thinking about wife!reader and nanami in the shower…
note: a little something until i post my full fic / not proofread!
noticing how tired he is when coming home, you two immediately hop into the shower together.
warm water running down both of your bodies, his sighs of relief as the warmth of you and the water hit him. he could die happy right then and right there. but the one that puts him over the edge, something that absolutely makes him collapse is when you decide to wash his hair for him. he was reaching for the shampoo but you took his hand, ever the doting wife and decided to do it for him.
a small “let me take care of you.” as you kiss the smaller part of his back. turning around, he hands it to you, lowering himself so you can reach his hair comfortably not worrying about the awkward angle he’s now put himself in.
as you’re running the product through his hair you’re humming softly, a small piece of your tongue protruding out from your mouth out of pure focus. god he wants to pick you up right then and there and take you. but he’s a patient man, he’s waited all this time to have you, what’s one shower. “you’re so good to me.” he says, grabbing your hips to steady himself and you laugh, he’s always been one for dramatics as if you haven’t done more than this for him.
“you’re sweet.” you reply in a joking tone, messaging his head you hear him let out some soft grunts, your fingers intertwined in his blonde tresses sudsing him up. you didn’t know it then but you both felt so incredibly loved in that moment, almost as if you fit so well into each other — like long lost puzzle pieces that finally found their way back to one another.
and when you’re done, rinsing it all out. holding one hand over his eyes to keep the shampoo from hitting them and the other on the shower nozzle it’s like he doesn’t want to let you go. you’re practically pulling his arms from around you. he gets up slowly, kissing your inner thighs, hips, stomach all the way till he reaches your lips.
caressing your face he mutters something under his breath you don’t quite catch. “what would i do without you my love.”
i’m thinking freshly dumped season 2 stevie… he’s just so angry and upset and can’t believe nancy called him bullshit.
it feels worse than anything that’s ever been spat at him before. worse than how his father hits. worse than how his mama wails. worse than losing tommy and carol.
it’s just worse.
he’s angry all the time. brooding. the smallest thing sets him off. his tongue is a knife. he’s starting to act like his father. he thinks he might die. he can’t believe he let a girl get under his skin like that.
he loved her. loves her. whatever.
and now he’s helping unwatched bratty kids with a stupid lizard… whose name is apparently dart and ate a cat. yikes.
and then there’s you—who finds this all just a little funny… and steve thinks there’s nothing funny about you. he can’t stand you.
you might as well be carol perkins.
alright, that’s a lie. and kinda not fair. you’re a year younger than him, yet you seem so much older. you walk good on your feet without ever tripping up. you’ve got snake eyes and vixen smiles and dazzling hands. mini skirts and tights and such plain tops that you make look so effortless. the kids love you. worship you. this max girl can’t stop looking at you. even when you’re carrying a bucket of raw meat you just look… good.
great.
you’ve got a tongue on you and every time you open your mouth, steve thinks his head might explode. you drive him fuckin’ crazy. you’re smarter than him. cooler than him. more popular than him. you’re a cheerleader. you’re captain. you have so many friends…. and well, you haven’t peaked in high school. this is just you. you’re just ace.
you just appeared on steve’s lawn standing on the back of dustin henderson’s bike like some city girl princess… and steve swears his heart stopped. he could not handle more shit. not you. not dustin. not some cat eating lizard.
but he’s not a dick. not anymore.
so, here he is with his bat and raw meat and kids and you in a rotted car junkyard.
and dustin just opened his smartass mouth again. steve swears his head is killing him. he will explode—
“jeez, harry, tell me you’re not about to hit a child with a baseball bat? that one’s got nails in it, sweetheart.”
here you fucking go.
steve’s jaw clicks and he all but practically slams meat from his gloved fist into the ground. your pour your bucket over his starting pile with a very teasing smile. how can you be so…?
“god,” his tone is all bite. “it’s harrington. can you not follow me everywhere.”
he swears your smile brightens. you enjoy this, killing him. you are just so mean. “not following, harry. i’m hovering. there’s a difference.”
the meat between you two makes a sick sound. his jaw ticks. he dumps his bucket. he doesn’t remember you being this annoying last year when he fought a dog like demon.. but he was still with nance, so he wasn’t paying attention to much but her.
he looks over at you. your hair in a pony. a front piece hangs and dances across your cheek. the suns setting and you glow. he swallows hard.
“ever the starer, aren’t you?”
his eyes snap to yours, focus on you. you’re still smiling. he decides he full on hates you. “has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?”
you smile wider. “harry, that’s so sweet.”
that’s it—
his lips part but nothing comes out as dustin calls for you somewhere along the junkyard. you spin on your heel, bucket dropping next to your feet. you hum, call back. your voice all sweet and sickly for kids. you yank off your gloves and toss them into your empty bucket—for steve to pick up. of course.
your eyes land on his. he’s glaring so hard. you beam, scrunch your nose and lean towards him a bit. you surprise him when you push some of his hair behind his ear and push up his sunglasses into his hair a bit more. “you should smile more, harry. you are such a sweetheart after all.” your finger skates along his cheekbone as you go.
he shivers. and frowns.
his glare drops. he can’t say anything. he has nothing to say.
maybe you’re not mean. maybe you’re just… i don’t know.
HONEY!READER who's too gullible for her own good. she's always falling into traps and getting lured into dangerous situations. she just can't help it. she doesn't know better, and she trusts absolutely everyone at first sight. people are constantly calling her dumb, stupid, and useless as they watch her make bad mistakes.
HONEY!READER who's pure and soft as honey, making her the easiest punching bag. she is everything cotton headbands, yellow starbursts, gummy worms, wedges, lemon, clumsiness, and sunshine. she loves sleeping and tires easily, needing more rest than the average human.
HONEY!READER who's naturally quiet and has a hard time making friends because she's socially awkward and won't speak unless spoken to. even when she is talking, she doesn’t say much, but her eyes hold every emotion she doesn’t say. you can usually find her feeding bottles to kittens and lambs.
‘i’m sorry, roman..i..i’m so sorry,’ you sob softly. you can’t believe you’re losing him.
his back is to you as his mind wanders about the mess he’s in now. but the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks how his life isn’t ruined at all. he loves you so much. and money isn’t an issue. neither is a home. and though he was hellbent on not being a dad, he doesn’t think it sounds so bad. sure, he doesn't love other people's kids, but his kid is yours and his. and that means your baby will have your heart and essence. his pacing turns to stillness. hand caressing the back of his neck.
his aura is so much softer than before as he's turning to you, looking at what a puddle you are and how you've soaked your pretty yellow dress with your tears. it makes his chest close up and his eyes water. he’s wrapping you in his arms. pressing kisses to your head. brushing tears off your face. ‘it’s ok, angel girl…it’s ok.’
you croak a little sound, sniffling, shaking your head no.
he’s nodding. ‘yes. yes, it’s ok.’
it was an honest mistake. he knows that. and it is the next step anyway. people in love make a family.
you're cradling your belly even though you aren't even showing yet. 'i'm sorry,' you keep telling him. 'i won't even be a good mother-
he growls, grabbing your face. 'hey, don't say that! it's not true! you're going to be the best mom!'
it all just makes you sadder. you're unsure what will kill you more - losing him or the baby. 'i'll get rid of it-
he's almost smiling, hand touching yours, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 'no, we're going to be a real family.'
when honey!reader is price's sister. 🍯 (TOXIC!SIMON x HONEY!READER)
he feels inebriated, and he hasn't even started drinking yet.
he can't tear his eyes off you in your family's backyard - your yellow headband, mini plaid skirt, the way you're so proper and polite, refilling everyone's drinks, helping out as you're given tasks. gods. there's something virginal about the energy you give off, and it has him salivating.
you trust him because he knows your brother. you hear stories about him a lot. you've met him a dozen times. so when he tells you to show him to your room, you do.
it's got a view of the garden where the party is being held and aside from some fairy lights and a really comfy-looking bed, it's barren. 'need you to help me with something,' he husks, face inches from yours. he's used to midnight rendezvous, but now he's getting a taste for daytime corruption.
you're looking at his dark eyes, trying to find some warmth, but he just feels sharp and piercing. forbidding and haughty. 'your face...' you manage to speak.
he hums. 'what about it, love?'
you don't reply. you just continue to look at him, hand toying with the hem of your skirt. 'need you to do something for me, yeah?'
you're nodding, almost killing him with your watery, intense gaze.
he's putting your hands on his dick. slipping his hand between your thighs to touch your little lace panties. your eyebrows furrowing, clit throbbing, you’re spreading your legs a little wider. 'can't tell your brother.'
you're nodding. 'won't tell...'
the amount of times you've made yourself cum to the thought of him cannot be counted. one time he was over your house, and he took his mask off because he got too drunk and left it tossed there on the table. though you never got to see his face, you stole the mask and held it close as you rubbed tight little circles around your needy clit on the staircase where you were watching him earlier, tongue darting out to lick it, trying not to scream as you came harder than you ever have.
you're turning around to face the wall, lifting your skirt, and he's smirking, putting you in front of the window instead. 'better not let him see you,' he husks against your ear, yanking your panties down, and freeing himself from his pants.
heart broken meanie season two stevie strikes again…
he’s honestly so glad nance is gone. if he had to stare at her and jonathan for one more second he was definitely going to slam his own bat into his head.
it’s got nails, sweetheart.
he didn’t talk to her, nance, he couldn’t. she tried, he brushed her off. he doesn’t want to look at her or see her face. she’s… bullshit.
he’ll stay mad. it’s better than feeling sad.
and then there’s you, again, and the kids—and max’s new obsession with your older teenage girl coolness. you guys are effing bench warmers right now.
tough luck for hawkins best cheerleader.
and there’s scrapes on your knees from the junkyard. steve can’t stop staring at them. he’s got dirt scuffs on his jeans and everyone smells like raw meat and sweat and… fear.
the kids have gone quiet in the byers house. they huddle in a corner and whisper to one another like the adults (you and steve, though you guys are barely adults) can’t hear them. you can so hear them. the boys aren’t very good whispers and max lets them know it.
the b team.
you’re standing by the byers front window, peaking past torn blinds like you’re waiting for something to come barreling at the door. steve can’t really blame you.
he’s not sure what to do. it’s all so quiet now. nance and jonathan gone. hopper and joyce gone.
you and steve haven’t really spoken. i mean, what does he have to say to you? before slimy looking creatures attacked at the junkyard… you flirted with him, which seems more bizarre than monsters!
he also swears you almost looked a little worried for him when he offered himself up for the monsters…
approaching you now seems like the only thing he can do. he makes his way from the connecting kitchen and reaches you at the window. like always, not surprising, you beat him to the punch.
you don’t even glance over at him. “like i said, harry, ever the starer.”
jesus—
but he does stare for a moment longer, and wills himself not to bite your head off. so insufferable— you still manage to remain cool and effortless despite the other world demons somewhere in hawkins.
he glares a little, has to keep up his fight with you. “how many times do i have to tell you. it’s harrington.”
you look over at him, that smug look, that cocky smile. you drag a chill down his spine. you’re so fun. had he ever been fun like that?
“can i help you, harry?”
he remembers what he was here for. his honey eyes skate down to your scuffed knees, your left one has a little bit of dried blood trailing down—it looks like it pause mid run and stayed like that.
your eyes follow his down. you frown a little and cross your arms over your chest.
“you okay?” he whispers, still looking down at your knees. they kinda look like they may sting when they bend.
you look up, back at his face. you loosen, just an inch. you bite at the inside of your cheek. “i’m okay, harry.”
steve’s eyes snap back up and catch yours. they’re pretty. your eyes. disgustingly captivating. right. right..
he feels like a loser. young and stupid. but he’s older than you and you’re so damn cool it’s fucking ridiculous. he doesn’t know what to say to you. did nancy fuck up all parts of him? why can’t he be cool anymore? what the fu—
“are you okay?”
he flinches a little. his gaze finds yours once more and you’re closer than he remembers. you’ve leaned in a little, brows drawn and looking over his face like a worried mother. he frowns, nearly forgets what you guys were talking about. “why wouldn’t i be okay?”
you scoff.
“um, i’m sorry, is it like every saturday that you just serve yourself up on a platter for faceless cat eating monsters? i didn’t realize you were so cool, harry.” there’s a genuine look in your eyes, a little funny, and a little worry still remaining.
steve can’t help but smile. he tries to bite it back. “i don’t know what you’re talking about. i’ve always been cool.”
you scoff again, all dramatics. “yeah, okay. you’re a babysitter now.”
it’s his turn to scoff. “and what does that make you? i don’t see you out there cheering with everyone else?”
you bite back your own smile. “aren’t you just the charmer, harry.”
he nearly feels himself slip back into old skin. it nearly feels that easy again. harrington. king steve. cool school boy. basketball player. not nancy wheeler’s boyfriend.
but he realizes, staring at your face, he doesn’t wanna be that guy anymore. he’ll let you be the cool one.
shit—
doesn’t that make it sound like he likes you?
does he like you?—
your drop a brow at his silence, your lips part but nothing comes out. there’s a sudden banging at the front door to your guys right.
both your eyes snap to the door.
it’s dead silent for a moment. it feels like no one breathes.
the kids inch out of the kitchen and peak around the wall. max looks for your gaze.
then there’s banging again at the door, rough and loud.
“harrington!”
it’s a male voice.
steve can’t help it, he finds his way standing in front of you—protective.
you stare at the side of his concerned face like he’s lost his mind.
wife!reader also known as honey at least for the sake of graphics and saying something other than “wife” / “nanami’s wife” / “wife!reader”
wife!reader who goes antique shopping and thrifts classic old furniture and flips it for her house because “nothing these days has her specific style.”
wife!reader who before nanami didn’t know the difference between work and home. everything about her had always been paperwork, bills, meetings, etc.
wife!reader who at first payed no attention to nanami when they first met, it took her around a month after their first date to realize that he was the same person from a few months back at her favorite coffee shop.
wife!reader who gives shoulder rubs to an overworked nanami and kisses his temples in hopes of helping him focus while working late nights (she knows it makes him less productive).
wife!reader who loves food just as much as nanami if not more so she makes sure that after a hard day of work there’s always his favorite takeout spot waiting for him at the kitchen counter.
pt 2. of food… 100% nanami is the one who cooks for the both of them. he knows how hard his wife works and makes it a point to show how much he appreciates her. (sometimes she’ll cook for like an anniversary but nanami is so husband i doubt he’d even let her unless she really wanted to do it.)
wife!reader who explains to nanami what a bonnet is and tells him exactly why she needs silk pillows/sheets.
wife!reader who made best friends with shoko and is constantly going to her for relationship advice (shoko doesn’t know why she comes to her either).
wife!reader is sensitive, always wondering if maybe she’s just too much and that nanami feels like maybe they don’t spend enough time together. but he knows it isn’t either of their fault and their time will come.
perhaps one day… if nanami and wife!reader agree to take PTO they’d take a moment to visit his old stomping grounds in Shibuya and it’s there she’d meet his nephews megumi and yuji. she’d smile and they’d wonder how the hell did nanami manage to pull her.
