Steddie where Robin and Steve work at the same school; Steve teaches P. E. and coaches the swim team, Robin is a history teacher.
They've just met that year, but they clicked and became fast friends. Steve is always talking about his husband Eddie, and Robin loves babbling about her girlfriend, Nancy. It's great! They never run out of things they can chat about.
One day, they are out having lunch when Robin almost gets hit by a crazy guy on a bike. Nothing happens to her, but Steve had stepped in front of her and taken the brunt of the impact and there's a horrible gash on his leg.
Robin panics. She takes him to the hospital, almost passing out at the sight of all that blood.
As the doctor stiches up Steve's injury, she calls his husband to tell what happened and where they are, since Steve wouldn't be able to drive with an injury that big and someone would have to fetch his car at the café parking lot.
It's the first time Robin talks to Eddie, but she could swear she'd heard his voice before. Or maybe not. Maybe she's still panicked about what happened and her brain is still not working how it should.
Half an hour later, Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin's vocalist, bursts into the hospital in a hurry, and Robin can only stare in shock as the man comes straight towards her.
"Where is he? Is he discharged yet?" the man asks, frantic.
That's when Robin's brain finally connects the dots and she realizes that the nerdy dork of a husband her friend's been talking about for months is actually one of the most successful metal singers in the country.
Mmhh....soap who's used to fighting for his meals, big family and all that, so his self-regulation is really messed up.
Which is how he ends up crawling into your lap after a dinner with the team. He's slow and lethargic, brows pinched in discomfort. You raise your brow at the unzipped pants, his tummy bulging out. "You okay, johnny?"
"Ahm' fuckin' dying. Take me out back an' shoot me." He groans, tucking his face into your stomach and gingerly turning on his side. Soap is rarely cuddly in such an...open way. Sure, he cuddles, but it's always a bit playful, never seeking comfort.
"Big dinner? What'd you have?" You ask, leaning forward to rub soaps belly, to which he genuinely whines.
"Too much. Fuckin– ah' don't know how ghost can eat tha' much." He slurs, arms wrapping around you like a teddy bear. Ah, he probably saw ghost's order and got the same. A fatal mistake given that ghost is a literal tank of a person and johnny is decidedly not.
"Mmh, okay. Just lie down, I'll take care of it." You soothe, already moving to push the pillows around johnny for support. You grab some water for him, as well as some fluffier blankets. The whole time soap just lies there, hands over his stomach and whining like a sick dog.
By now the soap tummy ache protocol has been perfected, after many sleepless nights after bad decisions. You make sure to kiss soap on the forehead, and chuckle when you realize he's already passed out in a proper food coma.
Imagine being ghosts roommate when he comes back from a mission that took nearly six months to complete, right?
You knew ghost was coming, he's made a habit of notifying you after the one time he spent his first day back in A&E. You're in the middle of making him some proper food when the door opens, "in the kitchen, simon! You doing okay–"
You freeze in place, staring at ghost with wide eyes. "Holy shit...simon."
You can't tear your eyes away from it, even as ghost shifts uncomfortably under your gaze. A hesitant step forward, also scared of this all bring a dream, you reach for ghost. "I...I didn't have time to fix it..." ghost explains in a mutter.
There, atop ghosts head, are soft blond curls.
"Don't apologize! You look...good." you back ghost up against the counter, smiling. Ghost's curls are a light, almost white blond. They frame his face full of scars,making them softer. He looks...younger. untouched by war.
"Really?" Ghost asks, blushing under all that scar tissue. You've never seen him like this before, he always kept his hair shorn to a buzz.
"Yeah. I didn't know you had curls..." then locs curl around your fingers, and for a moment ghost is stunningly silent. Doe-eyed and shocked by your touch.
"....yer food's burning."
"Fuck!" You pull away, turning to see what was once a delicious filet now a charred mess. You swat at ghost when he laughs.
Well...takeout works just fine. It gives you more time to enjoy the sight of simons curls before he 'fixes' them.
hello! can i have a steve harrington x reader request where the reader is Johnathan's younger sister and Will's older sister? Johnathan has always had doubts about Steve and Y/N's relationship and he is very protective of her. After their plan to capture the demogorgon doesn't work they end up using Steve's car and driving it into the upside down. Johnathan almost doesn't let Y/N come but Steve promises to protect her. Y/N ends up having an asthma attack in the lab and Steve remembers that he has her inhaler in his pocket? lots of angst & fluff?
a/n: omg hi i am back from two weeks of sickness and writer's block!! i feel like this came out... okay. idk plz lmk what you guys think! i hope i did the request justice! also guys i suck at titles im sorry
lifesaver- steve harrington
pairing: steve harrington x byers!reader (ooh a new one for me!)
wc: 3k
warnings: asthma attack, kinda angst if you squint, fluff, jonathan being an ass but! also stonathan working out their grievances, steve being bf of the year (no one is surprised), lab scene diverts slightly from what actually happens to fit the storyline blah blah
The past four years of your life have honestly been a whirlwind. Your life flipped upside down (no pun intended) that night in ‘83 when your little brother went missing, and since then, it had remained tilted on its axis.
None of it had been easy. Losing your little brother, him coming back from that weird alternate world laying beneath Hawkins, never being the same afterwards. Helping him navigate his trauma while also helping support your mother who, at every turn, experienced heart wrenching loss.
But through the insanity and the pain, there had been good too. Like the bond you formed with the small group of those unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, ultimately tying you and them to this ongoing battle with the Upside Down.
You grew closer with your little brother and his friends, you welcomed Max and El into their group, gladly taking each girl under your wing as the little sister you always wanted but never had. And at some point between Nancy Wheeler dumping him and her running into the arms of your twin brother, you had found an unlikely friend in one Steve “The Hair” Harrington.
It was strange, becoming bonded to a guy who wouldn’t look twice your way before, who you would roll your eyes at so many times they threatened to get stuck in the hallways at school. But once you stripped away the hair spray and the shitty friends with shitty attitudes and shitty morals, Steve was a good guy.
Over the years, the two of you grew closer, much to Jonathan’s dismay. Though only older by four minutes, Jonathan had fully assumed the role of older brother from a young age. Not that you went on many dates or had boyfriends, but Jonathan never did approve of any guy he ever caught you doodling the name of on the margins of your notebook.
Jonathan had always been grumpy when it came to Steve. You knew, of course, it was deeply rooted in jealousy of Steve and your brother’s own insecurities, but it had been years and you just wished your brother would grow up. Especially when you and Steve finally decided to address the growing feelings between the two of you upon moving back from California.
In the eighteen months you had been back home in Hawkins, in addition to weekly rendezvous of planning new ways to take down Vecna, sitting in the field for long hours with your mom and Hopper watching El train, you spent most of your time with Steve. If you weren’t lounging around the Squawk studio with him and Robin, you were occupying the Harrington house.
Your brother had never warmed up to the idea of you and Steve together which meant that he was constantly nagging you about it, and his eye rolls, scoffs, and never-ending manly competition between him and your boyfriend were at an all time high. And much to your dismay, Steve egged him on because, well, if there was anything Steve loved more than riling up your brother, it was a competition.
Speaking of competitions, you were still mildly annoyed with the two men that decided they were going to race to the top of the rusty radio antenna tower with no harness all for the sake of showing off just hours ago. But you guess now you had bigger fish to fry, seeing as the current crawl had gone to shit. Not only did you lose signal on the man you come to see as a father, but you had the pleasure of being sat in the backseat of Steve’s beamer in between Nancy and Jonathan as Steve drove full speed through the gate, landing you in the Upside Down. To add to your bad mood, now you were trudging through the Hawkins Lab, against better judgment, looking for Dustin’s magnet thing.
“We should’ve just stayed at the church. Hopper is going to be looking for us.” You mutter under your breath, shining your flashlight around at the vines on the wall. Steve huffed out a sound of agreement, causing Jonathan to send a glare your way.
“And you should’ve stayed behind with mom and Will, but I guess none of us are making rash decisions tonight.” Your brother’s tone is sharp, causing Nancy to subtly roll her eyes, sending you a sympathetic look. Steve’s head snaps in the direction of Jonathan, not letting that comment pass by.
“Hey, your sister is more than capable of handling her own. Trust me, I hate my girlfriend being at risk of danger as much as the next guy, but she’s strong. And she’s safer here next to us than she would be anywhere else. I promised to protect her.“
Steve’s words are met with a scoff from your brother, which Steve catches immediately. “Dude, seriously? You can’t act like you don’t know I wouldn’t do everything in my power to protect her. Or maybe you can, since, you know, you’ve never actually given the thought of us together a chance.” Steve mutters as he steps over a vine.
“I’m right here, you know. Maybe you should focus on finding whatever it is we’re looking for. Both of you.” Dustin is quick to agree with you, coming to a stop in front of the four of you.
“Y/N is right. You can discuss who is being the bigger asshole after we find Vecna and save Holly. For now, we have to split up. Half of us go up, half of us go down.” He says, shining his light on the two staircases in front of the group.
“Fine, but can we change up the groups? I still think me and Dustin need some space.” Steve says, the bite from his fight with Dustin earlier resurfacing in his tone. “Maybe you two can take him for a change.”
“No. No way are you and Y/N going alone.” Jonathan says quickly, causing you to roll your eyes. “What? We need a chaperone now? Fine, Nancy comes with Steve and me, and you can take Dustin.”
Jonathan’s arms flail out in frustration. “Oh yeah, I bet Steve would really like that.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Steve’s tone is sharp as he steps between you and your brother. Chaos erupts as a series of bickering ensues between you, Steve, Jon, and Dustin. It takes Nancy yelling to halt it all.
“We stick to the usual teams. Jonathan and I will go up.” She says promptly before starting up the staircase to the right, leaving the three of you standing in silence. Jonathan glares hard at you and Steve before begrudgingly following his girlfriend up the staircase. Wordlessly, Dustin starts down the stairs to the left, and you follow. Steve lets out a long sigh before following too.
-
“I’m just saying, whatever it is he holds against me, he’s gotta get over it eventually. I mean, yeah, I broke his camera junior year, but he was being a total creep with it. And I bought him a new one. He has the girl he wanted, and that led me to the one I was meant to be with, so all should be well.” You listen to Steve’s soft ramble as you follow Dustin through the lower floors of the lab, searching for any signs of this magnet.
“Look, I agree with you, honey.” You say as you flip through a notebook abandoned on a desk. “Sooner or later, his issues are going to cost him. I’ve tried to tell him that. Maybe when all of this is finished, he’ll come around. We’ll all have a load off our plates.” Steve looks at you softly before brushing past you to look around the other side of the room, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he does so.
Minutes later, Dustin is barreling into the room, notebook clutched in white knuckles. Turns out, whatever it was exactly that you were looking for wasn’t as Dustin theorised it would be. After a brief synopsis of his discoveries of the Upside Down actually being the bridge to another dimension and the fleshy wall Steve crashed his car into was actually the barrier preventing all of this from being sucked into a black hole, panic set in.
The three of you were racing up the stairs, desperate to find Jonathan and Nancy before they could do anything to disrupt the barrier. After eight flights of stairs, you could feel your lungs begin to scream, but you did your best to steady your breathing, telling yourself it was the panic. You had been diagnosed with asthma when you were eight and in the ten years since, had a total of two asthma attacks, neither of which had happened in the past five years. Because of this, you never bothered carrying your inhaler with you. When Steve discovered this by finding the small canister tossed haphazardly onto your dresser one day, he flipped. But you, being as stubborn as you were, insisted you didn’t need it. You missed the way Steve had slipped the spare one you had into his pocket that day.
You stop at the top of the stairs to catch a breath as Dustin yells out for Nancy and Jonathan. Steve’s hand finds your back instantly as he crouches next to you. “Hey, you good?” He asks softly, worried etched into his face. Your tongue darts out quickly, dampening your dry lips as you nod. “Yeah, just not up on my cardio. I’m okay, promise.” He studies you for a moment before nodding. Just as you straighten up, the sound of a shotgun going off a few floors above echoes through the building. The loudest sound you’ve ever heard reverberates just before a violent force rips through the building, causing everything to shake. It hits you so hard that it sends all three of you flying back.
Groans fill the air as the rattling settles. Dustin is immediately thrown into a panic over Nancy undoubtedly shooting that barrier that is preventing all of this from being sucked away into nothingness. Steve rubs at his head where it hit the floor, and he sits up, eyes searching for you. When they land on you, panic floods his system. You're on the ground, fist clutched to your chest, gasping for air. He stumbles over his feet to cross the few feet between you, immediately taking your head in his hands to prob you up. He turns wild-eyed to Dustin.
“You have to go get them yourself. I can’t leave her here. She’s having an attack.” His voice comes out in a panicked ramble. Dustin falters, staring at you in shock and fear, but Steve’s voice snaps him out of it. “Go! Now!”
Dustin takes off running up the next flight of stairs to hopefully find a still-living Nancy and Jonathan, leaving you and Steve. “Baby? Baby, can you hear me? It's gonna be okay. I just need you to breathe for me.” His voice is soft bu the fear is evident. You manage a nod through gasping breaths, fists gripping the sleeve of his jacket. Steve moves one hand from your face and pats his front pockets before he dips into the right one, pulling out your inhaler. He wastes no time ripping off the cap and throwing it across the room, bringing the little tube to your lips.
“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll puff it on three. I need you to breathe it in for me. Think you can do that?”
With the sight of your half nod, Steve counts to three and presses down on the canister, pushing the medicine into your mouth and to your lungs. After a few puffs, your chest loosens to a dull ache, and breathing comes easier. Steve pulls the device from your lips and holds you close to his chest. “Listen to me breathing and try to mirror it. Deep breaths. Can you do that for me, baby?” His voice is soft as he guides you through breathing, his heart steadying as your breathing does. Through the breathing, he is whispering soft, sweet affirmations in your ear the whole time.
You’re both so focused that you miss the sound of hurried footsteps thundering down the stairs. Dustin appears with Nancy and Jonathan, your brother immediately pushing past to get to your side. He begins to say that you have asthma and you don’t carry your inhaler, but the words die in his throat when he realises your breathing is almost back to normal, and there, clutched in Steve’s hand, is your inhaler that used to collect dust on your dresser. He sits back on his heels and just stares. He stares at the way you melt into Steve’s embrace. He stares at the way Steve is holding you so delicately, yet so protectively, as he matches your breathing. He especially stares at the inhaler in Steve’s hand.
Steve notices the stunned, quiet stare of your brother. “Its her extra. I’ve carried it with me every day for two years.” He explains softly. Something in Jonathan’s expression shifts. Almost as if he were defeated in that moment. As if he finally realised what had been in front of him all along. The truth.
“I promised I’d always protect her. I meant it.” Steve says softly. And he had. If there was anything Jonathan hated more than Steve Harrington, it was being wrong. And he was wrong about Steve Harrington. In that moment, he realised Steve wasn’t the awful dude he made him out to be in high school. He realised Steve wasn’t still in love with Nancy and was using you to warm his bed and get back at Jon for stealing Nancy from him. No, Steve did truly care about his little sister. Not just out loud, but in quiet ways. In carrying around an inhaler that had not been touched in five years, just in case. All Jonathan could do in that moment was nod.
-
The five of you had made it back into Hawkins to rendezvous with the others for the next step of the plan. Steve had been glued to your side, inhaler safely tucked back into his pocket. Jonathan had been quiet. He hadn’t said more than five words since you had left the lab. Even now, as you lie on the worn couch in the basement of the Squawk studio, napping to regain some strength, he stayed quiet as he watched from the doorway. Steve was sitting on one end of the couch, your head in his lap as he ran his fingers through your hair and gazed down at your peaceful face.
The others were around, but most were on the other side of the room, discussing plans and refuelling their batteries with snacks from Murray. Joyce sat in the chair closest to the couch, wanting to keep an eye on you, but she had dozed off half an hour ago. Jonathan sighs softly to himself before walking over to the couch, taking a seat on the other chair.
“How is she?” He asks softly, pulling Steve’s attention away from you and to your brother. Steve stared at the boy, studying his face. He always thought the two of you never looked much alike. It’s not like you were identical twins, and you were the spitting image of Joyce in his opinion. But now, Jonathan looked so worn, so stripped down, almost innocent, that he could see the resemblance.
“She’s doing better. I think it was a combination of running up so many flights of stairs and immediately having the wind knocked out of her. She said her chest was sore but otherwise felt fine. She’s tired, we all are.” Steve’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, so as not to wake you. Jonathan nods softly, and a moment of silence passes. “She could have died if it weren’t for you.”
Steve’s head snaps back up, and he meets Jonathan’s eyes as the boy continues. “It sounded like it was a pretty bad one. She’s too stubborn and never carries her inhaler. Hell, I bet most of the group didn’t even know she had asthma until today. If you hadn’t had it with you and she couldn’t come down from it on her own… I mean, we were in the middle of the Upside Down with no way out… It wouldn’t have been good.”
Steve can only nod, his gaze drifting back down to you as he runs a hand over your cheek. “I just can’t believe you carry it around. Every day for the past two years.” Jonathan continues. Steve looks back up at the man, no sign of arrogance or challenge on his face. “You never know when she’ll need it. I wanted to be prepared.” Silence settles between the two men before Steve continues. “Look, you can have your opinions of me, fine. But whether you want to believe it or not, I love your sister. Believe me when I say this girl is my entire world, and I meant it when I said I would do whatever it takes to protect her. You and I don’t have to be friends, but I think we have to tolerate each other at the very least. I know she doesn’t say it, but it tears her apart when we don’t get along. I love her, and I intend on having her in my life for as long as she’ll have me, so consider this my white flag or whatever.”
Jonathan stares at Steve, jaw flinching before he sighs and relaxes slightly. “She loves you. A lot. Like annoying a lot. But you make her happy. And you keep her safe and provide for her. That’s the least I can ask for. When all this is said and done, consider this all a buried hatchet. Just don’t expect me to be your friend.”
Steve smiles at your brother’s words. “Nah, I just expect you to be my brother-in-law in a few years. That’s all.”
Dustin walked into Steve’s house holding a demobat. Steve jumped.
Steve: Jesus! Dustin, what the hell - ?!
Dustin: This is Eddie.
Steve: *pinching the bridge of his nose* oh goddamn it, not another one - hold on, you named it Eddie?
Dustin: This is Eddie.
Steve: Yeah, no, I got that. You found a bat and you named it after Eddie.
Dustin: *shrieks* This is Eddie!
Steve: Why do you keep telling me what you named the bat?!
Dustin: This is Eddie Munson!
Steve: Jesus, you gave it his last name, too. Are you okay?
Dustin: Goddamnit! No, Steve, this bat is Eddie!
Steve: You've already said that!
A loud squelching noise filled the air, followed by a loud pop and crackle. A naked Eddie Munson stood in the middle of the room. Dustin shielded his eyes. Steve screamed.
Eddie: *winks* Hey, big boy.
Steve: Eddie!
Dustin: *shrieking* That's what I said!
Steve: *looking at Eddie* Big boy, huh? I feel like I should be calling you that. Damn.
Hi yes hello, I have once again devastated myself with the end of season 4, but now I am thinking about Steve being stuck in the hospital with his injuries, and all he can focus on is worrying about Eddie and Max.
But his mother is at his bedside fussing, and Robin is now worried he might be turning into a vampire, and Owens is half treating his injuries, slash interrogating him, slash analysing his bat bites.
He feels like a pin-cushion, an experiment – with (admittedly well-meaning) people and loved ones talking at him all goddamn day.
Then Robin runs into his room one afternoon, screaming that Eddie has woken up.
By the time Steve convinces his protective mother that he needs to head down the hall – and by the time he, y'know, actually gets to Eddie's room with his sore feet and stiff bandages and IV and medical stuff – the kids have swamped the room.
So, Steve shuffles straight back to his hospital room, feeling dejected and also a little selfish, resigned to an afternoon of reruns of his mother's favourite shows from the 1950s. Besides, Wayne and Dustin should be the first ones to spend time with Eddie.
Cut to late one night, Steve's mother awakens to find her son's hospital bed empty. She soon finds him, down the hall in Eddie Munson's room, shivering in his sleep as he sits slumped by the boy's bedside, as close as can be, and holding a bandaged hand.
So we all know how Steve yells "For Eddie!" In the finale, and uh, I would LOVE for that to have been the moment where the camera panned out, past the monster, over to some other pile of rocks.
There, we see, a hunched over, deformed Eddie Munson. We zoom in on just his jaw, he smiles, fangs visible. Then we move to his eyes, now red and twinkling with that familiar amusement. His now clawed hands are curled over the stone next to him.
Just as Steve is about to gest squashed, a blur swoops under and grabs him, tackling him to safety, the dust clears-
"Can't let you die in my honor, big boy." The now winged Eddie would coo down at the confused brunette.
It wasn’t unusual for you to need a change of clothes during your work day. You had been the assistant to the Fantastic 4 long enough to know that things often got messy.
What was unusual is that you never replaced your last back up outfit. Usually, your bottom desk drawer is packed neatly with an outfit change down to the shoes, so as you opened it and saw nothing, you cursed yourself for not replacing the outfit you used last week.
You were covered from head to toe in some sort of chemical sludge Reed had been working on in the lab. When he asked you to hold the beaker, you should have known better. He swore to you it was completely harmless, even though the hole it burnt in your blouse was telling you otherwise.
You were just a personal assistant, not a science related one, but when it came to being an assistant to a bunch of scientists, accidents often happened.
“Fuck me,” you whispered under your breath.
Sue perked up, “what’s wrong?”
“I never replenished my backup outfit drawer,” you said, shutting it and placing your hand on your hips.
Sue laughed lightly, “I can’t believe you even need one of those, but I’ll grab you something, come on.”
You followed her into the living space of the Baxter Building and she grabbed something comfy that sat neatly folded in the laundry basket.
“These should be okay, you don't have any important meetings today, do you?” She handed you the outfit.
“No, this should work,” you said, smiling and taking the clothes from her.
You made your way to the guest room and cleaned up in the bathroom before making your way back to your desk in the lab to continue work for the day.
Johnny’s POV
The doors to the lab swung open, and Ben and Johnny made their way in.
“I’m just saying Ben, it would be sacreligious not to -” he cut himself off and stopped in his tracks.
Johnny slapped the back of his hand onto Ben’s rocky chest, making Ben freeze.
“What?” Ben asked, looking at Johnny.
He followed Johnny’s gaze to where you were sitting at your desk.
“Gawking at your little crush again, hot head?” Ben said jokingly.
“Ben, you don’t understand, be still my beating heart.” He swallowed, “those are my clothes.”
Ben looked across the room at you, bent over your desk, scribbling something down. The phone was held in between your ear and shoulder, and you were talking animatedly to whoever was on the other end.
Sure enough, the crew neck you were wearing had J.STORM across the back in big blue letters, and the blue flannel pants were rolled at your waist because they were a few sizes too big.
“Ben you’re going to have to hold me back, I’m going to propose right here in the middle of the lab.”
Ben laughed at that, and it caught your attention. You turned, still on the phone, and gave them both a shy wave.
Johnny made a noise in the back of his throat that resembled an injured animal and Ben laughed at him, again.
Ben slapped Johnny on the back as you hung up the phone, “go say something before she thinks something is seriously wrong with you,” he whispered.
Reader’s POV
You pretended to be very interested in the notes you were scribbling down related to the phone call you just ended. But from the corner of your eye you watched as Johnny peeled himself away from Ben and started walking toward you.
Which was ridiculous, because you’d known Johnny Storm for years now. You’ve seen him on fire, crash land, burn dinner, flirt with strangers, flirt with coworkers, flirt with lamps. None of this should have made your stomach twist the way it did, but he was Johnny, and he always managed to have that effect on you, even when he wasn’t trying.
Still, when he stopped at the edge of your desk, you suddenly forgot how to sit like a normal person and your hands were sweaty.
“Hey,” he said, voice softer than usual.
You looked up, immediately aware of how oversized the sweatshirt felt, how the sleeves nearly swallowed your hands and how ridiculous you looked, as opposed to your typical work attire. “Hey.”
There was a beat. Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, rocking slightly on his heels, like he’d forgotten his own script.
“I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “I like your outfit.”
You snorted before you could stop yourself, rolling your eyes. “Wow. Very original, Storm. What, you say that to all the girls in the lab?”
He grinned, but there was something different there, less cocky, more fond, but still a smirk. “Nope. Just the ones stealing my clothes.”
That made you blink.
“What?”
Johnny leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint smell of smoke and soap, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Check the back.”
Heat rushed to your face instantly as the realization hit you. You groaned softly, dropping your head into your hands. “Oh my god. Sue didn’t say anything.”
He laughed quietly. “She didn’t have to.”
You peeked up at him, mortified. “I didn’t mean to—my clothes got ruined by Reed’s lab slime and these were just—” You gestured helplessly at yourself. “I didn’t know they were yours.”
Johnny’s smile softened. “Yeah, well. I’m not complaining.”
Your cheeks burned hotter. “I look ridiculous.”
“Incorrect,” he said easily. “You look… really good.”
That made you go quiet, fingers worrying at the hem of the sweatshirt. You’d always been a little shy around him, never quite sure where the teasing ended and something real might begin.
Johnny noticed. He always did.
He tipped his head, eyes warm. “You should wear them more often.”
You laughed nervously. “I don’t think Sue is running a Johnny Storm wardrobe rental service.”
He stepped back, pointing at you as he started to turn away. “I am.”
Then he winked, “for you, that is.”
“What are you up to, Storm?” You crossed your arms and tilted your head at him.
“Well, since you are borrowing my clothes I feel like you owe me.”
You raised your eyebrow, “owe you what exactly?”
“A date. Tomorrow night, at 7,” he said confidently.
You shook your head and laughed, “you’re serious?”
He shrugged, “as a heart attack.”
You exhaled sharply, looking at his face for any signs of foul play, but all you saw was sincerity, and maybe a little bit of nerves.
“Alright, it’s only fair.” You turned, trying to act casual and go back to your work.
“Don’t be late,” you added smoothly.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he said, turning on his heels, trying to contain the buzz of excitement coursing through him.
Your breath hitched as he walked off like he hadn’t just short-circuited your brain, leaving you sitting there in his clothes, heart racing, face burning, and absolutely no chance of focusing on your work for the rest of the day.
Simon obviously knows how to read. He has to for reports, for certain things in his day to day jobs. But the more he interacts with civilian life, the more he's hit with the harsh realization that he's very bad at it.
He remembers learning the ABCs and sounding out words with the rest of his class, but no one had time to read to him at night. His education wasn't a priority at home, and he was suffering the effects as an adult.
"Excuse me?" He looks down at you with wide eyes and a flushing face, feeling incredibly out of place between the library shelves. "Need help finding anything?"
"Something for beginners?" He chuckles humorlessly, but you smile so sweetly he feels a little lighter. He leaves the library with a few books that are geared more for children, and your phone number tucked into his pocket.
A few years down the line, he reads quietly to your daughter. The baby girl sprawls across his chest, suckling his chain lazily as she listens to his voice. He read to her every day. Every morning, every night, and even before her afternoon nap.
He wouldn't let what happened to him happen to his baby girl.
The concept of ghost freaking out over minor disagreements....
You're simons first real partner, well into his thirties, and as such he has zero frame of reference for what an actual fight is. All he knows is that sometimes prices spouse makes him sleep on the couch and sometimes gaz and soap sit on opposite sides of the mess hall.
So you really shouldn't be surprised to find ghost on the sofa with a thin blanket and no pillow, resolute in his fate.
"Simon, baby, what are you doing?" You ask, baffled.
Ghost looks up at you from his position, feet hanging over and off the arm of the sofa. He looks vaguely like a kicked puppy, with wide watery eyes. "....we fought..." he says, heartbroken.
"What? When?" You ask, having absolutely no recollection of this so called 'fight' let alone one harsh enough to warrant exile from the bed. "Baby what are you talking about?"
"When– when I got dirt all over the kitchen. You were mad. We fought." His voice practically wabbles with how distressed he sounds.
"The kitchen...? Oh." You remember that. You had just mopped the kitchen floor, you even told ghost it was mopped and to let it dry. Yet not ten minutes you came back to find muddy prints from the entrance to the fridge.
"I mean, I was upset at the moment, but it was just a moment simon." You explain, grabbing the blanket off of ghost and pulling him up by the arm. He follows willingly, eager for approval "I still love you. You just forgot, it's fine, it happens. You could track mud all over the house and I'd still want you in bed with me."
"...you aren't upset wif me?" He asks as you lead him back to the bedroom. Ghost visibly relaxes when he sees the bed, his weighted blankets stacked on top.
"Nope!" You reply, playfully shoving him into the mattress. You're sure you'll have to talk to him about this eventually, but right now you're tired.
No thoughts just price knowing damn well secretary!reader has a thing for him...
He doesn't intend to act on it, despite how tempting the idea is. No, a captain sleeping with his much younger secretary is a surefire way to cause trouble price is sure laswell won't be willing to cover up.
But...he still indulges, just a bit, in teasing you.
"Excuse me, kid," you jolt as a sudden shadow is cast over your desk chair, beefy arms coming around to bracket your head. Price is leaning over your chair, hands braced on your desk, to use your computer "forgot to edit some stuff, I'll be just a moment."
You swear you can feel his body heat even with the backrest separating you. His biceps honest to god squish around your head when price leans in further to type into his keyboard. "I trust you won't peak, right?"
The fact price is currently typing in his extremely sensitive password right in front of you hardly registers because he chooses that exact moment to rest his chin on your head.
Time goes a bit fuzzy, all your focus on your captains body around you. The way he takes up space, fills out your once roomy desk with his presence. The fact he's your literal boss and twice your age– You really hope he hasn't noticed the way you rub your thighs together as he sighs in annoyance, rough and low, over some email he's reading.
Finally, after....you're not sure how long, price steps away. He ruffles your hair, his scent still lingering for a moment, "thanks, kid. I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow with those slides, right?"
Price takes one last moment to enjoy your flustered expression before he turns to leave, subtly adjusting himself in his pants as he does so.
Don't think about cryptid hybrid reader that doesn't know how to cope with Johnny's death. You understand death. You've seen it before. The team even allowed you to look at his body before he was cremated, so you wouldn't wonder when he would be back. You still aren't sure how to grieve.
You mimic his voice at night, away from the others when everyone is asleep. You made the mistake of doing it around Simon and he screamed at you. He apologized later. Grief can make humans angry.
But you aren't human.
You cry sometimes. You aren't sure what the feeling is. It's never happened before. But you feel better when you mimic his voice. You don't want to forget what he sounds like. You already have a hard time remembering his face without pictures.
"You did good, Bonnie." Johnny whimpers from your lips; with the darkness of the night being your only company.
Soulmate AU where a soulmark can be "hijacked" if someone else has strong enough feelings for the other person. It has to be an intentional act, and certain rituals must be met (maybe trading blood, or cutting the mark) but it's often successful.
It can, on very rare occasions, also be done nonconsensually.
To do it without consent is the ultimate perversion. It's up there with murder. In some cases its considered worse than.
However--
The creation of a new soul bond has been observed to save the life of one, if not both, people involved--even if the soulbond is a highjacked one.
Dire injuries gone. Impossible recoveries made. So long as bond is completed before death, anything is on the table.
Which is why, when Eddie Munson grabs weakly at Steve Harrington's shirt, laying on his back and bleeding out in the Upside Down, gasping out something that isnt quite a word but understood regardless, Steve nods once, takes a breath, snd slams his palm down on the mark on Eddie's neck.
Okay but imagine alpha!ghost who doesn't at all realize why he's so drawn to omega!reader...
You're a civilian contractor, some sort of secretary if ghost remembers correctly. All he knows is that anytime you visit the team for something, your delicious scent is left lingering in the air, noticable even with the mild blockers you use.
You smell....normal, is the only way to describe it. Ghost spends his days with soldiers who double-layer scent blockers and still their sour scent invades every space over time. There's no disguising the rot inside of a military base, try as you might to convince yourself it smells like anything other than agony.
But you. Your smell hasn't yet soured, either naive or new enough it hasn't hurt you yet. It's intoxicating.
Which is how you end up getting cornered by ghost in empty hallways and corners, his forearms caging you in as he noses at your scent blockers. You should probably report him, you know you could but...you kind of like it.
How his whole body relaxes when he inhales, how his own scent loses that sour overtone for a moment. Once, when ghost came back from a mission, he pressed your whole body against his and practically purred. This giant beast of a man, reduced to purring from something as simple as your resting scent.
Yes, you are essentially the emotional support teddy bear for one of the bases most feared alphas. Do you care? Honesty, you love it.
I knew it was love
When I rode home crying
Thinking of you fucking other girls
You had always loved Steve Harrington. And Steve? Well, he was oblivious. But a near death experience in the Upside Down causes you to confess your feelings for him.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
words: 2.7k
contains: HEAVY angst, use of y/n, near death experience, talk of death, explicit language, suggestive language.
author's note: very VERY loosely based on dust bones by ethel cain. this fic is a little shorter as my others and I didn’t do a preview for it but the idea came to me after I saw vol 2 a few weeks ago and I finally got the urge to write it out of nowhere the other night 🤍 also happy harry styles is back day to those that celebrate
to be added to my taglist | masterlist | requests page
You had heard about Steve and Emma Stevens through Robin.
She hadn’t meant to tell you, really. Robin just—she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. You had only asked her if she thought Steve would give you a lift home from the SQWK radio station—where you and Robin were currently prepping for tomorrow’s show.
“Probably not,” Robin says, her brows furrowed in concentration as she fiddles with a cassette. “Probably going to be knuckles deep in that Emma girl. You know what Steve’s like. They’re going on a second date so—”
She realises then—looking up at you with her eyes wide and apologetic.
“Fuck (y/n), I’m sorry—”
You blink. Try not to show how much that revelation had cut you open.
It wasn’t exactly a secret that you were in love with Steve Harrington. Robin knew, Dustin knew, Lucas knew, Joyce knew, Nancy knew, Jonathan knew—hell, Max probably knew and she was in a damn coma. The only person who didn’t know? Steve. The man was oblivious. Completely and utterly oblivious.
And so the reminder that Steve was fucking other girls on a weekly basis? Well, it hurt. Hurt a lot.
“It’s fine,” you lie as you pick up a few random tapes and pretend to consider them. You weren’t fine. You were trying not to cry.
Robin can tell she’s upset you and genuinely feels awful. The cassette tape in her hands clatters onto the table as she rushes to hug you. The telltales signs you were holding back tears were there—your eyes shining, bottom lip quivering and the way you went quiet.
You should be used to Steve’s casual dating by now. Should be used to the fact that he was fucking women who aren’t you. But honestly? You weren’t used to it at all.
And so, you rode home on your bike that night, crying as you tried not to imagine Steve and Emma—probably hooking up in the back of his beloved Beamer.
But now? Only three days later—Emma Stevens and Steve were the least of your worries.
The Upside Down always came knocking. Because of course it fucking did.
And this situation you found yourself in with none other than Steve himself—well, you were sure you weren’t going to make it out of this alive.
The room you were in—seemingly a boardroom of such in the upper floors of Hawkins Laboratory—was slowly but surely filling with a sludgy liquid that tried to keep you from moving.
You had no idea what was happening—you figured it had something to do with that energy shield (or whatever Dustin had theorised it was) you had just shot. But the guilt you’re feeling as you realise that you’ve condemned not only yourself but Steve to certain death—well, it’s all consuming.
“On the table,” Steve instructs, tugging on your hand so you follow—having to pull your legs up in order to move through the sludge.
Steve makes sure you go first—hoisting you up onto the table by your waist. You could have easily done it yourself but you took any and every opportunity—selfishly—for that man to touch you.
The table offered some reprieve—both of you free of that strange liquid that surrounded the table like an ominous ocean.
Steve looks at you—a look on his face you had seen only a few times before, one that plainly told you he was scared. “Wh-what do we do?” He asks you.
You look around the room, frantic—at the greyish liquid drawing ever closer—at the hole in the wall that had only made the situation worse as more and more sludge poured in—and finally, you look up at the gaping hole in the ceiling that was too high for either of you to reach and your only way of escape.
Steve is still looking at you—the way he’s always looked at you. Expectantly. Waiting to hear your plan. In the few years you had been falling into the Upside Down together, you always had a plan. Always one step ahead. But now—
“Help!” You yell out. “Help!”
And it’s that moment that Steve realises he was going to die. That if you didn’t see a way out of this? He knew there wasn’t one.
“Help!” He joins you, yelling in the hopes that Dustin, Nancy—hell, even Jonathan—would hear you. Though he knew, deep down, the trio were too many floors down to hear you both.
The two of you yell out, desperately. Trying your dammdest to live—to make it out of this alive. But as your voice cracks and Steve keeps yelling, you realise that no one was coming. That Dustin, Nancy and Jonathan couldn’t hear you. That you and Steve were going to die. Slowly, probably suffocating from the sludge. You thought about how painful it would be for that to fill your lungs.
“Steve—ju-just—stop,” you tell him, reaching out to tug his sleeve to get his attention. “They can’t hear us.”
Steve’s in denial. He shakes his head—fucking terrified—as he keeps on yelling anyway.
“Steve!” You yell at him, your voice breaking as the tears finally start to fall. “Stop. They’re not—they’re not coming.”
Steve looks at you—at your tears. At the look on your face and he knows you’re right. Knows there isn’t a way out of this. Knows that you both aren’t going to be saved. That your will to live alone couldn’t save you.
“We—we gotta try (y/n),” he says finally and you feel your heart do that funny thing it always did around Steve because fuck, he had so much fight in him. Such a will to live and you feel awful that this was your fault. That you were the one to shot the giant ball of matter.
You just look at him and shake your head, tears already spilling down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Steve—I didn’t know that would happen—“
“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve says gently, leaning closer to you and placing a hand on your knee. “Don’t cry. Please. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”
“But it is—”
“It’s not,” he cuts across you. You know he’s just saying it to make you feel better. But the matter of the fact is, if you hadn’t shot that thing, you both would still be up on the roof. Not stuck in this room, waiting to die. But you didn’t want the last few minutes of your life to be spent arguing with Steve’s over whose fault it was. So, you just nod and wipe away your tears.
It’s quiet then. Just you, Steve and both of you quietly accepting your fate.
“Wish I could—you know, listen to like one more song before—” Steve cuts himself off as he swallows. Not looking at you. His hand still on your knee.
“What song?” You ask in a quiet voice.
Steve looks at you and—you see the tears in his eyes for the first time. After everything you two had been through together with every Upside Down ‘adventure’ (because was several near death experiences really an adventure?)—you hadn’t ever seen him cry. Until now. But you don’t comment on it. You just look at him, waiting for his response.
“Take On Me,” he says, the corners of his mouth twitching.
You can’t help it, you laugh—despite the situation you both were in. It was just…so quintessentially Steve that you couldn’t help it.
“Haven’t you listened to that song enough?” You ask him, because Steve couldn’t seem to go a day without listening to that song. Robin had even made it a rule at the station that he was only allowed to play it three times a week, after you had received multiple complaints from listeners who counted a whopping eighteen plays of the track in a single week.
“Nah,” Steve says with a shake of his head, sniffling a little, “I bet you’d pick Edge of Seventeen.”
You bite back a smile—looking over at Steve with tears still falling.
“It’s a good song,” you say simply. Steve squeezes your knee.
You look away from him and your eyes dart around at the room again. You feel Steve squeeze your knee again. Grounding.
“Hey, look at me,” Steve says gently and you feel his fingers gently graze your cheek as he turns your head to look at him. Not at the reminder of your unfortunate fate. “Focus on me—”
You could feel your heart hammering in your chest. The gentle reminder that you were alive. Alive. Alive.
You hadn’t ever given much thought to it. Your heart that beat to keep you alive. But feeling it racing against your chest like that? Like it was desperate for you to live—you were grateful for it. Hadn’t ever been so grateful to be alive as you were now.
“I don't want to die, Steve,” you burst out in a panic, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don't—”
“Neither do I,” Steve admits in a quiet voice. His hand on your knee tightening as his honeyed brown eyes flicker to meet yours, his other hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “But I’m here, yeah? You won’t be alone.”
Your bottom lip quivers and you nod as a small sob escapes you because you were going to die. You were going die with the man you loved. And he still didn’t know—
“I wanna go first,” your murmur quietly. “I don't want to live in a world where Steve Harrington doesn't exist.”
“Don't,” Steve breathes out, jaw tense. Eyes shining and shaking his head. “Don't say that—”
“—and I’m s-sorry that it’s now that I’m telling y-you but I can’t die without you knowing,” you stutter out through shuddering breaths.
Steve looks back at you, lips parted and hanging on your every word. Unsure if he wanted you to keep talking or stop.
“I love you, Steve,” you tell him finally—your face wet with tears. “I always h-have.”
The silence you’re greeted with is the loudest you had ever heard. Your heart still hammering against your chest. Desperate to keep you to alive as death came—the liquid creeping ever closer with every second.
“Fuck—” Steve finally says, the fingers on your shoulder twitching as he shifts closer to you. “I had—I had no idea. And I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been screwing around for months—”
“—it’s okay,” you interrupt him with a shake of your head. “Really, Steve. It’s fine—”
“No. It’s not fine,” Steve says firmly, jaw set and his eyes roaming your face like he was seeing it for the first time. “Because I—shit—I love you too and I—I should've—fuck—I should've asked you out. Should've just done it instead of fucking wasting time. Should have taken you out for milkshakes or some shit—”
“Milkshakes?” You repeat, smiling a little. It was bittersweet. Because he wasn’t running. Didn’t find the idea of you being in love with him repulsive. And he said he loved you too.
Steve lifts his head up and catches your smile and fuck, if he does die—he wants your smile to be the last thing he sees.
“Yeah. Milkshakes,” Steve breathes out, “and bowling.”
“I would have kicked your ass at bowling,” you say, smiling at him as tears continue to fall. “Maybe would have let you get to second base too.”
Steve laughs—despite fucking everything, he's laughing.
“Shit, (y/n),” Steve breathes out, his forehead resting against yours, breath fanning your face. “You can't say that shit to me right now.”
“And I would have destroyed you at bowling. Would have worn a new shirt, bought you the biggest damn milkshake,” Steve's voice falters slightly, going quiet as his eyes flicker up to yours. “Would have kissed you stupid after.”
You smile at each other and for a moment—it’s just you and Steve. No grey sludge that was your death sentence around you.
“Fuck—we screwed up here,” Steve says and you laugh as you cry and suddenly he’s laughing too. You shouldn’t be. You’re about to die. It’s not funny, not in the slightest. But this moment? It didn’t feel scary. Or like death was around the corner. You just felt safe.
“Think we have time for me to kiss you stupid?” Steve murmurs quietly, fingers brushing along your jaw before his gaze falls onto your lips.
“Yeah,” you whisper back, eyes meeting his. Feeling his breath hot against your skin. “There’s time.”
He doesn’t wait a second.
You let out a noise of surprise as Steve's lips descend onto yours. There's no gentleness. No hesitation. Just years of tension and unspoken words between the two of you as your hands find the front of his jacket and tug him closer. Needing him so desperately as you kiss him back.
He groans—fucking groans—against your lips, his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth and groaning again when you part your lips for him. His hands scramble to find your waist and he licks into your mouth and in his desperation, begins to press you back against the table.
Your hand shoots out to stop yourself from tumbling back too quickly from Steve's eagerness. But instead of the gooey liquid you're expecting to feel—you feel something solid.
There's a wet noise as you pull away from him. His lips chase after yours.
“S-Steve,” you gasp. “Lo-look—”
Steve’s confused—face flushed, eyes wide and lips still wet from your kiss. “What? Was it too much or—”
It’s then he sees the solidified grey sludge. It had set just beneath the table.
“Does this mean—”
You don’t wait—you lean over the table and place both your hands on the solid surface. It doesn’t crack. Doesn’t budge in the slightest. You start to stand, you needed to be sure—
“(y/n), be careful! It might—”
But you ignore him. You stand up on the solidified sludge and—it’s a solid as concrete.
Steve looks at you for a moment that felt like a lifetime. And then—
He scrambles to his feet—his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you half off the ground.
“We’re okay,” he breathes out as you sob in relief, his free hand cupping the back of your head like he needed to touch you. Needed the reminder that he was alive. That you were alive.
Alive. Alive. Alive.
“We’re okay,” he repeats, setting you down and cupping your face between his hands as he wipes away your tears. “We’re okay—fuck—we’re okay.”
You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s kissing you again.
Soft. Gentle. Like he had all the time in the world. And now, he supposed you did. Had time for that date. Had time for milkshakes, bowling and maybe even second base.
“M’gonna—” Steve mumbles against your lips as your hands fist the front of his jacket. “—kick your ass at bowling.”
“Shut up,” you murmur back before pulling away and smiling up at him like this was the beginning of something, “you’re gonna be a gentlemen and let me win.”
Steve scoffs, his hands moving back down to your waist and squeezing gently.
“Oh, absolutely not if you’re offering to go to second base—”
You whacked him on the arm, feeling elated as he laughed. He ducked his head down to kiss you again and—
The sound of banging from the wall behind you is what pulls you away from each other. Steve doesn’t think as he pulls you behind him. Protective. It was so Steve it made your heart do funny things in your chest.
The banging continues. The drywall cracks. Dust fills the air and—
“What the fuck happened in here?”
You had never been so glad to hear Jonathan Byers’ voice.
Through the hole in the wall—seemingly made by the fire extinguisher in Jonathan’s hand—you see Nancy, Jonathan and Dustin. Looking at you and Steve and how close you were standing. His hands on your waist.
“Are we interrupting something?” Nancy asks with a small smile. “Or do you guys want to get out of here?”
You and Steve look at each other, adrenaline pumping through the both of you—having been so close, so certain you were going to die that it's hard to even stand still.
"Yeah," Steve says finally, keeping his arm around you and pulling you close. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got a date to go on.”
Hey....hey don't think about pittbull!ghost with a docked tail meeting border collie!soap with a docked tail....
Don't think about ghost remembering his own docking, how his Da accidentally stepped on his tail and refused to take him to the hospital. Simon suffered a broken tail for months until the infection nearly killed him.
Don't think about soap noticing ghost staring at his stump, how the little nub still wags when he gets excited.
"Lost is when I was seven." Soap would tell ghost with a smile, playfully bumping his shoulder with ghost. As if his docking wasn't something horrible. "I was a happy wee pup, whacked it on every sofa and corner I could."
Ghost stares at soap, completely silent as he takes it in. Soap continues unaware "O' course Mum didn't catch it in time, had to get docked. Now ah' match my sisters!"
And ghost...ghost doesn't have anything to say to that. He can hardly stand to think about his missing tail most days, memory full of nights spent silently crying in fear his Da would come and yell at him again. He lost his tail in agony.
Soap...soap lost his because he was happy. Because he was too happy and wagging his tail all the time.
Ghost forces out some excuse of losing his tail in a fight, refuses to talk any more about it. But late at night, he curls up in bed and tries to imagine what it would have been like to be so fucking happy he lost his tail.
