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@mooniessuniverse
I keep seeing people saying that peter and frank have a "father/son dynamic" or a "uncle/nephew dynamic" but you are all wrong. They have the dynamic of the older coworker that you are way to close with when you're in your 20s. We've all had that coworker. Thats your best friend kinda. But it only works in a work setting
Thorin in my fic has chronic pain and no it's not for "representation" points
It's because he's 210 years old, fought 2 wars, helped kill a dragon, killed Azog, fought orcs and wargs, etc
This man is gonna be scarred, he's gonna be irritable because of chronic pain, he's gonna have nerve damage in his hands and feet, he's gonna have circulation problems
And Rane will be there there to massage his hands, and hold them under her arms to warm them. She'll be the one taking him on walks in the morning and helping him stretch before bed.
It's not for spectacle, it's because realistically, a man like Thorin would have chronic pain and nerve damage
There are multiple chapters that are set in hospitals where the characters are attempting to recover from injuries that never fully heal. I must once again stress that my experience in WWI was perfectly normal.
There is a giant horrible mudplain full of unrecoverable and perfectly preserved dead bodies that the characters have to walk through in a land where the air is poisoned gas, and on a compLETELY UNRELATED NOTE: WWI WAS TOTALLY FINE AND NORMAL!!
anthony bridgerton coming back from india, reviewing the sketches of the lady in silver while the new maid stands nearby
absolutely criminal how falling into bad habits is the easiest thing in the world while developing positive habits feels like fighting a literal war
about: ted wheeler has never put his kids to bed a day in his life and neither has he made his family breakfast. steve harrington, however, does while you sit on his counter and annoy him. (part 2 to my original mike fic)
c.w. none just pure domestic fluff, you don't have to read part 1 to read this but it will enhance your experience
a/n: the love on part one was overwhelming so of course i had to write another, it’s a personable head canon that steve is a good cook, and finally vol. 2 made me feel a lot of things that i’m still sorting out
links: part one, ask box
Mike wakes up to the scent of fresh coffee and hushed laughs from the kitchen. The blanket is heavy and warm around his shoulders and Dustin is snoring in his ear. Normally that noise would have easily woken him up at any hour of the night but last night was the deepest sleep Mike had gotten in months.
Daylight pours in from the windows illuminating the living room in golden rays. Will is clutching his sketchbook into his chest like a teddy bear and Dustin’s hat slipped off at some point, or maybe Steve took it off his head. On the other side of the couch Max is leaning on Lucas’s shoulder while El clutches her arm.
Over in the kitchen, you’re sitting on the counter swinging your legs back and forth while Steve hovers over the stove gnawing his lip in concentration. You’ve both got damp hair and you’re wearing Steve’s old Hawkins High swim team sweater.
You crane your head to watch Steve pour what Mike has now realized is pancake batter into the pan. An amused smile tugs at your lips as he takes great concentration to make them as circular as possible. When Steve finally places the bowl down you immediately pick it up, lifting the ladle and letting some batter drop onto your finger before tasting it.
“It’s not sweet enough,” you complain, licking your finger.
“It’s not supposed to be,” Steve rolls his eyes and snatches the bowl back. “The kids are gonna drown it in syrup and butter, I should’ve put no sugar in it.”
a little more time | steve harrington x henderson!reader
word count: 7.4k
summary: The last 18 months have been hard on everyone, but Dustin is spiraling out of control. Steve will do anything to make sure you and your brother are safe, together, and loved. Crawls be damned.
content warnings: some s5, vol 1 spoilers, Steve pov, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, mild descriptors of blood, everyone is actually full of anxiety in this one, no use of y/n
author’s note: first fic!! I liked the idea to match the titles to a song that was playing as I was writing. love this one. I was really thinking heavily about how paranoid Steve could be, especially when he wants to protect something/someone. This is also very self indulgent so sue me! Please go easy on me this time, but I’d love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy!
Steve isn’t a stranger to having someone in his bed. There was once a time where this house—this room—was a revolving door of pretty sighs and low chuckles. A time where he thought Nancy was the one for him, and that there was nothing to be afraid of in this world outside of his parents’ vague yet ever lingering disappointment.
But now his room is at a standstill, void of all those old ghosts. The only sound being the soft huffs of air coming from the other side of his bed.
From you.
He doesn’t really know how long he’s been sitting here watching you. Long enough for the faint glow of moonlight to slowly slip down from its starting point near you brow to where it now cast a blue beam across the curve of your lips. Longer still that he has started timing those soft puffs of air, counting every rise and fall of your shoulders.
It’s a habit he picked up the night after everything had gone to shit over a year ago. Something in the devastation on Lucas’s face as they had rushed Max to the hospital had made Steve himself grow almost unfairly paranoid about his own girlfriend.
What right did he have, he’d ask himself. You hadn’t been selected to be one of Vecna's victims. You’d made it out of the Upside Down, Steve had made sure of that.
And although any scrape or bruise on you was an affront to everything Steve stood for…he was grateful that that’s all they were. Your eyes still clear, hands still carding absentmindedly through his hair when you can. So seeing you sleeping—albeit fitfully—is a blessing that he acknowledges every night.
Of course, he always has room for more habits. Picking fights with Jonathan for instance. You had sat primly in the passenger seat of the van just days ago, shaking your head while halfheartedly chastising him.
“Don’t be mean Steve. He’s going to assume you are going for a hostile takeover.”
There wasn’t a single hint of real anger in your tone though. In truth you also loved pressing buttons, especially when it came to Jonathan and Nancy.
You’d never quite forgiven them for playing hooky at Murray’s while you and Steve nearly became demodog food—no matter what their intentions were.
Steve pulled out a Bopper, another recently formed habit. Tearing at the wrapper he smirked over at you, “Maybe I want to keep him on his toes.”
“Well,” you let out a snort. “Then we will just have to divide and conquer.”
We. There was something so warm about your demeanor despite everything. You never left any room for doubt or distrust.
From the moment Dustin had dragged Steve to your house and thrown you into a world of monsters and lab experiments, you’d somehow decided he was worthy of something. Of trust, of being in your orbit. Of love.
It reminds him of standing in the soft rays of sunlight at the start of spring.
Now, the November chill curls up into his bones as he slips out of bed to perform his newest habit: checking on Dustin.
The doors to both Steve’s bedroom and the guest room across the hall are wide open. An unspoken rule when your brother spends the night. Harsh snores erupt from under the quilted blanket, currently the only sign in the cover of darkness that Dustin’s face was swollen beyond belief.
Whatever happened to him tonight was not a bike accident, that Steve knows for sure. His tough love tactic hasn’t exactly been successful lately, but honestly he’d take Dustin screaming at him over silence any day. The only white flag they had been able to fly these days was you.
Dustin had completely turned in his seat to stare at Steve once he explained what a shit show tonight had been. Jonathan was still fuming in the back of the van, headphones firmly on his head.
The words that had been thrown around between them didn’t bother Steve—not really. He was more offended that the older Byers brother still couldn’t get it through his thick skull that Steve has moved on. Happily even. Besides, he had bigger fish to fry than his ex and her very insecure partner.
“You let her go in there?” Dustin gritted out, rings glinting under the streetlights as his hands clench around the fast food napkin Steve shoved his way.
Steve rolled his eyes, “Henderson I don’t let her do anything. I didn’t even know about it until they were already on the way to the hospital!”
Truth. Though he was scared shitless, he’d never deny you the right to fight. Despite your qualms with Nancy, there had been zero hesitation in your bones when Will had given the group some sort of warning about the attack on the Wheelers house. You knew how to handle yourself, he’s seen it. Even if it does scare him.
“I asked one thing of you! You’re supposed to be protecting her and instead you can’t even figure out how to prevent a power surge,” Dustin’s voice cracks with disbelief as he swipes at the dried blood on his chin. “Why wasn’t she with you in the first place?”
Steve cradles his head in one hand as if that could dampen the headache rolling in, “She wanted to stay at the station in case you showed up you little shit.”
Dustin scoffs at that, “You told me you wouldn’t leave her alone.”
That’s it. Against his better judgement Steve slams on the brakes, throwing everyone in the van forward.
“Jesus Christ Steve! We’re losing the signal, what are you doing?” Jonathan yells, fumbling with the headphones as he braces himself against the built in desk.
Steve ignores him completely as he throws the van into park and fully swivels in his seat to look at the boy beside him.
“She isn’t alone. And you told your sister that you’d be careful. That you’d stop doing this,” he gestures up and down Dustin’s frame. “You remember that, huh?”
Dustin opens his mouth to say something but Steve presses on, “Do you know how worried she’s been tonight? Everyone was wondering where you could possibly be and if it had been up to her, we would have cancelled the damn crawl to look for you.”
“Guys come on!” Jonathan presses, “We are wasting time.”
Dustin’s blue eyed gaze pierced into him, but Steve didn’t let up on his stern expression. The silence of the night pressed into them, tall rows of corn swaying slightly in the breeze. Something snaps in Steve as he turns back into his seat.
Slowly, he shifts back into drive before muttering, “Yeah, we are wasting time. I’m looping around one more time and then we are going to the hospital.”
Jonathan sputters in protest, “But what about Hop? The crawl-”
“I don’t give a damn about the crawl Byers!” Steve shouts. “We lost him two hours ago. I don’t care what you tell your mom either, but we need to regroup. Take the van for all I care. But your girlfriend’s parents are in surgery. Holly is missing. And I’m going to get my girlfriend.”
Steve was never one to back down from anything, but there was an unfamiliar edge in his tone that silenced the other two. Not that Dustin was saying anything at the moment.
Jonathan finally radioed in to Joyce back at the Squawk, speaking quietly as if to soften the blow that Hopper would have to be on his own for now. Steve glances just once at Dustin blotting his nose tenderly, before turning down Cornwallis towards the glow of Hawkins.
If he was being totally honest with himself, Steve felt truly terrible about the Wheelers. Of course he did. But he was more concerned about minimizing any sort of panic within Dustin. You weren’t injured, that much he knew, but lack of wounds wouldn’t stop Dustin from the warpath he’s been on since Eddie.
At one time you were the protector. The older sibling that went above and beyond to get your brother and his friends out of harm’s way. You had the scars to prove it.
Now, Dustin treats you like you’re made of glass.
-
It had been little things with Dustin since Eddie’s funeral. You’d woken up one night to him tucked into bed with you—something he hadn’t done since you had moved to Hawkins. One night turned to every night, but you never questioned it, and he would disappear before your alarm went off in the morning.
He’d taken to constantly checking the batteries on your walkie, even when you’d said they were good. Steve even began to notice that your brother was nudging you as far away from doors and windows as humanly possible. As if you’d be snatched away if he wasn’t paying attention.
When you’d moved in with Steve after your graduation, Dustin didn’t riot. He just…adapted. Part of his excuse for showing up constantly was to avoid explaining why he was up at all hours after a crawl to your mother. She was thrilled at the very thought that you’d still be watching him.
But nobody was more thrilled than Steve himself. His parents didn’t make an effort to return home from Chicago once he’d told them about the quarantine situation. The last phone call he’d gotten was a quick happy birthday from his mother. Then of course she ended the brief call with a, “Do try to keep the house in order, dear.”
And order he kept. He knew they wouldn’t be coming back. You’d purchased soft yellow curtains that made the living room feel cheerful for once. Furniture was rearranged, and closets were filled.
It began to feel like a home.
So when Dustin showed up past the military’s curfew with an overnight bag and a small stack of books, Steve didn’t give you the chance to wonder if he was alright with it.
“Henderson!” he grinned wildly, before pulling Dustin inside. Your brother’s eyes were still dimmed but he had an expression of calm once Steve had slapped a soda in his hand and turned on the TV.
He had then disappeared upstairs for so long that you went looking for him. You’d found him in the guest room, your brother’s books stacked on the bedside table and extra blankets piled high at the foot of the bed.
“Baby?” you had a smile in your voice that made something in Steve’s heart swell.
“Do you think he would want his room painted?” he blurted out.
The truth was Dustin didn’t really care, but Steve shoved various paint chips into his hands for weeks until a deep green was begrudgingly selected.
It was much easier getting your brother to join in on the actual painting. You would bring them lemonade and hear Dustin laughing along to whatever Steve had come up with. Steve didn’t miss the glassy smile you gave him before popping out again.
The guest room project turned into the fence needing to be touched up, and that turned into your request to have the shutters done in blue.
Steve would come home with paint cans and Dustin would silently consent to assisting. He never pushed a topic, never brought up the bats or Eddie at all. He was just grateful to have the old Dustin back, even if it was just for a few moments at a time.
School made everything worse. Of course there was the Hellfire Club issue. But then there was Dustin’s unwillingness to forgive the student body as a whole. Nearly everyone at Hawkins High was guilty of complacency regarding Eddie’s death in his eyes—almost more than Vecna.
“His grades are fine,” you’d said one night at the dining table. “But he barely sleeps as it is. He seems…anxious.”
Steve frowned at the wrinkles of worry etched on your forehead. Trying to get you to relax he grabbed onto your hand gently, clearing his throat before saying lightheartedly, “I think we still have my mom’s sleeping pills.”
“Steven, we can’t sedate him.” you say sternly, though he can tell your heart’s not in it.
“Hey,” he tuts softly. “We’ll watch him. I just wanted to give you the nuclear option first.”
And you laughed before taking another bite of lasagna, meaning Steve had won another battle. He was just as concerned about Dustin as you were, but he was prepared to take the brunt of whatever this grief was transforming into.
-
The grief, it turned out, melded into near crippling anxiety about you.
You’d recently taken up a librarian position, offered to you in the wake of quarantine—no masters degree required for the time being. You and Steve had a schedule to maintain on top of the crawls, and Dustin needed to be in school, which meant less sleepovers.
Steve always tried to make sure that he was present with you at the Henderson residence at least once a week. He liked the idea of a family dinner. Of Claudia hugging him tightly and setting that week’s bouquet of flowers into a vase with unabashed glee. But more than that, it was an opportunity for you and Dustin to have time together.
Steve knew that it was going to be a problem when a surprise military shipment came in three months ago. You had to feign a cold to get the two of you out of family dinner last minute, leaving Dustin with your mother.
“Yes,” you said with a sigh of exasperation into the receiver. “No-Dustin, I won’t break the antenna. Yes, I’ll be careful.”
Steve stood next to you, frame leaning casually against the wall as he assessed the tone you were taking with your brother. He could just make out the muffled sound of his name through the line before you let out a sigh, shoulders slipping forward in defeat.
“Yeah, okay. I love you,” you hold the phone out to Steve. “I’m going to grab our snacks.”
Steve gingerly takes the phone as you start down the hallway, but not before ghosting his lips across your forehead.
“Hey Dust,” he greets.
Just a speck of dust, that’s what you called him when you were little. The ease of the nickname has embedded itself into Steve’s vocabulary.
“You have her mixtape?” Dustin asks bluntly.
Okay so this is how it’s gonna go tonight, Steve thought to himself.
“Yep. The soothing tunes of Fleetwood Mac are safe and sound.”
And they are, along with a variety of your favorite songs that he has in the van. And the station. And the living room stereo.
In fact, he has tapes for each member of the party scattered everywhere—spent the early months of quarantine holed up in the station, recording from the turntable. But no matter who the tape was for, he made sure the third track was Gypsy. For you.
There was a pause of silence that almost made Steve think Dustin had hung up. Then, softer now, “Be safe.”
Click.
And you were safe. Steve still hauled ass through town but went easier on the turns, determined to keep you in your seat. Everything went without a hitch, and you returned home in the early morning hours hand in hand.
“How long do we have to sleep?” you mumbled into his shoulder as Steve fiddled with the house keys in the darkness.
Steve sighs, silently cursing himself for not remembering to turn on the porch light before you left the house.
Squinting at his watch he replies, “Three hours? Maybe three and a half if we shower together.” He didn’t need extra light to know that you had matching smirks.
“Jesus, you two are disgusting.”
Steve didn’t think as he dropped the keys, shoving you behind him as you both turned toward the disembodied voice.
But you registered the familiar cadence much quicker than Steve. Poking your head around him you narrow your eyes before calling out your brother’s name.
Light erupts from the other end of the solid wooden planks, casting shadows along the side of the house. Dustin is holding court in one of the rocking chairs, flashlight in hand.
Steve sucks in a breath of air, “Henderson, what are you doing?”
Dustin avoids the eye contact before muttering, “I couldn’t sleep.”
“No dude, what are you doing outside my house at 3 in the morning?”
Dustin’s lips slip into a frown so similar to yours that it makes Steve blink, “I couldn’t get in.”
“Oh jeez Dust,” you say softly. Steve crouches down, feeling for his key ring while you pull your brother into a hug, “Does Mom know you are gone?”
Finally Steve jams the silver key into the lock, yanking open the door. He can see Dustin shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.
“Come on. In.” Steve calls, waving the two of you inside before firmly shutting out the rest of Hawkins.
A robotic sort of instinct took over him as he flicked on the kitchen lights and started pulling out ingredients. He can feel the two of you watching him in confusion as he yanks the egg carton out of the fridge.
“Henderson I can hear your stomach growling from here, will you grab the frying pan.”
There was a flurry of motion from you and Dustin behind him as he tried to wipe the grin off his face. The three of you ate breakfast as the sky gradually lightened, speaking softly and forgoing sleep entirely.
Steve made it a point to press a copy of the house key into Dustin’s palm a few days later. He wanted your brother where he could keep a close eye on him. And sure, there was good and bad days with Dustin—with all of you if Steve was being honest.
This was something Steve knew he couldn’t fix. There was no manual when it came to death and monsters and the loss of a friend. How can he shield both you and Dustin from any more disaster when you were still grasping at straws with the crawls?
It was these things pressing on his mind some weeks later as he played a laughing track for Robin.
“And don’t forget kids, please do not try to catch the mystery dandruff with your tongue. I can promise you that it isn’t snowing in August,” Steve scoffed at that one as Robin turned toward the records. “But I do forecast a slight drizzle with this next one by the Eurythmics.”
Here Comes The Rain Again started up and Rob reached across the panels to switch off the microphones just in time for the side door to slam open.
Both DJs flinched as the metal bounced against the wall, rattling the picture frames and plaques lining the walls. And then Dustin was bursting through the doorway, hair disheveled and chest heaving as his mouth moved a million miles a minute.
Steve scrambled to tug off his headphones, nearly overturning the stool he had been perched on in his haste to exit the sound booth.
Every worst case scenario from more Russians to Henry Creel standing outside the building flashed through his mind.
“Henderson,” Steve crossed the room in quick strides. “What happened?”
“She’s missing,” Dustin panted, dropping his backpack to the ground.
Steve’s face screwed up in confusion, “Missing?”
Names and faces flashed across his mind. Robin was right here, Max wasn’t disappearing from the hospital. Erica? Nancy? And you were-
At the same time, Robin stopped beside him, “Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”
Dustin ignored the pair of them, dropping to the floor by the couch and pulling out the crowbar Steve had hidden under there, among other blunt objects in the building.
“She’s not answering on the walkie. And I went by the library but Rose said she left in a hurry. An emergency.”
Library? The gears finally started turning again for Steve.
“Dustin, hold on a minute. Your sister-“ he began.
The younger boy actually gripped onto Steve’s shirt. Robin’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing behind her bangs.
“I forgot to radio her at lunch,” Dustin choked out. “I knew something would happen and now-”
“Dust?”
All three heads snapped up toward the sound of your voice. You had paused at the mouth of the hallway that leads to the kitchen and store rooms, balancing three steaming mugs of coffee.
Between your cozy look in Steve’s sweatshirt and the comically different shades of the coffee (black for you, extra sweet for him, and Robin somewhere in the middle) he felt an endearing, feather-soft tug on his heart.
Confusion clouded your eyes as you looked between Steve and Dustin. Steve was suddenly very aware of how unhinged your brother looked at the moment. Lowering his hands from where they were locked onto Dustin’s shoulders, Steve slipped the crowbar out of the boy’s hand.
You had set down the mugs by now, and Steve tried to give you a look to convey the severity of the issue.
“Rob, the music,” he mumbled tugging her back toward the booth.
She snatched up both their mugs as she trailed after him, giving you an apologetic smile. And there they sat, switching between Bowie and Wham!, ELO and even a Metallica song. That one was for Eddie.
Robin made sure not to look over at the siblings, but Steve wouldn’t look away. He didn’t need to hear through the thick glass to know that Dustin had begun to tearfully explain himself, talking with his hands as much as his voice. Your own gestures mirrored his, hair bouncing as you pointed toward the basement and then toward Steve himself.
Tension was obviously bleeding out of Dustin as his shoulders sagged further the longer you spoke. Though he knew you weren’t yelling, you had taken on a stern expression that made you look more weary than angry.
He only looked away when you finally threw your hands up in defeat before pulling your little brother into a desperately tight hug.
-
It was honestly a miracle that they hadn’t been pulled over on their way through town. Steve’s mind was clouded with half-baked jabs from a grumbling Jonathan and a deep need to just take you home.
“That was a red light back there in case you couldn’t see,” Dustin mutters beside him, voice nasally from the tissue shoved up both nostrils.
Swallowing a sigh, Steve’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as he immediately tries to relax his eyes. He knows he needs glasses. Could have used them since Starcourt, but he isn’t quite ready to admit that particular defeat.
“Yeah? Well keep getting the daylights beat out of you, and we can go to the optometrist together.”
Dustin doesn’t fight back, some of the anger fizzling out the more Steve states the obvious—this was no bike accident. Steve takes a moment to really look at the boy beside him, flashing back to that day at the Squawk.
Your ‘emergency’ wasn’t entirely fabricated. Murray had gotten through the check point with a shipment, including an obscene amount of ammo for Hopper. Along the way to the station for drop off, the truck had given out leaving Murray completely vulnerable to soldiers showing up for food only to find bullets and grenades. You could hear the frantic code coming from the walkie buried in your bag in the library’s break room, taking off in a hurry to grab the gear and go.
Steve and Robin were more than happy to see you arriving earlier than expected with your miniature haul. And in your haste to get inside the station, you abandoned your radio in the car—not that Dustin had remembered to contact you at all.
In fact, he was actually having casual conversations with his friends for once that day. It was only during his history class that it dawned on him that he hadn’t done his self imposed duty of checking on you like he’d been doing all semester.
Now, as Steve brings the van to a screeching halt he can’t help feeling a little useless to both Hendersons tonight.
“Byers get out. Go find your girlfriend,” Steve makes a point to maintain eye contact from the rear view mirror. “I’ll find a spot to park this thing.”
Something akin to understanding passes over Jonathan’s face, but he doesn’t say anything before slamming the back door and ducking inside. Silence overtakes the vehicle as Steve maneuvers into a parking spot and shuts off the engine.
Neither boy looks at the other, they both just stare forwards at the large hospital wing in front of them.
Then Dustin gives Steve the biggest shock of the night.
“I’m sorry.”
There is an audible crack of his neck as Steve whips his head around to look at the curly headed boy, “Did you get a concussion or something?”
Dustin rolls his eyes but presses on like he didn’t even hear him, “I was a little harsh.”
Steve nods his head, but says nothing. Dustin lets out a deep breath before continuing.
“I didn’t mean to miss the crawl. Or make you worry,” he looks over at Steve now. “Do you…think she’s mad at me?”
“No! God no,” Steve nervously runs a hand through his hair, debating whether he should put his full emotions on display before just going for it. “She hasn’t been mad this whole time. Anxious maybe. And a little scared, but she just wants you to be okay. As okay as we can be stuck in this town.”
Dustin quietly huffed a laugh, and it feels like Steve just won the lottery.
He presses on, gentler now, “I know you miss Eddie. Hell, I think I might too. But you’ve got to remember that your sister is strong. And a little crazy. I know you don’t want anything to happen, and I can’t promise these things away anymore. All I can tell you is that she loves you more than the whole world. We both do. I will always do everything I can to protect her. Can you trust in that?”
Dustin stares at him for a long moment, but Steve doesn’t flinch from it.
“Yeah,” Dustin answers quietly. “I trust you.”
“Good,” Steve claps him on the shoulder. “I can work with that. Just remember to trust her. Now take those napkins out of your nostrils, it’s making it look worse.”
Dustin fumbles with his makeshift first aid solution before they head into the hospital.
Steve takes the opportunity to lay down the law as they navigate towards the ICU, “Remember, she’s fine. I don’t know what she saw for sure, but she isn’t physically hurt okay?”
“Yeah, got it.”
By the time they finally found the right waiting room, it was just Mike and Lucas.
“Dude what the hell happened to you?” Lucas asks dumbfounded as he takes in Dustin’s injuries.
“Long story, I can explain later. What happened to Nance and Jonathan?”
Mike finally snaps out of his stupor and looks at his friend, “She needed some air.”
Steve doesn’t want to be insensitive about all this but he breezes right past the whereabouts of the eldest Wheeler. Putting a hand out he interjects, “So where is Henderson right now?”
Lucas tenses slightly as if deciding how much he wants to say.
“She…wanted to go see Max. I gave her a minute.”
Dustin hesitates for a moment, shuffling his feet before wrapping his arms around Mike. Lucas turns to Steve with a look of utter astonishment, but Steve just shrugs as Mike finally raises his arms to return the embrace.
He quickly takes the opportunity to slip down the too familiar hallway towards Max’s room. If the guys want to have a heart to heart, he could join in on another day.
As he neared room 415, he could just hear the soft cadence of your voice from the slightly cracked door.
He pauses just outside, arm braced against the door.
“The White Rabbit put on his spectacles,” you murmur before becoming slightly more animated. “‘Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?’ he asked.”
You were reading aloud, much like you have been each time you’ve come to visit Max. Lucas insisted that any talking or music, even if it isn’t Kate Bush, has to do some good. You’d taken that seriously, and now have a small stack of classics in the cupboard next to the stereo.
Steve already feels the tension ease from his shoulders as he quietly listens. And then he feels a presence from behind. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Dustin caught up to him, but he does it anyway. With a pointed look at the younger boy, Steve shuffles just enough to the right to let him go inside first.
A short gasp from you echoes in the sterile air. Then, “Dusty, what the hell happened?”
Still in the doorway, Steve expects Dustin to launch into a watered down explanation, but instead is met with silence aside from the constant beep of Max’s heart rate.
Steve pushes open the door just to nearly run into Dustin’s smaller frame. Distract. Sooth. Do something, Harrington.
“Hey baby,” Steve says softly stepping around a still frozen Dustin to get to you. You are clutching onto a large book in one hand, the other resting on top of Max’s.
You look up at him for a moment and he can barely stave off the rush of air he takes in at the look of devastation on your face. The blood splattered on your cheek.
In fact you are covered in it, dark red staining the sleeves of your once yellow sweater and set in the knees of your jeans where you had to have been kneeling.
“I’m fine,” you say. But it’s too monotone. Void of the usual lilting sound of your voice. You’re looking at Dustin again realizing just how bad you look, before gently setting down the book next to Max’s too pale arm. “It’s not mine Dust. I was trying to help Mr. Wheeler.”
Jesus Christ, Ted. Steve flashed on awkward yet friendly dinners from long ago. If Ted objected to his relationship with Nancy back then, he didn’t show it. Didn’t show much of anything at all, but he didn’t deserve to practically bleed out.
You set your lips into a firm line before looking between the two boys sporadically, silver lining your eyes. He can see you are trying to hold it together and not freak out your brother even more.
You‘ve never been a crier, always feeling worse than when you’ve started, but Steve can tell you are on the cusp of a breakdown. The last time you looked at him like that was when he’d had to pull Dustin off of Eddie’s body.
Steve stops at the foot of the bed, and turns back to look at Dustin. The boy’s lips are wobbling slightly, but he still hasn’t made a move towards you. Backpedalling, Steve abruptly walks back to him and pulls him into a tight hug.
Dustin lets out a shuddering breath, which only makes Steve squeeze him tighter before whispering, “She’s fine, yeah? Not a scratch on her. She’s just a little upset.”
Dustin violently nods his head, and Steve can feel the damp spot growing on his sweater.
“I ca-I can’t. I need to-,” Dustin starts pulling away, clearly making for a hasty exit.
“Hey hey it’s fine. Just take a minute. Here,” Steve pulls out his wallet, shoving the leather into Dustin’s hand. “Go get something to drink, something for your sister too.”
Dustin doesn’t hesitate, spinning on his heel before disappearing down the hall. Steve sighs as the door shuts, the red glow of the exit sign across the way washing over his face.
He doesn’t get the chance to turn around before you slam into his back, arms wrapping around his middle. He can’t help the small grunt of surprise that escapes him, but manages to keep his balance as his hands naturally search out for the pulse points of your wrists.
“You know, the football team really could have used some of your coaching on their tackle last season,” he attempts to tease. “Maybe they would have actually won a game.”
You let out a wet chuckle, the vibrations radiating across his upper back, “Yeah right.”
Steve takes the opportunity to loosen your hold just enough to spin around, “No, no I’m serious. They could have been state champs with that move.”
The ghost of a smile you carry morphs into something somber as he cups your cheek.
Deflecting is no longer an option, he knows.
“Are you alright? Like, seriously?” Steve whispers.
It was like opening the floodgates. He isn’t even sure if you can see as you cling on to him.
“It was a lot of blood Steve. I don’t even know how he survived the trip to the hospital with those wounds. I was trying to help stop the bleeding,” you pauses for a gasp of air. “And when i put pressure on his chest it just sprayed everywhere. What if I made it worse? And Karen…Nancy is devastated.”
Steve wraps you up tighter, shushing you lightly. Across the room Max lies in her bed, the florescent light casting a blue hue onto her already too-pale face. A flash of the letter she wrote to him, still unopened in his dresser drawer, comes to him.
Closing his eyes, he plants a kiss on the top of your head, “It’s not on you. None of us knew that Vecna would attack the Wheelers.”
You are barely listening, “And Dustin, God! What the hell happened to him tonight. Did he tell you anything? We can’t send him home like that, my mother is going to skin us alive.”
“Okay,” Steve winces, somehow believing that Claudia would in fact haunt him for life if she got a look at her baby tonight.
“I’m going to let him explain that to you, preferably at home. Besides, he is more worried about you anyway.”
Home. He used to hate that place, and now he was all too eager to get you and Dustin back inside. As safe as he can get you—considering that demogorgons are just attacking at random now.
“After finding the Wheelers like that,” you croak out. “I thought that something must have attacked him too.”
Sort of from the looks of it. “I know. He scared me.”
You step back from him then, tears tapering off. Part of him naturally follows your moments, like he always has. But he lets you wipe at your eyes, and then your unruly hair.
But as your fingers snag at the knots, his eyes catch the blood stains on your sleeves again and he can feel himself pale at the sight. He knows it’s not yours. That you are full of life right in front of him.
Regardless, he understands Dustin more than he thought he did as he strides to one of the cabinets lining the far wall. Yanking one door then a second and third, he scans the shelves until he finds a stack of towels.
Turning towards you again, he sees that you’ve already placed Alice in Wonderland back onto the stack and are now fiddling with Max’s blankets.
“Baby, come here,” he calls, hand held out between you.
You smooth out one more nonexistent wrinkle among the sheets before coming to him. Leading you into the attached bathroom Steve flicks on the light as the door clicks shut. He immediately turns the hot water in the sink on, watching carefully for the steam to curl up before sticking part of the towel under the stream.
“We are going to get you all cleaned up and then we are gonna go back to the station, yeah?” he says, still testing the temperature with his fingers. You like it scalding to be perfectly honest.
Your lack of response gains his attention and he looks up into the hanging mirror to find you already looking at your reflection. Panic swells in him as he whips around to fully look at you, your hands shaking as you try to rub off the blood on the side of your neck.
“Hey no. I’m gonna get it off of you okay?” he says quickly.
“I ca- I can’t wear this,” you start yanking off your beloved sweater.
“Okay that’s fine,” Steve sheds his jacket to pull off the sweater underneath, leaving him in his white undershirt. “Just look at me for a second. Don’t look at the mirror.”
Thankfully, you oblige him. He quickly pulls the sweater onto you before guiding you to the counter. You don’t comment when he lifts you up to sit on the granite, hands steady on your hips before grabbing the towel again.
You still don’t talk when he gets the damp portion back to the necessary temperature and brings it up to your cheekbone. So Steve does the talking for you.
“You know, when they finally let us out of this town we are going on that road trip,” his eyes dart to yours for a moment before he continues gently wiping. “I figure by that time Dustin will have picked out a college, or a college will have picked out Dustin, and we can do the grand tour. Embarrass the hell out of him, get matching sweatshirts.”
Your lips wobble in a tiny smile at the thought while he starts working on the other cheek.
“And then you and I are gonna see the sights. I’m talking through the mountains, over rivers—everything. We’ll avoid the bison and get a picture in front of Old Yeller.”
You snort at that, “Steve are you talking about Old Faithful?”
Thank god she laughed, he thinks. “Yeah that. This is why you are the lovely navigator and I am the chauffeur.”
“I love you,” you say quietly. It’s not a confession. You’ve both said it enough times for it to become less of an announcement and more of a reminder.
Steve gives the corner of your mouth a quick kiss before dragging the towel down your neck, “I love you too.”
By the time he’d gotten you cleaned up, you’d exhausted any tears left over. Slipping out of the bathroom, the pair of you find Lucas. Steve tries to convey a look of understanding toward the boy who has taken up vigil next to Max.
“Hey, you okay?” Lucas asks gingerly, clutching onto his paper cup of coffee.
“Yeah. We’ve had better crawls I’d say,” you mutter, clutching onto the ruined knitting of your sweater. Steve isn’t a laundry wizard, but he knows that he’ll probably need to purchase a replacement.
The door bursts open to reveal your brother, looking thankfully less pale than when he’d left, “They were out of Coke on three floors but I finally found one.”
He holds the can out to you, but you pull him in for a hug instead, “Thanks Dust.”
You gingerly take the can from your brother and grab his hand before looking over at Steve.
“We will be back in a few minutes, yeah?”
Steve nods, and watches as you two go before letting out a sigh.
“You two make a good team.”
Steve looks back at Lucas, mildly stunned.
“Max thinks so too,” he continues from his chair. “She kinda bet Mike money that you’d get married before we started college.”
Steve barks out a laugh, “When was this exactly?”
“That summer at Starcourt. You both should have worked at Scoops with how much she was there.”
Steve smiles fondly at the memory. You had been with him a lot that summer. Robin was wary of him at first, but once she found out you were willingly dating him, you all became friends. The truth serum probably helped the bonding process though.
“Henderson keeps me honest, I’ll give you that. And I’ll put in a good word with the boss,” he wiggles his eyebrows. “See if we can win Max that cash.”
Lucas grins before looking back at the redhead, “I miss her, you know?”
Steve presses a hand gently on top of his shoulder, “Yeah. I know.”
-
Time doesn’t feel very linear in the hospital to Steve. Every visit has felt like both 10 minutes and a lifetime have passed. He couldn’t say for sure when you and Dustin returned, or when you all said loving ‘see you later’s’—never goodbye—to Max, or worse yet when the three of you took your leave in the station van.
The Wheelers will be in surgery for a couple more hours at least, and with the way Nancy was breaking down, Steve was more than willing to sweep for the tracker on the way back to the station.
Dustin crawled in to the back, but places a hand on the back of Steve’s seat as he hands over his wallet, which in all honesty, Steve had completely forgotten about.
“Thanks dude,” he says over his shoulder.
Dustin doesn’t reply to that. Instead Steve hears more shuffling before something is tossed into his lap. Looking down in the faint light of the parking lot, Steve squints at what he realizes is a peanut M&Ms package.
“What’s this for?” surprise laces his voice.
“They didn’t have any Boppers left. I got you the next best thing.” Dustin mutters before pulling the headphones over his hat, leaving no room for conversation.
Steve looks over to you, only to find you staring straight ahead with the softest smile he’s seen all day. Shaking his head, he maneuvers out of the lot and down the street.
Instinct has him reaching for your hand, but you are already meeting him halfway, fingers intertwining gently. You squeeze his hand sporadically the whole way home, but he knows all the meaning behind it.
I love you, we are okay, I’m here with you.
-
It was the same pressure on his hand that pulls him out of his thoughts in his darkened hallway now.
“Honey, what are you doing up?” you whisper groggily, hand cold—always colder than his own.
“Making sure he is still breathing under there,” he whispers back. You don’t respond, the silence forcing him to turn and look at the frown on your face. “What?”
You let out a huff meant to be stern but just ends up sounding incredibly sweet to Steve. “You worry too much.”
You pull him back toward your room, and he cranes his neck once more to make sure Dustin doesn’t wake up.
“Okay, no. Tonight was very worrying actually,” he speaks a little louder as you crawl into bed again, silently holding the blankets open for him to follow.
“I know,” you say once he has finally settled in, pulling you into his side. “But you need to sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a mess.”
Right. Hopper and El going MIA. The Wheelers. Holly.
Steve melts into you, nose buried in your hair, sweet with the scent of your shampoo.
“I just feel like if I don’t have you two within sight you’re going to evaporate into thin air,” he says after a moment.
“It’s not all on you,” your breath tickles his neck. “We are dealing with this the best we can. I think Dustin might try a little more though.”
Right. Your heart to heart had revealed as much as he had suspected. Andy and his sidekicks of course.
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “He hates me half the time.”
You press soft kisses against his clenched jaw, trying to relax him, “He loves you like a brother. Fights with you like one too. I think he is just as worried about you as he is about me.”
Steve feels like you threw a bucket of ice water on him, “You think so?”
You give him another peck, “Yes. Don’t let the attitude fool you, love.”
And something unclenches in his chest, at least for tonight. You stare at each other smiling despite everything.
Finally you readjust yourself, getting comfy half on top of him. “Tell me about something good. Something happy.”
You relaxing like this finally makes him relax as he hums in thought. Suddenly he flashed on the revelation in Max’s hospital room, “Well. Apparently the kids have money on the timing of our wedding so…”
You laugh loud, disbelief on your face as you start asking rapid-fire questions.
And it doesn’t matter that he hasn’t asked—doesn’t even have a ring. These brief moments of your joy as the sun begins rising is as good as a yes.
The Warmth of Knowing
pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader word count: 4k summary: When you realize you're pregnant, your world is turned upside-down. You find yourself stepping back, pulling away from him, because how could you possibly tell him now? And yet, every time you see him, a tiny spark of hope fights its way through the panic, whispering that maybe he’ll understand. warnings: miscommunication, angst, sad!Steve, pregnancy, fluff, Steve is the sweetest boy, happy ending.
You loved Steve.
Steve loved you.
It was that simple. You knew him like the back of your hand. You knew the sound of his footsteps and the way he pinched his nose when he was annoyed.
Your friends noticed the signs way before you did. They always knew that your friendship with Steve ran deeper than you admitted to. When you announced that you were officially dating 3 years ago, no one was surprised. "It's about time. It was getting really pathetic, dingus," Robin had said.
Steve was always sweet to you. He always made sure that you felt loved and needed. Sure, you had days when you would bicker, when Steve's jealousy would get the best of him and make him act selfishly. When you just got mad at him because he looked at you weirdly. But everybody had those days. Steve knew you would do anything for him, and you knew he would put his life over yours without even thinking twice.
When you took the pregnancy test you didn't expect the two red lines staring back at you. Robin was there, supporting you. You had broken down in her arms, making her promise that she would not tell a single soul. You felt torn inside. No matter how hard you tried, you were unable to tell Steve that you were pregnant with his child.
Doubts | Steve Harrington
Series Masterlist
Summary: You’re in love with Steve and Robin says he feels the same way back. So why does Steve keep on choosing Nancy Wheeler over you? Why is he trying so hard to impress her?
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Warnings: ANGST, heartbreak, cuss words, a little rude Steve, maybe more idkk SET IN SEASON 5 SO SPOILERS
CHAPTERS:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6 (coming soon)
still ongoing…
GENERALS OF ROME 💪🏼🏛️🗡️🛡️🔥
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do you wanna see my wounds from being nailed to the cross or are we not chill like that yet
this post is doing numbers in the f1 fandom. Who is Charles leclerc
The real reason your sapient dragon character needs a "rider":
Dragons on the wing are vulnerable to being mobbed by smaller, more agile flyers, particularly in your large rear blind spot, like a bird of prey being mobbed by crows. Having a human armed with a long spear perched on your back helps to dissuade anyone from getting any funny ideas.
Breath weapons are impressive enough on the ground, but in flight they're really only good for strafing stationary targets; trying to use your breath weapon in an aerial dogfight is a good way to get fire up your nose. A real fight calls for sterner measures – and, concomitantly, a crew to aim and reload the cannons.
In today's competitive world, it's not enough to devour a flock of sheep and call it a day if you want to keep your edge. You're accompanied at all times by a qualified personal alchemist tasked with carefully regulating your internal furnace to ensure peak performance, and sometimes you even listen to them.
No dragon of any quality would be caught dead without their valet. It's not as though you can announce your numerous long-winded titles yourself when introductions are called for, can you? You suppose next you'll be expected to pick up the spoils of your conquests yourself, like a common brigand. Perish the thought!
nothing new just joseph quinn casually saving his costars from situations.
crying and sobbing y'all when people said that you only add scenes that advance the plot they didn't JUST mean the overarching plot. they meant the plot of the book... entirely. like a conversation between two friends can advance the plot by characterizing them and grounding them with a meaningful relationship. if your book doesn't have "filler" it's missing emotional beats. which are plot. which are important. fun and whimsy aren't mutually exclusive from what "needs" to happen in your book. the advice isn't bad it's just taken too literally stop come back.
I know folks have been sharing this link on other posts, but &udm=14 works well:
You can add it as an extension to Firefox now: https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/udm14/reviews/
