I Made A Bingo!

I made a bingo!

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Fitting and Choosing

Steve Harrington x female reader (y/n)

Word Count: 1038

Warnings: mentions of parental abandonment, weddings, wedding dress fittings, Steve Harrington being sweet is a warning, some fluff, humour, Eddie being Eddie, emotional adults.

A/N: The prompt foundry have put together a challenge list for Firsts. Day 5 was first fitting and it got me thinking about how the 80s was influenced by Dynasty and the work of fantastic designer Nolan Miller. Add it to Steve trying to get the guys to pick something for them to wear on the day and I put this together. I wanted to give Dustin’s mum and Karen Wheeler a role too because I feel like they need a bit of character exposure as they aren’t always given enough except to be shown as mums who don’t do much. I feel like Karen is the type to know fashion and Claudia could be an amazing seamstress.

Y/N turned to look at her reflection in Claudia's full length mirror. She bit her lip nervously. It was definitely the dress style she wanted but it needed a lot of work.

Claudia and Karen both clapped excitedly with a shared vision of what to do. Karen pulled out her folder while Claudia set out her dress maker pins and fabric scraps.

"Y/N this dress is going to look stunning" Karen squealed showing her the designs she had done for dress detail that she and Claudia felt were achievable. “I listened to what you said about the Nolan Miller designs on Dynasty with Fallon’s two dresses and Amanda’s dress when she married that prince” Karen’s excitement was tangible.

“Oh that was such an exciting episode not knowing who was alive or dead” Claudia chimed in as she checked Karen’s designs too. They were debating whether to change the sleeves and make them puffy or go with an off shoulder look. They had plenty of options as the top of the dress had t-shirt neckline and short sleeves that could easily be adapted. Dustin came out of his room to get some juice and stopped to look at Y/N and some of the Nolan Miller designs Karen spread out. A cheeky smile spread across his face.

“Oh Y/N be careful, mom will make you look like a meringue if you let her decide” he teased. Claudia gasped and looked at Dustin like he’d wounded her.

“Young man if you have nothing nice to say then don’t say anything” she reprimanded.

“Girls dream of their weddings from a young age and their dress has to be perfect” Karen added.

It had been an hour, Dustin was getting fed up hearing about ruffles, pleats, rhinestones, sequins, ribbons and fabric. He’d been roped into helping as Karen sketched Y/N’s vision based on Karen and Claudia’s ideas while Claudia chalked and pinned pieces on the dress as Y/N wore it.

A knock at the door gave Dustin the reprieve he needed. Opening the door, his smile grew instantly.

“Henderson!” Steve greeted with Eddie. He let them in only to have Karen panic and usher Y/N into Claudia’s room as it’s known to be bad luck for a groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding. Steve looked baffled.

“Y/N are you OK?” his concern echoed in his voice.

“Steve she’s being fitted for her dress, why are you here?” Karen asked.

“I brought some magazines for the Dustin and Eddie to see which style fits better and talk colour of suits for the wedding” he answered. Karen huffed and looked to Y/N who indicated she was tired and figured they had enough to go on.

“OK well Y/N will be changed and out of the room to see you shortly” she responded as Steve sat back down and started sharing stuff with Eddie and Dustin.

They were arguing colour and fit within no time. Dustin opting for bright colours, Eddie suggesting tuxedo t-shirts as cost effective and comfortable only to be met with Dustin arguing they are tacky which surprised Steve.

“What?” Dustin asked looking at Steve.

“I never thought you saw them as tacky” Steve spoke still astounded.

“Steve, you’re getting married. You’ve asked Eddie and myself to be your best men, I am not going to turn your big day into a joke” he replied earning a hair ruffle from Eddie for sounding sappy.

“It’s Y/N’s day though,” Steve reiterated, “she told me since she was 8 she’d been dreaming of the perfect dress. How the day would go and because her parents are refusing to share in the planning and believe they won’t attend due to work, I want to make sure she knows how special she is” he revealed with a solemn look, eyes almost filling with tears.

“But it’s our day Steve” she surprised him as she stepped over Eddie to join her fiancé.

“Y/N, I had no idea that your parents were...”

“It’s OK Karen. You and Claudia more than make up for it and I wouldn’t want it any other way’ she thanked the two woman who couldn’t help but shed a few tears.

“What about this?” Eddie asked pointing to a leather looking blazer. Steve turned to look at him with disbelief?

“Really Eddie? This is a wedding not some rock band reunion” Steve’s response was not meant to be as blunt as it sounded as Eddie feigned offense at his words dramatically clutching his chest and falling to the floor only to earn chuckles from Dustin and Y/N while Karen and Claudia shook their heads amused and went off to discuss how they were going to work on Y/N’s dress.

Dustin got the attention of the others as he jolted upright and shouted “a ha!” as he turned the page in the magazine he was looking at. Eddie sat up and Steve sat forward as Dustin slammed the magazine down on the coffee table eagerly pointing at a set of men all dressed in matching suits. They were black but the collar and lapels were satin and a different colour with ties that matched the lapels.

“These come in a range of colours. Steve, you said black is smart and Eddie you like black too but look at the collar, there’s colours and patterns to choose from” he was so proud of himself, grinning from ear to ear. Y/N winked at him thankfully for being a mediator and having a good eye for detail.

“I... I mean they look good and we can always co-ordinate the colour with the bridesmaids. My cousin did something similar at her first wedding,” Eddie let on, Dustin looked at him with confusion, “she’s been married five times” Eddie continued just to answer the unasked question.

“Move over Elizabeth Taylor” Y/N joked getting a play barge and girly giggle from Eddie.

“We could all have collars in a colour or pattern that suits our personality, that way we can wear them more than once,” Steve added, “good find Henderson” he felt relieved because first fittings and picking outfits are renowned for being a nightmare. At least they were all on the same wavelength for the wedding.

@thepromptfoundry @steveharringtons-lover @steveharringtonscarkeys-deactiv @steveslittlesunflower @hawkins-high86 @hawkinsindiana @hawkinsdirtbag @fujihime @aidinniram @tumblin-theworldaway @kristin813 @heyyimmisunderstood @selfdeprecatingnerd @protecteddiemunson4vr @frankie-mercury @harrington-love @harringtonfeels @flirtyandnerdyy @tomsvenom @dullsocietyy @greenteaandsagetea @funicidals @untitledarea @just-kinda-bored-blog-deactivat @superfan-things @variant-lokitty @katetothemoon @steveharringtonsbabysitterclub

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With My Heart and Soul

cw: unhealthy relationships, period-typical slurs

Prompt 22 - whole hearted love @thepromptfoundry

Drusus saw the drink coming and, in his defense, he did take a step to the right to avoid it. Except, he wasn’t sure he did take a step to the right. Maybe it was to the left? Or forwards? Backwards would’ve given him more of a chance of dodging but he wasn’t that lucky.

In other words, Drusus got drenched in one of the best wine in Roma and he didn’t even manage to keep his mouth open for it. Shame. A casket of it would’ve fed his vices for a month or so.

Someone laughed and slapped him on the back, making him stumble forwards. Drusus almost thought he’d be renamed the foolish drunkard of Roma if he slipped on wine he was already drenched in if it wasn’t for a strong tug at the back of his tunic. He didn’t crash like an idiot to the floor. He did crash back into the broad, strong chest of someone he was sure he’d been making out with moments before their jealous wife came into the picture.

“Well, salve again, mi deliciae,” Drusus purred. Or, well, he tried to but his hiccups and slurring did not go unnoticed. He was a man of Roma. He soldiered on. “Come to continue what your uxor interrupted… quiqui es?”

Drusus saw the man’s jaw twitch and he didn’t have to be sober to know they were annoyed. Who wouldn’t? He’d been about a palmipes close to bending this proud man over in one of the alcoves and he didn’t know their name.

Shameful? Yes. Embarrassing? A little. Does he really want to know their name? Well…

It’s complicated.

The man still had their hold on his tunic and they used it to pull Drusus closer. Very close. Enough for him to feel the hardness against his own and for their breaths stinking of wine to mix together into something heady—something more intoxicating and filthy.

“And here I was ready to scream your name, Drusus,” The man said, groaning when Drusus began moving against them. They shifted their hold downwards until their hands cupped Drusus’ arse, squeezing hard. “Why don’t you make it up to me and be an obedient cinaedus for me tonight, hm?”

Drusus moaned and smiled. And, with heady half-lidded eyes, he reached down and twisted the man’s cock as ruthlessly as he could. Predictably, the man’s knees buckled and he was on the ground, writhing in agony. It probably didn’t help that Drusus hadn’t let go of their cock.

He twisted it further and stepped on the man’s chest. Smiling still, he leaned down till their noses brushed.

“You’re a hundred times too ugly to ask me to bottom for your pathetic dick, quiqui es,” Drusus snarled. “Now scram.”

He gave the man’s cock one last cruel twist before letting go. His former prospective tryst lay on the ground, groaning and clutching at their groin as the other men cackled and threw drinks at them.

Drusus downed his drink and left the party. He was still hard. He had one destination in mind and one only.

The house was far enough that he was kind of sober by the time he caught sight of it. The lights were out, just as the others are in this neighbourhood. Drusus passed by some patrols who saluted him before going on their way. They didn’t question where he was headed or why he was going around this rich neighbourhood, stinking of wine.

They knew why. They knew where or, more specifically, who he was heading toward.

The house was at the top of a hill, joining the others belonging to the affluent class in Roma. They were dark, too, not a single light on with how late it was. It’d really be rude to come barging in at this time but Drusus’ strides were sure and confident.

He always was when it came to getting welcomed in Manius’ home.

Drusus knocked and waited. He heard scuffling at the very back of the house, some mumbling, before a small light bobbed its way to the front door.

A servant answered the door. She blinked at him a bit blearily.

“Dominus… Drusus?” They said, sounding confused and would’ve gone on a line of questioning he wasn’t in the mood to answer if he hadn’t interrupted.

He leaned against the doorway and smiled. “Manius is in, right?”

The servant nodded, if a bit hesitantly. “Yes, dominus. But it’s late. Dominus Manius has gone to bed. Why—”

Drusus plucked the oil lamp from the servant, smiling still.

“I think,” He said, voice going low. “You can take a walk for the night, no? I hear there’s a lot of celebrations going on tonight.”

That’s all it takes, really. The servant stiffens in understanding, their gaze taking in Drusus’ state of intoxication. They mumble their apologies and shuffle off and away and finally leaving him alone.

With Manius, of course. That was the important part.

From all the times Drusus had come to this house in the dead of night, he didn’t really need the oil lamp. He could walk through and right to where Manius is no matter the obstacle placed in his way. But he wanted to see the man and so the lamp went with him, bobbing and casting shadows all round.

Manius’ bedroom door wasn’t fully closed. The usual scent of patchouli seeps from the crack and Drusus takes it in, mind heady with the promise the smell brings. Manius told him the scent calms him to sleep.

Drusus goes crazy from the slightest whiff of it.

His steps hasten and he slams the door open with no care of their neighbours. He could give no fuck about anyone and anything else right now.

Manius is in bed. The man was in his underclothes, the bottom hem runched up and sleeves slipping from its master. It slipped even further as the man sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

“Wha… Drusus?” Manius blearily said, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I thought you were at a… party?”

Drusus hummed, placing the lamp on a nearby dresser. He leaned against the doorway and watched as the flickering light bathed the room and its master, drawing shadows in just the right places.

“I was,” He said and smiled as he approached the bed. “And now I’m here. Don’t I deserve a greeting, hm?”

Manius blinked. Then the thing Drusus had been waiting for all day and night came and it was worth it.

Manius laughed softly, eyes still soft with sleep. He held out his arms out and Drusus, as though drawn by a force he couldn’t understand, followed the silent command. He let the man cup his face and bring it closer to that laugh, that smile, and those eyes.

Their noses brushed. Manius laughed again.

“Good evening, carissime.”

It’s always been like this. Drusus would fuck any man willing to bottom for him. He would come out of closets or alcoves or even rooms, having just fucked and left his conquest and still aching for more.

He was the most notorious bachelor in Roma. Drusus Aurelius Lepidus Felix could have anyone and they would be glad to be called all kind of slurs for it.

Manius laughed again and touched his face. Drusus hated and loved how he leaned into it, his eyes fluttering open as the only man he’d allowed inside him slowed his thrusts.

“You’re many leuga away, carissime,” He murmured, smiling despite that and despite everything that Drusus is.

Drusus swallowed a whine and shut his eyes. He tried to move his hips, digging in his ankles as he tried to resume the backbreaking pace of before.

“Oh, no, no,” Manius said, now cupping Drusus’ face and wiping away something. A thing he doesn’t want to admit he’s capable of shedding. “Oh, mi carissime, open your eyes. Open them and look at me, hm?”

Drusus doesn’t want to. He really, really doesn’t want to because they’ve done this dance before and he knows it’ll hurt both of them if he acquiesces.

But this is Manius Caelius Agrippa Caracalla. This is his dulcissime who’s asking and so he does open his eyes. He meets Manius’ soft, loving gaze and breaks.

Drusus wraps his arms around the man’s neck and sobs as he confesses what he did tonight—the betrayal he almost committed again because he had forgotten, just as always, that Manius is there. The fervour of the celebration got to his head. There was wine. There were glances and touches and next thing he knew he was rubbing his cock against the arse of a man he didn’t know, the tip already catching at their rim.

“I’m sorry,” Drusus says, almost babbling and choking on his breath because Manius is still inside him and moving so slowly. Like rocking a babe who needs comfort. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, mi dulcissime. Forgive me—forgive me.”

He feels when Manius sighs. He feels the stilted movements of those hands at his back that had steadied him when he moved. For a moment, Drusus dreads. He wonders if this is it. If this is one betrayal too many and he would never have the time to say those two words—

Manius digs his fingers in Drusus’ hips, nearly draws out, and slams back in quick. Out and in, again and again, his thrusts gain their manic nature and Drusus is left a drooling mess bouncing on his lover’s cock. He clings harder as ever to Manius, his breath being punched out of him with no rest and this was his punishment, wasn’t it? This was carnal and wild and nothing like his dulcissime.

Drusus doesn’t realise he’s sobbing till the thrusting slows and there are fingers wiping the tears away. Lips press softly against the corner of his eyes and he opens them again to see Manius smiling softly with love. His Manius. A man he doesn’t deserve. The greatest man in Roma.

“Te amo, mi carissime,” He says, pressing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, the tip of his nose. “Know that my love will always be here for you when you remember to come home.”

Te amo, Drusus wants to say. Te amo, the words form over and over till it fills his chest and his mind, threatening to tear them apart with an explosion. Te amo, the words climb up his throat with daggers for hands and feet and making him bleed inside with a hurt that’s worth it.

“Yeah,” Drusus says instead, letting the words fall into the void. He rests his forehead against Manius’ and looks at the man he can call his own. “I’ll come home, mi dulcissime. I’ll come home to your love.”

I’ll always remember.

He is home when Manius smiles. He is home when their fingers interlace and he feels Marius’ warmth spread inside him, filling in every crevice of his body and soul.

Drusus is home.

A January of Firsts Day 6: First Gift

The origin of Rani's hat

@thepromptfoundry