Hello, I'm Em! 29, they/them, friendly neighborhood witch. I spend a lot of time writing and am currently neck-deep in stranger things and steddie with no signs of them letting me go any time soon.
I'm still working on organizing my writing on this blog, so this will be edited as new tags and new aus make their way to it! Right now I'm only listing works that began as tumblr or twitter thoughts, but more works can be found on my ao3.
Would love to chat about my works so please don't be afraid to send asks with any questions! I'm also currently accepting prompts! I do not do taglists, sorry!
WIPS
siren steve & pirate eddie (for mermay 2024)
part 1 | part 2
runaway bride stevie (exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington)
part 1 | part 2 - au tag
son of the mafia steve au (everyone lives canon divergent au)
au tag
cheer au (modern high school au, cheerleader steve, enemies to lovers)
au tag
you've got a sweetheart (modern musician's au)
au tag | media blog
FINISHED WORKS
perfectly misaligned (or, eddie forgets valentine's day)
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 - ao3
when you hold me tight (or, the aftermath of steve downplaying his injuries from the bats)
tumblr | ao3
it's darker than you thought now (or, the boy with abandonment issues falls for the boy who always runs)
part 1 | part 2 | ao3
eddie dismissing steve's interests (less a fic, more a ramble)
tumblr
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
this is my first time in the pacific northwest. we drove through a forest so wet and foggy you couldn’t see the bends in the road ten yards ahead of you and it straight up felt like a horror game until we emerged into a sunny valley with a rainbow over it and then we went to a taco bell and in it there was a guy dressed like a hot dog and a guy dressed like hamburger. is it all like this
That ‘comment on your a03 work’ email hits like a line of cocaine every time. unmatched dopamine increase. shoutout to everyone who leaves a comment on fics. you deserve the world
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
spiderman just left the pizza box on the roof but then came back a minute later and clearly felt bad for littering so now hes swinging through downtown holding an empty pizza box
minos was such a pussy. if my wife gave birth to an epic minotaur baby i wouldn't have locked him in a labyrinth. i would have taken him to the mcdonalds play place (athens) every day and let him eat as many stray mcnuggets (athenians) off the floor as he wanted. i love you hungry son
Even after they come out, Shane is a private person. So is Ilya. And, look, Shane is very happy that the centaurs are so accepting. He really, really has to remind himself how relieved and happy he is about it. He also remembers that this is how locker rooms are. As captain of the metros, the amount of times he had to tell off a player for showing pictures of their girlfriend's breasts or ass to other players was uncomfortably high.
So he really should have expected the question, "so who is, you know, the man?"
"Excuse me?"
"Dude, you can't ask that," a very progressive Young advised. "You gotta ask who's the top. Not the man."
Shane exhaled slowly. He loves his team he loves his team he loves his team.
"That is private," Shane said firmly. "And inappropriate in the workplace."
He was, of course, largely ignored. And while neither him nor Ilya really enjoyed their team, their friends, the internet, and homophobic players guessing their bedroom arraignments, Shane was surprised that nearly everyone got it wrong.
The general consensus what that Shane was the man. His going out outfit was usually jeans and a t-shirt, Ilya's was tight leather pants and a leopard print with four buttons undone. When they drank, Shane got a beer and Ilya either got shots or the sweetest cocktail they had. Ilya was more flamboyant, Shane was more reserved. Ilya liked to bake, Shane liked to grill.
And yes, Shane was aware why all these seemingly innocuous personality traits accumulated to make Shane the man and Ilya the girl. Still, it didn't stop it being generally annoying, offensive, and uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Shane liked finding the silver lining in that this was something just for them to know.
Ilya finds it more amusing then Shane. And, like most things, tries to use it to his advantage.
"Shaaaane, carry my bag," Ilya held out his hockey bag.
"No."
"I can't believe you treat your girlfriend like this."
~*~
"Is it a happy bouquet or an 'i'm sorry' one?" Holmsberg asked as he and the rookies peered over Young's phone. "Get the all roses one."
"That's the most expensive one!"
"Dude."
"Shane," Ilya whined, calling their attention to him. "Why don't you ever buy me flowers?"
"That's messed up, dude," LaPointe shook his head.
"I'll buy you roses, Roz." Wyatt grinned.
"You will not," Shane grumbled.
~*~
"Ah," Ilya winced as he lowered himself on the bench.
"You okay?" Shane asked him. He had taken a hard check into the boards early in the game and, despite reassuring Shane he was fine, he knew his hip was killing him.
"Fine," Ilya said predictability. "Just sore. Will be fine in a minute."
"Hey," Zane nudged Shane's shoulder. "Go easy on him on game days, okay? We need him."
"Go easy?" Shane's eyebrows drew together. "What do you - Oh! No, that isn't - he - I didn't -"
"It's fine, man. Whatever you two-"
"No!" Shane interrupted. "He's still sore off of Richard's check - Not - Ilya, stop laughing!"
~*~
"Doesn't it bother you?" Shane asks Ilya one day.
"What?"
"That everyone assumes you're, you know," Shane gestured, a cute little blush on his cheeks. "The girl."
"There is no girl," Ilya raises his eyebrows and palms Shane through his pants. "I would know."
"Asshole," Shane scoffs. "You know what I mean."
"I know," Ilya smiled. "But no. It does not bother me."
"Why not?"
"Because it's hot," Ilya lifted his hands, over Shane's chest and up to his face. "That people can't even imagine you like this."
Ilya dips to kiss his neck and Shane's eyes flutter shut.
"Makes no sense," Ilya continued, hands roaming down to Shane's ass. "To me, I know this immediately."
"F-fuck off, you did not."
"Oh, I did," Ilya gripped his chin, forcing Shane to look at him. "I see you... those beautiful freckles and I know how desperate you are for it. So obvious. Thought everyone was looking at this boy thinking how good he would look getting fucked. How well he would take it."
"Ilya..."
"Shh," Ilya patted his face. "But I think is better this way. That only I get to even imagine you like this. Only I get to have it."
"Only you," Shane agreed readily, hands flying to the zipper on Ilya's jeans.
"Only for me," Ilya agreed, letting Shane take down his pants and boxers. He pressed down on Shane's shoulders, the slightest pressure getting him to sink down, eyes already heavy. Ilya ran his hand through Shane's soft hair, watching the gold of his wedding ring catch the room's low light. "Only for me. Forever."
Just got a new knight! I sure hope his unwavering loyalty, mindless devotion, and tendency to kneel before me to kiss the palm of my hand before he commits atrocities in my name doesn't awaken anything in me.
One thing I've been thinking about recently is that the Metros were holding Shane back. The Admirals holding Hunter back makes sense, in an oh shit he's going to kill this kid way. But the Metros holding Shane back? Shane who never fights? Shane who is a known peacemaker? Maybe the argument can be made they wanted to protect him from getting hurt/getting fined but, Shane is their captain, if he wants to fight, a fight there shall be.
Unless.
You consider that the Metros know that Shane absolutely does know how to fight. They've all done checking clinics with Shane. They've all wrestled and roughhoused with Shane. He's strong and he's fast and he wants to win.
The Metros understand that Shane doesn't fight, not because he can't, but because he's a little too good at it. And Shane generally doesn't even like violence. He likes to win by playing the game, not hurting the other team.
So when they see Shane, after the whistle, drop his gloves to Scott Hunter, there is a collective thought of oh shit he's going to kill Hunter and they have approximately 1.5 seconds to grab their captain and prevent him from getting arrested.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Something I think about a lot is when dj khaled spent a day lost at sea on a jet ski literally just because he drove away and got lost and started live posting about it and as he got increasingly panicked he started making like inspirational insta stories about his opps wanting him to fail even though he was entirely responsible for the situation and just started saying shit like “they don’t want you to WIN. they don’t want you to get found when you’re lost at sea in the dark”
I do think that Shane gets a Russian language tutor. He sees that Ilya is always having to think, speak, and translate in his second language. And he knows that Ilya is fluent by this point, but if he's serious about forever with Ilya (which he is) he wants Ilya to be able to communicate with his boyfriend in his native language. He also saw how much his grandparents struggled with learning English as adults and how much more expressive and talkative they were when they spoke Japanese at home together.
So he gets a tutor. He meticulously researches her (she's from Moscow, so he'll learn from someone with Ilya's same accent). She's signed to more NDAs than he can count. She has 10 years of experience, she's certified to teach English and Russian, and she has 4.8 stars on MyTutor.
Shane pays her a frankly concerning amount of money to make house calls. Twice weekly, unless he's on the road, she arrives at his apartment to teach him foundational Russian. She gives him workbooks, Russia cartoon recommendation, podcasts for beginners, etc. He tells her he's learning because his boyfriend is Russian and she outlines a course that focuses on domestic language first (as opposed to travel or business). She even teaches him what she calls a 'culture course' with lessons on Russian music, food, and various traditions.
She's only a few years older than Shane and he actually finds himself looking forward to her visits. At this point, she's the only person other than his parents that knows he has a boyfriend.
About 4 months in, Shane finally feels comfortable enough to ask about what he'd been very excited about learning.
"You want me to teach you how to talk dirty to your boyfriend?" Ekaterina raised an eyebrow.
"Um," Shane blushed. Was this a little too far? Was this inappropriate to ask of a tutor? "Yes? If - If that's okay, I mean."
A slow smirk spread over her face. "This will be fun. Fun for me, now. Fun for you, later."
"I made a list," Shane admitted. He wasn't going to back out now, he put a lot of thought into his list. He turned to it in his Russian notebook and handed it to her.
She scanned over it indifferently. "You will use all this in one night?"
"Yeah, probably. Is it too much?"
"It is good you have a Russian man," Ekaterina said. "They have good stamina. Mostly, anyway."
And while it was a little embarrassing for Ekaterina to correct his pronunciation of please let me suck your cock, it helped that she seemed just as comfortable with that as there is tea on the stove.
Though, maybe he shouldn't have learned those phrases at the same time, because Ilya will never, for as long as they live, allow him to forget asking, while down on his knees and with excellent pronunciation, please let me suck your tea.
shane in the beginning of their official relationship being unsure of how to do casual intimacy because he’s used to only get it if it’s during sex or with the intent of turning into sex but now they’re boyfriends and he doesn’t always know how to navigate that so sometimes he will just 🧍🏻♂️ in the middle of the room because he wants a smooch but he’s unsure of how to progress and he feels weird asking for it before eventually realizing that ilya is more than happy to indulge
being an adult is just saying to yourself “this is the weekend i’ll clean my [x]” and then proceeding to not do that because it’s the weekend and you deserve to relax, goddamnit
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Grief is so fucking weird I had a dream my granny (who passed in 2014) and I were sitting in my yard and she was complimenting a bird bath i had out there so obviously now I'm scouring the internet for the Exact bird bath that was in my dream bc clearly my granny wants me to have one
Prompt Day 22: “Clap on, clap off, The Clapper!” | Word Count: 997 | Rating: M | CW: push and shove, language | POV: Steve | Pairing(s): Steddie | Tags: i’m borrowing Band Manager!Steve but making it enemies to lovers, Famous Corroded Coffin, Eddie calls it Selling Out, Steve calls it Paying Our Damn Bills
“Absolutely f–”
“Language!”
“–ucking not. Absolutely not, Harrington. I don’t care what they offered.”
“What did they offer?” Gareth asks, curiously.
“Traitor,” Eddie hisses.
“A lot,” Steve says, arms folded, the world’s bitchiest expression trained directly on Eddie – the lone dissenter. “Like enough to have us on the road for a year, easy. Enough to replace your kit–” Gareth’s drumkit has seen better days, and those better days were like two decades ago, “–enough to replace all your instruments if you wanted.”
Eddie is returning Steve’s stare with equal intensity, and Steve hates that his gut heats every time Eddie narrows those big brown eyes at him. Steve might be bitchy, but Eddie’s brand of mean is bratty; the gorgeous rockstar who can get anything he wants, who can always get his way, hamstrung by the band manager who tries to keep the four of them on earth.
They’re kind of friends? In that they’d die for each other – almost did – and Eddie had decked that skeezy club manager who’d been so horrible to Steve that one time, and Steve had gone nuclear on that chick Eddie had briefly dated who had not only been using him for the advancement her quote-unquote acting career – and Steve uses the term acting very sarcastically, because she was shit – but also fucking another guy on the side. Eddie is protective, and possessive, and Steve is jealous, but if you’d asked them they’d say they fucking hate each other.
Maybe it’s fairer to say they just know exactly how to push each other's buttons and rile the other up after all these years, but the mortal enemies angle is good for media attention. It lets Eddie say bitchy things – “Our manager you know, he’s a penny-pinching asshole, you’ll have to ask him directly why we haven’t done Oceania yet,” – in the press, without grievously offending anyone important in the industry.
Jeff sing-songs, “Clap on, clap off, The Clapper!” and Eddie hisses at him too, but is ignored. “That’s easy. We should do it.”
“It’s selling out,” Eddie says loudly. No one listens.
“Can we sing it rock ‘n’ roll style, not jingly?” Frank asks, like Eddie isn’t even there.
“Of course,” Steve says congenially. He loves when the boys take his side over Eddie’s. He knows they’re sick of the both them, of their bickering and their tension. Jeff has said more than once, you know there’s a thin line between love and hate right, and Frank, who’s far less subtle, has outright told Steve to just, “Fuck Eddie, or get fucked by him, it doesn’t matter, but maybe it’ll calm you both down.”
“They want you to do the ad in your style,” Steve adds, ignoring Eddie’s louder, “Absolutely not!”
“Ed, come on,” Jeff says, ever the voice of reason. “Think of the money.”
Corroded Coffin are on the rise, and fast, but money like that would make the next year so much more stress-free. It’s easily enough to take their time recording their next album, to tour, or even to take a break from touring if they’re exhausted, without having to worry about cashflow.
“It’s selling out!” Eddie repeats, shouting, and he’s such a fucking idiot, Steve can’t take it.
“Munson, hallway, now,” he snaps, not waiting to see if Eddie follows him.
He does, arms already crossed, his expression thunderous. “I’m not letting my band join the ranks of corporate sellouts, making soulless garbage, Steve, we’ve been over this before, about the integrity of the–”
Steve shoves him, and that shuts him up quick. Eddie blinks, those life-ruining eyes all wide and shocked and Steve loves that look on him, can easily imagine it as his view from above while Eddie’s on his knees and– focus Harrington. They’ve never come to physical blows before.
Eddie’s lush mouth presses into a thin line; he uncrosses his arms and shoves Steve right back.
“Have I steered you wrong yet?” Steve says, with another shove. “Have I done anything that’s not in the best interests of this band?” Shove. “I know it’s your baby,” shove, “I know–”
Eddie shoves back again, his fingers curling in Steve’s shirt and holding on. “You just have to push me don’t you, you just have to push–”
Steve doesn’t think Eddie’s talking about the physical pushing at all, and Steve’s half-hard already because this is years of tension, years since he’d been shoved against a boathouse wall and has thought about that physical dominance ever since – at first thinking he hated it, hated the way it made him feel weaker, but then thinking about the way Eddie’s grip on his collar had yanked at the last second so Steve wouldn’t hit the back of his head on the wall…
“Just trying to get you to admit you actually want it,” Steve hisses, and he’s not talking about the band or the lifestyle or the fucking clapper ad either.
“Oh fuck you, Harrington, you already know,” Eddie snarls, and then he’s shoving Steve against the wall again and his mouth is on Steve’s – hot and hard, despite the softness of his lips, demanding and taking and not fucking asking anymore. Steve answers in kind, fisting his hands in Eddie’s hair and tugging, because they’ve been asking each other for too long – dancing around their feelings, both asking the other through inaction to make the first move, arguing like it’s fucking foreplay. Steve laughs into Eddie’s mouth, and gets kissed harder for it – maybe it was foreplay.
“I’ll do your fucking ad,” Eddie breathes against Steve’s lips, “if I get something in return.”
“You already know you can have anything you want. Everything you want,” Steve snaps. Eddie’s thigh slides between his own and he bites out a moan.
Eddie’s grin says he knows Steve isn’t talking about just payment for doing the ad. Steve doesn’t give a fuck anymore. Eddie’s mouth is worth his pride.
