcing my feelings on him when I think about it like that, you know?”
“Not really, Stevie.”
He huffs, a puff of air blowing stray bangs back off his forehead. “It’s like I’m taking what I want to see in him and forcing it to be the truth, even if it’s really not, confusing my own desires with what’s actually there.”
“Mixing fantasy and reality?”
He snaps, pointing at his mom as she puts words to his thoughts. “Yes! That!”
Arlene sighs, “I suppose I can understand falling for the straight person. It’s definitely happened before, and I’ve only seen you two interact very briefly, but…” she trails off, lips pursed and brow furrowed. Steve watches his mom carefully. It’s telling how selective she’s being in choosing her words, it’s obvious she thinks she knows something, and again he wonders just what she and Eds talked about while he was at work. 
“I mean, you saw us interact while Eds was drunk, mom.”
She waves him off, “In vino veritas, Stevie.”
He rolls his eyes at her and waits for her to finally come up with what she wants to say.
“I don’t think it’s as far from reality as you think it may be.” She says quietly, fixing him with a serious look, “He clearly adores you, and the way he spoke about you when we were talking felt like it went beyond just friendship to me.”
Steve’s heart stutters in his chest, that tiny flame of hope sputtering and sparking where he’s kept it safe behind his ribs.
“I don’t think it would be completely far-fetched to maybe consider testing those waters a bit more, Stevie. If you really like him the way I think you do,” she raises an eyebrow as his blush darkens, “then you should maybe show him more. Turn up the charm, give him more of a taste of what you have to offer.”
“I–”
“Steve, Eddie is a sweet boy.” She says this as a statement, like she knows it’s a fact, and it soothes something deep in his brain–some anxious doubt lurking around at the edges and making him feel off kilter. With the easing of it, the ground beneath his feet is no longer lurching, suddenly stabilized and solid once again. 
“I spoke to him a lot today and I can confidently say that you wouldn’t lose him if you were to admit any feelings. Or if that’s too much too fast for you, just being more obvious about how you feel about him wouldn’t end with him outright rejecting those advances. Hell, you might be surprised.”
“But…”
“Stevie,” Arlene interrupts him, leaning forward in her seat, “you should just do what you want, okay? Just, treat him like you would if he was just one of the girls you dated before.”
“He’s so much more than them, though…”
“Then show him that, Stevie.”
He swallows, nerves alight with possibilities as that tiny flame grows just a little stronger where it remains safe in his heart. Hope bubbles in his chest, feeding it steadily as he contemplates what his mom has just told him. She’s more experienced in this sort of thing than him, he has to admit–queer romance is out of his wheelhouse, as this is his first actual attempt. And he’s terrified still, but there’s a thrill that runs through his veins now that wasn’t there before, beating in tandem with the pulse of the flickering flame behind its ivory cage. 
“You- You really think I should? That I- That I have a chance?”
“I do, Baby Bear. I really, really do.” She says, a smile spreading across her face, “I just want to see you happy, and it’s so obvious how happy he makes you, even now.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Any time, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too, momma.”
Arlene flops back in the armchair, gusting out a breath, “Lord almighty, I am emotionally drained right now, you take years off my gay little life, Stevie, I swear.”
“H- Hey!”
She cackles, an ugly braying donkey laugh that makes Steve warm with nostalgia. He joins in after a moment, his own burbling chuckles spilling out of his lungs. It’s nice, sitting with his mom and his sweetheart in the living room, just spending time together. The two of them chat quietly, Steve stroking Eds’ hair as he finally fills her in on what has happened in Hawkins since ‘83. A lot of what he tells Arlene upsets her, but she takes it all in and handles the shock well. She migrates over to the couch from the armchair somewhere in the middle of his retelling of the events at Starcourt, and holds his hand tightly as he talks, his voice shaking. By the end of the events of Spring Break and what he knows about the whole Russian rescue mission and the California crew’s cross country adventure, she’s holding him tightly. She solemnly promises to be more involved in his life from now on and he pretends not to notice the way her tears soak the shoulder of his shirt or the way she has to forcibly collect herself afterwards. 
Arlene transitions their discussion fluidly into an easy chat after she’s finished asking questions about the Upside Down and all the crazy shit tied to it, keeping the discussion mundane as she fills him in on some of the upcoming projects Ellsco has taken on. A lot of her work is confidential, but not all of it is as the Fortune 500 company has its fingers in lots of pies–she relishes in telling him about a few passion projects that haven’t required her to sign a thousand and one NDAs. She tells him how Gramma and Grampy are doing, how Grampy is enjoying his partial retirement now that she’s taken over. She also mentions reconnecting with his uncle Ben–Steve would swear his mom had a sister, not a brother, but he’s probably just remembering wrong–and how they’d met up on one of her business trips to Miami a few years ago by chance. It’s wonderful. Steve finds himself relaxing as they converse easily back and forth, sharing the parts of their lives they’ve missed over the past few years.
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Steve is alone in the living room again, Arlene having just gone into the kitchen to check on the bolognese a final time, enjoying the quiet as he cards his fingers through dark curls, lightly dragging his nails against the skin of Eddie’s scalp in the tranquil atmosphere. He feels the body laid across his lap begin to stir after a time and he casts his gaze down to the boy he’s been playing pillow for, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Mmn–” Eds grumbles, his voice heavy with sleep as his strong arms squeeze around Steve’s middle, “–S’vie?”
“Good morning, lazybones,” Steve murmurs in reply, chuckling. “You awake now?”
Eddie blinks open bleary hickory eyes, drowsy and clouded as he turns his gaze up at Steve; twisting from the prone position he’s adopted, splayed across Steve’s thighs. His jaw cracks in a wide yawn that exposes his sharp fangs and long tongue before he buries his face against Steve’s stomach again, humming happily.
“M’wake,” Eddie mumbles, “y’r warm…”
“I’m warm?” Steve snickers, tugging gently on a small handful of curls in his amusement. The action pulls a thick sound from Eds’ throat, yanking at a burning thread of desire deep in Steve’s core that he steadfastly ignores in favor of releasing his hold on Eddie’s hair. “I’m flattered, but you’ve been sleeping for a few hours now and dinner is going to be ready soon. Aren’t you hungry yet?”
The face Eddie makes in response is cute; all pouty and crinkled in his disapproval. He’s clearly not in favor of moving off of Steve. “I’m–”
The sudden rumbling of Eds’ stomach cuts him off, the sound well timed and harmonizing with the gurgling of Steve’s own stomach when it makes itself known moments later. Eddie jolts away from Steve’s body, the dramatic reaction pulling a laugh from Steve. The embarrassment that scrawls its way across Eds’ face is plain to see in the pink flush that colors his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, reaching even the tips of his pointed ears. It’s unbearably cute–he wants to nip at them.
“I… I guess I’m kinda hungry,” he admits, shyly looking away from Steve.
“Hm,” Steve drawls, smiling fondly at his sweetheart, “I mean, I’m pretty hungry too. Mom told me you helped her make the sauce, so I guess I’m pretty excited to see how it turned out. Especially since you had a hand in it.”
That pretty pink flush goes darker to Steve’s delight, and he eagerly watches as Eddie fidgets in place, absurdly pleased that he doesn’t try to move out of Steve’s space. He loves how close they are, all pressed together like this. He’s starved for touch, and Eds’ is his favorite of all. It always feels like a dream and sometimes he has to remind himself that no, it’s reality. He’s just this lucky. 
“Arlene did most of the wo- work,” Eddie mumbles, “I just th- threw stuff in the pot and st- stirred it sometimes.”
“That’s still helping, silly.” Steve chastises kindly, “It counts.”
Eds looks up at him with huge hickory eyes, sparkling and wide, gleaming with hope. “It… does?”
“Mmhm,” Steve nods, unable to contain his fondness–all the love he has for this boy. He can feel the way it colors his smile, the way it pulls at the edges of his eyes, the way his shoulders slope in Eds’ direction like he can’t bear to turn away from him. He thinks about what his mom said about him, how she doesn’t think he would lose Eddie if he confessed… how she thinks he could easily get away with upping the ante, so to speak. He chews the inside of his cheek, excited anxiety brewing in his gut at the thought of turning up the charm–of wooing the man he wants, the way he wants to.
There’s a lot that could go wrong if he did decide to really start turning on the charm with Eds. So far, he’s just tried to- to be nice… to be kind to him; to be a safe harbor when Eds feels anxious, and a place he knows he can come to rest his head when the world feels too big, too mean, or just too much. Nothing he’s done so far falls within the typical big displays of romance, but that’s okay because it’s the tiny acts of devotion that Steve loves best. He loves being able to do things for his partners, to show them how much he adores them, how often they cross his mind. He does things for them without a second thought because he wants to make their life easier, he wants to ease whatever burdens them if only for a short while–he wants to integrate himself into their life in any way he can, even if that means he’s only there in the capacity as a meat shield or a workhorse. If he can make himself useful, helpful, to them… that’s enough for him. 
He always wants to do more, of course. He wants to pamper, to take care of them, but he’s been accused more than once of being overbearing; of being needy–of being clingy. He smothers those urges as best he can, because he’s learned that it’s not what most people want from him. Does he hope that one day he’ll find someone who will indulge him in those urges? Yes, of course. But he’s aware it’s far fetched and selfish. But with Eddie it’s so hard… with Eddie, he’s greedy. He wants all of it–he wants to wash his hair, wants to cook his lunches, his dinners. He wants to hold him in his arms on the couch and watch bad TV until he falls asleep, and wants to make him feel safe when he wakes from nightmares of monochrome skies and unfriendly landscapes. He wants to take care of him, to help him regain his human appearance so he has a chance to return to society, a chance to be himself amongst other people again. He wants to see Eddie spread his metaphorical wings again, prance on the cafeteria tables of the world and take them all by storm–he’s a force of nature and to see such a beautiful creature caged and forced behind closed doors is a tragedy he refuses to see play out any longer than it has to. He will not clip those metaphorical wings, no matter how badly he wants Eddie to stay with him.
What’s the saying? If you love it, let it go?
He’ll just have to hope Eddie will want to return to him when his shackles are finally shattered.
Take a chance, hope that his mom is right. The risk is worth the reward, after all.
Steve smiles down at Eddie, finally releases the tenuous hold on his control. He feels it when his smile easily slides into a far more flirtatious territory than he’s previously allowed it to venture with Eds; a smile he’s only ever used on women he’s wanted to date before now. He gently grasps Eddie’s chin, the firm grip pulling a stuttering breath around fangs and from between plush, parted lips as Steve lifts his half-monster’s jaw to force their eyes to meet. He watches with a hungry gaze as hickory eyes widen, as he leans in closer until his nose just barely brushes against his sweetheart’s. He can feel the way Eds’ breath quickens; hot against his cheek, ghosting against his own mouth. It’s tantalizing, but he can be patient… it will be worth the wait. Steve knows how to play this back-and-forth game of seduction and desire, and he’s going to play it right with Eddie. He’s a clumsy flirt in front of other people and cheesy beyond belief, but sometimes he hits the correct notes and he thinks he’s got Eddie’s number right.
“It does count, sweetheart,” he rumbles out, his voice heavy and deep with desire. “Did you know,” he adds, conversationally, like their proximity isn’t boiling the blood in his veins with want, “that no one aside from my mom or my Gramma has ever cooked for me, before?”
“N- No- No one?” Eddie breathes out, his voice no louder than a whisper as he stumbles over his words. Steve relishes in the way his inhuman pupils have dilated, the way his breathing has gone ragged, heavy in the meager space between them. Steve licks his lips, immediately clocking the way Eddie’s gaze locks onto and tracks the path his tongue takes with something like wildness behind those dark, hickory eyes.
“No one,” he replies, his lips just barely brushing against Eddie’s cheek as he speaks. He can feel the way the skin of his neck tightens while Eddie swallows; hears the clicking sound his throat makes at the action. Steve feels alive in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s forgotten how fun it is to flirt when he really wants someone–when there isn’t an audience to make him embarrassed about the corny lines he tends to spew.
“You’re my first, Eds.”
He pulls away from Eddie after his statement, doing his best to hide how affected he is by the starstruck look on his half-monster’s face. Steve feels like he could fly because holy shit, mom was right? The way Eddie sits there, eyes wide and dark, breathing raggedly with the prettiest of blushes coloring his skin from the tips of his pointed ears all the way down his throat to where his collar bones disappear into the collar of that stolen sweater. The delicate color highlighting the planes of his skin is… it’s gorgeous, and Steve wants to sink his teeth into the curve of his neck, wants to bite and leave marks along the angles of his jaw. Eddie looks dazed, one clawed hand clutching at his chest, rising and falling rapidly beneath it as he stares at Steve with glossy, wet eyes like he’s seeing him anew; a deity made flesh, something to worship in reality. His lips are still parted, plush and glistening–begging to be kissed, and it takes all of his willpower to resist, but somehow, miraculously, he manages. Eddie looks like a dream, a temptation demanding to be ravished, and ohhh, how Steve wants.
Instead, he gets up off the couch.
He relishes in the keening whine that tears out of Eds’ throat as he steps away, putting more distance between them, allows himself to delight in the surge of pride that swirls in his gut as Eddie sways unbidden in his direction, instinctively trying to close the distance without realizing he’s even doing it. He can’t help the smug way his flirtatious smirk pulls up on one side at the way Eds’ hand flexes on nothing, desperate to touch that which Steve has taken away. Seeing all of it painted in technicolor before him is the greatest gift he could receive and he feels settled–assured that he’s making the right calls. Because, yeah. Yes, he’s absolutely going to take this leap of faith. 
Eddie is worth the fear, the unknown, the potential loss. He’s worth everything.
And so far, it’s looking like his mom was right in that he’s playing a winning game.
He’s got nothing to lose, but everything to gain.
“Well?” he says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie and making a “come hither” gesture with his index finger, “Are you gonna come with me, eat the dinner that you made? Or are you going to languish alone on the couch all night?”
Eddie shakes his head frantically, a squeaking sound tumbling from his mouth as he all but throws himself off the couch and stumbles to his feet. He’s all baby-deer legs and Bambi-eyes as he scrambles to get to Steve’s side; all flailing limbs and pinwheeling tail, desperately trying to counter balance his lurching weight. Steve starts walking backwards towards the door to the kitchen, never taking his eyes off his awkward sweetheart. He lets Eddie get close, lets him think he’s won, lets him think he’s caught Steve–but it’s a ruse and Steve swiftly slips out of reach. It’s a fun little game, and he enjoys the tiny noises of frustration that slip from Eds’ throat when Steve manages to just evade a grasping claw, keeping barely out of Eddie’s range as they slowly make their way towards the kitchen.
When his ankle catches on something on the ground Steve’s eyes widen, his heart lurching in his chest with momentary panic. He pauses, looking down to spot the stray blanket that somehow managed to make its way into the pathway to the kitchen. He jerks his gaze back to Eddie when he feels a strong, talon-tipped hand grip his shirt. The sudden impact throws him off balance, and with the way the blanket hooks around his ankle, he flings his arms out in an attempt to steady himself. He ends up digging his fingers into the meat of Eddie’s arms, but his body’s momentum seems to have caught them both off guard because the next thing he knows, he’s hitting the ground–although the ground feels softer than he remembers?
He blinks open eyes he doesn’t remember closing, staring down at the dazed, flushed face of his half-monster. Those huge eyes are hooded and dark, as his breath comes hot and panting. His talon-tipped hands clench where they rest against Steve’s sides, just above his hips, and one talon has slipped beneath Steve’s shirt, grazing the skin of his flank. 
Oh.
Steve flushes, because fuck Eddie looks delicious like this and how they got there is… he must have spun them mid fall to take the impact, since he’s so much larger than Steve is. Bigger and yet so… so submissive, so docile, so sweet.
Shit, that’s really hot… and also stupidly precious.
Eddie stares up at him, blinking hazy hickory eyes, and Steve finally realizes how close their faces are. His breath shudders in his lungs, because oh god, he wants to take Eddie apart, to hear him whine and cry and fall to pieces beneath him–
“Wow. Either you’re the fastest moving guy on the planet, or you’re just some sort of klutzy flirting savant, Bear.”
The sudden, amused comment delivered with such dry humor yanks a surprised yelp from Steve. He jolts upright as his most-hated blotchy blush spreads across his face and down his chest, and he glares at his mom where she leans with her arms crossed against the door frame to the kitchen. She looks smug, tapping the wooden spoon she holds in one hand absently against one arm, a “told-you-so” expression smeared across her face.
“Mom!” he barks, embarrassment oozing from every pore. He’s about to yell at her to go away, but he snaps his mouth shut when he clocks the quiet, pathetic mewling that’s coming from Eddie. The sound sends a rush of molten heat down his spine and Steve jerks his head downward, his gaze locking onto the boy he has pinned under him. His eyes widen at the absolute vision beneath him, greedily taking in the way Eddie’s chest is heaving, a furious flush coloring his cheeks and throat, his head tossed to the side. His hands have dropped from Steve’s hips to the carpet–one is clenched between his fangs in a meager attempt to muffle his noises. Only then does he finally notice the way his thigh is pressed hard against the zipper of Eddie’s jeans, and–
Ohhhh. He’s–
Fuck.
Steve swallows and slowly pulls his leg away, a muffled, gasping whine tumbling from around the finger in Eds’ teeth, between his parted lips, soft but not silent. Steve can see the way those denim-clad thighs tremble, the way the claws of his other hand sink into the carpet pile, skin across his knuckles taut and locked with tension. And… And Steve did that to him… just by—
—Jesus H. Christ, that’s so fucking hot I’m going to die and my mother is right there goddamnit—
“Mom… we’ll be there in a few, okay?”
“Okay,” she drawls, amusement in her tone, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Oh my– fucking, shoo, woman!”
Cackling, Arlene retreats into the kitchen. “Spaghetti’s almost done, better hurry up!”
“Okay, mom! Jesus!”
Steve sits back on his heels, giving Eddie some space to calm down as he drops his head into his hands, completely embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position by his mother. He groans to himself, because goddamnit, everything had been going so well up until then, too! He hadn’t made a fool of himself yet, his flirting was going great! He’s a cheesy, corny dork, but it’d been working! Playful, fun… and then he’d had to go and trip over a fucking blanket like a dumbass–
“Steve..?”
He jolts upright, staring at Eddie with wide eyes. “You okay?” he immediately asks, chewing his lower lip. He’s honestly more concerned about whether or not he crossed a line with the whole… knee-to-dick-accidental-frottage than anything else.
Eddie blinks at him, clearly stunned, before a shy smile spreads across his face along with the darkening of his delicately-pink blush. He tugs a chunk of his curls in front of his mouth, averting his gaze as he pulls his shoulders up. “I- I’m okay. A- Are you hurt?”
“No, no, Eds! Not at all, thanks to you catching me like that…”
Eddie preens a little, shifting in place as his flush darkens further, “Couldn’t let you get hurt…”
“Well, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. Okay?”
Eddie nods, “M’okay. Promise.”
“Good.” Steve nods back decisively before chuckling. “Well, now that we’ve both embarrassed ourselves in front of my mother, ready to go get bullied by her while we eat delicious food?”
Eddie’s grin is wide, exposing all his fangs in all their glory as he nods. “Yes!”
Steve stands up and extends a hand down to Eds with a smile. “Well, then what are we waiting for?”
Eddie takes his hand, his grin softening as he looks up at Steve with a tender affection that makes the little flame behind Steve’s ribs grow just a little bit more.
Yeah…
Steve thinks to himself later, his heart full to bursting as he watches his mom and the man he hopes to build something with interact like they’re already family.
…the risk will definitely be worth the reward.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 
I’d be a fool not to try.
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GO STEVIE!!! YOU GO GET YO MANS!!!!
hello everyone i am deceased, my ghost is writing this.
fucking hELL these past checks calendar NINE days have been actual literal nightmare fuel jesus h christ on a fucking unicycle i would like to sleep for a thousand years now please and thank you.
anyway! this ended up being uhhhhh. longer than i predicted. but hopefully that makes up for the wait. we're gonna get into some more meat of this bad boy in the next installment i think, but we'll see if it doesn't run away from me hahaha
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the support banners (and the content warning banners) are from here! they're beautiful, aren’t they? So in love with them. cafekitsune has made some gorgeous stuff. please check them out if you're a creator!
----------------------------------- THE PERMA-TAG LIST ----------------------------------- @almondflavoredbookworm @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @brainsteddielyrotted @cashewnutofdoom @child-of-cthulhu @croatoan-like-its-hot @dame-zoom-a-lot @dauntlessdiva @ellietheasexylibrarian @estrellami-1 @eyesofshinigami @goodolefashionedloverboi @gregre369 @grimmfitzz @gutterflower77 @himbosandhardwear @hippieg1rl420 @hornybunnybaby @insteviewetrust @kacatshi @kingelyx @lawrencebshoggoth @lunabyrd @matchingbatbites @me-and-my-sloth @moltenchocolatelavacake @monsterloverforhire @mugloversonly @numinosmoon @obliosworld @ohmeg @panicatthediaz @pansexuality-activated @prazinos @queenie-ofthe-void @rainyefflorescence @sani-86 @sergeisilence @simplebtromance @snarkfamily @steddieinthesun @steddielations @steddieonbigboy @steddiewithachance @vacantwatchers @waelkyring @warlordess @y4r3luv The perma-list on the main post is full! But don’t worry, you can still ask to be tagged!  Your name will just end up in the replies, rather than the main post. I won’t forget you, I had to make a spreadsheet to keep track of all of you, which is fucking wild to me but i’m so goddamn flustered and blushy and skfnalsghaso about it so it’s whatever i guess.
I also have a list of folks who didn’t ask specifically to be tagged for future installments, but have been extremely enthusiastic about the story from the beginning based on their reblogs and/or replies to the posts. So if you’re on that list, unless you tell me otherwise, I'll continue putting your name in the replies. You can also follow the story tag, which is #Take Me Home steddie fic where you might find my posted sneak peeks or wip updates in between the actual parts, or you can even just follow me, @hobbyistauthor for all my nonsense!
If you don’t want to be tagged or want to be taken off the tag list for any reason, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.
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rreskk · 2 days
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hey! i have an idea for headcanons to play around with—trevor with a s/o who has a close-knit relationship with her mother. like they call each other, grab coffee together, her mom says ''i love you'' and ''you look nice honey'' freely and stuff like that. idk i feel like there's something there so if you can expand on it? ily thanks <3
HEADCANONS: Trevor dealing with an S/O that’s close to their mother
At first sights, he was astonished. The people he surround himself with don’t have a mother, or if they did, they didn’t see them (like himself). So it was like seeing an alien interact with another alien when he first saw you with your mother.
Jealousy is off the charts. Though he loves you, the trauma hits him in the face. The way you are openly calling your mother, the exchange of affection, the love!!! It makes him want to vomit with jealousy. He may say stuff like “you already called her twice today” or “isn’t that a bit too much?” as he wishes that was him.
Trevor is actually very awkward and uncomfortable around your mother. Something about being around a calm maternal figure is so surreal that he’s constantly on edge. He doesn’t know how to act or what to say. So he just awkwardly watches you and your mother talk.
Slowly he opens up about his own mother.
No. Not slowly… I lied.
He’s unable to hold back his tears and has a breakdown in front of your mother. Like he couldn’t stop it. Trevor rambles about his own upbringing and how it’s so weird seeing you and your mother so close. He may describe it as “like I’m apart of the Holy Trinity.” That was his way of saying he felt like he was apart of a family.
He gets weirdly close to your mother. Not sexually. It may look it, with the look in his eyes, but it’s all admiration. He might get in the way too much. Like include himself in every phone-call or coffee date, but he’s filling the void so you can’t blame him.
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tsyvia48 · 23 hours
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Holy Hell. I was not prepared for how it would feel to read this.
I want more!
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themoonisreal · 1 day
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"Lucifer's Lonely Hearts Club - Members: 1" (aka part 4 of my 'Divorced Dads' radioapple series) is up!
This series is so much fun to write. I'm seriously having a blast. This is definitely not the last fic in the series. I have many many more ideas to get out of my head and onto paper (screen? that turn of phrase has not aged well).
Anyways, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
Summary:
Monthly movie night is another bonding exercise that Charlie has come up with to torture the hotel residents, Lucifer and Alastor included. Though Lucifer is sure it’s not her intention to make them suffer, the unfortunate truth is that he dislikes TV as much as the Radio Demon, and the whole endeavor sounds exhausting. But he will participate to support his daughter’s efforts!
It’s also just Lucifer’s luck that he arrives late and the only available seat is next to Alastor. To make matters worse, the movie is a romantic comedy that brings all sorts of things to the surface for Lucifer.
What will happen in the dark of the lounge-turned-theater? Will Lucifer find the comfort he seeks? Or will his efforts to seek it out fall flat?
Other fics in the ‘Divorced Dads’ series:
Oh, Holy Light
Affliction of the Heart
Partners in Thyme
@themoonisreal on AO3
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tragedybunny · 7 months
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My Starry Sky - Astarion x F!Reader
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Reader and Astarion have their first real argument and have to go through the aftermath.
“Come to bed early, spend some time with me?” Astarion whispered in your ear, crimson eyes still a bit watery.
There wasn’t any other answer to give. “Of course love,” you took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze, desperate to reassure him after what had happened earlier.
Going into this, you knew how he could be, how he lashed out sometimes, and why. That hadn’t made the first time he directed it at you after your mutual confession any easier. Maybe you had thought finally sharing your feelings would change that part of him, a selfish wish. “Damn it, are you just going to ignore me all day!” He snapped at you on the road, drawing questioning looks from your other companions.
“What?” You’d turned back to him, confusion knitting your brows together.
“You heard me.” Around you, you could sense everyone stepping away, wisely giving the two of you space, despite the fact that you were in a desolate, cursed place. The locale was probably not helping the tension.
“I’m not ignoring you!” The first mistake you made in that conversation, a sharp tone, fire returned.
“So I’m just imagining that you’ve hardly said two words to me for hours but have been more than happy to prattle on with everyone else.” He doubled down, and you could tell he wasn’t going to hear you. “Or you're lying.”
The accusation stung, did he think so little of you? Maybe this was all a mistake. And just like that, all the worries, the struggles, and this blasted place boiled over, and you were the one who lashed out. “This isn’t going to work, we’re not going to work, if you’re going to act like this!” The second mistake.
Eyes going wide, his posture changed in an instant. It was like he tried to make himself smaller, to get away from the pain of your words. “Please no, I’m sorry.” His voice shook and if he had any need of breathing he would have been gasping. “Gods, I’ve already ruined it.” Tears had started to spill down his cheeks.
With horror, you realized what you’d done. You’d threatened him into compliance, even if you had done so out of hurt. Were you no better than Cazador? In a rush, you threw your arms around him pulling him close, frantic to relieve the hurt you’d caused. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” After a second of hesitation, you felt his arms encircle you as he sniffled into your hair. "That was wrong of me."
It took a few moments of soft whispers and soothing until he would let you go. "Let's just forget this," you prompted and he readily agreed.
The hurtful words and accusations stuck with you though and you excused yourself as soon as dinner was over. Taking you by the hand, Astarion leads you to his tent, where you'd been sleeping most nights lately. With a soft gasp, you note small enchanted motes of light, dancing at the top of the tent. "Gale's work," you ask, staring at them with enchantment.
"I don't want to know what he's going to ask me in return," he chuckles but it’s strained and struggling.
“At least he’s not looking for magic to eat anymore.” With a quick brush of your lips against his cheek, you lower yourself down to the waiting nest of blankets the two of you spend your nights wrapped around each other in. Your hand still in his pulls him along with you.
An open bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting and you readily take one after he pours it. The two of you sit close enough that shoulders and thighs touch, a small comfort after the harshness of the day, and you lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that right?” Desperately, you want him to know it, even with all the complications, you sincerely love him.
“I know,” he finishes the glass of wine, and you note that he seems off still. “I love you too,” he pours another and drinks deeply. It was a rough day all around though, and you don’t want to push it.
Moments later you’re surprised as a pale, slender hand reaches down to tilt your chin up off his shoulder and kiss you. The taste of the wine lingers on his lips and you drink in the intimacy of it on your tongue. Your glass is taken from your grasp as the kiss deepens, lips parting invitingly to him. Hands wrap around your waist and your stomach flutters, you’ve missed being touched like this by him. A trail of soft bites is traced from your lips down your neck as his hands work their way under your shirt caressing the sensitive skin of your breasts. Reaching up, you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a soft moan escapes you. “My sweet girl,” he murmurs against your throat and your blood runs cold.
That isn’t him, he sounds a thousand miles away, and so empty. “I thought you weren’t ready for this.”
A thumb brushes over a nipple and his teeth dig into your flesh just hard enough to thrill. You swallow the cry you almost make, not wanting to encourage this. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to move on, let go of the past,” his voice tremors and you can tell he’s lying even as he tries to kiss you again.
“Astarion, stop,” gently you push him away and see the panic in his face. “Why are you doing this?”
He looks anywhere but right at you, eyes hazy and unfocused “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Astarion…”
He sighs heavily, breaking down at last. “Well, I thought after today, perhaps you were tiring of me, and that I should do something to win you back. And I can’t seem to get this right either.”
Pain slices through your chest and you feel as though your heart is being torn in two. Carefully, you put your hands on his cheeks. “Look at me,” it’s not a command, but a plea, and he finally brings his eyes to yours. “I love you, and I’m not going to tire of you. Understand?” Wordlessly he nods. “But you are never to try to buy me again with your body, you are worth so much more than that.” A loving kiss on his forehead punctuates your words and you hear him sniffling again.
“I can try, it is so hard to leave behind.” Arms open, you beckon him to you, and you both collapse into the waiting blankets. “It feels like the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good for. And I just want to keep you but I don’t know how else to do it sometimes.”
“Just love me, that’s all I need.” You yearn for nothing but to cover him in soft kisses and hold him forever, so he can know how loved he is, how cherished. “My Starry Sky.”
With his face buried in your neck, he murmurs softly, sounding like his true self again, “my Sunlight.”
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lizthewriter · 2 months
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messy / regina george
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PAIRING  regina george x fem!reader
SUMMARY  you and regina have been secretly hooking up for months, but she breaks up with you when you ask for more. after she gets hit by a bus, you fear for her life and whatever relationship you have left.
TAGS  regina george x fem!reader, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending, queer!, reneé rapp is so fine 😫😫, internalized homophobia, use of d-slur (lesbian slur)
QUOTE  "half of all my exes regret me, / but none of them will ever forget me, / loving me gets really messy," - messy by reneé rapp
WRITTEN  1.13.2024
WORD COUNT  1.3K
A/N everytime reneé showed up on screen, i literally started banging my fists against my seat because she SERVED CUNT!!!! SHE WAS SO FINE!!!! literally after the movie, my best friend said to me: "i think you're just gay. i think you're a woman kisser. you might just have a little fruit in your cup."
slammed up against the wall, you felt regina's teeth clash furiously against yours. it was all hot passion - how your lips ran feverishly against hers as though you'd never get to feel her touch again, the way her hands ran up and down the sides of your body as though she needed to memorize the shape of you. days the two of you had gone without a moment to yourselves. days you had spent fantasizing about her pressing you up against the wall. it wasn't that you didn't want a normal relationship. it wasn't that you didn't want to kiss and hold hands and go on cute dates, but . . . that wasn't regina's style. she was closeted. heavily. actually, you weren't sure that she even understood that making out with girls was perhaps the most gay thing she could do, but you were willing to take what you were given. it was regina george, after all.
she pulled away from you by biting gently down on your lip, letting go when she could no longer stretch it any longer. "god, you're so hot," she whispered with a smirk, unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt. she reclaimed the control she had over your body, pressing her lips to your collarbone. your hands somehow found their way to her beautiful blond locks, scraping her scalp with the sharp edge of your nails. fantasy was nothing like reality. you had forgotten how good it felt, but how terrible it was all at once. as her warm breath tickled your skin, doubts that had been haunting you the past few days filled your mind slowly. was this healthy? didn't you deserve a healthy queer relationship, one that would be open and free and full of love, real love?
you wanted it all. you wanted the life you saw other queer girls have all around the world. going on cute picnic dates with homeade muffins and favorite books, sitting in the lap of your partner and doing their makeup, snuggling on the couch while watching a movie. holding hands while strolling the town center. it was hard to keep these thoughts back any longer. they overflowed.
you felt regina freeze as you gently pushed her away from where she had latched onto your upper chest. "can we, um, talk?" you ask. she could hear the tone in your voice. you knew she could. the way her eyes met yours made your stomach twist with discomfort.
"talk?" she asked in an incredulous tone, pulling away.
"it's just that, well, hear me out first. i like you. i really like you, a lot! that's why i really want us to be more than . . . making out in the custodian's closet after school and sneaking into your room while your mom's asleep," you explained nervously, stumbling over your words. finally able to meet her eyes, all hope was shattered as you felt her icy stare fixed upon your flushed face.
"i thought we made a deal when we started this. nothing more than this." she barked out a bitter laugh and fluffed out her hair. "what, did you think i was some kind of dyke or something? this was supposed to be fun. nice job stamping out that fire." she opened the door to the closet and waltzed out like nothing had happened. as if you didn't spend the entire last three months building a bond. heart: broken.
-
fear couldn't describe the emotion you felt driving to the hospital. it was gut-wrenching, blood-curdling, heart-tearingly excruciating. the rumors swirling around made your sick with worry. could she really be dead?
you weren't there when it happened. you had been driving home and then doing homework, hiding your phone away in a drawer somewhere to keep you distracted. it wasn't until hours later that you checked your notifications to realize she had been admitted to the er.
you rushed into the hospital, demanding to hear about her condition.
"are you immediate family?" the nurse at the desk asked. of course you lied. of course you said yes. she gave you the room number and told you that you could wait in the hall - the doctors were talking with her mother and you would need to wait until she woke up herself.
when you arrived at the door to her room, you were afraid to look inside. you weren't sure why. she was alive, yes. maybe you were afraid she was still upset with you. or worse, she had amnesia and forgot about you completely. dejected, you collapsed into the very comfortable plastic chair next to her room.
a few minutes later, the door opened and the doctors and mrs. george exited the room. you stood up suddenly, expectant in your expression.
"she's fine. she's going to heal 100%, she just needs to wear a corrective neck bracelet for several weeks," the doctors assured you. you could relax, just a little. they walked down the hall, chatting softly. mrs. george grinned at you - you had met before, of course, being introduced as one of regina'a friends.
"well, look who we have here! did you hear the news? they said my name on the evening," she told you excitedly, as though her daughter weren't stuck in the hospital from injuries resulting for being hit. by a bus. "head on in darling, those cute boys said she'd be awake soon." her eyes trailed down the hall to the two doctors that had revived regina. with a mini-wave and a "toodle-doo!" she was down the hall and full on flirting with men much younger than herself.
the doorknob to regina's room stared back at you with intimidation so strong you almost turned around and drove home. you reached out a closed your hand around the cool metal, slowly turning it until you were passing through the doorway and standing feet away from her bed. it didn't feel as scary as you thought, entering her room, staring over at her bed. she looked more at peace then you had ever seen her, she looked prettier than you had ever seen her. without her mean-girl face, she seemed a lot more genuine. a lot more like the regina that opened up to you that one chilly night in december.
you silently pulled a chair next to her bed and sat there, waiting for her to wake up. you didn't mind the wait, in a way. because she was sitting there next to you, and she was going to be okay.
when regina awoke, she seemed more confused than anything. her brows furrowed as she looked around the room, her eyes finally landing on you.
"hey," you said all of a sudden, sitting up straight. "you're okay, you're fine. you're . . . in the hospital."
"what are you doing here?" not snappy or bitter or angry. genuine.
"i heard you got hit by a bus," you said, biting your bottom lip anxiously. would she yell at you? tell you she never wanted to see you again? "i heard . . . i you died. i just had to see for myself, to make sure you were okay. i'm sorry, if you don't want me here, i'll -"
"don't leave!" she shouted, grabbing your hand. you stared down at the place where her skin met your hand. this wasn't happening. this couldn't be happening. her fingers intertwined with yours and you find her eyes to be pleading you. "please, just don't leave."
"regina -"
"just shut up and listen, okay?" she told you, sounding upset, but it didn't seem to be an emotion she was directing towards you. you sat back down and scooted your chair closer to her. "i want us to be something more too . . . okay? i like you, loser."
you narrowed your eyes at her. "is this regina george trying to be nice?" you asked dubiously.
"don't ruin the moment or i'm taking everything i said back."
"no," you said quickly, shaking your head with a smile. you placed your other hand on the one clasped in hers. "it's a good look on you. really."
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dizzyhslightlyvoided · 4 months
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Ramona: Yeah, uh, Roxie and I are both trans women.
Scott: Oh! So that's how she's one of your "evil ex boyfriends" despite being a girl!
Roxie, six inches from slicing him to bits depending on what he says next: Oh?
Scott, oblivious: Not "ex ... boyfriend", but "ex-boy ... friend!"
Roxie: ... y'know, that's the funniest way I've ever heard any "cis" person describe it.
Scott: Oh, really? -- Wait, why was "cis" in quotes?
Ramona, as innocently as she can manage: What do you mean in quotes?
Roxie, ditto: Yeah, this is a verbal conversation.
Scott: Uhhh, never mind.
The catgirl speedrunner from the High Council of Trans Women who was ready to clip through the wall and deck Ramona or Roxie in the face if either of them tried to violate the Trans Prime Directive, like with the Vegan Police: (retreats)
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lesbianpepsi · 9 months
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sweet like cinnamon
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pairing: jenna ortega x blind!fem!reader
summary: you fell in love with her voice years before you fell in love with her.
link to request
series masterlist
words: 2.619k
warnings: reader makes blind jokes?, light swearing, bad writing
authors note: this isn't my best work which i heavily apologise for, life has been a real mess lately and i just haven't been enjoying it at all🫠🫠
Nobody in this world has the same voice; nobody. Some might have similar sounding voices but nobody's is identical.
You didn't really notice that until you were fifteen years old, the young tragic age you turned blind. You were the one in a million that was born with thrombophilia (blood clotting disorder) which resulted in you getting vessel occlusion in your eyes, making you slowly become more blind as the years passed until it completely vanished. 
It was horrible in the beginning, to tell the truth but as the years passed the more you got used to being blind and the more you became okay with it. 
The one thing you didn't appreciate enough when you had sight was people's voices. When that was the only thing that could help you detect who was talking to you, you became entranced by peoples voices. 
The soft spoken people, the gruffly sounding people, the neutral sounding people. You loved hearing people's voices, but there was one voice you had completely fell entranced to, like a pirate to a sirens mystical voice. 
A actresses voice. 
You have never heard such a soft and relaxing voice before in your entire life. It was as sweet as honey; warming your heart as a smile played on your lips whenever you heard the voice.
The first time you heard her voice was when you were sixteen, your friend had invited you over to watch a random horror movie 'The Babysitter: Killer Queen.' 
In honesty you didn't enjoy the movie at all, finding it boring and annoying at times. But one thing compelled you into watching it; one voice. 
The voice of the character Phoebe who was played by 'America's It Girl' Jenna Ortega. 
Her voice was so soft spoken yet it had that gentle raspiness to it that captured all of your attention, her calming voice soothing you in a way that even surprised you. 
You were utterly fixated on it. 
After that day you proceeded to find out what other movies she had been in, listening to them all at least once.
The more movies you listened to, the more you became in awe of the calming voice of Jenna Ortega.
As you grew up, your fangirl behaviour died down. You didn't religiously listen to her voice as you did in your teens, but you'd never forget her sweet voice. 
—————
"C'mon Yelena." You whispered to your guide dog, the grip to her harness in your left hand while your right hand was occupied with your mobility cane, running it along the pavement as you walked down the street, the golden retriever leading you towards your favourite cafe. 
It was a warm Thursday morning, the sun shined brightly over the town you lived in, warming you up as you walked down the quiet street.
You didn't have a particularly busy day that day, so you decided to head down to the local cafe. 
The place was a family run cafe that you absolutely adored for a myriad of reasons. Its loving atmosphere, the best coffee you ever had and your own signature booth at the corner of the cafe. 
It was honestly like your second home at this point.
As you rounded the final corner you smiled to yourself and walked over the one crooked step on the sidewalk, remembering exactly where it was like the back of your hand.
With a few more steps you felt Yelena slow down as she prepared to face the cafe door, you smiled down at her as you gave her a quick pat before you pushed the door open, the familiar ring reaching your ears as you entered the cafe. 
You and Yelena walked over to the booth in the corner with a smile on both of your lips. As you reached the booth you loosened your grip on Yelena's harness, knowing you'd be okay without her and the fact she was an extremely well behaved dog.
Leaning your cane against the corner booth seat, sighing as you listened to the sound that filled your ears.
Idle chatter heard was the first thing you could hear the second being low music that played throughout the cafe, a Taylor Swift song that you didn't know the title of. 
As you focused even further you suddenly heard quiet breathing from the booth. You snapped your head instantly in the direction of the noise, flushing red with embarrassment.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't know someone was in the booth." You rushed out slightly embarrassed, not expecting someone in so early and in the booth.
A quiet whimsical laugh filled your ears, you tilted your head to the side. You knew that laugh, it sounded so familiar.
"No it's my fault for not saying anything before, I'm really sorry." The woman apologised back, a small laugh still noticeable in her voice.
Your eyes widened dramatically behind your thick black sunglasses, you definitely knew that voice. 
As you tried not to physically explode when you realised Jenna Ortega was sitting in front of you, you rubbed the back of your neck as you smiled crookedly.
"I should've asked if someone was here, nobody's usually at this booth, especially this early in the morning." You explained to her as you clicked your fingers, Yelena swiftly moved to your side, her harness already between your fingers.
"Honestly you don't have to apologise, we can share the booth if you'd like?" She offered in a honey sweet voice, her voice enchanting you as it did when you were sixteen.
You honestly couldn't believe your absolute luck, I mean it's not everyday you'd run into Jenna fucking Ortega. 
Loosening your grip on Yelena's harness you gave an eager nod to her, smiling brightly. "Yeah that sounds great." You told her as you slowly sat down, Yelena moving to sit down on the floor next to you.
"I'm Jenna." She says, you smile at her as you extend your hand to her direction. "Pleasure to meet you Jenna, I'm Y/n." 
Her soft hand met yours as she gave it a gentle shake, her fingers having a strong yet a gentle grip on your hand. It was as if electricity coursed through your veins the moment her palm connected with yours, tingling your entire body from your fingertips to your ears.
Your and Jenna's hands lingered there for longer than any handshake should be, as if both of you didn't want to take your hands back. 
Slowly, you and the brunette did eventually pull away as you smiled nervously at her, still heavily intimidated that you were currently sitting in a cafe with Jenna Ortega.
"Are you a regular here?" She asked once the two of you had duly pulled away, her hand grasping around her mug. You nodded your head as you smiled softly. "Yeah I've been coming here for years. You?"
Jenna smiled at you as she sipped her coffee, a gentle smile toying on her lips. "I just found this place a few months ago and have been coming here at least two times a week ever since then. I've never seen you here before though."
You snorted out a laugh. "I've definitely not seen you." 
Jenna stumbled over her words as she let out a nervous laugh, not knowing how to respond to your joke. Most people didn't know how to react whenever you made a joke about your blindness. They'd always get flustered as if they'd offend you if they'd laugh at your joke. 
"You can laugh, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't want you to laugh." At that Jenna finally let out a genuine laugh, not a nervous awkward laugh people do when they don't know whether to laugh or not.
Your heart fluttered in your chest the same way it did when you were sixteen as you heard her laugh, it still being one of the most heavenly things you had ever heard. 
As her laughter died down Jenna was leaning on her hand as she gazed at your features, a smitten smile already on her face.
"Why've you been coming here for years?" Jenna asked curiously, her sole focus still on you. You purse your lips momentarily as you think of an actual reason. "Well, I've been told the place is beautiful and they serve the best cinnamon latte I've ever tasted." 
Jenna grinned as her eyes flickered down to her drink, a cinnamon latte; her favourite.
"Is that your favourite?" She voiced as her slender fingers wrapped around the warm mug. You nodded your head with your own smile on your lips. "Yeah, been my favourite forever. The ones here are just so strong it beats any other cafe." 
Jenna hummed as she sipped her latte. "That I agree with." 
 You grinned at her as you felt more relaxed with the entire situation, relaxing into your chair as you listened intently to her.
Footsteps were heard coming in your direction, light but they were still noticeable. You moved your head in the direction of the footsteps as you smiled, you already knew who it was from the footsteps.
"Nance, great to hear you again." You greeted her with a grin, the old woman cackled as she arrived at your booth.
"Y/n, my favourite customer. How've you been, dear?" She asked as she bent down to place the dog bowl full of cold water and a few ice cubes for Yelena, the golden dog greedily began slurping away at the beverage the moment it touched the ground.
You nodded your head weakly. "Mediocre but much better now since I arrived here." Nancy let out a quick chuckle as she shook her head. "One cinnamon latte, I'm guessing?"
"You know me too well." You answered with a smile as you turned back to face the woman sitting across from you. 
"You want another one, Jen?" She asked as she turned to face her; Jenna nodded her head with a polite smile on her face. "Please."
Nancy nodded her head as she scribbled away on her christmas notepad. "Two cinnamon lattes for the two lovely ladies. Enjoy your date girls." She said with a mischievous grin that only Jenna witnessed before she turned away to go make your drinks.
You blushed heavily, looking down as you hoped Jenna wouldn't notice it. Little did you know Jenna herself had a soft blush that tainted her cheeks beautifully.
Coughing, you covered your hand with your mouth as you picked your head back up, your face facing Jenna's. 
"Great minds think alike?" 
Jenna laughed lightly as she looked at you in awe. "Only the greatest."
You quickly realised that conversation between you and Jenna flowed by swiftly. 
Jenna eventually did bring up the fact she was a well known actress, to which you simply replied with what you knew. 
She was slightly surprised but it didn't change how she spoke to you, and it never changed for you once.
Both you were so lost in your own small world in the corner of the cafe neither of you even noticed how much time had passed. 
As you were telling her the story of how you almost died twice in the same holiday her phone rang loudly, interrupting you quite rudely. 
Jenna groaned as she glanced at the screen, her face souring as she noticed her time with you was up.
"It's my manager, probably wondering where I am." She explained as she declined the call, clicking the 'Sorry, I can't call right now.' option as she shoved her phone into her pocket.
You exhaled as your fingers played with the empty mug in front of you. "Duty calls?" 
Jenna frowned as she nodded her head, growing the urge to throw her phone out the window as she felt the low vibrations of the text messages from her boss. 
"Unfortunately." She grumbled as she looked at her half empty cup of latte. You smirked at her as you stopped moving your fingers. "What, you don't wanna leave me or something?" 
"Nah, I just don't wanna go listen to my manager yap for hours." 
"Wow, being mean to a blind woman? I'll cancel you for that, Ms Ortega." You remarked with a playful smile, chuckling yourself. 
Jenna shook her head amused as she ignored the onslaught of messages from her manager.
"Cancel me? Oh no, what could I do to make you rethink your decisions?" Jenna asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she lifted her mug to take another sip of her drink.
Your mouth was running much faster than your mind, before you could even process the words coming out of your mouth you replied back to her in a confident voice.
"Take me out on a date." You answered in lightning speed with a nervous smile, a blush appeared on your cheeks moments after you noticed what you said. 
Jenna was silent for a moment, in that small moment your confidence was easily diminished as your fear began increasing as fast as your heart beat. 
"I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. I know we just met and I probably just made you really uncomfortable." You apologised as you tilted your  head down.
"Y/n." Jenna said.
You ignored her as you kept apologising to her, you had already convinced yourself she was going to reject you and thought you were weird.
"I honestly don't know what came over me, I probably just ruined any small potential of a friendship we could've had by that." You carried on apologising, unaware of the delighted smile on Jenna's face.
"Y/n." She said with a more firm tone, her voice raised to steal your attention. Gingerly you lifted your head, that scarlet red hue still tainted your cheeks. 
"I'd love to go on a date with you." Jenna exclaimed in her sweet voice that practically made your nervous frown flip into a boisterous smile. 
"Really?" You asked in disbelief. 
Jenna laughed as she nodded her head, her smile so wide she was showing her pearly whites to the world. 
"Really." She confirmed as she lowered her empty mug, placing it next to yours. "I'd love nothing more if I'm being honest."
You beamed at her words, your heart never calmed down as you still couldn't believe Jenna Ortega said she wanted to go on a date with you.
Abruptly, Jenna's phone rang loudly once again, making you and Jenna annoyed at the distribution. 
"Can I have your number?" Jenna asked you as she ignored the ringing, you nodded your head eagerly. 
"Oh thank god you asked for it, I was so scared you were gonna say something like 'fate will  bring us together again.'" You replied as you took out your phone from your pocket, passing it over to Jenna.
She giggled as she looked for your number on your phone. "You don't believe in fate or something?"
You shook your head. "Oh no, I  believe in fate. I just don't think fate would let me magically see you and spot you in public." You joked as Jenna began entering her own number into your phone after she was done with hers. 
Jenna didn't say anything as she chuckled quietly, passing your phone back to you.
"I really have to leave now, otherwise my manager will actually send a team looking for me." Jenna apologised with a sigh. You laughed softly as you smiled as softly at her.
"I'll call you?" She asked as you heard her shuffle out of her side of the booth. Your head followed the movement of the noise, nodding your head with a smile. 
"I'll be waiting." 
"I won't make you wait too long." 
—————
a/n: fun fact, i fucking hate cinnamon with a passion
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lipstickghoulie · 3 months
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•Loss of Innocence (Astarion/female Tav smut, praise kink, dirty talk, deflowering)•
💛
Astarion crooning out praise to her for being so good and letting him do this to her, reveling in every whimper that shudders out of her and the rivers of arousal that he is coaxing down her twitching thighs. “Oh, darling, you’re taking me so well,” He purrs out, making sure to pitch his voice just loud enough that it can be heard over the lewd noises of him pumping into her, stretching her open with every scissoring motion or come-hither twirl of those nimble digits. “You’re doing such a wonderful job, pet. Such a good girl for me. Maybe you’ll persuade me that you deserve my cock next if you keep this up, hm?”
She’s pleading for more, murmuring out a breathless “Astarion, please” that makes his dick stiffen even further. Precum is already oozing off of his cock head, sticking to her skin while he looms over her, connecting them more primally than the tadpoles linking their brains ever could. Astarion knows that things are getting vocal enough here, even with his tent flap closed, that the others will be able to overhear and the thought makes a slow, triumphant smirk crease his face.
He may have already implied to the rest of the group that there was more going on between him and their illustrious leader than just near-nightly feedings (even if that hadn’t been exactly true before tonight), dropping the most sly of insinuations that went right over inexperienced Tav’s head and made their companions exchange disappointed glances that he had seemingly claimed her for himself. So what harm was it if they could hear their coupling now? Astarion did plan on keeping such a delectable treat all for himself, especially since she seemed so willing to take direction. What man wouldn’t want a beautiful woman that was eager to be taught to please him, that looked at him with such smitten and dumbstruck eyes at just the smallest amount of attention?
It was good to make it clear that she was owned, that she was to be his prize after the last two hundred years of pain and being a sleepwalking stranger in his own body. Shouldn’t Astarion get something sweet and so, so perfect to play with when the mood struck him after all that he’s had to endure?
Oh, how the mood was striking him now, as he slides his fingers out of her slick, snickering at how she goes wide-eyed and whimpering at how empty the motion leaves her. Astarion muses to himself that next time, he might restrain her and tease her, leave her slack jawed with tears of frustration streaming down those pink cheeks for hours, edge her until she is begging him and promising him anything he could ever want if he just makes her cum. Tonight though, he’ll take pity on her and give her exactly what she wants, what she craves, so that she’ll come back for more and think only of him when she gets squirmy and restless in her bed roll at night.
Astarion squeezes his hand over his weeping dick, eyes going half-lidded, pleased, at how she wiggles impatiently and spreads her legs for him, beckoning him in with every glisten of the light on her sodden folds.
“Don’t worry, little love, I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve,” Astarion coos reassuringly before dipping his cock forward and into her, his hips pushing steadily and carefully into Tav as his hands grasp her thighs to keep them open and-
All practiced control and smoothness leaves his brain like air deflating from a balloon. She’s so tight, so molten hot and soaked, his shaft being smothered by her soaked walls in a way that makes every thought leave his brain other than the desperate and animalistic need to thrust into her. His teeth are gritted even as he pushes slowly past her barrier, hearing her gasp and clutch at his back in a way that still indicated more pleasure than pain, but gods alive, it is taking every ounce of his restraint not to pound her into the dirt and see exactly how much he can loosen her up if Astarion fucks her as hard as his mind is screaming at him to.
“By the hells, you- are - so - fucking- tight,” Astarion groans, peppering every word at the end of that sentence with a snap of his hips, his gaze locked onto where his frenzied cock is shoving into her cunt like he’s hypnotized. “It’s like you were made for me, so fucking perfect, it’s like you were created to take me, to be used by me. And I’ll make you feel it all as long as you keep being such a good girl for me.”
Tav reaches out with an unexpectedly soft, tender hand, nearly making Astarion flinch as her nails trace as gently along his jaw as someone trying not to startle an animal that might bolt or bite at any provocation. There’s something powerfully and unapologetically loving in the way that she looks at him, even as her hymen’s blood streaks up alongside the vein that decorates the curve of his dick. Like any other time, he’s causing her pain or at least a small measure of discomfort and she’s taking it, taking him, in stride and accepting it.
“I’ll be good for you,” she whispers, choking back a moan, and Astarion thinks to himself almost deliriously that she already has been. She’s been good for him and to him in a way that he had never thought that would be afforded to him in this lifetime. If he was a better man, maybe he’d tell her that, but he fears that he’s given her too much power over him already even without giving a voice to these murky, panicked feelings that are starting to take shape in the very center of himself.
Instead, he just snarls and puts those decades upon decades of experience to good use for once, tilting her pelvis slightly up and at an angle so he can hit that spongy spot inside of her walls that causes Tav to keen and her hands to scrabble harder at his shoulder blades like she’s trying to overwrite the scars on his back with ones from her blunt fingernails instead. Part of Astarion hopes that she does; he’d rather have a reminder of her to be etched deeply into him like an epitaph on a gravestone than anything of Cazador’s. Being marked with a souvenir of the first partner he’s truly wanted, that he wishes that he could burrow so deeply inside of that he could make a nest amongst her ribs instead of his scavenged pillows every night, sounds preferable over some shitty poem that he’s never even seen properly on his flesh.
Tav is stuttering out squeaky exclamations of his name and he can feel that already vice grip of her cunt starting to flutter, Astarion biting the inside of his own cheek to stifle a groan at the feeling. A fang draws his own blood and it tastes stale, bitter. He could keep pumping into her at this same rate and she’ll cum on her own within a few minutes, he can feel it like he can tell how many tumblers he’ll need to roll from just briefly handling a lock. But he’s never been a patient man, never been one to wait for something to happen when he can make the dominos fall himself, so he rips one of his hands from her leg and licks the thumb, making sure that she can see the showy way that his tongue coats it in his saliva before bringing it over her clit in mercilessly firm circles.
“Come on, let go for me, beautiful. You want to be good for me? Then cum, right now,” Astarion commands, hating how choppy and raspy his own words sound, how he can barely make himself heard over the slap of his sweat-heavy balls against her and his own labored breathing. He’s going to throw himself into the river near camp and hope that some kind of monster fish eats him if he loses control and cums first but gods, he is straining not to with how pussy drunk that he feels in this moment. Every jab of his cock into her feels like he is dipping it into the snuggest heat he’s ever experienced and it’s enough to make his head spin. He’s taken virgins in the past but it’s never felt like this before, like it’s some sort of celestial gift stolen from deities and not meant for mortal (or undead) men.
Thankfully, Tav goes over the edge into her pleasure just a few moments later, screaming out and trying to muffle it by burying her face into his collarbone and neck. If Astarion thought her cunt felt good before, the feeling of it clamping down now is otherworldly, milking him as thoroughly as someone wringing out a rag. Laughing almost madly at how exquisitely that her little core is squeezing him, the rogue gives her a few more shaky thrusts and unloads stream after stream of his cum into her, his testicles twitching as they empty themselves so thoroughly that he’s certain that she will be dripping with rivulets of his seed for a day or more after this.
Astarion slumps over her, his body a weight upon her as if he’s actually as corpse-like as vampires are rumored to be. He is actually reluctant to pull out just yet, to have this be over and allow her to disengage and get cleaned up. So he lets her stroke her soothing, kind touch over his back and neck, his cock softening in the safety of her satisfied and debauched cunt. Has he ever not wanted to flee immediately after sex? Has he ever felt like he had been that much in the moment during the act itself that he had to struggle not to cum too quickly? The answer unnerves him so he nuzzles into the fragrant softness of her hair like it’s a shield from his own troubled thoughts that this may have been more than a strategical move after all.
“I hope that it was still… pleasurable for you, despite my lack of experience,” Tav says falteringly, her tone rife with uncertainty. Astarion could laugh; it’s a pity that he can never tell her that this has been the best time that he’s had intimately as far as he can remember. He reasons that she probably wouldn’t believe him if he did say it but really, he can’t imagine showing his soft underbelly and making himself vulnerable this soon. She might not make herself as available next time if her ego gets too inflated, he tells himself.
Astarion places a toothy kiss under her ear, slipping his emotional mask back on (even if it felt oddly ill-fitting currently) and responds sleekly, “I wouldn’t worry about it, my love. I’m sure that after a few more times of me teaching you, you’ll probably be nearly as skilled at it as someone like me…”
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almightyshadowchan · 5 months
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SNSmonth Day 22: Making Out
A scene from my fic Sunspots 🤗 (in which our ninja heroes manage to trip and fall into each other’s pants during a fake dating mission at a nightclub)
I really meant to post this weeks ago (y’know, during actual snsmonth) but better late than never, right? Right??
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goritevadu · 4 months
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Just look how gentle Stiles is.
And how he touched Derek's ears. So gentle. Like some treasure.
He is so worried about Derek.
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hobbyistauthor · 2 months
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1 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
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so @steddielations mentioned that it was okay if i posted my lil fic inspired by their post separately so it wasn't buried in the reblogs or whatever. so i'm taking her advice and here it is in all it's standalone glory, i guess? anyway, originally when i stumbled across his post, i couldn't help myself, i absolutely go bonkers for kas!eddie and it was such a fucking cute idea i couldn't not write something about it. we see so much dark vampire!eddie and monster!eddie stuff, so i'm kinda here for the cute shit i guess?
this is wholly unedited, and it's my very first st fic ever, so i hope it's not shit. (y'all seemed to like it on the OG post anyway)
i also included a little extra treat (from my main tumblr account) tucked away at about the halfway mark, so enjoy i guess?
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The world may be fucking ending, but goddamn it he’s never going to get over leaving Eddie’s body behind. Dustin is his brother, for fuckssake, he deserves some closure at the very least, and Mr. Munson ought to be able to say a proper goodbye to his nephew. Steve feels like shit— like he’s robbed the man of that simple right and watching Dustin and Mr. Munson in the aftermath, having driven the kid to the guy’s new Government-issued, post-“earthquake” relocation apartment a few times in the later weeks so Dustin can check on the guy? Absolutely gutting. Now, Steve knows he’s got a habit of taking on guilt that really isn’t his. Robin has smacked him around the head for weeks about this now, yelled at him about getting a goddamn therapist or something but. This? He feels responsible, somehow. If he’d only been stronger, he could have carried Eddie’s body out.
He’s been going over it in his mind now for weeks. He probably could have managed if he’d dropped all his weapons, carried nothing else except for Eddie’s body. Steve’s strong, he knows this, it’s one of the few reasons the Party still keeps him around—he’s like a– a meat-shield or something. It’s his job to keep them safe, even though he’s failed spectacularly this time, with Max all but brain dead in a coma and Eddie actually dead and it’s all just… it’s all just bullshit. Steve feels like he’s at the end of his rope at this point, and it’s with that edge of mania, that taste of hysteria that he blurts out his half-cocked plan to Robin. He can’t let Eddie’s body rot down there any longer.
Of course he gets shut down almost immediately and Robin all but restrains him to the bedpost while she calls the cavalry—the cavalry being Nancy—but even with the two of them, he’s immovable. He can’t keep doing this, don’t they understand? And that’s just it: they don’t. No matter how many times he explains it, or tries to, they just tell him the same thing: it’s not his fault, it’s too dangerous. He doesn’t understand how they don’t see it. It’s Steve’s job to do this, it’s his purpose, he has to bring Eddie home safe because it means that Dustin will finally get some fucking peace and Mr. Munson will get the goddamn closure he deserves. Steve cries more than he has cried in years, probably scaring Robin and Nancy more than they let on, but he just can’t do it anymore.
In the end, it’s his warbled “Please” that gets them to crack, and they agree to head back down through the widest gate closest to the trailer park, the gate closest to where they left Eddie’s body to rot. He’s got his bat this time but not much else, although Nancy and Robin are armed to the teeth, and his walkie is in Nancy’s backpack along with a truly astounding amount of ammo for her shotgun. The drop into the Upside Down is disorienting as always and once they’re all present, he takes a moment to listen. He exhales, his breath clouding in front of him at the chill. There’s very little noise aside from the ambient sounds he remembers from the last time they’d all taken their waltz through Hell, but he freezes when his ears pick up the sound of chittering.
“What? Do you hear something?”
Steve shushes them, spinning his nail bat once, twice, before easing his way into the nightmare version of the trailer park. He walks softly, treading quietly like he remembers doing when his parents were home more often and he was afraid of disturbing them. Eggshells, he remembers hearing once—walking on eggshells. He catches a glimpse of what look like those fucking bat things hanging from the lip of the roof on one of the trailers they pass. He wonders what the kids would name them, if there’s some dungeons and dumbasses monster they’d pick like with Demogorgon or fucking Vecna—he wouldn’t put it past Dustin to just call them demobats, like he’d named the ugly baby things demodogs—but the bat fuckers don’t attack. If anything, Steve thinks they’re watching their group. Which, while creepy, is only mildly better than just outright attacking. He refocuses.
The deeper into the trailer park they go, the more and more of these bat things—screw it, Steve’s just gonna start calling the fuckers demobats—they start to see. It’s unnerving, being watched like this, and he’s definitely convinced they’re watching them. Nancy and Robin are murmuring behind him, probably talking about them too, but Steve is too focused on looking out for incoming threats to care about their conversation. He knows where the Munson’s trailer is, and if he can get there, he knows the direction in which Eddie’s body will be laying. He swallows down the nausea that rises in his throat. He’s not sure what he’s going to find, but he’s glad for the bandana he’s got tied around the lower half of his face—Nancy had insisted on face and eye coverings for this trip. Steve hadn’t argued.
Rounding the side of one of the other motor homes, Steve spots the Munson trailer and heaves out a groaning breath at the sight. The amps are still on the roof and not for the first time, he wishes he’d been able to see Eddie play at least once before he’d died. Dustin said it was the most metal concert he’s ever seen, and at this point, Steve is inclined to believe the little shit. He takes a breath, glancing over his shoulder at Robin and Nancy.
“There’s the trailer. Do… Do you think one of you could get his guitar, too?”
“Steve, are you serious right now?”
Robin’s tone is incredulous, and he can see by the set of Nancy’s jaw from beneath her own face coverings that she’s just as frustrated with him.
“Just… it meant a lot to him, okay? I’d. I’d rather at least try to get it back topside…”
“Fine.”
Nancy’s firm, but she’s agreeing and quite frankly that’s more than he’s expected. He fights back the tears that he feels building as he thanks her.
“Don’t thank me yet, Steve. We still have to see if we can even get his body out of here, okay?”
He nods and refocuses, stepping out from the shadowed shelter cast by the trailer they’re huddled behind. The sudden flap of wings in the air and the shrieking chittering is not welcomed.
“Fuck fuck fuck!”
Steve is angry a lot. He doesn’t usually let it show, just holds it in and puts on a smile to go about his day. It’s what makes all the Hawkins moms like him so much. He seems approachable, amiable. Likable. Below the surface, however, he’s a seething mass of old rage that he wishes he could truly get rid of. He doesn’t like being angry; it makes him uncomfortable, unsteady. He doesn’t like to fight like Billy did to quell the rage burbling inside his gut or like Tommy does, to satisfy a need to feel superior over those who are weaker than him. When he does fight, it’s to protect; to draw the attention away from those more vulnerable. He makes himself a target because he knows he can take it, and every blow that he blocks is a victory even at the cost of his own health.
In this moment, however, he can feel his pulse ringing in his ears, throbbing in his veins as he stares down the whirlwind of demon fucking bats darkening the hellish sky. The wood of his weapon creaks under the clench of his knuckles and he just… lets his vision go red.
Plant your feet, Harrington!
The first of the bats goes down with a sickening squelching noise, a savage sound tearing its way from his throat. He keeps moving, shifting with his own momentum and sweeping his nail bat to bludgeon anything within his range. He cuts a path easily through the dive-bombing swarm, his layers thicker than the last time he was here and offering much better protection. He still feels the teeth when one gets through his defensive arcing strikes, but it’s so muted beneath his rage that it’s insignificant. It’s easy to hook his fingers around its slimy rotten throat and use his own body mass and torque to rip the thing in half, acrid dark blood spraying in the air and staining his face, hair, and clothes as it settles. He can hear the shattering glass of Robin’s Molotovs and the gunfire from Nancy’s pistols behind him like distant echoes as he tears through another swooping demobat with a nail-ridden swing.
He hates these fucking things. He hates them. They took Eddie from Dustin. They took Eddie from Mr. Munson. They took Eddie from him. He’s closer to the trailer now, practically right next to it at this point, and he presses his back to it as he swings his bat in a long arc, slamming another fucking nasty bitch to the ground with a sickening squelch. It screeches when he presses a boot-clad foot on its writhing form and pries the nails out of its disgusting flesh before bringing the bat down again and again and again until finally, it stops moving. His chest is heaving and his outermost layer is nearly completely shredded. He’s got countless shallow wounds from where fangs have managed to penetrate his defenses but he hasn’t lost much blood yet. He can still fight.
He turns his attention to Nancy and Robin, and the two are holding their own exceptionally well. Robin is swinging her crowbar around and Nancy is firing off shotgun shells like a pro, having ditched the pistols at some point for more firepower. The swarm seems to be retreating now, called back by some force they’ve yet to see. He fucking hopes its not goddamn Vecna, because they sure as hell don’t have the time or the ammo to deal with his shit. Steve hauls himself fully upright as he makes his way back to his allies. He manages to kill a few more demobats on his way to them, watching as the rest fly off and disappear further into the trailer park. 
“Alright, I’m gonna check the roof, see if the guitar is up there. Can one of you check inside?”
“Got it.”
Steve nods at Robin and heads back over to the trailer, making his way up to the roof steadily. He hears the girls shut the front door so he knows they’re already inside by the time he manages to haul himself up to the top and he inhales sharply at the sight of Eddie’s guitar—a Warlock, he thinks it was called—left abandoned with the amps. His heart lurches in his chest as he approaches it, kneeling down and trailing his fingers across the dark, black angular surface. He chokes on a sob, hating that this very well may be one of the only things left of Eddie if they for some reason can’t bring back his body.
He’d known it was a possibility, but he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. With all the demobats they’ve just fought off, there’s just. There’s no way Eddie hasn’t been eaten at this point. Steve slips the handle of his nail bat through a loop on his jeans and gingerly, with reverence, he picks up the Warlock and slings it onto his back. He exhales shakily as the weight of it rests there, against his spine, and he finds himself clinging to the tiny shred of hope that still remains that Eddie’s body is still intact enough for them to carry back through the gate—back home.
Climbing back down isn’t too difficult, but it’s not necessarily easy either. Robin and Nancy look at him with sympathetic eyes but thankfully they don’t say anything. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it if they tried to say something right now. He swallows back another sob, pretending like he’s not on the cusp of another breakdown and straightens his spine.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
They follow.
The walk is silent again, no demobats in sight which is concerning. Steve doesn’t understand where they all went. There were so many, and now they’re just… gone? It doesn’t make sense. He grits his teeth and flexes his grip on his nail bat, trying to ignore the weighty addition of the Warlock at his back. As they get closer to where they’d left Eddie’s body, dread begins to creep in, slithering through his veins like icy vines. The area is dark with old blood, the ground irreversibly stained by Eddie’s bravery and his sacrifice. But his body is not there. There are no vines holding anything down, no evidence of his clothing even, barring the shredded remnants of a leather jacket, some fabric scraps, and the skull-printed black handkerchief he’d worn around his head resting on the bloodstained ground. 
“What the fu–”
The screech is unexpected and at a pitch that sends all three of them stumbling, clutching at their ears. Steve recovers quickly, stepping in front of Robin and Nancy and planting his feet like a human shield, holding his nail bat out in front of him. His gaze darts back and forth, trying to find the source of the screech when it drops from the sky before him. His heart leaps to his throat, adrenaline surging through his veins, because he has never encountered this kind of Upside Down monster before.
It hisses and snarls at them, flashing deadly, long fangs. Steve can clearly see what looks like blood smeared across the white surface and around the things’ mouth. Its head is vaguely bat-like, with what appear to be four, overlarge ears pushing out from the sides and temples of its head, the origins hidden by dark, curled hair or perhaps fur that drapes across its forehead, shoulders, and down its back—something most of the monsters haven’t had. Unlike most of the monsters they’ve seen so far, this one has eyes, and they gleam dark red, furious in the hellish lighting of the Upside Down. It stands on two legs, bent backwards in an inhuman manner and tapered down to deadly talon-tipped toes. Dark fur or maybe fabric of some kind covers the upper portion of its legs, and a long, dark tail swishes behind it. It’s vaguely humanoid in shape but stands slightly hunched, spine arched and visible skin pale as death. Wings not unlike those he’s seen on the demobats, but much larger and darker are spread from the things’ back, wide and tipped with what look like deadly talons. Its arms are pale at the shoulders and eerily human, riddled with lithe muscle as they bleed into dark ink-black forearms, ending in strong hands with long, talon-tipped fingers curled into deadly looking claws. Everything about it screams predator—deadly, territorial predator.
Except for one thing. 
One thing that makes Steve pause.
Because he would recognize that t-shirt anywhere, even half-shredded as it is.
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He slowly lowers his bat, causing Nancy and Robin to start hissing at him in a panic. He ignores them, tucking the weapon into his belt loop again. He pulls the goggles up to his forehead, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead and pulls his bandana down to his throat, exposing his face. He gingerly slides the Warlock off his back, keeping his motions controlled and slow, like he would were he dealing with a spooked animal. The monster before him stops snarling, hissing instead, and Steve watches as its head tilts slightly to the side in a motion that has Steve’s heart lurching in his chest with recognition. He sets the Warlock on the ground gently, never tearing his gaze away from the monster. He swallows. Robin is going to be pissed at him if he’s wrong, but then at least his corpse will be a good distraction for when they can run away, right? He takes a step forward and the snarling starts up again. He holds out his hands in the universal gesture for “calm down” and inhales to settle his own racing heart.
“Ed… Eddie?”
The monster’s hackles drop almost immediately at his words and its hunched posture straightens, showing off how it towers over Steve. A slow blink causes the red, angry eyes to shift to a hickory color, rounding them to the point where it would be almost comical were Steve not utterly terrified that this could still backfire. He forces himself to smile without showing his teeth, wiggling his fingers in a little wave, unnerved at the way those huge, warm eyes are just. Staring at him now.
“Hey, man… It's uh. Steve.”
There’s a long, drawn out moment where the only sound is the ambient background noise of the Upside Down. Steve has a horrifying thought of, well shit this isn’t going to work, I’m definitely going to die, but then all of his doom and gloom thoughts are dispelled. With a flurry of movement, the monster lets out a loud chirrup and scampers on all fours at Steve with inhuman speeds. He can hear Robin and Nancy’s panic, the click of Nancy cocking her shotgun, but she isn’t fast enough. The monster hits him full on in the chest, knocking him to the ground—thankfully not crushing the Warlock, Jesus Christ, that would have been painful—and pinning him there for a long moment. He stops breathing, because fuck, this thing is so much bigger than Eddie was as a human, but it’s only for a second because the formerly terrifying monster jumps off of him, running in delighted circles and twirls around where Steve sits, sprawled, chirping and crooning at him like an overly excitable pet. 
Steve hates to admit it, but this is fucking cute as hell. It’s weird, but goddamn is he not utterly charmed. He laughs a little to himself.
“You’re like a nice, giant monster puppy, Eddie!”
The monster freezes where it’s circling him, turning huge, hickory goddamn Bambi eyes on Steve before letting out the absolute cutest chirrup noise Steve’s ever heard in his entire life, and throwing itself at Steve’s chest again. That long tail is wagging so hard its hips and ass are moving with the motion, and its wings are fluttering slightly where they’re pulled back against that bony, inhuman spine. It pushes its big head under one of Steve’s hands like a cat asking for pets and Steve can’t help but laugh out loud, slightly hysterical, sinking his fingers into the… Eddie-monster’s curls and scratching. The noise Steve’s rewarded with is wonderfully charming, somewhere between a chirring sound and a cooing sound. 
“Good boy..?”
Steve watches as the Eddie-monster’s wings all but vibrate in response, the sub-vocal chirring noise growing louder as he presses his head harder into Steve’s hands. Steve knows his grin has to be absolutely manic at this point, but he’s so beyond caring. Eddie is alive! He turns his head towards Robin and Nancy, shooting them his best “can we keep him?” expression, complete with a cheesing grin.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Oh my god is that really Eddie? What the fuck, Steve, he really likes you!?”
Robin is laughing her ass off, which is par for the course and Steve expected nothing less from his fucking soulmate—god, he loves her so much—but Nancy is looking less than pleased, and deeply unnerved. He can’t say he really blames her, but there’s no way this goofy ass, giant nerd puppy thing isn’t the same guy who liked to jump up on cafeteria tables and give speeches like the dramatic shit he remembers!
“There’s no way that this thing is Eddie, Steve.”
Nancy takes a step closer to Steve, hands still clenched on her shotgun, and the Eddie-monster reacts very poorly to her approach. It happens in milliseconds—one moment he’s happily in Steve’s arms, and then then next he’s shoved Steve down underneath his body, flaring his wings out as he hovers over top of Steve, eyes once again going red. He’s snarling and hissing, saliva dripping from those massive sharp fangs, flexing his talons in a threat display. Steve sighs and rolls his eyes, shifting his body weight to sit up, grabbing a fist-full of Eddie-monster’s hair-fur like he would scruff a cat,
“Bad Eddie. We don’t snarl at our friends,” 
And pulls. Hard.
The squeaking cry that Eddie-monster lets out at the sudden, harsh tug is high pitched and the physical reaction that goes with it is immediate. His wings fold in and his eyes shift back to hickory, huge and big and glassy as he melts down against Steve’s chest, legs seemingly turning to jelly beneath him. His head falls back, exposing the entirety of his throat and collarbones as he whines, clawed hands flailing out in front of him until they settle against Steve’s thigh, kneading gently like a cat. His tail wraps around Steve’s other boot-covered ankle, the tip of it slipping inside the top to brush against the bare skin of his calf. Eddie-monster keeps whining softly until Steve’s fingers slowly release their tight hold on his hair-fur, resuming their petting instead. His weird little sub-vocal chirring begins again.
Robin is absolutely losing her shit.
Steve just flashes her a smug look over his shoulder, sending her into another round of hysterics.
“I’ve got him under control, Nance.” He turns back to Nancy, jerking his head down in a quick motion at the content, basically-purring giant monster in his lap, snuggling up against him. He fights the urge to smile.
“It’s definitely Eddie, look, he’s still got the Hellfire shirt on. It’s gotta be him. I have no idea why he looks like this, but I mean. We can’t just leave him here!”
“And what exactly are you going to do with him, Steve?” Nancy sounds so exasperated, a hint of anger in her tone, “Just keep him as a fucked up pet forever?”
“I don’t know, okay? I just. I don’t want to leave him here! Dustin deserves to know he’s alive, and so does Mr. Munson.”
Eddie-monster perks up when Steve says Dustin’s name, pulling his head out from under Steve’s hand and making a low sound that comes across almost questioning. Steve looks down at him, those huge Bambi eyes blinking back– holy shit, does Eddie have two sets of eyelids? What the fuck–
“Yeah, Eds.” He replies softly, aggressively ignoring the way Robin mouths his words back at him in his peripheral vision, clearly questioning his sudden nickname for a guy he technically only knew for like. A week. God, she’s going to razz the shit out of him for this later… Steve fights back the embarrassed blush he feels climbing his throat.
“Dustin Henderson, you remember him? You saved his life.”
Eddie-monster coos loudly, letting out another chirrup before tucking his head under Steve’s jaw, nuzzling up against him and letting out a low, sub-vocal sound that reminds Steve of purring. It rumbles against Steve’s chest, vibrating through his rib-cage. He feels the flush fill his cheeks and he sighs, surrendering to the lost cause.
“Yeah, Eds. He misses you so much. And your Uncle, too. Wayne Munson? He, uh. He’d be so happy to know you aren’t dead, man.”
The screech that comes out of Eddie-monster’s throat is soft and absolutely heartbreaking when Steve mentions Mr. Munson. It completely settles the matter for him, because fuck! Eddie deserves to see his goddamn family again, regardless of whether or not he’s some weird giant monster… puppy thing. So even if it means Steve has to fucking, like. Hide Eddie in his basement for the rest of his life, he’s gonna fucking do it, he’s gonna get Eddie out of this hellhole. Because they deserve this.
“So you wanna come with us? Back topside? I’ll get you safe in my house and then I can go bring them to–”
The wail that leaves Eddie-monster is terrified and he scrambles in Steve’s lap as though he’s trying to put all of his bulk as close to Steve as possible; something that would be funny were his talons not really fucking painful oh my god ow Jesus Christ. Steve bites the inside of his cheek, glancing down at where this giant, nearly seven-foot monster is shaking and clinging to him like a terrified baby, talons sunken into his skin, even through the thick layers of his jeans and his jackets. He hisses out a sigh.
“Okay, okay! Okay, Eds, I won’t leave you alone, I promise. Shh, it’s okay,” he soothes, running his hands back through the hair-fur along Eddie-monster’s shoulders and his neck.
He can feel the way Eddie-monster is trembling in his hold, whining softly where those fangs are pressed against Steve’s throat. He should probably be utterly terrified of that fact, but he honestly can’t even consider it. Eddie is clearly hurting right now, scared of being alone. Steve’s heart is breaking all over again for him—he’s realizing now that Eddie had awoken here, alone, after being fucking dead. Did he remember dying? Does he remember his choice? The courage he had to have, to choose someone else’s life over his own? And then… find himself abandoned in hell. Maybe he hadn’t woken in this monstrous form, maybe he’d awakened as a human, but the isolation somehow drove him to become this, this… half-feral beast. Steve swallows back his tears, he can’t be crying right now. Eddie needs him to be strong, he needs him to keep his goddamn shit together so they can get him home. 
He takes a shuddering breath.
He gently pushes on Eddie-monster’s massive shoulders and surprisingly, he goes easily with the pressure. Those giant Bambi eyes blink up at Steve, glassy and smoky hickory as Eddie-monster’s giant mass hunches in on himself. Steve’s already fractured heart gains another crack at the sight. He smiles without teeth and pets the top of Eddie-monster’s head, gently disrupting those soft, dark curls.
“Okay, man. You’re gonna come with me, okay? We’re gonna get topside, and then we’re gonna go home where you’ll stay with me. How does that sound?”
Eddie-monster pulls back from Steve’s chest a bit more as he chitters wildly. His wings flutter at his back and his gaze flickers across Steve’s face rapidly like he’s looking for something in Steve’s expression before dropping to where his talons are stuck in Steve’s arms and legs. His ears actually droop and he lets out a mournful, apologetic sound that warbles out of his throat. Gently but quickly, he extracts his talons and immediately skitters backwards, curling into himself like he’s ashamed. He ducks his head, tilting it to the side so that some of his hair-fur falls away from his neck to expose the pale skin beneath and the sad-sounding crooning he’s making takes on more of a whimpering tone with the action. Steve doesn’t want to see him so sad like this, the talons were an accident, after all. Eddie hadn’t intended to hurt him. Steve chuckles and stands up, brushing the Upside Down grunge off his pants. Eddie-monster doesn’t move, although the mournful croons begin to take on more of a pitiful whine the longer Steve takes to acknowledge his apologetic stance. 
Steve sighs with a small smile, finally satisfied with the sad state of his jeans and stepping closer. Sinking his fingers into that untamable mass of hair-fur, he presses down against Eddie-monster’s scalp and cards his hand through the surprisingly soft curls. Eddie-monster melts into him, pressing into the touch. The sad, crooning whines turning into that deep, low sub-vocal rumbling that Steve is fast becoming all-too-fond of. Steve indulges both himself and his monster for a long minute before pulling his hand back, patting Eddie on the head.
“If you’re done taming your pet monster,” Robin teases, a grin in her voice, “we should probably try to get out of here.”
Steve rolls his eyes at her, “Yeah, yeah, I hear you.”
He steps away from Eddie-monster and reaches down to swing the Warlock onto his back, letting out a soft oof when it resettles against his spine. He turns, shifting the strap across his chest to offer another closed-mouth smile at the hulking form behind him still seated on his haunches, watching Steve with blinking eyes. He pulls his goggles down over his own eyes and tugs his bandana back up over his face, adjusting them both until the fit is right. Eddie-monster shifts forward onto all fours, stalking forward with gaze narrowed and his nose twitching. Steve stays as still as he can, holding out his hand and murmuring soft encouragement, letting Eddie-monster reacquaint himself with Steve’s covered appearance. He gets circled a few times by the hulking form before he settles in at Steve’s side, seemingly content to plod along on all fours, his wings folded neatly against his back. Eddie-monster’s shoulders come up to just above Steve’s waist height, and he reaches out and ruffles the soft hair-fur around Eddie-monster’s two sets of ears, eliciting a pleased-sounding chirring noise as he presses his head into the touch. Steve tilts his own head towards his two human companions, glancing between them.
“Shall we, ladies?”
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The walk back through the Upside Down version of Forest Hills trailer park is just as cautious as their first venture, but having Eddie-monster at his side makes Steve feel infinitely safer. His heart feels settled, because even though the result isn’t exactly what he’d expected, it’s still a success. Eddie’s coming back with them through the gate, out of this hellhole. Steve glances down at the monster easily keeping pace with him, walking vigilantly at his side. Eddie-monster doesn’t radiate much heat, but the solid, large presence is a comfort nonetheless. Every few steps, Steve feels the sinuous touch of that long tail around one of his calves or behind his knees even through his thick denim jeans. It doesn’t inhibit his movement, so he assumes it’s a way for Eddie-monster to comfort himself with Steve's continued presence. He’s surprisingly tactile for a monster, but Steve certainly isn’t complaining. 
Steve’s not used to touch, himself. He spends so much time alone in his big, empty house—which, considering the whole shit happening in Hawkins at the moment, he’s pretty sure his parents have written off as a loss at this point. He loves his mom, she’s always tried, at the least. But while she’s a very supportive and loving person, she’s not exactly… maternal. If anything, she’s like a cool aunt who blows into town every so often and reassures him she loves him and then leaves. His dad? Grade A asshole. He’s never hit Steve or anything, but the man’s got a shitton of backwards-ass thinking and a lot of practice making Steve feel like the smallest thing in the room. Mom always hated that about him; after all, he was the one who’d really wanted kids in the first place, or so she’s said. Steve’s honestly still waiting for the day Mom finally serves his ass the divorce papers. So aside from Robin or Dustin, Steve doesn’t usually get touched very often, unless it’s with intent to hurt him. He’s pretty lonely, to be honest, so there’s a secret part of him that thrills at the idea of having a more permanent house guest in Eddie, even if he is more monster than human—possibly forever.
“Steve, we’ve got company.”
“Fuck fuck fuck! I hate those things…”
Nancy and Robin’s shaky warning pulls him from his thoughts, prompting him to immediately draw his nail bat from where it’s been tucked through one of his belt loops. The familiar heft of the wood in his hands is soothing, grounding in a way that ought to be concerning. He spins it in his hands once, twice—eyes trained on the sky. He glances at Nancy, watching her load her shotgun with a proficiency that no woman of her age should have honed so sharply, before turning his gaze to where Robin has a Molotov clutched in one hand and her crowbar tucked under her armpit. A lighter is clutched in her opposite hand, her thumb against the spark wheel, shaking with adrenaline. He returns his attention to the dark cloud in the sky as they keep moving forward in a group, but soon enough they can all tell it’s not so much a cloud as it is a massive swarm of those goddamn demobats. Nancy barks orders for them all to spread out a little, and they try to take some strategic cover as they keep moving. He curses.
“I fucking hate these things so goddamn much.”
They press onward, keeping their eyes on the swarm and sticking to their cover as much as possible. Eddie-monster keeps making these soft, confused sounds at them as they keep weaving in and out between the trailers, but Steve doesn’t really have the capacity to explain the strategy or reasoning to him. Doesn’t Eddie remember these fucking things? They’d killed him, after all, and it wasn’t exactly a peaceful fucking death. Steve can see that Eddie-monster has the scars from his death, present and patchwork pink along his arms, legs, and torso. Patchy bite marks marring the surface of his throat and the edge of his jaw; the pale, healed-over wounds present and haunting in the memory they represent. Steve feels that familiar rage begin to bubble in his gut, the wood of his bat creaking under the increasing grip of his fingers. His knuckles sting with how taut his skin is pulled across them, and his jaw aches from how hard he’s clenched it, teeth nearly grinding against one another. The gentle nuzzle against his non-dominant arm pulls him from his single-minded, rage-fueled focus and his eyes dart down to Eddie-monster at his side. Those big eyes look up at him as Eddie-monster coos gently, obvious concern in the soft trill. Steve softens, a smile pulling at his lips from beneath his bandana. He takes a moment to ghost his fingers through the fluffy curls haloing Eddie-monster’s head, a gooey feeling overflowing inside his chest as his monster leans into his barest touch. It feels a lot like respite, a taste of something he doesn’t get much of these days, and it’s oh so welcome.
“Steve! Fuck! Steve!”
Robin’s panicked scream pulls him from his Eddie-shaped distraction and his body tenses as his eyes snap up toward the dive-bombing horde that’s somehow gotten on top of them. He curses himself, instinctively raising his nail bat and getting ready to start swinging to defend them both. He feels the rage burble up in his gut, rising to the surface and begging to be let out, that red haze teasing the edges of his vision but movement in his periphery makes him pause. Eddie-monster tilts his head, glancing up at the swarm and goes utterly still. There’s a long moment where the two of them turn to each other, staring into one another’s eyes. Steve watches as something solidifies in his monster’s mind and then those soft, warm eyes glow red.
Eddie-monster wrenches his gaze away from Steve, moving inhumanly fast on two legs again, not quite fully upright as his wings snap out, shielding Steve completely from the incoming swarm. The muscles in his legs are tense, flexing and matching with his dark-tipped arms. The talons on his hands gleam in the Upside Down haze and a glint catches the light as he moves them, drawing Steve’s eye. Absurdly, that he still has his rings makes Steve laugh quietly under his breath. He’s pulled from his thoughts as Eddie-monster’s tail wraps around Steve’s head, obscuring his vision and completely covering his ears, muffling his hearing almost completely when the swarm is nearly upon them.
He panics immediately. He’s back there again, being dragged down through Lover’s Lake, flung through a gate alone into hell to be eaten alive by monsters. He struggles to breathe, his heartbeat racing in his chest. He frantically reaches up to grab at the appendage, the memories of that demobat tail around his throat rising to the surface and drowning him in terror. He can still remember the pain, the squeeze as his air was cut off, the way his skin began to shred. His hands shake as he clutches at the shockingly strong muscle, fingers slipping around the edges, he can’t get a grip—he can’t go out like this, no, not again—but he freezes when he hears it.
The scream that comes out of Eddie-monster is loud and rings in his head, even through the impromptu protection the tail provides. And it is protection, he realizes. The understanding settles over him like a shroud, calming his racing heart and suddenly he can breathe again. Eddie-monster’s tail is gentle where it wraps around his head, not squeezing or intending to harm him. It’s simply there, blocking his ears and inadvertently his vision. It’s not choking him; it’s not stopping his breath in his throat or cutting off his blood supply. He reaches up and moves the tail slightly away from where it blocks his vision as his heart begins to calm. What he sees when it finally budges that singular inch makes his eyes widen in shock.
Eddie-monster is still making that horrible screaming sound, but nearly every demobat that gets within like, twenty or thirty feet in front of him (and also Steve) is being thrown back, convulsing or just straight up exploding. The ones that don’t get pushed back are torn to shreds by those ink-black talons, dark blood spraying absolutely everywhere. Eddie-monster’s wings shield him from the majority of the spatter, but Steve can imagine what kind of macabre display it would be were he in the midst of it all. Steve rests his hand against the tail, gently tracing his fingers over the surprisingly soft texture of it. The scream finally stops and Steve notices the way Eddie-monster’s wings suddenly ripple as his hunched posture straightens up. One blood red eye glances over a pale, hair-fur covered shoulder and Steve tilts his head in response, hoping that Eddie-monster can tell he’s grateful for the impromptu help. Another visible shudder flows through Eddie-monster’s body and that red gaze seems to gleam with a different emotion, although Steve can’t quite place it. Their locked eyes break apart and Eddie-monster seems to refocus.
This time, it isn’t a scream but a screech and Steve watches in wonder as the remainder of the swarm drops from the sky to fall to the ground with sickening, squelching thuds. Steve can see the way the air around the two of them seems to vibrate with force, the floating spore-like drifting debris of the Upside Down rippling in waves away from them like rocks skipping across the surface of a pond, their impact leaving behind echoes of concentric rings. The screech drags on for nearly a whole minute, and Steve finds himself deeply impressed with Eddie-monster’s lung capacity, wondering if that’s something that carried over from his human life. He’d been in a band, right? Did he sing, too? It would make sense, if his aptitude in his first lease on life translated over to the second. Selfishly, Steve wishes he could get a proper answer from Eddie on the matter, suddenly frustrated at the insurmountable language barrier that’s cropped up between them. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, punishing himself for such thinking. This isn’t the time, after all.
With the vast majority of the swarm now either dead or debilitated, Steve pats Eddie-monster’s tail, trying to get his attention.
“Hey, Eds, we gotta get to the gate now, man. We need to run for it. The longer we stay here, the more of a target we make, okay? You with me?”
Eddie-monster’s wings resettle against his back and he slumps back to all fours, his tail loosening from around Steve’s head at his words. He turns and staggers against Steve’s side like he’s suddenly exhausted. Steve presses his forehead against Eddie-monster’s and sinks his hands into those soft curly masses of hair-fur, shutting his eyes.
“You did good, Eds. I’m so proud of you.”
The pleased croon Steve gets in reply makes his heart do some funny acrobatics in his chest, but now isn’t the time to examine that. Steve shelves it for later examination, when they’re safely out of the Upside Down.
“Steve!” Robin calls out, “We gotta go! Eddie saved our asses but now we gotta book it!”
“I’m aware, Buckley! C’mon, man, you good to keep moving?”
A determined chirp comes from Eddie-monster’s throat and Steve takes that as confirmation. He keeps his nail bat in hand as he moves quickly alongside Nancy and Robin back to the gate they slipped through. Steve smiles at the soft caress of Eddie-monster’s tail as it snakes its way around his wrist like a prehensile bracelet, holding snugly against the pulse that races beneath thin skin. They move as a group the rest of the way out of the Forest Hills trailer park with little incident, quickly managing to get back to the smaller gate they’d slipped through. Steve finally feels like he can breathe again, like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel after so long in the dark. They’re going to be able to get Eddie out. He lets out a tired laugh, his shoulders sagging as the relief and elation washes over him like a tidal wave. He gets a questioning coo and a headbutt from his monster.
“You guys go ahead, okay? I’m gonna take a second with Eddie.”
Nancy clenches her jaw beneath her medical mask, but she nods and pulls herself through the glowing rift, vanishing from Steve’s eyes. Robin hesitates, eyeing Steve warily.
“You gonna be okay, Dingus? You sure you don’t want me to stay..?”
He smiles at her, loving his platonic with a capital P soulmate with his whole heart, “No, but thank you, Robin. Maybe just keep an eye out for us when we come through, okay?”
She softens at his gentle tone, nodding decisively and awkwardly spider climbing through the rift herself. Steve takes a deep breath and slumps against one of the spindly trees nearby to collect his thoughts and wildly swooping emotions. He shoves his goggles up onto his forehead, pressing his palms into his eyes and exhaling loudly. He’s feeling overwhelmed, all sorts of emotions he doesn’t really know what to do with. On one hand, he’s ecstatic because what started out as a body recovery mission has become a rescue, because Eddie is alive. But on the other hand, Eddie isn’t really human anymore. Eddie is, for all intents and purposes, a monster. He’s probably tied to this godforsaken place. He knows the kids and even Robin and Nancy call him an idiot, but Steve’s observant. He remembers what happened with the demodogs when El cut them off from the Upside Down– how they’d all just dropped dead. He’s terrified that might happen to Eddie when the time comes to close the gates for good. He doesn’t want to put more pressure on El by asking her to find a solution for Eddie when she’s already dedicating so much time to drawing Max out of her coma, but…
Steve can’t lose him again, not when he’s just gotten Eddie back.
He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels the press of something calloused against his face. He blinks his eyes open, coming face-to-face with Eddie-monster’s big hickory-colored eyes, those deadly, taloned thumbs curved down, the knuckles softly brushing away the tears on Steve’s face with a gentleness that makes Steve’s lip quiver and his resolve crumble, threatening to collapse in on itself. How could anyone ever think such a sweet, kind guy was ever capable of murder? Steve takes a trembling breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he fights back the overwhelmed sobs that desperately battle to escape his chest. 
He may have only gotten to truly know the guy for a week, but in that short time, Steve had observed enough about the guy to get a decent read on him. Eddie is brash, bold, in-your-face all the time, making himself the biggest target in the room. He wears his devil-may-care attitude like armor and his counterculture anarchist ideals as a shield, using the “Freak” moniker to arm himself while putting himself in the sights of perceived threats, to take the heat off of those he deems his “sheepies.” Eddie’s got a protective streak that runs almost as deeply as Steve’s own, but the borderline feral way he goes about defending those he considers his is wilder than the practiced, methodical way Steve tends to adopt. Eddie makes himself the threat by being unpredictable, by being wild and loud and impossible to ignore. Steve knows Eddie would go to bat for any of his people, his Hellfire crew and his band, (and now maybe even the Party) because on the inside he cares so deeply that it’s visible from fucking space.
Steve cannot allow him to have his life cut tragically short again. He won’t allow it. Eddie is such an inherently good person, he deserves to have a future– to have people who love him and care for him around him every day. He ought to have the world if he wants it, in Steve’s mind, because hasn’t the guy given enough? Hasn’t he earned the right to a little peace if he wants it? Eddie’s one of Steve’s now, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to let Eddie be lost a second time. He’ll beg El on his knees if he has to, he’ll throw a wrench in the whole plans if the Party refuses to wait to find a solution to make sure Eds doesn’t just drop dead when they close the gates for good. Steve knows he’s not a good person; he’s petty and can be downright bitchy when push comes to shove, but the one thing he does have going for him is that he will never back down when it comes to protecting one of his people, even if it means going against his other people to do it.
Steve’s pulled from his musings by Eddie-monster’s concerned crooning noises, growing louder as his massive frame presses Steve further against the tree. In some ways, the weight of him is grounding, but Steve knows they really don’t have the time to explore that right now. Once he gets the guy home—and maybe into a bath, because Jesus Christ does he really deserve a nice bath after all the time he’s had to spend here in this absolute hellscape—maybe they can experiment on the couch how well Eddie-monster works as a blanket. Steve takes a deep breath, bringing his hands up to push gently against Eddie-monster’s chest, wood-calloused fingers brushing softly against the raggedly torn remnants of Eddie’s Hellfire shirt.
“I’m okay now, man… but thank you for caring,” Steve says softly, patting his hand against his monster’s chest, “we should get going now that I’m not falling apart like a loser.”
Eddie-monster steps back obediently, but makes a low rumbling noise at Steve calling himself a loser and snapping his jaws at Steve’s hand in an empty warning, snorting in disdain.
“Okay, sassafras, yeesh! Can’t a guy be self-deprecating anymore without the peanut gallery chiming in? Fine, I won’t call myself a loser, are you happy now?”
Eddie-monster makes a self-satisfied sounding chirrup, dropping back down to all fours and spinning in a circle in front of Steve, staring up at him with wide hickory eyes like he’s waiting for praise. It’s alarmingly adorable and he doesn’t even try to quell the wave of fondness that rises in his chest. He can quite literally feel his expression melting as he gazes down at his sweet, gentle monster, but he finds that for once, he doesn’t care that he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve. If Eddie-monster figures out that Steve actually likes him– and even liked him as a human back then maybe a little more than was strictly normal between two straight dudes, then so be it. It’s not like Steve’s going to get any chances to act on it, not with Eddie more monster than human, and more than likely in that state permanently.
“Alright,” Steve takes a deep breath after running his fingers through Eddie-monster’s soft curls to bolster his courage, “you ready to get going, man?”
Eddie-monster blinks those double eyelids and flicks his tail, so Steve takes that as a confirmation. He takes another breath and eyes the rift he has to climb through, strengthening his resolve.
“Okay then. Once more unto the breach, or however that shit went…” Steve mutters, “Follow close, don’t lose sight of me! The gates are a lot bigger now!”
He climbs.
He doesn’t bother looking back, knowing that Eddie-monster is following him. Steve feels his presence like a balm on his soul, and it’s only when the gravity shift hits and he stumbles out into right-side-up Hawkins on his feet that he realizes he can’t feel it anymore. He’s dazed for a moment, unseeing and disoriented as he always is after coming through a gate, but the alarm from not feeling his monster’s presence shakes him out of it faster than usual. He whips back towards the gate, but freezes in place as he catches sight of someone in his periphery he didn’t expect to see. 
He turns guiltily, facing down a man he’s come to see as a surrogate father in recent weeks. 
“Uhh, hey there, Hop… fancy seeing you here?”
Nancy and Robin are standing guiltily behind the police chief, Ms. Byers staring him down with that awful I’m not mad I’m just disappointed look that some moms just seem to have down pat. He cringes.
“Harrington,” Hopper growls out, arching a shaggy brow, “Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing, going into the Upside Down with only those two as backup?”
“I–”
“Jim! There’s something in the gate!”
Steve’s body goes rigid with panic at Ms. Byers’ tone, the no-nonsense laced with fear immediately setting off Hopper, the man drawing his gun with speed that makes Steve’s legs tremble. His gut is telling him he needs to act, and act quickly or something very bad is going to happen very fast.
“Wait! No!” he shouts, whipping his head back toward the gate, where he sees the large, dark shape of Eddie-monster about to break through, “don’t shoot him!”
Steve plants his feet in front of Hopper, blocking his view of the gate so he can’t possibly get a shot off. The man all but growls at Steve, and for a moment Steve is worried Hopper is going to just grab him and throw him– he may have been in a Russian prison camp, but even emaciated, Jim Hopper is much larger and stronger than he is. Hopper moves towards Steve, gun still drawn but his finger nowhere near the trigger, and it’s clear he’s about to yell at Steve to get the hell out of the way, but with a sharp inhale, Steve is yanked back off his feet and thuds heavily against a soft-but-solid, lukewarm wall. He blinks as it vibrates and a deep, menacing rumble reverberates in the air around him.
He looks up.
Eddie-monster is curved defensively around him, one arm draped across Steve’s stomach, talons flexing in an aggressive position. He’s not clutching to Steve, like he knows Steve is more than capable of protecting himself but Eddie-monster feels better with him close, beneath his massive, mantled wings. The cold touch of that prehensile tail against his ankle is back, and Steve feels himself relax almost immediately, glancing up at the intimidating presence his monster makes. He smiles, patting Eddie-monster on the chest.
“Hey, hey, bud,” he soothes, “it’s okay, it’s just Hop. He thought something bad was coming through the gate, he didn’t know about you. Shh, c’mere.”
Steve can vaguely hear the indignant sputtering and yelling coming from where the others are standing, but all his focus is on getting his monster to calm down. Eddie-monster drops his red gaze to Steve, letting out a questioning croon as his wings slowly relax from their mantled position. Steve keeps stroking his monster’s chest, but reaches up with his other hand to card his fingers through some of the hair-fur around the sides of Eddie-monster’s face. Red eyes flutter shut and the crooning shifts over into that sub-vocal rumbling pseudo-purr as the giant form begins to melt into Steve’s touch. Within two minutes, Eddie-monster is docile as a contented kitten, his giant body plastered against Steve’s back, nose against his human’s neck, and rumbling away while Steve continues to lavish his monster with affection.
“So,” Steve starts, sheepishly addressing an exasperated Jim Hopper, a bemused Joyce Byers, a resigned Nancy Wheeler, and a cackling Robin Buckley, “um, Eddie’s alive? Surprise?”
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Part One (You are Here!) ||| Part Two
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Follow the #Take Me Home steddie fic tag or me, @hobbyistauthor for updates, or just ask to be tagged! If you're already on the tag list and would like to be taken off, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.
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rreskk · 2 days
Note
HEYHEYHEYYYY love your work sm.
can you pls write about Trevors love for tits? without sex, maybe, as you wish. just so that he would spend a lot of time on the tits, touchin', saying something about them, licking, kissing, etc. ANDDDD PLSSSS NORTH YANKTON ERA, LOVE YOUR FANFICS ABOUT THIS ERA. 😥😥😥😥
Summary: It was a busy and exhausting day. Trevor was in a mellow mood and wanted physical affection in the most calmest way.
Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips
Word count: 728 - short and sweet :)
TW: Suggestive?? (no smut though)
HANDY
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“Have you turned the heater on yet?”
Stumbling occurred within the small motel room before he appeared out of the cluttered maintenance cupboard, his coat wide open and white shirt covered by this thick, cotton sweater. Gifted by you months prior.
Trevor nodded his head momentarily and removed his coat as it was tossed aside onto the lonely desk in the corner. He rolled up his sleeves and immediately adjusted the untamed mess of his hair, grease at every surplus and molecule, the hair shining off the nightlights glow.
“Yeah, yeah.” He responded in his usual outside voice.
You decided to test his honesty and raised your hands towards the radiator beside the bed. Trevor snickered at your wariness. He crawled onto the empty space beside you and waited for your approval, his eyebrows raised.
Warmth slowly poured from the electric heater; your icy fingers loosening up at the joints, finally feeling after being out in the cold all day running from bar to bar with Trevor and his friends. It was nice before a debate turned into an argument, and soon you were sat beside his friends wife in awkward silence, watching Trevor attempt to wrestle his friend in the middle of the bar.
You were supposedly angry but couldn’t stay like that for long. Something about his chocolate eyes and how it sparkled in the moonlight. You pathetically took him back into the motel, resulting to present moment where his arm started to snake around your waist and pulling you from the radiator.
“It’s on.” He whined and fell onto his back, bringing you with him.
The length of his arms – lanky yet firm – kept you in place. It moved from your waist to your chest.
“Hey.” You softly smirked and tried to look back at him, but he wasn’t seen. Trevor had snuggled against you enough to disappear from your sight. His face so cruelly nuzzled against your neck that it made you shiver.
“Warming up now?” His voice occurred from the fabrics of your shirt.
From that moment, you knew he hadn’t of turned the heating on. There was no noise coming from the heater beside the bed. He was obviously trying to cover it up with his body heat. And it was working.
“Mhm.” You blankly lied to feed on his pride, instantly feeling him grow more handy with his fingers.
Your shirt had been shuffled around until it came loose around the front. He had arranged your body to access the chest easier from behind. Trevor’s smirk could be felt against your neck as he began teasing you, his fingers slowly approaching your bra, sitting at the wiring.
No words were said since you didn’t want to break his concentration. By the pace of his hands, Trevor was taking his time. He was calm and collected. Encouraging him to undress you with eagerness would turn his tranquillity into mere energy and lust. In a day like this, so wintery and in bliss, you didn’t want that. So you stayed quiet and allowed him to play around with your chest.
“My favourite bra.” He announced after feeling the fabrics that covered your breasts. The fact that he could name his favourites of your bra from touch said a lot about his observations and sensory memories.
It made you smile, nodding gently. “Yeah.”
A small sigh left his lips and he sunk further against you.
Trevor took a few minutes then unclipped your bra as it fell from your shoulders. Delicately, he pulled it down your arms until your chest proclaimed freedom. He couldn’t see but he didn’t need to. He simply took you into his hands, the skin-to-skin contact making him groan with pleasure. Nonetheless, he was not aggressive like he usually was.
Instead, you rested your eyes as he lovingly groped at your breasts.
His hands were rough but in the best way. The skin was dry and hard on your nipples; it was a sensation that made you shiver in a humorous manner. Like being scratched on the back. It tickled nicely and was a relief to the tension held in your shoulders.
“The heaters not working.” Trevor finally mentioned while playing with your chest.
He chose the moment you were most at ease – typical behaviour. He knew you too well.
“I know.” You returned with a smile. “I don’t care.”
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machiavellli · 4 months
Text
Some Theodore Nott headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚
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Notes: I’m no ff writer, but in the past couple of days @slytherinslut0 kept taking about him and so I went on the internet and did the only sane thing I had to do: search any piece of information about the actor. And ever since I discovered that Lorenzo Zurzolo is not only Italian, but from ROME, I can’t stop thing about him. I need to let out those thoughts of mine.
Now, you don’t understand. ROMAN GUYS LOVE ON ANOTHER LEVEL. Like this is very personal and subjective maybe BUT, in humble opinion, they become absolutely and utterly taken by you. It’s wonderful. Like maybe I am idolizing, but let’s take my bf as an example, Roman guy ™️, he loves like no one else. Then, girls from Lazio will probably throw tomatoes at me, but no one can stop me right now.
Disclaimer: English is not my first language, almost totally fluff. Based on personal experience. NOT PROOFREAD (class is starting RIGHT NOW)
Scusatemi per la probabilmente pessima interpretazione dei ragazzi romani, care personcine romane, io sono più del sud, ma vivo più a Nord, al Nord oltre al Nord (un bel mix if you ask me). Questa è pura esperienza personale che trasferisco su un personaggio immaginario.
-—-—-——-—-—
Theodore Nott, your Italian Slytherin guy:
He might take his time to decide if you are the one for him
BUT the moment he decides you are the one for him, he will take you out on a date in less than a week starting from now
There is no point on waiting any longer.
He will arrange the date, you just have to show up and look pretty, no need to lift a finger for anything else.
Old fashioned type of guy.
(And I feel like his fashion reflects that)
Will hold any door for you, move the chair for you, pay dinner and even your ride back home if necessary.
Maybe if you go with him for a walk after your dinner and the right atmosphere forms, you will have your first kiss with him. Something very delicate, soft, but still exciting.
He will probably ask to see you again the very next day, he can’t take enough of you.
As I said, I think Roman guys are pretty direct, they don’t waist their time, it’s either with them or nothing. No games to play.
So yeah, you might not be used to but he will ask you to be his girlfriend in a very little time (for me it was the day of my first date, but again, very personal)
Why should he wait? He likes you and that’s all that matters.
After that: you got him in a chokehold.
He will walk you to class. Every. Single. Day.
Will do absolutely anything just to spent more time with you.
He might be a little shy to start using “pet names”
Maybe he will start with a simple “amò” (short version of “love”), which is romantic, but not strictly, I also use it with my girl friends (and a more corrupted version is “amio”, but I use it only as a joke, but there are girls who actually use it and no shame on that)
Many guys usually refer to their girlfriends as “la mia tipa” (which I don’t like), and he will also do that at first, but once he gets comfortable he will always call you “la mia ragazza” (even in front of his friends)
And I have to advise you on that, he will tell you that infamous “ti amo” pretty soon too.
Again: no time to die (is this an actual English saying or am I just make it up right now?boh)
You two are watching the sunset, when you notice that he’s not looking at the sky anymore but at you
A couple of minutes pass by and you ask “what is it?”
With those big beautiful eyes and that smirk of his, he will look at you and just say “nothing amore, ti amo”
He won’t expect for you to say it back
You can wait as long as you like for telling it back, there’s no rush, no pressure to say it back
Your moroso (usually adults use this term but for me it’s cute) just wanted to let you know that he cares about you.
He will literally say “because it felt right, why should I wait?”
My man is just expressing what he feels
And you want to say no to that???crazyyyy
As I already stated, he is so kind with you and with some time he will absolutely let you know that his love language is touch.
At first in your first months of dating it’s just holding hands, an arm around you shoulder, an arm on your waist,…
And at first he won’t be always touching (and with it I mean the things I listed above) you in public.
Mama’s boy is direct but still has light sheer of shyness
How could he not. He finds you beautiful under every light.
BUT THEN
And with it I mean after you get intimate, which will take a a couple of months
Listen, if things are serious in real life, it takes a bit of time…so’ seria io quindi per me funziona così
After that he will and without holding back always touching you in public (WHICH DOESNT MEAN IN A SENSUAL WAY)
He will hold your hand, put a hand on your thigh,… this type of stuff. He just needs to know you are here with him.
Definitely the type of guy that tries to kiss you even at the worst moments.
You are speaking with someone? What does it mean that he can’t kiss you? Ao non scherziamo qua
You are his and he definitely doesn’t share
(And he’s definitely yours don’t worry, absolutely don’t worry.)
Jealous type of of guy.
Let’s be honest here: he won’t be happy about your guy friends (maybe I’m toxic but I won’t be happy about his girl friend that are not my friend first too)
If you can drop them, it’s for the best.
“Io so che cazzo pensano quelli” he will tell you a bit frustrated
My man just wants to protect you, Italian guy ™️ behavior (very common in my opinion for them to be protective, like last week an Italian guy, a friend 🅰️🅾️, from the north literally shielded me from a weird-looking fella, moving me to the other side of the street)
Sometimes he will just look at you and say “sei bellissima” with the cutest smile known to human kind
Or maybe something like “Lo sai che sei proprio bella?” while he similes at you
And yes, he will tell you always and everywhere, even with a whisper during class just to get you flushed, even if you look like shit <3
You will often find asking to yourself how a person can love you so much, care for you so much.
Like this is not a self esteem problem, even if you are extremely confident: you will ask yourself this.
Because in every flaws he finds beauty.
It’s out of this world.
He won’t in fact tolerate you taking shit about yourself and he might be even be rude about it
“Smettila con ste cazzate.”
He can’t comprehend how you could say that about yourself, “la sua amata e diletta” (si si lo so, “diletta” è come Machiavelli definisce sua moglie e sì non c’entra per nulla, ma volevo aggiungerlo, non rovinatemi la magia)
He will talk with you about your future, about how he would like to have kids with you, “pensa che bello avere dei piccoli noi che corrono in giro per casa”
And then, this one is extremely based on personal experience, after some time he will just start saying “I wanna marry you”, “Ti voglio sposare”
Even during random moments, he will look at you and just say it
Like, it doesn’t mean you are getting married right now. No. It just means that he wants you forever, he won’t leave you.
He will make you happy in every way possible (yeah even in the bedroom)
Cuddling you is THE activity for him.
And if he can lay between your thighs, that’s basically haven. He won’t stop saying “così soffici” and then kiss them.
He also loves kissing you, as passionate as it gets.
He will “hold you hair in deep devotion” (he is so “I wanna be yours” coded)
Also: “say yes to haven” coded.
He will always protect you, no matter against who.
He will choose you over anything.
If his friend are rude to you or say ANYTHING bad about you, they are over, he won’t tolerate any form of aggression on you.
You are the only woman in this world for him…like even an angel could walk by and he would still have his eyes on you only.
He won’t even look at other girls anymore, why should he? He has found la sua anima gemella dopotutto.
In the end, you really will become il suo tesoro, and the nickname tesoro will probably be the most used one.
“Ti amo tantissimo”, ti dirà ogni sera prima di darti la buonanotte.
-—-—-——-—-—
-> part II
Ahh ​Roman guys are my Roman Empire.
My asks are open btw!
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superhaught · 10 days
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Gym Class Heroes
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Pairing: Regina George x Reader
Warnings: head injury, blood, homophobia
Word Count: 1600, Part 1/?
Anonymous asked: Hey hun, sup? can i make a lil' request? i'd like to ask for a Regina George x Reader (reader is afab but kinda androgynous) where a fight breaks out at gym class and Regina steps in breaking out the fight because she gets really protective of reader (even though they never spoke before that day but both have like this unspoken attraction to one another) and takes care of reader's injuries? might lead to kissing. it's fluff with a bit of angst mixed in pls? Thanks a lot!!!!
It was your least favorite part of the day: gym class. 
You hated it. Hated it.
Not that you didn’t like being active or didn’t enjoy learning about exercise and the human body and nutrition, that was all fine.
You hated the locker room. You hated the jocks. You hated getting sweaty and smelly halfway through your school day. You hated the stench of the gym and the feel of the rubber floors. You hated fitness tests. And you didn’t particularly enjoy Coach Carr. 
But… It wasn't all bad. 
There was always Regina. 
At first, you were terrified to have gym with her. You were certain that she would find ways to make you feel self-conscious the entire semester, not necessarily intentionally, that was just her way. But, that didn’t end up being the case. 
You still never spoke to her, but every once in a while, you caught her glancing at you. In the locker room as you changed into your cutoff shirts, when you were running laps or doing sit ups, even when you were just taking notes, you could feel her eyes on you. 
You would look, and she would look away, and you’d get all flustered by her cropped tank tops and high-waisted leggings, then you’d look away again, trying to hide your reddened cheeks. 
You had to be delusional, though. There was no way that Regina George was actually crushing on you. You had to be making it up. 
Thank goodness for small miracles. It was Friday and when you entered the gym, Coach Carr yelled out that it would just be a free gym day. No particular lesson or game to worry about, everyone could just pick an activity and do what they wanted as long as they were being active. You breathed a sigh of relief and went to go grab a basketball.
You posted up at one of the hoops with a few others who were just going to practice taking shots quietly. You put your earbuds in and started playing music on your phone and began to just blissfully zone out. You took turns with your peers practicing layups and free throws while sneaking glances across the gym at Regina who was lobbing a volleyball back and forth with Gretchen. You couldn't help but notice how good she looked.
You didn’t notice Coach Carr leaving the gym to take his daily smoke break. 
You didn’t notice Shane Ohman and his buddies approaching you. 
You didn’t notice them hollering insults at you, not until it was too late. 
“Hey! I’m talking to you, you fucking dyke!” 
Shane chucked his basketball through the air at full force and it smacked into your temple. You saw stars and went straight to the ground, feeling the sting of the skin of your eyebrow splitting and the warm wetness of fresh blood pouring down the side of your face from the wound. 
One of Shane’s friends said, “ohhh shiiit.”
“That’s what you get for fucking checking out my girls’ ass, you lesbo!” Shane shouted. 
The group of guys were only egging him on, and as far as you knew, everyone else was stunned into silence. You vaguely saw the shape of Shane hovering over you before a flash of blonde ponytail entered your vision. 
“Your girl!? Now I know you better not be talking about me you fucking piece of shit. I dumped your smarmy ass so what fucking business do you have coming to my defense against someone who’s half your size? Get the fuck out of here before I get your dad and Principal Duvall in the same room and tell them you committed a hate crime and get your athletic scholarship flushed down the toilet or worse!” 
You heard the sounds of feet quickly sprinting away on the gym floor and then saw the blonde crouch down beside you through your good eye. 
“That looks bad,” she winced, lightly touching your shoulder. She turned her head to speak to someone else, “Gretchen, go get Coach Carr and tell him what happened, yeah? We’re going straight to the nurses’ office.”
Before you could process, Regina was helping you stand up and was acting as a crutch for you. She helped you make your way out of the gym through the locker room. She stopped for a moment to grab a clean towel and pressed it against the wound on your head and the pressure made you feel faint.
“Fuck I need to sit…” you gasped. 
“Okay, okay,” she quickly guided you down to a bench and sat beside you, still holding the towel to your head, “There you go, take it easy.” 
You peered at her as she slowly came into focus.
“Regina, why are you helping me?” 
“Why not?” 
“Well… because you’re you?” 
The corner of her mouth raised into a little smirk, “I don’t know what you mean.” 
“I don’t take you for the helping kind.” 
“How about you worry less about talking and more about staying conscious. Do you think you can walk with me to the nurse?” 
You made a solid effort to stand back up but you immediately felt lightheaded and plopped back down, shaking your head lightly. 
“Alright, we’ll stay here then.” Regina looked around the locker room and located a first aid kit on the wall, “okay, I need you to lie down slowly on the bench, slowly, and hold the towel, I’m gonna get the first aid kit just hang in there.” 
You replaced her hand on the towel with yours and held it against your head as you lied down and she got up. She came back a second later holding the first aid kit. 
Regina carefully peeled the towel away and winced along with you, “okay, I’m not a doctor obviously but I don’t think you need stitches? You probably have a concussion, though, so I think you should go to a doctor or something but I don’t want to move you for now.” 
She started fussing with things in the first aid kit and explained, “I’m just going to clean the cut and bandage it up for the time being, okay? It looks like it’s not bleeding anymore so that’s good.” 
You nodded and watched her, “you’re surprisingly caring…” 
“What did I say about talking?” 
You snapped your mouth closed. 
“Little sting,” Regina covered your eyelid with her hand and sprayed antiseptic solution onto the wound then gently wiped it with gauze. 
“How do you even bandage an eyebrow?” She muttered. 
“The butterfly ones, or the strip-type bandages to pull the edges together, and then gauze over it.” You offer. 
“Huh, okay.” 
Regina took her time finding the right things and carefully tending to you. 
“Do you think I’m going to have a scar?” 
“Maybe. Probably,” Regina answered, “it’ll look cool if you do. Very rugged.” 
“Stupid story behind it…” 
“I’m going to have Shane roasted on a spit for doing this to you, I promise you that.” 
“Oh jeez, Regina. You don’t have to do that.” 
“Did it sound like I was asking?” 
You swallowed and tested sitting up slowly after she finished bandaging you up. 
“Slow, slow…” she commanded, holding onto your upper arms.
You nodded and came to an upright position without feeling faint, “I already feel a lot better. Thanks, Regina.” 
“I still think you need to leave school and go to the doctor to get checked for a concussion. You don’t need an ambulance or anything like that, probably. We can call your parents or honestly I can drive you if your parents are working…”
“Oh… that’s really nice of you. I’ll call my mom and see what she thinks.” 
She nodded and checked your bandages again. She was fussing over you in a weirdly concerned, maternal way. 
“Regina?” 
“Hmm?” 
“How come no one sees this side of you?” 
She raised an eyebrow, “most people don’t earn this side of me.” 
“But I do?” 
“Sure.” 
You didn’t really have a good response to that so you just stayed quiet while Regina got up and got you some water and then texted Gretchen updates. 
“Gretchen will bring Coach Carr in here in a sec to check in, is that okay?” 
You nodded. 
Regina examined you again, “can I ask you a question?” 
“What’s up?” 
“Were you actually checking out my ass earlier?” 
Your face flushed like crazy, “wh-what?” 
“Shane said you were checking out my ass. Were you?”
You just stared at her. 
“You can be honest, I won’t be upset either way.” 
“I…” you took a deep breath, “yes. I was. You look incredible in those leggings.” 
Regina smiled, “good. I mean, not good that you took a basketball to the face for it, but good that you were checking me out.” 
“You’re not upset?” 
“No. Why would I be upset?“ 
“Because… I dunno, I guess because I’m no better than a gross guy?” 
Regina rolled her eyes, “no. Trust me, it’s a compliment from you.” 
Coach Carr came into the girls locker room while unnecessarily covering his eyes and quickly checked in with you, saying, “alright chief, we already called your mom and she’s on her way to pick you up, okay? We’ll get you to the front office to wait. After that, Regina, Gretchen wants you to come with her to Principal Duvall’s office to tell him what you saw happen, k?” 
Regina nodded. 
“Go team,” he added before ducking back out. 
Regina looked at you, “Did he just call you chief?” 
You shrugged, “I guess so.” 
You both laughed and Regina walked you to the front of the school to wait for your mom. She waved at you as you got into your mom’s van and you watched as the blonde turned and angrily stormed in the direction of the principal’s office, now on a new mission. 
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tragedybunny · 6 months
Text
Moon Blood - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW, TW: Period Sex
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I know it's been done before, but it's the most delicious notion.
Reader awakes one morning to find themselves menstruating. Astarion has a plan to help them clean up.
It starts when you wake that early afternoon, your body’s way of celebrating its liberation from the tadpole apparently. Two days out from the near cataclysm and you woke to  the uncomfortable warmth of blood spattering your thighs. Early, an annoyance. Beside you, Astarion dozes peacefully, sleeping what little he needs to, arm wrapped tightly around you as though you could vanish if it weren’t. You’d been doing what you could to help the city, but after everything that had happened, he was your main priority. Perhaps that was selfish but didn’t you and him deserve a little selfishness? 
Across the room you eye the wash basin, so close but so far with your love’s death grip on you. Delicately, you try to move him, enough to slip out, but not wake him. Pushing his arm down only causes him to hold tighter and you push again, a little harder. “But Darling,” he murmurs and wraps both arms around you, to drag you close. At this rate you were going to ruin the bed in the room you’d very kindly been given. 
“Astarion,” you whisper and shake him, frustration growing. 
There’s a little pang of guilt when his eyes slowly open, you do hate to wake him when he actually sleeps. “Is something wrong, Love,” he asks sleepily. 
Unguarded and disheveled, he’s incredibly alluring, more so because you’re the only person in the world to see him like this. For a moment you forget to answer as your body fills with an ache for him, heightened by your current state. “Uh, no, I’m, I just need to get up.” 
Eyes widen, suddenly alert, and he sits up, inhaling sharply. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s…,” why is this so embarrassing, it’s perfectly natural, “it’s moon blood.” 
The look on his face shifts from concern to hunger. “Moon blood,” he repeats, glancing down to your red stained thighs, tongue idly licking his fangs.  
Warmth travels across your skin and you know it's turning a bright shade of red, the insinuation you think you hear in his tone makes you shiver. “Y-yes, love, and I need to clean it up,” he can’t really be thinking that. 
“Perish the thought my Darling,” you swallow thickly. "That would be such a terrible waste." The way he hovers over you gives you a sense of being prey and you almost whimper out loud. Reaching out, he tilts your head up, capturing you in a deep kiss, and then whispering in your ear. "Allow me." 
The thought is intoxicating even as it feels forbidden. Your mouth is too dry and your voice doesn't work. "I…," you only manage a breathy gasp after that. 
"I need you to use your words, sweet girl, and tell me that's what you want," he speaks against your ear, nipping the pointed tip of it. 
Still holding your chin, he forces you to look him in the eyes. "I-I want you to clean me up." He smiles devilishly and gestures for you to continue. Your startled mind takes a minute to realize what he wants. "Please."
"Good girl," you quiver at the words. 
With gentle firmness his hands push your shoulders back toward the mattress, before tossing the discarded blanket to the floor. "Spread your legs," he commands, encouraging you with an insistent grip on your thighs. "Gorgeous," he exhales at the sight of you. 
Kneeling between your legs, he captures your lips again, and then begins to kiss down your body, firmly pining your hands back down when you reach for him. The message is clear, you've surrendered control to him. Little nipping kisses are planted from your neck to your abdomen, special attention is lavished on your now overly sensitive nipples. You fight to keep your hands at your sides as he trails his tongue over one before you feel the sharp bite of one of his fangs. Your hips buck and you whine. "Please."
"Patience my Love." The torture continues on your other nipple until you're writhing. Only then does he resume his path, pausing just before reaching your eager sex. 
"Hmm," he torments you, "so much to savor."
He licks a wide swath over one of your crimson painted thighs and sighs. "Astarion," you whine, mad with need. 
Ignoring you, he takes his time cleaning up your thighs, savoring the taste. Working his way closer and closer to where you want him the most, only to pull away and start on the other. Groaning, you frustratedly slap the mattress. "Girls who can't behave themselves don't get my help," he teases and you quiet. 
The first swipe of his tongue against your cunt brings a moan to your lips. The euphoria has just begun though. Slow, languid licks explore you, tasting the blood and slick of your arousal, lavishing every inch of you. Astarion groans against you. "You're delectable my Darling," his words are punctuated by his tongue penetrating you, leaving you mewling. 
Two fingers start to caress your sensitive bud as his tongue continues to torture you, pushing as deep as he can. His own little noises of pleasure join yours as he devours you, lapping and sucking until you're desperately writhing against his face. "Astarion, I need t-," your words are lost as his mouth moves to your clit, taking it between his teeth and sucking. 
"Come for me my sweet," he commands, fingers entering you and moving with the perfect rhythm to set everyone of your nerves on fire. With his divine attentions you don't last long, crying his name as you see stars. 
He isn't done though. Before you can come down,  he shifts back to kneeling and looks down at you, chin painted red and eyes hazy with lust. "Yes," you breathe, in answer to the question he hasn’t asked yet. 
He thrusts inside you, the sensation of being filled so quickly, so completely, pulling another moan from you. "Always so eager for me," he growls, driving you mad. 
Holding your hips in an iron grip, he fucks you with a wild need. So much for the borrowed bed you lament for a second before being washed away again. "Gods," you pull your legs back to your chest, desperate to take him as deep as possible. 
"Fuck, Love," he groans, "taking it so good. My little bloody mess. Naughty girl might need to be cleaned up again." The words do you in a second time and you come, quivering around him. 
He doesn't let up his pace, every moment of your orgasm filled with fresh sparks of bliss, until with a last deep stroke you feel his seed pumping into you. He leans down, kissing you, and the taste of all of you on him is intoxicating. "Sorry Love," he pulls away smirking. "I don't think I was much help after all."
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