Dustin has reached the point of just walking into Steve's house whenever he knows he's home, so it isn't long before he walks in on Steve and Eddie making out on Steve's couch.
Steve has been trying to keep his and Eddie's growing relationship lowkey. He remembers how frustrated Dustin was when Mike was so wrapped up in his relationship with El that he was flaking out on group plans. He doesn't want Dustin to think that's what's going to happen here. As if either of them would forget about Dustin.
So when Dustin says he needs a second and steps out of the room, Steve's heart sinks. He's already been feeling that Dustin is starting to become closer to Eddie than him because they have more hobbies in common, so he's fully expecting Dustin to accuse him of stealing his new friend. However, when Dustin comes back in, his stern look is fixed on Eddie.
"Eddie, I'm only going to say this once. I know Steve can handle himself, but he's family and he's been through a lot. So, I like being your friend, but if you ever hurt him, I'll spend every day making your life a living nightmare until you make it right," Dustin warns him to Steve's absolute shock. "And if I ever see him cry because of something you've said or done and they're not happy tears, I'm throwing your favourite guitar into the quarry. Am I clear?"
Steve is oddly touched because he's never had someone give a shovel talk on his behalf before. Eddie looks half impressed and half horrified as he nods his agreement. Dustin's expression goes right back to normal as soon as he's sure he's got the message across.
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Simon doesn't celebrate his birthday. He doesn't like the singing, the loud party, the attention on him when he opens his presents. He keeps his birthday secret from even his team. Price would celebrate with him on a different date with a good bottle of whiskey, fishing at his cabin.
When he started dating you, he did tell you when his birthday was after two years of soft pestering. "I just want to celebrate with you the way you celebrate with me."
"I don't like celebrating." Simon grunted, only half annoyed with your constant questions. He did admire your persistence.
"We don't have to do a celebration. I don't." You chucke as you pull yourself closer to him and kiss his lips. "Do you just want a night in? Just us?"
"We do that every night, love." He teases, stroking your face fondly.
"Ah, yes, but it'll be special. Because it's on your birthday." You explain playfully, grining when he nods along to your words. "Plus, we'll have cake." Simon relaxes into you, resting his head on your shoulder.
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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
