#Stranger Things x You

[xoxo-sarah]

Hello my love I have a request for a reader who is like best friends Stevie and you know he’s a caretaker of the group, so she kind of is too anyways she is the caretaker always the mom of the group and everything but he can pick up on some signs that maybe she doesn’t wanna always take care of everybody else like maybe she wants to be taken care of, and he slowly starts doing things for her. But maybe she is reluctant to accept the help so she kinda gets snippy at him queue a frustrated, love confession from Stevie to her. Ends happy because my life is in shambles and I need a happy ending.

Distant

↝a/n: thank you for requesting. I hope you enjoy! 🩷

↝pairing: Steve Harrington x female!reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Steve Harrington, or any character from Stranger Things. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 12.20.24

Steve had always been the caretaker of the group. Whether it was driving the kids around or making sure everyone was safe, he was the go-to guy. But there was someone else who shared this role with him—his best friend, you. You were the “mom” of the group, always looking out for everyone and making sure things were in order.

You had become close to the kids shortly after Steve had. Dustin liked you, liked how Steve acted when you were around. It was also fun for Dustin to pick at Steve when you weren't around; talking about how Steve would blush when you looked at him. You never seemed to notice, though.

It wasn't unusual for you and Steve to be attached at the hip. You pretty much thought as one. One followed after the other. So it was natural when you took the group of kids under your wing. You would do anything for them. That was evident when you had a stern talking-to with a group of kids that were messing with Dustin's group at school. You had spent countless nights making and bringing them food when they were busy playing DND. You always made sure they had a ride home. Or, if they needed to go somewhere, you were the first to call. It became a habit to pick Steve up on the way, if he wasn't already with you when you got the call.

It was fun, spending time with them. They were funny and nice, a contrast to other kids their age.

But, all the times playing “mom” could be tiring. It seemed like every time you got the call, you would drop everything. They needed you, why would you decline?

It was one specific night when you had finally had enough.

Dustin kicked Lucas' feet out of the way, walking toward the phone. He knew your number by heart. Honestly, it's a surprise the number hadn't worn off from how much he typed it in. The phone rang…and rang. Usually, you would've picked up by now. Dustin turned, looking at the clock. 2:37 pm. You were off work today. You typically answer. Plucking the phone back into the base, Dustin turned, eyebrows furrowed. “She didn't answer.”

“How are we supposed to get to the arcade?” Mike sat up straighter, kicking himself for breaking the chain on his bike. Nancy was at Jonathan's, and his parents were out with Holly.

“Call Steve.” Lucas looked at Dustin like that was the obvious answer.

Nodding, Dustin turned back to the phone.

“She didn't answer my call either.”

Steve sighed, turning down the familiar street. The other kids were squashed in the back of Steve's car as Dustin sat in the passenger seat. The kid was quick to tell Steve about his worries. Sure, you just didn't answer the house phone. But that wasn't like you. If you had missed it, you always called back. Or called from Steve's house phone.

“Maybe she isn't home.” Mike watched the trees out the window. Truthfully, he just wanted to go to the arcade. He had a high score to beat. Yours, specifically.

Pulling into your driveway, Steve unbuckled, before getting out. Your car was parked in front of his. “I'll ask if she wants to come with.”

Steve practically skipped to the door, knocking and waiting. It took a few moments before you opened the door. “Hey,” Steve took in your appearance. You looked tired, sleep clumped at the corners of your eyes, eye bags apparent. “Uh, the kids were wondering if you wanted to come with us to the arcade.” He used his thumb to point behind him, where the kids were watching.

“Um,” You opened your mouth, looking at the kids, before furrowing your brows. “You know, I actually have to catch up on some sleep.”

“Oh, okay. Dustin was worried about you. You didn't answer his calls or mine.”

“Yeah,” I have a life outside of you and the kids. I don't have to constantly drop everything to play pretend and do their parents job. “I was asleep.” You weren't going to tell him about how you listened as the phone rang, not daring to even get up from the couch.

“alright, just wanted to check up on you.” Steve turned, not wanting to leave, but feeling like you wanted him to.

You smiled, “thanks, and sorry. Enjoy dealing with those hooligans all by yourself.”

Steve laughed, before you closed the door.

~

Days passed, and it was always the same answer. You had other stuff to do. Until Steve came to visit you at work. He saw you through the window, laughing with a coworker. You looked like you. He missed it.

“I'm having a little get-together at my house tonight. You should come. Food, board games, movies. Everything you love.” Steve smiled, begging you with his eyes.

For some reason, you couldn't say no this time around.

As you all gathered at Steve's house for a movie night, he noticed something different about you. You seemed a bit more tired, your smile a little less bright. You were still taking care of everyone, getting everyone snacks, making sure everyone liked the movie before it was put in, but Steve could see the weariness in your eyes.

You didn't pay attention to the movie, mind elsewhere.

“What's going on?” Steve had asked, after everyone was asleep, and you helped clean up.

“What do you mean?”

You didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing on grabbing the candy wrappers and throwing them away.

“You're distant. You don't answer the phone anymore. Did I do something? Did one of them do something?”

“No.” You sighed, “No one did anything. I just…I'm tired. I don't want to be the caretaker all the time.”

Steve slowly nodded, letting you know he was actually listening.

“I mean, I've had to drop so many things just to take them somewhere or pick them up. I have my own life, you know. I have a job so I can pay bills. If I wanted to be a mom, I would have kids myself.” You hated how that made you sound. You felt selfish for wanting time for yourself, but it's just how it is. They're not your kids, you're not their mom. You're a young adult that has to live life without the constant burden of children.

“You don't have to. I'll talk to them-”

“No. Don't do that. It's fine.”

“It's obviously not fine. You're having to ignore us just to get some free time. I'll talk to them.”

You dropped the trash bag, looking up at him. “I said no. It's not that big of a deal.” You huffed, moving around the living room toward the door.

Steve watched as you grabbed your stuff and left.

He knew first hand how it was to be the caretaker of the group. He found it easier to do with you by his side. But obviously, it wasn't like that for you.

Maybe you wanted someone to take care of you for a change.

Steve started doing little things for you. He'd stop by your house to bring you snacks without you asking. He brought you flowers once, claiming it was from him and the kids, for burdening you. Steve tried to do stuff for you, but you were reluctant to accept his help. You'd always been the one to take care of others, and it was challenging to let someone else do that for you. Sometimes, you'd even get snippy with him, telling him you could handle it yourself.

~

You finally came around again- not as much as before, but you didn't decline their calls anymore.

One night, after a particularly long day, Steve found you in his kitchen, cleaning up after everyone else had left. He walked over and took the dish from your hand.

“Steve, I can do it,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Why won't you let me help you?” he asked, his tone equally frustrated.

“Because I don't need your help!” you snapped back, but your voice cracked, betraying your true feelings.

Steve put the dish down and turned to you, his eyes filled with concern. “You don't always have to be the strong one, you know. It's okay to let someone else take care of you for once.”

You looked at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “But what if I don't know how to let go?”

Steve stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “Then let me show you,” he whispered. “Because I love you, and I want to be there for you, just like you've always been there for everyone else.”

Your breath hitched at his words, “You… you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve said, his voice firm and sincere. “I love you, and I want to take care of you. So please, let me.”

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you finally allowed yourself to lean into his embrace. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of relief. “Okay.”

Steve smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We'll figure it out together,” he said. “One step at a time.”

As the days passed, Steve made it his mission to show you that it was okay to let someone else be there for you. He'd surprise you with your favorite coffee in the morning, leave little notes of encouragement on your bedside table before he leaves at night, and always be there with a listening ear when you needed to vent. Slowly, but surely, you began to let your guard down and accept his help.

~

One Saturday afternoon, Steve took you to a quiet spot by the lake. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. You sat together on a blanket, watching the ducks swim by.

“Thank you,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“For what?” Steve asked, looking at you with a gentle smile.

“For everything,” you replied. “For being there for me, for showing me that it's okay to lean on someone else.”

Steve reached out and took your hand in his. “You don't have to thank me,” he said. “I care about you, and I want to be there for you. Always.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling a sense of peace and contentment that you hadn't felt in a long time. “I love you, Steve,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you knew that you had finally found someone who would always be there for you, no matter what. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[choerypetal]

Home. / Steve Harrington

summary: Once you became Billy's partner, you always knew you'd face the grief of his passing. But with your curse tied to Vecna, enduring those dark times felt even heavier. Unexpectedly, Steve stepped in, becoming a source of solace and shelter for both you and your fractured heart.

ps; english isn't my first language so i truly apologize for some grammar errors or syntax in play. enjoy!

Seeing Billy’s lifeless body at Starcourt Mall was the cruel finale to it all.

An enemy, a friend, and finally a lover—your relationship with Billy had always puzzled those around you, Steve included. Maxine could hardly fathom how her brother and you had ended up together. It was like a cliché from a romance story, and Billy had no qualms about flaunting it, much to the disgust of those who couldn’t stomach your connection.

But amidst the chaos, something beautiful had blossomed. Until the moment of Billy’s last breath—leaving you adrift, unable to find solace or sanity in his absence.

You were certain Vecna wouldn’t come for you—or so you hoped after witnessing Billy’s transformation into something whole and purified. Yet, during those days, you and Billy had grown distant. His job at the Hawkins pool didn’t help; his good looks naturally drew attention, stirring a mix of unease and concern within you. Deep down, you worried about his health—and you had every reason to.

Today marked the first anniversary of his death. Maxine had invited you to visit his grave that morning. The dark circles under your eyes betrayed the restless night you’d had, while your messy hair and the way your fingers clung tightly to Billy’s jacket spoke volumes.

Steve and the others were invited to come along. Since the cemetery was hours away from Hawkins, walking wasn’t an option, and Steve had offered to drive everyone. It wasn’t just for Maxine, or even to pay respect to Billy, despite the fact that Steve had never forgiven him for being an unapologetic jerk. Steve did it, above all, for you.

Steve had seen the changes in you—how you had transformed after being cursed by Vecna. Your body was different, your voice carried a detached tone, and a numbness seemed to cling to you. Neither of you could figure out how to mend what was broken. In his concern, Steve even asked Robin to check in on you once, though you refused her presence. He wasn’t surprised but had hoped for some flicker of the person you used to be. Yet, those glimpses weren’t enough for him. He needed more—needed to hold you, to wrap you in his arms and assure you that you could trust him.

But trust was a fragile thing, especially when you were already struggling with feelings for someone new.

You appreciated Steve’s efforts. From the cookies he brought for Maxine and Susan, courtesy of his mother, to his insistence on staying overnight just to make sure you were okay. It was on one of those nights—one where sleep seemed like an impossible luxury—that his presence felt especially grounding.

The nightmares, however, refused to be silenced. “Y/N...” Billy’s voice echoed endlessly in your mind, haunting you. There were moments you convinced yourself he wasn’t truly gone, that he was somehow alive. And in your mind, he was—always there, just out of reach.

“Y/N…” His voice kept calling you. No, you weren’t going to fall for it. Not this time.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes snapped open, your back jolting upright from the sudden shock. As your breathing steadied, you realized it wasn’t him—it was your mother. She stood at the edge of your bed, her expression etched with concern. A sigh escaped your lips as you placed a hand over your chest, grounding yourself in the reality that it had all been just another nightmare.

“Yes, Mother? What’s the urgency?” you asked groggily, a yawn escaping as you rubbed at your tired eyes. “It’s only…” Your gaze flickered to the clock. “8:00 AM on a Saturday?”

Your mother chuckled softly at your confusion, a hint of amusement in her calm demeanor. Yet there was something more, something hopeful in her expression. “Silly, your father and I are going out for dinner tonight to celebrate our anniversary. You’ll be okay on your own, won’t you? I know things haven’t been the easiest…”

The mention of it—a veiled reference to everything you’d been through—stung, but you masked it with a small, practiced smile. “Of course, don’t worry. I’ll lock the doors and—”

But that wasn’t what she meant, and you both knew it. Her smile faded, replaced by a gentle seriousness. “You know what I mean, sweetie,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of your bed. You lowered your gaze to your hands, fingers nervously picking at each other. A silent sigh escaped your lips. You understood her concern—it was impossible to ignore.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” 

Clearly, you weren’t okay, but it was the only way you knew how to cope. As the hours passed, you found solace in the pages of a good book, letting the world around you blur into the background.

Then came a knock at the door.

You hesitated, debating whether you should even bother answering. Deep down, you hoped it was just the postman with a routine delivery. But the knock came again, a little more insistent this time. “Coming!” you called out, irritation slipping into your tone as you set the book aside on your mattress and got up. Descending the stairs, you heard another knock, louder and more impatient.

“Coming! Geez,” you muttered under your breath, annoyance growing as you reached for the doorknob. Whoever thought it was appropriate to knock this insistently at this hour had better have a damn good reason, you thought. When you finally swung the door open, Steve’s silhouette greeted you, framed by the golden rays of the early morning sun. He stood there, a tray of familiar cookies balanced in his arms, a sheepish grin tugging at his face.

“Took you long enough,” he teased lightly.

“You better have a good reason for dragging me out of bed at...” you trailed off, leaning back to glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “At 9:00 AM? Not that I don’t appreciate your—”

“Just wanted to bring these cookies,” Steve said, the lie hanging in the air. It wasn’t convincing—because, of course, Steve didn’t just show up with cookies for no reason. Especially not when you could have been peacefully reading your book. But he didn’t seem to care about the timing, and your unconvinced expression only deepened his hesitation.

“Fine,” he relented, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t come over just for the cookies. But…” His words trailed off as he struggled to find the right way to explain. Finally, he continued, “I overheard your mom talking to mine this morning while I was giving Dustin a ride to the arcade. I couldn’t—”

You sighed, cutting him off as realization dawned on you. Of course your mother had called Steve’s mother. Not only were they neighbors, living just a few blocks apart, but they’d also been close friends since high school. A good mother had every right to worry, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Gently, you took the tray from Steve’s hands, the weight of it grounding you in the moment. Without saying a word, you stepped aside, silently inviting him in. “Fine… I guess your presence doesn’t hurt anybody,” you said, your tone resigned.

Steve exhaled in relief, doing his best to mask how thrilled he felt at your approval. He couldn’t deny how glad he was to see you—even with everything you’d been through, even with the weight you carried.

As he followed you to your room, his gaze flickered over the space. He noticed them immediately: the remnants of Billy still lingering, tucked into corners, sitting on shelves, woven into your world. A jacket draped over a chair. A photo resting on your nightstand.

It was something you’d once explained to him—it was your way of coping. Billy had been a part of your life for nearly a year, a year in which you’d shared so much with him. Secrets. Fears. Dreams. You had been the only person Billy had trusted enough to tell about his father, about the real reason they moved to Hawkins, about why he acted the way he did. You had been his calm amidst the chaos, his anchor in a storm.

But now, what is home when the one you love is… gone?

“Loving the new David Bowie poster,” Steve remarked, trying to lighten the mood. You appreciated the attempt, but instead of responding, you buried yourself back into your book. Noticing this, he leaned forward, reaching toward it as if to snatch it from your hands.

“No, no, no reading, miss,” he teased, pulling his hand back with a grin.

Your lips formed a pout as you furrowed your brows in mock irritation. “I said you could stay here, but that doesn’t mean you get to do anything either,” you shot back, earning a scoff from him.

Arms now crossed, he slumped onto the corner of your bed with a dramatic sigh. “Then what am I supposed to do?” You glanced around the room before your lips curled into a smug smirk. Without a word, you tossed a book in his direction, and it landed squarely on his chest with a dull thud. The impact made him flinch, his eyes closing briefly in exaggerated pain.

“Shit, Y/N. A book? Really?” he grumbled, glaring at you as you chuckled at his expense.

“Books are a great way to learn things,” you retorted with a playful shrug. “Maybe you could figure out how to leave people alone when they want some peace.”

Steve’s glare deepened, his brows knitting together in mock annoyance. “Haha, very funny,” he muttered, his fingers brushing reluctantly over the pages. It was exactly the type of book he’d normally ignore—or toss aside entirely. Why read so many words on a page when you could just watch something instead?

Still, as he sat there, he noticed how engrossed you were in your own book, completely tuned out of his presence. Sighing, he realized he had no choice but to play along. He wasn’t about to leave, not now, and certainly not when he’d already figured out your little game. You glanced up toward Steve, hoping he might finally give up and leave. But to your surprise, you had to blink a few times to confirm what you were seeing. Steve was actually reading? He was completely fixated on the plot, his brow furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, a gasp escaped his mouth, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

Hearing you, Steve glanced over with one brow arched. “What? Now you don’t want me to read?” he asked, feigning an almost-offended look and exaggerating it for effect. “I dare you to even mention to the kids—or my mom—that you made me read.” Another chuckle slipped from your lips. “Oh, Steve. Your secret is safe with me,” you replied with a teasing grin.

By the time evening rolled around, the two of you were both drained, the unexpected task of reading proving more exhausting than either of you expected. Steve let out a soft yawn, stretching his arms after hours of sitting still. At some point, without realizing it, you found yourself nestled in his arms. A soft snore escaped from his lips as he shifted slightly in his sleep, his grip tightening around you. You stirred awake, only to realize where you were—and more importantly, how close you were. Steve’s head was nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Your cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink as you became acutely aware of the situation. “St-Steve…” you whispered, attempting to wiggle free from his hold.

But Steve, even in his sleep, seemed to have other plans. His grip refused to loosen, and you let out a flustered sigh, realizing he might be more aware than he appeared.

“No…” he murmured softly, his voice low and insistent. “I need you… Y/N.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. It was then you began to piece it all together—the reason for Steve’s frequent visits, his unwavering presence. The realization hit you like a wave: Steve had feelings for you, and somewhere along the way, you had grown feelings for him too.

Though he had always respected your relationship with Billy, there was something undeniable about the connection you shared with Steve. It was a quiet truth you couldn’t ignore—your heart had spoken, and it told you what you’d been too afraid to admit. That feeling of home you thought you’d lost? It was right here.

“Stay with me…” Steve mumbled in his half-asleep state, his words slurring slightly as he pressed a gentle, sleepy kiss to your neck.

Your lips curved into a soft smile as you whispered, “I will…”

“Forever.”

[nemo-writes]

𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 - 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜

➝ steve harrington + eddie munson x loser-club!reader

➝ synopsis; in a quiet moment at melvald’s, an unexpected re-encounter sparks the start of something new, hinting at possibilities you hadn’t anticipated.

⚠️ warnings; none

➝ series masterlist, moodboard

➝ previous chapter ; next chapter

Wednesday, February 26 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, casting a pale, almost sterile glow over the aisles of Melvald’s. The faint hum was joined by the low murmur of a radio playing some old tune you didn’t recognize. The store was quiet for the most part—just you, a cashier near the front, and a few other patrons milling about.

You stood in the middle of the aisle, staring at the two items in each of your hands: a jar of peanut butter and a fresh new box of pencils.

It wasn’t like you were starving. Not yet, at least. You still had a half-loaf of bread and some canned soup tucked away back at the trailer. But your groceries had dwindled faster than you’d hoped, and the past week had been a stark reminder that you couldn’t survive on granola bars and apples.

You also still had more than a few pencils to spare. But they were the fancy ones, and you felt bad about going through them.

California loomed in your mind. The miles stretched out like an invisible tether, pulling you westward, and with them came the gnawing worry of money. The last thing you needed was to get stuck in the middle of nowhere without enough cash to get you the rest of the way.

You glanced down at the jar of peanut butter again. It was the practical choice, the responsible one. Protein. Energy. You could stretch it out for days, pairing it with whatever odds and ends you had left.

But then your gaze shifted to the box of pencils. Cheap but brand new, the tips perfectly sharp, their bright yellow casing practically gleaming under the store lights. You could already feel the weight of them in your hand, the satisfying scratch of graphite against paper as you filled the pages of your sketchbook.

A small indulgence. Something for you.

“Just pick one,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, though it was easier said than done.

You were still debating between the jar of peanut butter and the box of pencils when a voice cut through your thoughts.

“Never seen you before.”

You blinked, looking up sharply. A tall man stood at the end of the aisle, leaning slightly into the shelves. He had a lanky frame, glasses perched on a sharp nose, a moustache, and his head was tilted as if trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at. His eyes squinted slightly behind the lenses, studying you in a way that was both curious and unnervingly direct.

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure how to respond.

He straightened, stepping closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

You kept your expression neutral, shrugging lightly. 

His lips twitched, not quite a smile, as his gaze swept over you again, like he was piecing together some puzzle. “Huh.” He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “You should be in class.”

You frowned, the words catching you off guard. “What?”

“School,” he clarified, gesturing vaguely with one hand, his other clothing his own shopping basket. “You look like you should be in school. Why aren’t you in class right now?”

A flicker of annoyance bubbled in your chest, but you kept it in check. You’d gotten this before—strangers assuming things, projecting their ideas of who you were or what you should be doing. Still, it didn’t make it any less irritating.

“I’m not from around here. And I graduated last year,” you replied curtly, tone clipped.

The man’s head tilted again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your response. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stood there with a thoughtful expression, as if weighing your words.

“Well,” he finally said, stepping back with an almost dismissive nod, “that makes sense, I suppose.”

Before you could turn away, he took a step closer, his presence suddenly overbearing. “But you still don’t look like you’re much older than the kids at Hawkins High,” he pressed, his tone pointed. “You sure you’re not skipping class?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he barreled on, not giving you a chance.

“Where are you from, anyway? Hawkins isn’t exactly a tourist hotspot. We don’t get many wanderers. Especially not ones like you.” His words carried a faint, accusatory edge, and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head again, waiting for an answer you hadn’t been allowed to give.

Your grip on the jar of peanut butter tightened, irritation sparking in your chest. “Look,” you began, trying to keep your tone even, “I’m just—”

He cut you off, waving a hand as if to dismiss whatever you were about to say. “Don’t get defensive. I’m just saying, a young woman wandering around town in the middle of a school day? Looks a little odd, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw, the tension building as his words piled on. Who even was this guy?

“I don’t see why that’s any of your business,” you snapped, your patience finally wearing thin.

Before he could fire back, another voice cut in from behind you, casual but firm.

“She told you already: she’s not from around here, Callahan.”

You turned to see a familiar figure leaning casually against the edge of the aisle. It’s the guy from the arcade. Steve was it? 

Callahan straightened, his posture stiffening slightly. “Harrington,” he said, his tone flat. “Didn’t know you were on the welcome committee now.”

Steve smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Didn’t know you were the department’s head of small-town interrogations.”

You could see the muscle in Callahan’s jaw tighten as he glanced between you and Steve. “Just doing my job,” he muttered.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve said with a chuckle. “I think you’ve done enough. She’s not skipping school, and she’s not planning some big heist in the peanut butter aisle. So maybe back off?”

Callahan shrugged and finally left. You watched him go with an eyebrow raised, clearly unimpressed. 

Steve shifted his weight, offering you a sheepish smile. “Sorry about him. Callahan’s harmless, but he’s got a knack for making people want to punch him.”

“Noted.” You huffed a quiet laugh despite yourself. “Steve, right?”

He nodded, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised you remembered his name. He then glanced down at the peanut butter and pencils still in your hands. “Tough choice?” he asked, tone lighter now.

You sighed, giving the pencils one last lingering glance before setting them back on the shelf and securing the jar of peanut butter in your basket. Steve didn’t say anything, though his lips quirked in a way that suggested he was holding back some comment.

“Uh, good choice,” he said after a moment, the words a bit rushed. “Peanut butter’s… practical. Anyway, just go ahead and pay. I’ll catch up with you.”

You frowned slightly, tilting your head at him. “Why?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “I mean, I figured—you know, Callahan was kind of a jerk, so… I dunno. Thought I’d walk you out?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing away like he was already regretting opening his mouth.

For a second, you considered calling him out on it, but you just shrugged and made your way toward the register.

The cashier rang up your items with a detached air that you were just slightly grateful for. You handed over your money, took your change, and stepped outside into the brisk afternoon air.

You leaned against the brick wall by the entrance, the faint hum of traffic and occasional chatter of passing townsfolk filled the quiet as you waited.

You weren’t entirely sure why you waited. It wasn’t like you owed this guy anything—or even knew him, for that matter—but there you were.

He emerged a moment later, his steps a little hurried, like he’d debated something inside for longer than he meant to. He stopped in front of you, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets, his gaze darting between you and the ground.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a touch quieter than it had been earlier.

“Hey,” you replied, already halfway through a polite goodbye when he suddenly pulled something from behind his back and held it out to you.

It was the box of pencils.

You blinked at him, confused. 

“Uh… it’s, um…” He rubbed the back of his neck again, his face flushing slightly. “It’s just, like, a… welcome thing. You know. To Hawkins.” He laughed awkwardly, glancing at the ground for a second. “I figured my first impression wasn’t, like, great, and, uh, Callahan was kind of… you know… a total jerk. So, yeah. Here.”

You stared at the box, then at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said, unsure if you were amused or bewildered.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied quickly, his words tumbling out. “But, I mean, you were clearly having a hard time picking, so I figured…” He trailed off, looking a little sheepish.

You accepted the box and clutched it tightly in your hand, the edges pressing into your palm as a rare, big smile spread across your face. You glanced back at Steve, who was still rocking awkwardly on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Thanks,” you said, the sincerity in your voice making him blink and straighten slightly. “If you ever drop by The Hideout, I’ll treat you to something.”

Steve’s brows shot up, and he let out a short, incredulous laugh. “The Hideout? That place is a total shit-hole.”

You shrugged, the smile lingering as the grocery bag on your grip. “Kinda, but my offer stands.”

He stared at you for a second, as if trying to decide whether you were serious, and then shook his head with a bemused grin. “Alright, peanut butter girl. I’ll… keep that in mind.”

You gave him your name, and he parroted it back with a small grin. With that, you waved at him, a casual flick of your hand as you turned and started walking down the street.

You could feel his eyes on you as you left, lingering for a moment before he finally turned back toward the store. The pencil box felt light in your hand, but the gesture weighed heavily on your mind in the best way.

For the first time in a while, Hawkins didn’t seem quite so strange. Or maybe, it felt strange in just the right way

.

.

.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the trailer park as you settled into your new acquisition—a worn beach chair you’d snagged on your way home. It had been sitting on someone’s porch with a “FREE” sign taped to it, and after a quick glance around and a good wipe down, you’d claimed it as your own.

Now, you sat with one leg tucked beneath you, the other dangling lazily off the side as you balanced your sketchbook on your knee. The box of new pencils sat nearby, the lid flipped open like a treasure chest of potential.

The soft scratch of graphite against paper was oddly soothing, and your mood had stayed buoyant since leaving Melvald’s. The pencils weren't the higher grade stuff, but it felt perfect in your hand, and you let yourself relax into the rhythm of drawing.

It wasn’t intentional—your hand had just begun moving, and before you realised it, Steve’s face started to take shape on the page. The messy hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the almost boyish tilt to his expression. He was handsome, you had already admitted that much, but what really caught your attention was how balanced his proportions were. His face was perfect for practising—symmetry without being boring, sharp features softened just enough by the way he carried himself.

You tilted your head, erasing a stray line and redrawing it with more precision. 

Once you were satisfied, you flipped to a fresh page and moved on. The store came next. Melvald’s had a certain unremarkable charm, the kind that spoke of a familiar small-town life in a way that wasn’t quite picturesque but still nostalgic. You captured the rows of shelves, the faded linoleum, the fluorescent lights overhead.

From there, the arcade. It wasn’t hard to picture it—the flashing neon, the rows of machines, the way the screen of Dragon’s Lair glowed in the dim room. You even sketched out a tiny figure hunched over one of the consoles, a nod to yourself and the hours you’d spent there already.

Every now and then, you paused to glance up at the sky, the light shifting as the afternoon wore on. There was still time before your shift at The Hideout, and for once, you didn’t feel like rushing anywhere. For now, this was enough. Just you, the sketchbook, and the steady rhythm of your pencils carving out tiny pieces of the world.

You were halfway through a granola bar, idly chewing as your pencil danced across the page, adding a few finishing touches to your latest sketch. The soft rustle of leaves and distant hum of a passing car filled the air, peaceful and unassuming.

That peace was interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel path nearby. You glanced up briefly, and there he was—Eddie, his long stride a little uneven as he sauntered closer.

You raised a hand in a casual wave. “Eddie, hey.”

His face perked up immediately, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to eager delight. He sped up, closing the distance between you with an almost childlike enthusiasm.

“Hey!” he called, grinning wide as he came to a stop a few feet away. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sketchbook balanced on your knee, and his brows shot up. “Whoa, what’s this?”

Before you could answer, his hand darted out, snatching the sketchbook from your lap.

“Hey!” you snapped, bristling as you shot to your feet, trying to grab it back. But he was quick, and he held it far away from your immediate grasp, flipping through the pages like a little boy rifling through a new comic book.

“Oh, come on, don’t be shy,” he teased, his tone playful as his eyes darted over your sketches. “Let’s see what we’ve got here...”

You glared at him, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “Eddie, give it back.”

But he was too absorbed in the drawings to care. His face lit up like Christmas as he turned page after page, his mouth running faster than your irritation could catch up.

“Holy shit, these are amazing! Look at this one—what is this, Melvald’s? Nailed it. And the arcade? Man, this is insane!”

His genuine enthusiasm softened your annoyance just a little, though you still wanted to wring his neck for swiping your stuff without asking.

Then he stopped, mid-flip, his hand frozen on the page.

“Oh.”

You frowned, your irritation returning in full force. “Oh, what? What did you—”

He turned the sketchbook around, pointing to the page with wide, incredulous eyes.

It was Steve's sketch.

Eddie stared at it like it was a crime scene photo, his face blanching as he slowly shifted his gaze to you.

“Harrington?” he blurted, his voice high-pitched with disbelief. “You drew Steve Harrington? Pretty-boy, hair-spray king Steve Harrington? Why?!”

Well, at least the drawing was good enough for him to recognize Steve. You rolled your eyes, reaching up and finally managing to snatch the sketchbook back. “He’s got good proportions,” you said flatly, tucking the book protectively against your chest.

“Proportions?” Eddie repeated, his voice dripping with mock horror. “You’re using Harrington—the guy with the stupid perfect hair and teeth—for proportions?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “You said it, not me. He’s symmetrical. Easy to practise on.”

Eddie sputtered, his hands flailing like he didn’t know what to do with them. “You’re insane. You know that, right? Absolutely insane.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his dramatics. “You done?”

He paused, deflating slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess. But, seriously…” He shot you a sly grin. “Couldn’t have picked someone cooler? Like me, maybe?”

You snorted, flopping back into your chair and flipping the sketchbook closed. “Cooler than Steve Harrington? You’ve got competition, Munson.”

He clutched his chest like you’d wounded him. “Ouch. You wound me.”

Eddie plopped down on the ground next to you, his curiosity apparently satisfied, though his grin lingered. “Fine. But I’m just saying—next time, pick me. My face deserves some art.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. The moment had passed, the tension easing into a kind of comfortable camaraderie as you rolled your pencil between your fingers.  

Eddie stayed seated on the ground, leaning back on his hands as he tilted his head to look up at you, a mischievous glint still lingering in his eyes. His gaze shifted to the closed sketchbook in your lap, and his grin turned speculative.

“So,” he started, drawing out the word like it was part of some grand idea forming in his head, “are you any good with, like, fantasy stuff?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Fantasy stuff?”

“Yeah, you know, dragons, wizards, epic battles—all that good shit,” he said enthusiastically, sitting up straighter.

You tilted your head, giving him a dry look. “Not exactly,” you replied, your tone flat. “Most of my drawings are just... stuff I see.”

Eddie waved a hand dismissively, like that was a minor inconvenience at best. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice gaining momentum. “You’ve got the talent, and I’ve got the ideas.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt as he forged ahead.

“I’ve been looking for someone to help me out,” he continued, gesturing dramatically with his hands as he spoke. “See, for my D&D campaigns—the guy who used to help me draw maps and monsters and all that... he’s gone. And I’m stuck with my own crappy sketches that look like a five-year-old drew them.”

He paused to take a breath, his excitement bubbling over like a pot left unattended.

You crossed your arms, your eyebrow arching higher. “Uh-huh.”

“And that’s where you come in,” he said, pointing a finger at you like he’d just discovered the secret to life itself. “You could be my official campaign artist. You’d kill it. You’d make my worlds come to life!”

You leaned back in your chair, your expression deadpan. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eddie stopped mid-gesture, blinking at you like you’d just confessed to a crime. “Wait. You’re telling me you’ve never played? Not even heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“Wow.” He shook his head, looking genuinely stunned. “That’s...tragic. You’ve been deprived.”

“I’ll survive,” you retorted dryly.

Eddie, undeterred, launched back into his pitch, describing elaborate campaigns, mythical beasts, and heroic quests with a kind of fervour that made you wonder how much coffee he drank in a day. You just watched him, arms crossed and eyebrows still raised, clearly not following most of what he was saying but mildly entertained by how much he seemed to care about it.

Eventually, he paused, looking at you expectantly.

“Well? What do you think?” he asked, grinning like a kid.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “I think... you’ve got a lot of energy for someone sitting on the ground.”

Eddie laughed, flopping back onto the grass dramatically. “That’s a yes in my book,” he declared, clearly deciding the matter was settled.

“And of course, I’d pay you,” he added, almost offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal.

That gave you pause. “Wait. Pay me?”

Eddie perked up immediately, sitting up straighter. “Well, yeah. I mean, it wouldn’t be much—let’s not get crazy—but I’d figure something out. A few bucks, maybe some snacks or drinks. Whatever works, y’know?”

You looked at him properly, arms crossing over your chest. “You’d actually pay me to draw your... whatever it is?”

“Campaigns,” he said, grinning. “And yes, I would. It’s important stuff. These worlds need to come to life! I’ve got, like, a reputation to uphold here.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to gauge if he was serious. From the eager glint in his eyes to the way he leaned forward slightly, it was clear he was.

“Eddie,” you started, your tone laced with disbelief, “you’d pay me... to draw fantasy creatures and maps for a game I don’t even understand?”

He nodded enthusiastically, his grin widening. “Exactly! You catch on quick. Look, your stuff is amazing, and my players? They’ll flip when they see your work. Plus, I really, really need someone who can make my dragons look like dragons and not lumpy potatoes.”

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself, leaning back in your chair. “You’re something else, Munson.”

“Is that a yes?” he pressed, bouncing slightly on his knees.

You tilted your head, considering. Money wasn’t exactly easy to come by, and this was definitely one of the weirder ways to earn some. But still...

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, your lips twitching into a small smirk.

Eddie groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Fine. But you’re totally gonna say yes. I can feel it in my bones.”

You shook your head, picking up your pencil again, though you couldn’t quite hide the amused glint in your eyes. “We’ll see.”

Eddie grinned, clearly taking your noncommittal answer as a victory. “You’re not gonna regret this. Trust me.”

You didn’t bother correcting him, already half-lost in your sketchbook again. But the idea lingered in the back of your mind, the thought of creating something fantastical for someone so absurdly enthusiastic not entirely unappealing.

divider credit

[cassofheartsss]

You have to spend a night with your enemy

a/n: I’m trying to get rid of all of my drafts and this took like twenty minutes to write so it’s not the best but i’m just trying to clear my drafts

This was meant to be a nice trip. You and your other classmates from hawkins were on a school trip and you had to stay in a hotel. Unluckily for you, your best friend, Robin, had to share a hotel room with Nancy so you were stuck with the person you hated the most. Steve Harrington. You hated his cocky attitude, his stupid hair, his perfect lips. Fuck okay maybe you liked him a little bit but that’s not the point.

You got off of the bus and made your way to the stupid hotel room you had to share with Steve. You really didn’t like him but whatever you could survive being in the same room with him for one night. You then arrived at the hotel room and the door was open so Steve was probably already there. You walked in and saw him and your heart almost stopped because there was only one bed. Steve sighed when he saw you and got up from where he was sitting. He was stood beneath the dim hotel lights, arms crossed, irritation etched into his face. He locked eyes with you-the one person he’d sworn to avoid. “Great I have to spend a full night in the same room as you” Steve said rolling his eyes.

“Oh shut up Harrington as if I want to spend time with you” You said bitterly. You then put your things down and sighed before sitting down on the bed. “I guess we’ve got to share because i’m not sleeping on the floor” Steve said making you roll your eyes. He was arrogant like always. “Yeah whatever” You said. “Can’t we just have a truce for the night i can’t be arsed to argue with you” Steve said making you shocked. Steve Harrington the most arrogant guy in the school wanted a truce? “Yeah sure” You said still shocked. A few hours passed and Steve turned the TV that he was watching off. You were sat watching something on your phone and Steve began to talk.

“For what it’s worth I never fully hated you” Steve said. “What?” You said looking up from your phone. “You heard me” Steve said. “Oh. Well you aren’t that bad” You said making Steve laugh. “Oh yeah?” Steve said. “Don’t let it get to your head” You said scoffing. A few more seconds of silence passed and Steve got up making you look at him. “What are you doing?” You asked. “Nothing” Steve said whilst walking over to you. He slowly leaned down to you giving you enough time to move away but you didn’t. His lips then locked onto yours and you shared a kiss. It was passionate fuelled of all the years of sexual tension between you and Steve. Maybe just maybe you didn’t completely hate his guts anymore but honestly you didn’t really hate him to begin with.

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

[secretlovezz]

Whiplash

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: you've been avoiding Eddie like the plague and he's desperate to figure out what he's done to deserve it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort?? idk, kissing, fluffy ending, pining, idiots in love, use of y/n, she/her pronouns used for reader, reader is a crybaby ig idk she reacted how I would soooo, lmk if i missed anything!

Wordcount: 2010

A/N: Not really proofread and kind of written in a rush cause I wasn't feeling it about halfway through so sorry if you can tell 😞

You weren't there... again.

Your absence from your usual seat to the left of Eddie leaves him in a deep state of confusion his eyebrows furrowing in thought. This was the fifth day without your presence at his side, almost an entire week without your voice giddily telling him about the book you were reading or a new recipe you've tried, almost an entire week of being deprived of that perfect little gleam in your eyes when you looked at him rambling about something you enjoyed, and his heart ached in deprivation.

And because of this, he could with full confidence say you were avoiding him- but as to why he had no idea.

Eddie's silent at the lunch table staring at nothing in particular, and though the guys -especially the freshman- had finally learned to normalize Eddie's peculiar-ness and oddities this new silence and bleak aura had them surprised. He was stuck in his head racking through everything that's happened in the last week that could have possibly scared you away from him.

He thinks about the time he asked you for help with his math homework, but that couldn't be it considering that definitely was not the first time he'd asked and definitely was not the first time you'd happily agreed to do so. He reminisces about when he'd come to visit you during your shift at the local library in boredom playfully bothering you as you re-placed books onto the shelf.

He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing comes to mind for your sudden evasion.

"Dude, you think any harder and steam will come out of your ears," Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie, "What the hell's wrong with you anyway?"

Eddie leans back in his chair and dramatically throws his head back to look at the ceiling, his hair flows behind him and moves as people walk by, "She's avoiding me."

Dustin's head snaps up, still chewing his food he inserts himself into the conversation, "Who? Y/N? I just talked to her last period, she seemed fine," He shrugged.

At that Eddies head pops back up, eyes locking with Dustin's in a way that leaves the younger boy cringing, and the crease between his brows intensifies, "So she's still talking to you guys but not me?" He starts to pout a little by the end of his question.

Everyone sends looks to each other before slowly nodding and Eddie's forehead loudly makes contact with the cafeteria table, the guys wince in response.

"Well... have you tried- I don't know, asking her about it?"

The glare sent in Mikes direction after his question almost makes him apologize. Eddie heatedly scratches his head and groans in irritation; he'd tried more than a handful of times to get ahold of you, tried more than enough times to just hear your voice again but nothing worked. When he waited by your locker you would walk the other way, when he called you, you hung up as soon as you heard his voice, and worst of all you would throw out the little notes he sent you in class as you walked out and away from him once again.

"Duh! Of course I have," Eddies reply is laced with annoyance and frustration, "But I can't ask her anything if she keeps running away- I mean come on! She won't even look at me, man." His voice is soft and emotional when speaking his last sentence, He runs his hand over his face weakly and suddenly he feels like he's being pitied. He doesn't want that.

He hastily moves to pick up his things, thrusting the items into his little lunch box with more force than necessary with a pout on his tired face before standing from his seat and angrily walking away across the cafeteria, from the table and the others. They all sigh when he makes it past the cafeteria doors and after a silent moment Jeff is the first who speaks up, "So- When do you guys think they'll get over themselves and finally get together?"

《----------♡

When the last bell rings after what feels like years to Eddie he's swiftly making his way out of class and out of the building, but now what time would usually be spent merrily walking to his car and making plans to see you during the weekend was spent instead making his way into the woods strolling past trees and going to the little picnic table placed in that clearing he visits every once in awhile.

He stares at the ground and his feet as he treads, kicking rocks, stones, and branches on the way.

Eddies just about there just a few trees away from the clearing before he hears footsteps other than his own a little ways ahead of him he pauses head finally lifting to look in front of him and waits to see who appears.

To his surprise you pop into his vision and his round, brown eyes widen. He goes to take a step forward his body automatically and urgently trying to get to you, desperately needing to be near the drug that is you, but he stops himself to observe.

You sit at the table and pull a book out from the satchel bag at your side and a humorous huff leaves through his nose, his face relaxing and lips curling up at the sight of you doing something you often enthusiastically spoke to him about before realizing that its a book he does not recognize, that you had started a new one, and you hadn't told him like you usually would have. The thought wipes the smile from his face in an instant and his brows furrow for the nth time that day.

He steps forward and does not stop himself this time, sauntering toward you almost as angrily has he had left the cafeteria without your knowledge as you are already too engrossed in whatever new story you were traveling into. When he sits across from you at the table you feel it shift with the added weight and at last realize that you are no longer alone.

When you eventually look up, placing your thumb in-between the pages you were reading to keep your place, your heart drops at the sight of the frustrated man in front of you. You try to move away but he quickly grabs your wrist urging you to sit back down, you look at him again and the anguish written on his face makes you find your seat.

Your gaze moves to your lap and Eddie doesn't let you go too afraid you run away again.

Eddie is the one to break the stifling silence, "Talk to me... please?" The sound of his voice makes your heart ache so guiltily it hurts, "Just- Just tell what I did wrong- tell me so I can fix it."

Though your mouth opens to respond nothing comes out and your eyes gloss over with salty tears. Eddie's hold on your wrist moves to your hand gently cupping it in his calloused palm while his thumb moves to continuously swipe over your warm skin.

Your cheeks warm at the intimate contact and it only makes your eyes well with my tears reminding you of why you were ignoring him in the first place.

"When you-," You struggle to get the words out of your closing throat but Eddie still listens patiently, "Last time... you- you did something. It wasn't a big deal to you- but um... to me it- it meant a lot and that's kind of the problem."

The brunette across from you leans in closer and tilts his head in confusion, "What did I do?"

You glance to the side in embarrassment but Eddie's thumb taps you twice to bring your attention back to the conversation, "Talk to me Princess; Tell me what I did so we can go back to normal, I miss my best friend."

You didn't want to go back to normal.

For the first time in days your eyes connect with Eddie's and you take in a shaky breath at the sight of his enchanting eyes. "You uh- you kissed me..."

Now he's confused. He had kissed you? When? He's sure he would remember finally getting to kiss you.

Your free hand travels to your cheek and it all clicks for him, the pieces falling into place. He can't help but let out a chuckle of amusement; you were right- he had kissed you, kissed you on your cheek, that is, a sweet little peck against your skin. His laughter dies out when you rip your hand from his, the tears in your eyes spilling over.

Eddie stands and rounds the table to you, "Hey hey I- I'm I shouldn't have laughed. Don't cry, sweetheart." His hands place themselves on your elbows as your hands move to cover your face. He starts to feel like that little kiss really did more than he had thought.

"Did it make you uncomfortable? I won't do it again I promise," You shake your head at his words, "Talk to me, baby."

"Don't do that! Don't call me those names if you don't mean it," Eddies eyes go wide at your outburst and his mouth opens to speak but you beat him to it, "you- you kiss me and call me those names and I- It's just too much... I like you too much."

All too quickly Eddie is forcefully removing your hands from your face and cupping your cheeks thumbing the tears from your skin, "I like you too much too."

"Don't be mean Eddie."

He connects his forehand to yours, both of your eyes closing at the closeness, "M'not, would never joke about that." His soft pink lips brush gently against yours as he speaks and your breath hitches. Your lips part slightly and your cold breath fans Eddie's face. "How can I show you I mean it hm? How 'bout... a real kiss?" He mutters. You nod all too briskly for someone who was just crying and it makes Eddie smile.

In the fullness of time Eddie presses his lips to yours and when he finally gets the taste of your lips on his he realizes he's waited entirely too long to do this despite being willing to wait an eternity for you. He's been starving for the absolute goddess that is you, now getting to satisfy that hunger digging in with no resistance and sliding his tongue past your lips flushed against him. The ache he had felt without you there fading once and for all as you kissed him back. Your hands atop his squeeze as a noise escapes the back of your throat and Eddie kisses you deeper at your audible reaction. He wants to consume you, wants to keep you so close you never leave his side, he needs it- needs you and makes sure it shows in the way he kisses you.

When he pulls away your both panting for air, Eddie's grin is smug on the top of your head and your arms are wrapped around him.

"I can't believe you made me feel like shit for an entire week just cause I gave you a lil' kiss on the cheek," Eddie mocked trying to get a quick quip in.

"Shut up! It totally freaked me out."

His loud cackle echoed in your ears and you smiled, pulling him closer and pressing your nose into his skin. Eddie's arms moved to wrap around you as well and his large hands snake around you also trying to squeeze you impossibly closer. He presses a fast peck on your cheek, then your temple, and then the top of your head. Eddie takes a deep breath inhaling the scent of you- memorizing it.

"Promise you won't do that to me again. Don't leave me alone like that again."

"I won't Eds, I promise."

"Besides! What are you going to do without me here being oh so entertaining huh?"

You laugh, "I have no idea."

[motomamita]

singledad!eddie × female!reader

warnings: smut, +18, breeding kink, no condom, use of alcohol, dub-con!!

Part. 2

Singledad!Eddie who tries his best to be a good single dad. He takes his little baby to his job at the record store, where he spends several hours a day to earn a salary high enough to buy diapers and powdered milk.

Until one afternoon you saw him in the trailer park with his baby and you couldn't help but come over to admire the little girl. You bent down to pick it up, neglecting yourself and quickly flashing your boobs at Eddie, who from that moment on didn't stop thinking about you.

You kindly offered to take care of his baby on the afternoons when Eddie worked overtime at work. You really loved babies and you imagined that Eddie was really exhausted considering he was a single father. At first he denied, not wanting to take advantage of your good intentions, but when you insisted that it wasn't a problem while looking at him with your bright eyes, he couldn't help but say yes.

After work, Eddie would knock on the door of your trailer to look for his little baby who was babbling with excitement when she saw him and you couldn't stop telling him how well she had behaved. As the days went by, you invited him into your trailer and served him a nice plate of warm food for dinner while you fed his baby with a warm feeding bottle. That drove Eddie even more crazy, who began to fantasize about the idea of ​​having a small family with you and that it would become a routine. For that, he had to get you pregnant.

From then on, Eddie took advantage of every slightest excuse to see you and have you close to him. Did he need help putting his baby on a diaper? He was knocking on your door. Did he need help making a bottle of warm milk? He was knocking on your door. Did he need help giving his baby a cute hairstyle? He was knocking on your door.

Until one night, his baby wouldn't stop crying and he went straight to look for you.

"Little Lily doesn't want to go to sleep.." He explained, holding the little baby who couldn't stop crying while you entered his trailer. "I already gave her a bottle and even changed her diapers but I don't know what's going on!" He explained with exaggerated concern.

Your heart clenched as you heard the girl crying and how tired Eddie looked. "Oh! Poor little girl!" You murmured, approaching them and rubbing the little girl's back. "Do you have her pacifier handy?" you asked looking around his trailer.

"It is in her crib." He spoke remembering where he had left it.

You grabbed the little baby who rushed towards you, used to your scent and your secure hold. Eddie walked to the end of his trailer and you followed behind him, even with Lily crying intensely. The room was divided with pastel colors and bright toys on one side (obviously the baby's side), and a darker setting with rock posters on the other (Eddie's side).

"Here it is!" He exclaimed, approaching you and delicately placing the pacifier in the girl's mouth. Lily immediately stopped crying and began to suck on the light pink pacifier.

"That was what she needed" You smiled as you wiped the little girl's tears with one of your hands.

You both left the girl in the crib and half closed the door in case she cried again. Eddie walked you to the living room and bought you a beer, hoping that you would stay with him a little longer. You shared several beers until you were quite drunk and he was efficiently horny to take a step forward with you.

The kisses and caresses increased to the point where he had you naked under him in the mating press position. The summer heat made both of your bodies wet and his cum-filled balls slapped loudly against your butt. His thrusts were short but strong, giving you a rush of pleasure every time the tip of his cock hit your cervix, wanting to make you pregnant.

"Shit, baby.. You're so tight and wet, I bet you love fucking the single dad, huh?" his voice was agitated and low enough not to wake little Lily. You tried to respond but no coherent words came out of your mouth, only moans cut off by his aggressive thrusts.

Eddie took your hands and brought them above your head, immobilizing you almost completely. "I'm going to fuck you until your legs stop working- and you have to stay here with me forever.." He pressed your foreheads together, feeling his breath on your face. "...I'm going to make you my wife and you'll be here when I get home from work, in your slutty dresses, holding Lily in your arms... and with your stomach inflated with my baby inside you" you moaned loudly when you heard him and your legs took him. They hugged his waist tightly, bringing him closer to you.

Eddie used his free hand and brought it to your clit, massaging it vigorously and feeling how your walls enveloped his fat cock. "Keep your voice down, mommy, we don't want Lily to wake up before i get you pregnant..." he murmured and then silenced you with a rough, wet kiss.

"You're going to give me a beautiful baby, a little brother for my Lily..." at this point you could only nod your head like a fool, dazed by the pleasure and all the information. "Oh shit, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum inside you and you're going to carry my baby with you..!"

After that meeting, both of you continued with your routines but without talking about what had happened, until one day you were the one who knocked on his door. In your left arm you held Lily and in your right hand you had a pregnancy test. Positive.

[munsonluhvr]

ARE YOU MY DADDY?

synopsis; modern!older!eddie munson x college student!reader. bored with the boys at your college, you find refuge in much older Eddie Munson. warnings: (18+). age gap relationship, fingering, oral, p in v, body parts described, spit kink. word count: 3.8k authors note: I deeply apologize for this filth - my situationship pissed me off and I blew off steam by writing this...

“Just give me a chance,” Steve Harrington says, standing in the doorway of your dorm room. Behind you, your roommate Nancy Wheeler snickers, shaking her head at the poor sap that is begging for your attention for the umpteenth time. 

You sigh, leaning against the door. “When are you going to give this up, Steve?”

Nervously, Steve runs a hand through his hair. “When you say yes to going out with me.” 

You laugh, glancing back at Nancy to see if she’s hearing this. She sits on her bed, legs crossed, flipping through what she calls her ‘trashy magazines.’ She makes eye contact with you, rolling her eyes in an over-exaggerated fashion. “Keep dreaming, Steve. Have a good night.” You say, stepping back to let the door close in Steve’s face. You shake your head, wishing the kid would take a hint. 

Steve is a classic college boy - self-absorbed with a budding alcohol addiction. He has his moments of being sweet and kind, and his infatuation with you is flattering. However, you rarely give boys your age a chance, or even a second glance. They’re boring, immature, and only looking to fuck, and not very well at that. What you look for is nurturing and care, a soft, gentle touch, which normally comes from an older man. 

“He’s pathetic, y/n. All these guys at this school are just pathetic.” Nancy says, laying down on her stomach across her small, twin bed. She watches as you pass by and sit on your own bed. 

You sit down on your bed, leaning over to swipe your cellphone off your bedside table. “Tell me about it, Nance.” You press the ‘on’ button on the side of your phone, the screen igniting with light in response. To your pleasure, a new, unread text message sits on your lock-screen. 

Munson (1 unread message): Picking you up at 11. Be ready. 

You bite your lip, unable to contain your excitement. You glance at the time on your phone; half past ten. You stand up off your bed again, beginning to rummage through your belongings to find something to wear. 

“Going out?” Nancy asks, peeking up from her magazine to watch you frantically flip through your drawer of panties. 

You look over your shoulder in your roommates direction, a devious smile on your mouth. “Maybe.” You find your pair of white, lace panties, the one’s you know he likes, and you pull the panties you wear down shamelessly in front of Nancy, slipping the new pair on. 

Nancy sits up with interest and curiosity. “Is this the older guy?” 

You giggle in response, biting at your bottom lip again. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? He’s, like, forty-something and I don’t want people asking questions.” 

Nancy frowns. “Why would people ask questions? You’re of age already.” 

You flap your hand in her direction, ignoring her question. “Do I look okay?” You stare at yourself in the little mirror that hangs on the wall – you know you look fucking great. Your skin glows, your summer tan still staining your skin, you have minimal makeup on, just how he likes it, with your eyelashes coated in a thick mascara. You reach out towards your nightstand, spraying a small hit of perfume on the nape of your neck. 

“You look great, and you know it.” Nancy says, watching you. She shakes her head, tempted to ask her own boyfriend Jonathan to come over while you’re out. 

With the few minutes that are left before 11, you change your shirt twice, trying to balance the line of being sexually appealing and innocent. Your heart thumps against your chest with excitement, seeing him never fails to make you jumpy. You slip your shoes on just as your phone blinks awake again. 

Munson (1 unread message): Outside. Come out, now. 

You drop your phone into your pocket of your loose pants, crossing the room to Nancy’s bed. You lean over, kissing her on the cheek. “Be back soon,” you say in a whisper, a little smile on your face. You dash away, your feet carrying you quickly. 

“Make him wear protection!” Nancy yells across your room as you slip out the door, letting it shut with a thud behind you. 

Like a little mouse, you scurry down the hallway of the building, passing by endless dorm-room doors. A small bubble excitement rises up your body, ready to be released at the hands of Eddie Munson. 

Once you reach the end of the hallway, you push open the double doors, the chilly air blowing your loose hair around. At the back of the parking-lot, beside the large lamppost that’s placed in the middle of the lot, you see his car, the headlights on. You flip your hoodie over your head, crossing the parking lot with eagerness. You take a deep breath as you walk, your fingers trembling with anticipation. You’ve been waiting for this all week, dirty thoughts turning over and over in your mind. 

As you approach the car, before you can read the handle to the passenger-side door, he pops it open by leaning across the front seat. Without hesitation, you slide into the passenger-seat. 

“Hi, my princess,” Eddie says, reaching his hand out to cradle the side of your face. His long fingers brush your hair to the side, making your skin accessible. He leans forward, the smell of his cologne intoxicating you, as he presses his lips to your cheek, beginning to trail down to your collarbone. You let your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the sensation of each kiss he presses onto your body. You can’t help it – you bite at your bottom lip, letting out a hum of satisfaction. 

Eddie makes his way down the length of your neck, beginning to lightly nip at your skin as he goes. “Where do you want to go this time?” He murmurs against your neck, the heat from his breath creeping against your chilled skin. 

“The lake,” you mewl, barely able to form words. You let your head fall back, soaking in every warm touch of Eddie’s. 

“Lover’s Lake?” Eddie asks, beginning to pull away from you. “Is that what you want?” Keeping his eyes on yours, he lets his hand creep across your thighs, settling over the thin fabric over your crotch. You nod quickly, eager for his fingers to sink into you. Eddie smiles mischievously as he watches you nod. “Then that’s where we’ll go, princess.” 

With ease, Eddie ignites the car’s ignition, pulling swiftly out of the dark parking lot. He keeps his hand placed on your thigh, navigating the dark streets with one hand. You play with the hem of your shirt, eager to burn off steam and spend time with Eddie. 

Eddie maneuvers his car through the dark streets, still with one hand. The pressure of his fingers on your thigh, the light feeling of his fingertips brushing your bare skin, makes the pit in your stomach grow intensely. The wild thoughts you’ve been having all week, ones where Eddie has you pressed into different positions, enters your mind once again, making your skin warm. You suddenly have the urge to pounce on Eddie, regardless of him driving, and sink your body down onto his. 

You glance over at Eddie in the driver’s seat, his facial features defined only by the headlights of other cars that pass by; his jaw, the little freckles dashed across his neck catching your attention. You nearly begin to drool, your core tightening making your cunt pulse with desire. You bite at your lip until you’re sure you’re going to draw blood; you can take it no longer. 

Swiftly, you lean in your seat, beginning to paw at the zipper of Eddie’s jeans. He lets out a low laugh, only intensifying your need for him. He finds your lust for him humorous, as if he knows that you sit in classrooms all day, surrounded by immature boys, thinking about his fingers and cock probing you. He lifts his arm that once laid on your thighs, placing it gently on your back. His fingers stroke the length of your spine, allowing you to maneuver his cock out of his pants.

To your pleasure, Eddie is hard. The length of his cock springs out from underneath his boxers once you pull them down. You let your hand wrap around the base of him, steadying yourself with your other hand as you lower your face, your lips enclosing onto his tip. You hum softly, the feeling of Eddie’s warm cock filling your mouth easing some of the lust that was budding within you. 

In the tempo that you know he likes, you begin to bob your head up and down, taking extra time when it comes to the tip. You’ve craved Eddie for so long that you begin to drool at the sensation of him in your mouth, letting it dribble down your chin and throat. Eddie let’s his hand snake down to your ass, laying a firm spank on your thinly covered ass cheeks. Then, he allows his hand to move to the back your head, careful to not veer off to the side of the road. 

“Such a good girl,” Eddie mumbles, as you lick the length of his cock with the lip of your tongue, then engulfing just his tip and pulling back to make it pop out from your lips. “You know just how I like it, don’t you?” You turn your head to the side, your head leaning against the steering wheel as you peer up at him just in time to catch him glancing at you before looking back to the road in front of him. His eyebrows are knitted together, tension beginning to brew in his abdomen. 

Above you, you feel Eddie make a sharp right, feeling the tires crunch over the dirty road that leads to Lover’s Lake. You don’t let this distract you as you work with your mouth and hand to bring Eddie to the edge. Abruptly, he presses on his brake, throwing the car into park quickly. Gently, yet firmly, he laces his fingers into your hair, pulling you off his dick. You pout, feeling your head pull back and his spit-covered member slipping out of your mouth. “I’ve been thinking about this all week,” Eddie says, bringing your face close to his, his fingers still interlaced in your hair. “Don’t think this is going to be a quickie, I’m planning on taking my time with you.” Despite the hair that clings to your face, your spit making it firmly stick, you can’t help but smile, the idea of being teased by Eddie mercilessly brings adrenalin to you. 

With little warning, Eddie puckers his lips, laying a fresh bundle of spit across the bridge of your nose and into your eye. “What am I?” Eddie asks, leaning back to look at the new decoration he adds to your face. 

You let your eyes flutter shut, then open again, your eye blinking around his spit that begins to dribble down your cheek. “You’re my daddy,” you say softly, playing into his deepest desires. All you want to do is please him. 

“Get in the back seat,” He says, letting the fistful of your hair go. He watches as you climb into the back of the car, his eyes trained on your ass. He shakes head, attempting to not get ahead of himself. 

You land with a light thud in the back seat, spreading your legs open. You’re fully aware that your pants are sheer, nearly see through, and the lace edges of your panties are on full display. Eddie, too, notices this, his fingers beginning to gather the fabric of your pants and pulling them down in one swift motion. 

“I wore them just for you,” you say, your eyes flickering between your bottom half and Eddie’s eyes. He groans, frustration building up inside of him all over again. He finishes maneuvering himself into the back seat beside you. You’re quick to lean over to him, connecting your lips with his. 

His kiss is sweet and rough, the tension between you becoming apparent as you grab at each other’s clothing in desperate need to take it all off. His hand cradles your face again, bringing you deeper into his kiss. His tongue grazes through your lips, colliding with yours, and you moan gently at the feelings. 

Little by little, your clothing begins to disappear, Eddie’s fingertips dragging across the softness of your skin causing goosebumps to rise, until you’re sitting in just your panties. You manage to get Eddie’s clothing off, until he’s down to his boxers which are already stained with your spit from earlier. Gently, he lays you down across the rest of the backseat, your body shivering at the coldness of the leather seats. You part your legs, making it easy for him to rest on top of you. 

With one last swift movement, you lift Eddie’s plaid shirt over his head, revealing his tattoo-covered torso. You hum, your fingertips dragging across his lower abdomen, your mind whirling at the anticipation of his cock filling you any minute now. 

Eddie settles himself over you, then lowers his face, his eyes connecting with yours. Slowly, he dips down, backing further down your body until his mouth meets the band of your panties. He places a soft kiss on your hip, then grabs your panties with the edge of his teeth, beginning to pull down slowly. He travels down the length of your thighs, ever so slowly. Your head throws back, the anticipation continuing to kill you. 

Eddie pulls the rest of your panties down by hooking his fingers around your panties; finally, you’re bare for him. Your pussy is all wet for Eddie, your folds showcasing your excitement to be alone with Eddie after being away from him for over a week. Eddie notices this, taking his time to admire your slickness. You catch him admiring; “See how wet I am for you?” you ask. 

“I see that, princess.” Eddie mutters, his mind occupied with the things he’s planning on doing to you. Without much warning, Eddie plunges his pointer and middle fingers into you, his mouth lowering onto your clit. You reach out, gripping the back of the passenger seat, your fingers digging into the leather. You moan loudly, your back instantly arching. 

Eddie plunges his fingers in and out of you, your wetness beginning to drip down the length of his digits and the back of his hand. He works to work against you with his tongue, the tip maneuvering it’s way around your clit in a way that sends you reeling; you wish you could slow down this moment, capture it in a bottle, for when you’re all alone and missing Eddie. 

“Do you like that?” He mumbles; his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nod, parting your mouth to speak but nothing comes out except a soft sigh. That response in enough for Eddie. 

Around Eddie’s head, your thighs begin to quiver, jolts of pleasure causing your abdomen to tense and then release when another wave of pleasure arrives. You feel your chest tighten, your skin heat up, and despite the cool, chilly weather, beads of sweat beginning to collect at your hairline. You roll your hips in response to Eddie’s touch, but Eddie stays placed firmly against you, his arms slightly tightening to keep him in place. He loves the taste of you, the way he watches your body crumple under his touch, and he, too, wishes he could slow the moment down. 

Eddie has always been attentive to your body, wanting to know the intricacies of how you receive pleasure, how you give it. In this way, he’s learned your ques, however subtly they may be, and he knows when you’re close when your legs tighten around his head, your back beginning to lift off the seat. He slows his mouth movement to a slower pace before he pulls away. Due to his lack of touch, your body slumps back onto the leather seats, your fingertips lightening their grip on the seats. 

You sit up on your elbows, a small pout staining your mouth. You reach out, the flatness of your hand palming at the crotch of his boxers before you let your fingertips tug against the waistband of his boxers. Eddie smirks, before pulling his boxers off, letting his cock spring out. Even against the darkness, you can see a small bead of pre-cum beginning to dribble off the tip of his cock. You bite your lip at the sight, the need for Eddie increasing. 

“How bad do you want it?” Eddie asks, taking his cock into his hand, positioning himself against you. In a slow pace, he begins to brush his tip against your entrance. You moan softly, your eyes beginning to roll into the back of your skull. “Bad. So bad,” you mumble, your mind beginning to draw a blank. “I need you so bad, Eddie, I’ve been waiting all week to see you, to feel you.” 

Eddie groans, your words bringing him to the brink with ease. He has had plenty of partners in the past, but none have ever drove him crazy like you do. He finds that you’re constantly on his mind, and he’s unable to shake the thought of you on your knees, your mouth full of his cock, spit dribbling down your chin. So many times, he has had to pause wherever he was: grocery store bathroom, at work, in his car on his way home, and stroke himself to the thought of you.

With ease, he pushes himself into you, gasping at the way your body stretches to accommodate his size. You mewl, your legs automatically moving to tighten around his waist, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, bringing him closer to your body. He starts out slow with his strokes, and then picks up his pace. 

Your sighs and soft moans fill the silence within the car, the windows beginning to fog from your body heat. Eddie’s body rocks against yours, pleasure coursing through your torso. His cock thrusts into you, each stroke stretching you out, causing a little pain in addition to the pleasure. 

With your head thrown back, Eddie takes the opportunity to kiss the length of your neck, his teeth nipping at your soft skin. His hands travel up your sides, his fingers intertwining with your hands and holding them above your head, against the car door. Your fingers enclose on his hand, squeezing gently as your eyes squeeze shut with the pleasure that runs through your body. When he gets to your collarbone, he offers one last kiss before burying his face into your neck. 

You begin to feel a knot forming in your lower abdomen, the sensation building with each stroke Eddie gives you. “Eddie,” you whimper, the pleasure overtaking your body. “You feel so good.” 

“Am I making you feel good?” Eddie asks back, the warmth of his breath tickling your neck. 

You nod, your hair falling into your face. “So good.” 

Eddie leans back, leaning on his hands, to get a look at your face. He notices how your hair has fallen and uses his fingertips to brush your hair to the side. He smiles softly, the dark light playing on your features beautifully. “You’re so pretty,” Eddie mumbles, his eyes grazing across your face. “Do you know that?” You feel your cheeks flush, your skin heating up in reaction to his compliment. You nod gently, thinking about all the times he’s told you how attractive you are. You’ve been told all your life that you’re beautiful, but only Eddie’s compliments are what matters to you. 

You let your arms lace around Eddie’s upper body, your thighs clamping on to his waist. Your heart thumps against your chest, the sensation of Eddie moving slowly between your legs causing you to become light-headed. Each stroke, he massages the knot building in your lower abdomen, bringing you closer and closer to finishing. Above you, Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, his eyebrows knitted together once more. “F-Fuck,” he mumbles. 

Your fingertips dig into the flesh of his back, expressing the pleasure coursing through you. “I’m close, Eddie,” you mumble, your words coming out in a stammer. You whimper again, your teeth clenching together in response. 

With a sudden movement, Eddie leans back, using his upper-body strength to pull you up from the back seat and flip you on to your hands and knees. Before you can comprehend that you’ve switched positions, he inserts himself into you, bending his upper body over the length of your back. His tattooed arm snakes around the front of you, his arm fastening around your neck so that your chin is resting in the crook of his arm. You exhale, tension building within your limbs that tremble. 

“Say that you need me,” Eddie says, his voice a low hum next to your ear. 

“I need you s-so bad, Eddie,” you whimper, your breath leaving your body. 

His arm loosens around you, your body slumping forward onto the seat, leaving your rear positioned in the air. Eddie grasps your hips, plunging himself deep into you. After a minute, Eddie removes one of his hands from your waist, placing it on the back of your skull. He leans forward slightly, applying a little weight onto his hand. He quickens his stroke pace, nearly rutting into you. You can tell Eddie is close as he mumbles ‘you’re so tight, baby,’ over and over. 

His pace causes tears to form your eyes, and you bite your lip as you take each stroke he gives you. 

Behind you, you feel Eddie begin to slow his pace, his movements becoming rigid. It’s not until he pushes himself all the way into you, a grunt escaping his lips. “Fuck, y/n,” Eddie says, his voice coming out drowsy. You feel your cunt fill with his cum, and it begins to dribble down the inside of your thighs. In response to Eddie finishing inside of you, something that turns you on, you finish too, hard, a loud moan escaping your mouth. 

Your bodies are sticky with sweat, the windows of the car completely fogged over now. You’re out of breath, your body working hard to recover. Eddie reaches out, moving to cradle you against his body. His fingers interlace in your hair, lifting it off your sweaty back. “You were such a good girl for me,” Eddie says gently, an approving smile on his face. 

You smile softly back, nodding. “Just for you.” 

Eddie pouts jokingly, a playful look now appearing on his face. “Just for me? I’m sure you have the boys going wild at school.” 

You shake your head, knowing that Eddie is well versed in your opinions of the boys at school, “Only you.” Eddie nods approvingly, snaking his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. He places a kiss on the top of your head and in that moment you catch a whiff of his Old Spice cologne. You smile to yourself, pleased with how the night has gone while looking out the front of the window shield, the bright moon glaring back at you; “You are my daddy after all.” 

[greengoblinswifey]

𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

➳ Key: fluff=❤️, angst=💔, smut=💦, sexual themes=🍒

‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Eddie Munson

My Pretty Girl 💦

Reader's first time with Eddie ❤️💦

Sub!Eddie Headcanons ❤️💦

Tension 💦

Eddie caring for you after a fight 💔❤️

I Want More 💔❤️💦

Sweet Boy 💦

Spin the Bottle 💦

Eddie making you squirt 💦

Angry Fucking 💔💦

I Love You Too Much 💔❤️

Threeway 💦

Milf Lover Eddie ❤️💦

You Should've Run 💔

Jealous Eddie 💔💦

Cockwarming 🍒

Beg Me 💦

It Started With a Kiss ❤️💦

Reader Death 💔

Jealous Eddie💦

Daddy Kink 💦

By the Beach 💦

Sex Dice 💦

Public sex with Eddie 💦

‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Vecna

I Can Fix Him 💦

‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Steve Harrington

Tension 💦

Threeway 💦

Eddie x Steve x Reader 💦

[chelseeebe]

seven minutes in heaven.

a/n: pure self indulgent smut here i really have no other way to describe this lmfao. i wrote this all in about three hours so please excuse any mistakes bc i had to get the idea out while it was still fresh in the mind. don’t get me wrong i love dominant eddie but let’s be real he’s just not, is he? he’s a fumbling little virgin and i love that

18+. smut. alcohol. sex with someone in the room (don’t do this. this is fiction.) eddie is so pathetically down bad for reader and also a virgin! they’re in college rather than hs bc i’m too old to be writing about teenagers here

‎♡‧₊˚

eddie’s insanely nervous when the bottle starts spinning, anticipating the dread of having to get in that tiny closet with well.. literally anyone.

he wasn’t exactly well versed when it came to sexual encounters. he’d barely just kissed a girl for the first time last year and had been successful in avoiding any and all games of this nature. it’s not like he didn’t want to, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself nor disappoint whichever poor soul had to stuff themselves into that closet with him.

it spins and spins until it lands on chrissy and some dude he’d just met tonight. breathing a silent sigh of relief as he now gets a further seven minutes to think up some excuse as to why he couldn’t kiss his match.

his ringed finger circles the top of the glass bottle, clinking against it in some unrecognisable beat. maybe he could run to the bathroom as soon as they came out? at least he’d have to miss another go, be free of the embarrassment a little while longer.

eddie’s eyes glide around the circle, eyeing up the potential matches. there’s robin, who absolutely not interested in him and especially not anyone of his gender. nancy, she’s cute but one hundred percent not his type and he’s sure that the fact both of her exes are sat in the room would mean they could get out of kissing. a few other girls that he’s sure would kiss him but they wouldn’t be thrilled about it. then there’s you. sat with your legs crossed, skirt riding up your supple thighs and a shirt that hung low enough that you shouldn’t have even bothered wearing one.

he only notices that he’s staring when steve makes some lewd comment about the noises coming from the closet. tearing his eyes off of your chest and onto the rowdy man.

oh shit, what if it lands on a guy? at least maybe they could just shuffle off and pretend to make kissy noises, see that’d be easy.

before he’s able to jump up and run off, chrissy and the unnamed guy stumble out of the closet, giggling with their cheeks flushed.

oh god oh god oh god.

‘ya have fun in there?’ steve bellows, clearly intoxicated and obviously way too eager to have his turn. why couldn’t he just be more like him, eddie thinks.

steve spins the bottle again. going round and round and round until it stops, the lipped edge facing you.

please no. please literally anyone other than him.

if he was clueless with the other girls he wouldn’t have a fucking clue what to do with you.

‘oh shiiit,’ steve hisses as he sends the bottle flying again.

it slows down just before him, thinking he’d escaped once again until the glass stops. pointing right at his gormless face. he blinks at the bottle, trying with all his might to send it flying again through some undiscovered telekinetic energy or some shit.

it doesn’t. obviously. because he’s not fucking superman.

‘come on,’ you speak, stood before him with your hand extended. oh fuck. he’s not sure he can even take your hand. it’s far too clammy and he’d expose his super-virgin status.

he groans getting up from the floor, gingerly taking your hand and following you through the corridor to the closet. his heart in his throat the entire time. he thinks he might just throw up. unsure of if it’s from the anticipation or just sheer terror of having to try and kiss you.

with your fucking tiny skirt and your perfect tits pressed against him. there’s no way he won’t pop a fucking boner. oh god, what if-

‘you okay?’ you ask, shuffling into the small space opposite with the tiny flecks of light shining on your smile. he hadn’t even noticed you’d shut the door, too caught up in his own head to realise that this was now and he was going to have to do something before you ran out of there laughing.

‘yeah- yeah,’ nodding frantically as he attempts to collect himself. maybe you didn’t wanna kiss him? you’d make some polite excuse about having a boyfriend or something and then you could stand and make small talk for the excruciatingly long seven minutes.

‘good,’ you mumble before closing the already tiny gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a haste.

eddie’s head is empty. absolutely nothing going on inside. frozen in time as your lips move against his. he should do something. he just doesn’t know what.

‘what? you never kissed a girl before?’ you scoff, pulling away slightly. are you mocking him? or is this flirting? fuck, why don’t they make books for this kinda shit?

‘y-yeah i have..’ he mumbles, arms still limply hung around his sides. if you could see his face right now, he’d be comparable to a ripe beetroot.

‘so kiss me back then?’ you giggle, connecting your lips once again, soft hand coming to caress his warm cheek.

okay, yeah. just.. kiss back.

he does what he thinks is right, eyes fluttering shut as his lips move with yours. this is good, he thinks. it feels right.

your other hand reaches out to grab his wrist, moving his hand to rest on your waist. giggling into his mouth, your breath tasting like alcohol and a hint of mint. it’s sweet, addicting almost as he chases the taste with his mouth.

adrenaline racing through his veins when your hand leaves his wrist and tangles into his hair, fingernails tracing along his sensitive scalp. he has to restrain himself from moaning into your mouth. it’s an entirely new sensation for him, makes his cock twitch in his tight jeans. he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants you to just tug it, pull his head back with your delicate fingers.

your knee slides between his legs, thick thigh nudging the growing bulge in his pants. letting out the most embarrassing noise into your mouth. before he even has time to curse himself for it your tongue slips into his mouth, using the opportunity to push your chest further into his.

deciding now to be brave, his hand shakily meets your shoulder, holding you in that exact position. he could stay here forever, he wouldn’t need anything else in life. ever.

your lips pull back slightly and he whimpers. literally whimpers in response to the sudden lack of attention. feeling your smile grow against his now swollen lips. who the fuck whimpers? if he hadn’t already established his virgin-ness, he definitely had now.

‘is that good, yeah?’ you breathe, the words almost sending him into cardiac arrest. they sound as if they’re dipped in honey coming from your sweet lips.

he nods quickly, unable to form a coherent response without looking like an utter fool. opening his eyes just enough to see you staring up at him through your lashes. if he weren’t leant against the wall, he’s sure he’d collapse into a puddle of goo.

‘what if i do.. this?’ palm sliding down over his neck and heaving chest before stopping at his belt buckle, waiting for a sign to continue.

his adams apple bobs as he swallows and you take it as a compliment and sliding your hand on top of his very obvious boner.

he’s a goner.

grip tightening on your shoulder as his breath stutters. willing himself not to cum in his pants right then and there. he would never ever live that down. not with that meathead harrington who would definitely pull him up on it the second you left.

‘oh yeah?’ you remark, smirking in the darkness at his pathetic stature. slowly moving your fingers as you palm him through his jeans. your hardened nipples brushing against his chest because of fucking course you weren’t wearing a bra.

there’s no way he’s making it out of this cupboard alive.

‘h-holy shit,’ he chokes out, eyelids fluttering as he fights off fainting. his head is fuzzy, sorta like how he felt when he got high and jerked off except so so much better.

‘maybe we could.. continue this later?’ muttering quietly so as to avoid anyone outside hearing.

he’s well aware that you only have at most a minute or so left before someone rips open that door and reveals the pitiful mess he is. the sentence doesn’t register for a few seconds until he realises what you meant.

‘y-yes,’ he finally responds, overly eager, ‘please,’ ashamed at how desperate he sounded. he’s sure that he’d kill someone for just one extra minute in here with you. not entirely sure how he would be able to hold on until later.

you don’t reply with words, mashing your lips together one last time before someone hammers on the door, signalling that his seven minutes in actual heaven were over.

‘get out you horny fucks, i want a turn!’ steve jokes from the other side, making you spring apart before he comes crashing into the room.

you smile at him again, seemingly so innocent when he knows you’re anything but.

the bright light of the hallway makes him blink before you bound off back to whoever’s room you were playing him. leaving him with the worlds most awkward stiffy and absolutely no way to hide it from the prying eyes of the fellow players.

‘god damn munson, are you alright?’ steve laughs at his outwardly flustered appearance. eddie is so fucking grateful that the boy is too invested in getting his turn to pay full attention to the obvious tent in his jeans.

sliding into his spot, discreetly moving one of the cushions to his lap. he doesn’t give a shit about the game, too busy wondering just when later would be.

it goes on and on.

robin and nancy head off to the closet, receiving a few woos from the gaggle of people.

then it lands on argyle and jonathan, the larger man having to drag jonathan into the closet with an excited wiggle of his brows.

steve’s fuming at every turn that isn’t his, throwing his hands into the air when it lands on anyone other than him.

and then the bottle goes spinning again, stopping on you. eddie’s not sure if it’s jealousy that it could land on anybody else or desperate hope that it lands on him again.

it doesn’t, goes flying right past him and ends up stopping right in front of steve who jumps up, absolutely ecstatic that he finally gets to go into that damn closet.

eddie’s eyes meet yours, ducking his head slightly and hoping that the searing envy wasn’t so apparent on his features. you give him a little shrug and that same damning smile before getting off the floor.

‘c’mon then big boy,’ rolling your eyes as steve pulls you into the closet.

eddie’s seething with jealousy and he’s not even sure why. you weren’t his like, this wasn’t an exclusive contract that meant you could only play the game with him. near enough drawing blood as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. it’s the thought of it. of steve and his big hands and his exuding levels of confidence. infuriating him to no end.

‘you good bro?’ jonathan nudges his elbow, completely unaware that he had been glaring at the same stain on the carpet for what must have been minutes.

‘me? yeah.. i’m good,’ standing to grab himself another beer. thank fuck the boner had subsided. at one point he had seriously considered disappearing to the bathroom to relieve himself but a few thoughts of his sixth grade math teacher naked had killed it completely.

he pops the top off with his ring, taking a long hard swig of the beer, counting the seconds until you’d reappear from the hallway. this would be the perfect time to grow some goddamn balls and show you how he felt. he could slide right into the spot next to you, maybe even extend an arm around your shoulder. you know, really hammer it home.

‘it’s been seven minutes,’ he blurts out instead, appearing more as a jealous weirdo than the cool, outgoing guy he so wished to be. stupid. internally cussing himself out.

‘you were in there for eight minutes, dude,’ robin laughs, shoulders shaking at his eagerness. great, now everyone in the room knew he was a possessive, jealous freak.

‘hah.. yeah right,’ shuffling back to his spot with the worst attempt at playing at cool that he’d ever seen. swallowing the gigantic lump in his throat and watching the doorway like a fucking hawk.

‘seven minutes stevie.. that’s it,’ your voice echoes and you finally reappear, pulling at the strap of your shirt, readjusting it to its rightful position on your shoulder.

‘holy shit,’ steve remarks, his stupidly perfect hair all messed up, red cheeks to match. eddie longs to grab his collar and pummel his fist into his face. he doesn’t of course, that’d make him look really normal.

instead he chooses to read the label of the beer bottle rather intently, ignoring the feeling of your eyes boring into him. perhaps later would never arrive and he’d just have to move on with his life.

the party dies down and eventually the game gets abandoned, party goers slinking off home or to the bedrooms or as argyle had, passing out on the couch. now would be the perfect time to scarper off to his dorm, not like anyone would notice he was gone. you certainly wouldn’t. not with steve hanging around your feet like a lost puppy.

when the music cuts out, he knows it’s time to go. later was quite clearly not coming. and neither was he. well, he would. just when he got home.

‘well, i’m going to bed,’ you announce, pushing yourself from the couch, staring directly at him. is that a hint? is this later? god, he doesn’t know.

hesitating just a moment too long as steve interjects first, ‘me too.. you don’t mind if i crash here, do you?’

your eyebrows raise slightly, still staring him down. waiting for a response well, for anything from eddie.

‘i-i’ll take the couch, if that’s okay?’ thinking that maybe your lack of response was also a hint? it’s really not clear and he just wishes that you’d directly tell him what to do.

‘sure.. knock yourself out,’ you shrug, a tinge of disappointment in your voice. so it was a hint. you wanted eddie to volunteer to stay in your room, he gets it now! now that it’s way too late.

‘great! well, i guess we’re roomies,’ steve smirks, gazing over at you. disgustingly smug in the way his hand lingers on the small of your back. that should be him. if only he wasn’t such a bumbling idiot he might’ve been the one leading you up the stairs. fingers sprawled out on your back and a mischievous grin to match.

he takes his spot on the couch, shuffling out of the denim jacket that had clung to him all night. he’s sure he can hear a distant banging, some muffled moans and a squeaky mattress. or maybe it’s his subconscious playing cruel, horrid tricks on him. whatever it is, he hates that it’s got him excited. it’s incredibly disgusting and perverted but he can’t help it. he’d sported a slight chub for most of the night which was definitely not helping right now.

tossing on the uncomfortable couch until his head is buried in the cushion and he can’t hear it anymore. certainly rock solid as his eyes squeeze shut. oh fuck. the bathroom seemed like a perfectly valid idea now, that wasn’t weird right?

just before he can convince himself to get up and go the stairs creak and he can hear a soft padding of feet climbing down. freezing in his spot, hips pressed into the soft cushion so as to not give away his precarious position. it’s just someone getting water, at least he hopes.

‘are you a fuckin’ idiot?’ your voice whispers harshly from the doorway, muttering curses under your breath as you stumble across the room to the couch.

‘w-what?’ he speaks, turning his head but leaving his body flat against the back of the sofa. now he definitely didn’t want you to see that.

‘you were supposed to- fuck, where are you?’ groaning as your toe collides with the coffee table, still blindly feeling your way to the couch.

‘here,’ he calls, holding his arm out for you to find.

using his voice to finally find the stupid couch, fumbling around as your leg slings over his sideways turned thighs, ‘why are you lying like that? move,’ speaking in hushed voices, trying not to wake the gentle giant on the opposite sofa.

your bossiness certainly doesn’t make matters any better, his dick straining against the denim as he reshuffles, lying flat on his back. he’s grateful that you’d straddled his thighs and not his raging boner.

‘you were supposed to say that you were staying with me, you idiot,’ sitting tall atop his legs.

his hands are suspended in the air, hesitant to touch you. or touch the wrong part of you even. eddie’s brain reboots when you shuffle upwards, mouth running dry as the cogs turn ever so slowly to formulate a reply.

‘i- wha? i thought.. you and steve.. uh, in the closet?’ his eyes somewhat adjusting to the darkness, just about making out your figure and your furrowed brows. oh god it’s so hot- you’re so hot when you’re mad. his mind flashing back to that dingy closet and how fucking good your hand felt in his hair.

‘no,’ you grimace, ‘i don’t want to fuck steve, i want to fuck you.. are you stupid?’ coming to place your hands on his chest. sure that you could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. ‘he just touched my tits a little and besides, i hid in the bathroom until he passed out.. you are stupid.’

his mouth opens and subsequently shuts again without any words forming. there weren’t any. yes. yes he was stupid. quite clearly. most people probably would’ve gathered what was going on when you’d fondled his balls and very obviously stated that you wanted to fuck him later. well, eddie wasn’t most people.

‘you do?’ is all that he manages to squeeze out, sounding like a small child. eyes shining bright in the little light leaking through the curtains.

‘oh my god,’ you complain, leaning down to connect your lips, wanting to shut him up if nothing else.

even now, he’s still taken aback but he’s not completely brain dead yet as his hands find your hips. see? didn’t even need your guidance this time.

your hips grind down against his, pyjama shorts riding up as you move. eddie’s positively gutted that he can’t see them in this light, he knows they’re soft, can feel that at least. he’s more confident now, a new air about him that just wasn’t there mere hours ago. he thinks that maybe it’s because there isn’t a room full of his friends listening to your every move outside.

that or the sheer level of arousal coursing his veins.

but his tongue is the one to slip into your mouth, noting that you’d definitely brushed your teeth and he wished he’d done the same. your fingers walk the length of his chest, coming between your bodies to his belt buckle.

this is it. he’s going to lose his virginity. and to you no less. oh fuck.

you pull away, tapping on his chest with your other hand, ‘sit up,’ forefinger hooked into one of his belt loops.

he obliges immediately, shifting to sit back against the arm rest. making sure to hold onto your waist as he does. you feel so soft, his fingers melding into your skin perfectly. the cold metal of his rings leaving tiny indentations as his grip tightens. he’d do anything you asked him to, especially if you were poised above him like this.

your hand goes back to working his belt off, unbuttoning his jeans and working them down his thighs. brushing against his length with your fingers. he’s almost panting, head lolling back instinctively, stifling the ungodly moan that had found itself in the back of his throat.

‘look at me,’ you whisper, still tracing the veiny cock beneath you.

his head shoots up, looking back into your eyes. desperate to please you, abiding by any and all instructions that you barked just incase he fucked this up. he would have to pack his bags and flee the country if he did. not sure that he would be able to live with himself.

‘are you a virgin?’ you ask quietly and he feels his cheeks flush immediately.

was it that obvious? the fact that he’d popped a boner the second you’d kissed him was probably a dead giveaway, actually. you don’t seem to care.. he has no reason to lie. unless this is all one big prank and you’re actually about to climb off of him and start laughing.

it’s totally shameful but actually that’d probably still get him off.

‘yeah..’

you nod, taking your eyes off of his to look down at his cock. there’s a tiny wet patch which had actually most likely been there for hours when he thinks about it.

‘you want to, don’t you? we don’t have to.. could suck you off or something?’

‘n-no no, i want to.. trust me, i want to,’ sounding as desperate as humanly possible. over his dead body would he would fuck this up. now he’s not sure how long he’ll last but he’s sure it won’t be long.

‘okay.. good,’ you smirk, bringing the waistband of his boxers down. his cock springs up to his stomach and his eyes flit shut. was his dick small? is that something you cared about? he didn’t have much to go off here except from porn and even he knew that wasn’t exactly realistic.

he can hear you spit into your hand and he’s back to full attention, watching as it drops into your palm and trying his hardest not to cum right now. with your chin shining and your lips wet, it’s all too much.

and when your tender hand covered in your spit wraps around the base of his cock, he chokes on nothing. fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes in your hips, certain that he’s probably hurting you but unable to let go without busting a nut.

you pump your hand a few times, watching intently as he struggles to stay with it. it’s heaven. no no, it’s better than heaven. better than anything he’d ever experienced in his entire life. and the man had gotten creative with some of his masturbation sessions to say the least.

a snore rips through the room and it’s then that he’s reminded of the other man passed out on the other side of the room, ‘shit.. sh-should we carry on?’ nervously taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘just be quiet, he won’t wake up,’ ignoring the drunkard and continuing to pump your hand.

eddie’s unsure if it’s you or if he’s feeling things but he can feel a something wet on his thigh. not brave enough to take his hand down there to find out.

‘you sure you want to?’ leaving your hand at the base of his cock to move yourself upwards.

‘y-yes.. please,’ nodding like a maniac.

that’s all the confirmation you need to shift your shorts out of the way, sitting straighter on your knees and positioning his tip at your sopping entrance.

he’s not prepared one bit for how intense it feels. the sensation sends shockwaves through his entire body, sending his head spinning.

lowering yourself down onto him with a soft sigh, hands now finding his shoulders for leverage. eddie’s about to start levitating. you’re so warm, enveloping him inside just right. the second you move, he’ll probably start crying.

his eyes struggle to stay open, rolling to the back of his head. moaning far too loudly when your hips move forward causing your hand to clamp right over his mouth. as if that wouldn’t make him cum ten times faster.

‘shh,’ you hiss, working your hips at a steady rhythm. soft squeaks leaving your own mouth with every bounce but keeping your eyes steady on him. enjoying the sight of him coming completely undone underneath your body.

your hand leaves his shoulder for a second, manoeuvring his hand onto your chest, ‘touch me,’ mewling when he gets the gist and starts palming your tit. the feel of your hardened nipples underneath his palm only sending him hurtling faster towards his already fast approaching orgasm.

he’s one second away from blurting out that he’s in love with you. which he doesn’t think is far off of the truth to be honest.

you trust him enough to not start babbling and take your hand from his mouth, grabbing onto his shoulder again to quicken your pace. clit catching against the patch of pubes he wishes he had time to tame. it was driving him fucking insane, knowing that he was the reason you were panting and cursing under your breath.

there it is. that familiar sensation of something tightening in his stomach, except a hundred times more intense than anything he’d ever felt before. quickly shaking his head to give you some forewarning though it’s pretty useless.

‘f-fuck, oh fuck,’ lifting his hips from the couch to empty himself into you. eddie could’ve never imagined that this is what you would feel like. pure ecstasy vibrating through his limbs, spurts of white hot pleasure exploding behind his eyelids.

his thighs shaking as he collapses back into the couch, still mumbling a bunch of sorries as he attempts to float back down to planet earth. he’d lasted a measly few minutes and for that, he wanted to curl up and die. if it weren’t for the fact that you were so fucking sexy and so warm and so perfect- he probably would’ve lasted at least a couple minutes more.

eddie’s eyes stay closed as you climb off of him, readjusting your shorts as you settle on his thighs once again, ‘you back in the room yet?’ chuckling quickly, leering down at him.

a strangled laugh falls out of his lips, daring to look at you. ashamed even though he knows it’s not that bad. sure he’d lasted longer than at least one other person out there.

‘sorry.. i swear, gimme like.. like ten minutes..’ doing everything in his power to convince you not to leave. because truthfully if you stayed like this, he probably would be hard again in a matter of minutes.

‘hey.. it’s okay,’ you lean down, chest flat against his, ‘don’t worry ‘bout it,’ head perfectly tilted to gaze up into his eyes. maybe he wouldn’t need ten minutes at all. not with the way you’re looking at him like that, doe eyed and whispering sweet words of encouragement into his ear.

‘wanna.. uh,’ the words stick in his throat, ‘wanna get you off,’ blushing despite the fact his dick had literally just been buried inside of you. it’s ridiculous really.

‘you can.. don’t worry,’ pressing your lips to the stubble beneath his chin.

his cock twitches at the sensation and he truly realises how completely pathetic he was. fully at your mercy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[dearest-nell]

morning person

s. harrington x reader, 2.8k

summary: a snapshot into the morning routine of steve harrington, now that the two of you have moved in together includes: established steve x reader, domestic fluff, steve is a busybody. warnings: literally none except i am still incapable of proofreading properly

a/n: honestly if anyone has any requests i would love to hear them, or just want to chat about this show that has ruined my life, because i'm spiralling into obsession over here.

People who complain about mornings have obviously never spent one waking up beside Steve Harrington, this you’re sure of. Because if they had, then they would know there was nothing in the world so deliciously saccharine than that drowsy, softened look on his face as he blinks the sleep away from mingling eyelashes, his lips curving upwards into a dreamy sort of smile. This isn’t even the first time he has awoken this morning. 

Steve Harrington is a morning person – an early riser, a dawn greeter, a restless child on christmas day. His body clock is set as the sun begins to kiss the horizon, his eyes blinking open into a dark, cool bedroom. New. This bedroom is new. He is still getting used to it, this apartment, a dingy one bedroom located just a few blocks from the rougher side of town. It’s a far cry from the mansion he used to live in, small and outdated and a little worse for wear, if he were to say so himself, but it’s home. It’s home because it’s his, and it’s home because it’s yours. You rent it together, bills strung haphazardly from paychecks of jobs you’d both rather live without. Steve doesn’t mind that he still works at the video store, not when it lights up the lamp on his bedside, or cooks the pasta on your shitty gas top that flickers every so often. He needs to call the service guy, now that he thinks about it, but it’s too early to matter. 

He can feel the heat of your body pressed in beside him, curled in on yourself, face buried into the pillow now folding creases into your skin, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You have never been a morning person, he learned rather early on. You’re delirious, and grumpy, and still so beautiful despite the glare in your eyes when he used to wake you, and now, he knows to let you sleep. His impatience to rouse you, to kiss you and touch you is an urge he’s learned to swallow, so he pauses for a moment simply to stare, to smile to himself at the way you mumble in your dreams. 

He has the time, he thinks, considering it’s still dark out, and his shift at the store is not due for half a morning away, so he lets himself linger, tucked into the warmth of bedsheets as he works up the courage to leave it. He knows he needs to, that he’ll feel better if he does, that the routine always pays off even if it means parting from you. The air will be chilly outside, but he needs the cold to clear his head. His morning run is his time, after all. It gives him the solitude to consider, to plan, to unwind. 

He slips from the bed, careful footsteps walking a still unfamiliar path through the bedroom, boxes stacked against a near wall still unpacked from the move. His sneakers are in the wardrobe, well placed for a quick pick up, though he hasn’t accounted for his discarded shirt rippled right in his path. He trips, stumbling slightly, cursing himself as the thud that resounds as heavy feet meet the floorboards. He turns with a cringe, hearing you stir, though you do not rise as you wriggle deeper into yellow linens, disappearing beneath the comforter. 

He’s quick to dress, not wanting to risk another incident and the wrath of your disturbed sleep, slipping out into the living room to tie his shoes, still half asleep and blinking blearily. Despite its flaws, he likes this apartment more than he thought possible. There’s a passthrough between the kitchen and the living room that lets him talk to you as he cooks, you hanging over the bench to smile at him, pressing kisses into his shoulder when he dares to come too close. There’s a strange nook that sits in the wall by the door, one that now holds your keys and bumble bee umbrella, though neither of you are too sure why it was built in the first place. There’s a flat expanse outside the bathroom window that you want to build a flower box into, though Steve is yet to determine how, since neither of you are particularly good at D.I.Y. He loves this second hand couch Eddie found on the curb, loves the strange, abstract art piece Will designed for you both as a housewarming, loves the ceramic clown that Robin stole from an overpriced giftshop to hide in one of your moving boxes, now settled in the bookshelf beside an array of half read novels between you. 

He’s building a life here with you, and Steve is trying his best to remind himself of it every chance he get. There will be Christmases spent in these walls, games night drinks spilled on this carpet, and so many I love you kisses pressed to smiling cheeks beside that front door – he hardly knows how to contain the excitement for it all, even as he ties his laces. 

The morning is colder than he expected, but Steve has never been one to check the weather even now, even after he caught a cold from a raining run one morning, taking himself straight to work rather than home to you to shower. He figure’s he’ll wing it, deal with the consequences as they come, and enjoy the way you dote on him as he whines and groans in his flu like delirium days later. Cold, but not raining, he knows he’ll be fine this time. 

He’s been planning out this new jogging route as he goes, still learning the maps and turns of each new lane. He’d never been to this part of town much before the move, but he’s starting to acclimate one run at a time. It’s not too far from Hawkins, after all. It still feels like a familiar place, but it’s closer to the community college to save you the travel time. Steve’s a visual learner, after all. It gives him the roadmap that he’ll need to plan out his week. He’s taking himself the long way just to jot down the layout; the farmers market, the hardware store, the cafe with the good coffee. He waves to the people he passes by, few and far between, trying to appear friendly. He doesn’t know yet the culture of this community, but he’s eager to make a good impression. He recognises the old man who runs the news agency, stops to chat as they talk about the community centre. Steve’s agreed to volunteer for the refurbishment, he’s hoping it’ll help you both settle in, and you’ve promised to bake up your best batch of pastries to feed the hungry husbands as they work. Steve’s not yet a husband, but he’s planning on changing that in due time. 

The sun mingling with the clouds by the time he departs again, his pace quickening through midtown suburbia to take him home. The paperboy is tossing rolls at the doors, barely breaking on his bike as he passes house after house. Steve moves onto the road to avoid any collisions, shaking his head as the teen wheels off past a corner. He hasn’t even thought about his week yet, he realises, and his pace drops in consideration. There’s a stocktake coming up at work that will take more energy than he has to give, his parents are due over for dinner later in the week (he’s hoping they’ll cancel), and Robin has booked him tickets to some kind of gig that he’s certain he’ll hate. He mentally notes the checklist – things to buy, things to do, things to clean – now able to see his lot clearly without the buzz of a busy world around him. His days run smoother this way, alone, soles beating against the pavement. It starts him on the right foot. 

He’s out of breath when he arrives back on your block, panting heavily without the grace of a water bottle. He knows he should have brought one, but there’s no point stewing on it now. His thighs ache as he climbs the staircase, three flights of stairs his least favourite part of coming home. He can’t imagine hauling groceries up this stairwell is going to be an enjoyable weekly endeavour, but for the price of rent, he’s willing to make the effort, even with a slightly busted knee. 

He’s a little louder than he wants to be as he eases open the lock, slipping into a slightly brighter apartment than when he left. He doesn’t think you’re awake, but he takes pause to slow himself down, turning into the kitchen instead of the bedroom. Steve clicks on the faucet, hanging his head below the tap to let the cool water run directly into his mouth. He lacks grace as he guzzles down half a litre, droplets trickling down his cheeks and chin into unclean dishes from the night before. There’s urgency, he decides, in this drink. No type for a cup, no time to pause. He pulls away gasping, wiping a cupful of water across his sweat slicken face, unable to suck enough breath into his lungs. He leans back against the benchtop, eyes pressed skyward to focus on slowing himself down, letting his heart rate drop back to a blissful pace. 

He knows he should shower, but more than anything, he’s aching to get back between the sheets with you. It’s funny how he still misses you when you’re not within reach, even for an hour, even when he knows you’re still wrapped up tight in the comforts of his bed. It feels wrong to love a person this much, like he shouldn’t be made to feel so much, so deeply, every passing minute of every passing day. But he does. He knows he’s not the first to feel such a love, but he thinks he might be the only one regardless, because no one else has you. He thinks it’s strange that everyone in the world isn’t aching to be by your side, that hearts all over the town aren’t skipping beats at the wideness of your smile, the curve of your shoulder, the tickle of your laugh. This love must be special, then, because how else can he be the only one so enamoured by you. 

He forces himself into the shower, the water not yet warm even as he sinks his head beneath the stuttering stream. The pipes are old, though a cold shower bothers him far less than it bothers you. He’ll be out quicker this way. He is less thorough in his cleaning than he thinks he ought to be, scrubbing furiously at his body with the loofah you bought him, scraping sweat and red streaks into a now fading tan. He’s seeing the sun less these days in the dead of autumn, but he’ll make it up later. Right now, all he is focused on is climbing back into his bed, his skin stained with a citrus scent embedded into the new soap you had bought. It’s not his usual brand, but he thinks he likes the change anyways. It reminds him of summer picnics with you, fingers digging into orange peels, juices dribbling down his fingers until he tears out slices one by one. The scent lingers, filled with your orange flavoured kisses and sun streaked highlights burning into his mind, and yes, he thinks, the change isn’t so bad. 

He shuts off the tap, yanking his towel from the rack to pat himself dry, hair shaking out like a puppy dog with rambunctious excitement to be on his way. He doesn’t bother to redress, dropping the towel to the floor without focus, padding back towards your bedroom. You’re exactly how he left you, though a little more illuminated in the morning light. You’ve wiggled out of the blanket again, one foot kicked out to the side to regulate your body temperature, one hand reaching out towards his side of the bed. You reach for him in your sleep sometimes, and he hates the idea of not being there for you when you do. 

He clambers into bed his eagerness betraying his stealth, expert hands lifting your arm up for him to slide under, hanging it securely over his waist as he settles into the warm dip of the mattress. Your body responds instinctively, rolling into him with a groan, still not quite awake, though he can tell you’re not so far off. He runs fingers through your hair, trying to stave off your inevitable waking for as long as he can manage. Your alarm isn’t due for another hour, and he wants every second before that  spent just like this.

He doesn’t mean to fall back asleep, but sleep takes him anyways, his eyes blinking shut under the hypnotic pattern of your breathing beside him. He’ll wake up again groggier now, but there is nothing to be done to change it. He tugs you in closer, rougher in his sleep, his neediness permeating his unconscious mind until you’re pressed square against him. The movement spurs you awake, slowly and unintentionally, though it takes you a moment to understand why. 

There he is, your man, your darling boy, mouth hanging open with quiet, rumbling snores, arms wrapped around you in a protective lock. He’s never looked more beautiful, even with your eyes out of focus, one closed and pressed into the fabric of your pillowcase. You can smell the soap, feel the softness of his now cleansed skin beneath your curious fingertips, and you know he’s already been out of bed. He tries his best not to fall back asleep, but your smile curves wider to be blessed to see it. There’s a jealousy in you, after all, that he gets to watch you sleep so often. Times like these are rare, when you awaken first, and you’re greedy in your enjoyment of them. You’d take a picture if you thought you could reach the camera, but the moment would spoil, you were sure. You commit it to memory instead, every dip and curve and freckle and hair burned into your head until it’s all you can see. You want his face to be a fading image that blinks to life behind every close of your eyes, an after image repeating itself well into the day when you’re far away from him. 

He is so lovely, and you are so in love. 

The alarm breaks the two of you out of your reverie, your body jolting at the surprise of it. Steve is slower to start this time, groaning a drunken sort of sound as you slam your hand down on the rattling clock. His arm tightens around you, dragging you until your body is half wedged under his own, your giggles drowning out into muffled chuckles as your face burrows into the crook of his neck. 

“I fell back asleep.” He mutters, closing his eyes with a sigh. 

“I know.” You coo back, adjusting the curve of your back to a more comfortable position, tangling legs between his own until you’re thoroughly wrapped. 

“You sound awake.” He mumbles back, squeezing at your waist with unmasked affection. “Were you up?” 

“Yeah.” It’s an airy sort of confession, made to match the tender strokes of fingers reaching to scrape lovingly at his scalp. “Just watchin’ you sleep.” 

“Perv.” He teases, kissing at your hair, mouth hungry and missing your skin entirely. He lights up as you giggle, his head lifting with heavy blinks to gaze down at you, hair pressed upwards into a lopsided mess. You do your best to pat it down for him. “You like what you see?” 

You crook your head to the side, focusing your gaze in a tender expression. “Something like that.” His brow arches curiously, leaving you to laugh again. “I love you, you moron.” 

His smile widens, head dropping to nuzzle his nose roughly into your cheek, lips catching on your jaw every so often with exaggerated noises of enthusiasm. “Love you too, baby.” 

There is silence for a minute, nothing but his lips dragging affection across the planes of your cheek, his hands wandering underneath the fold of your bedshirt to press fingertips into fading stretch marks across your hips. You’re worried he’ll fall asleep again, and you know you don’t have the heart today to wake him a second time. 

“You want breakfast? I can make jam on toast?” 

He hums a happy sound, though does nothing to release his grip on you. “Yeah, okay. Gonna have to escape me, though. Can’t make my arm move.” 

He pretends to try and shuffle his grip, putting on a little show with a pout when his hold does not dislodge. You roll your eyes, brushing the pad of your thumb against his brow bone. 

“Five more minutes, then.” 

Steve was back asleep within three.

[shadowwfoxx]

Eddie's Vest

18+

(reader x steve harrington)

You and Steve were currently in his car on the way to his house. Today was probably one of the scariest days of your life. With Steve getting dragged underwater and almost killed by a demon bat, it was safe to say today made the top 3 most scariest days of your life. The roads were quiet, practically no one else around. You kept glancing over at Steve making sure he was ok. 

You had offered to drive due to his injuries, however, he was more worried about your “severe” injuries (a few scratches). His eyebrows were furrowed as he was focusing on the road. He had one hand on the wheel, while his other arm was bent, leaving his elbow to rest where the window was rolled down. The shadows from the moon brought out how toned and muscular they were. You move your eyes further down to his chest. 

His chest hair was exposed because of the vest Eddie left him (which you’ll thank him later for). That vest had been distracting you all day. Constantly catching glances and staring for too long. You really couldn’t help it, he just looked insanely hot doing anything with it on. The big white bandage on his stomach brought you back from your ogling. Steve felt your stare, knowing already what you were looking at. He turned to you. 

“Hey,” He said as he put his hand on your bare thigh. You look away quickly, looking down at your fingers. “I’m gonna be just fine ok, don’t worry.” He said softly. His big brown eyes going between your face and the road.

You bite your lip as you shake your head. “I should’ve done more to stop you, you should have never swam down there by yourself.” Now feeling angry at yourself and Steve for being so stubborn.

“I’m still here baby I-“ 

You snap your head to look at him. “What if something horrible happened to you? Huh? What then?” Your tone was firm and loud. Your look was half angry and half sad. Your emotions are all over the place at this point. Steve notices your look. 

You both know that you wouldn’t have been able to stop him. He understands your concern and worries for him, but someone had to do it. You both stare at each other for a bit before Steve sighs and looks back at the road, too tired to feed into your lecture. You huff at his silence before looking out your window. You move your legs to face the car door, shrugging Steve’s hand off in the process. 

“Seriously babe? Can we not do this right now” Steve says. You can hear the slight irritation in his voice. You both know there is no hatred around the words and actions, rather this lecture is out of pure love. You love Steve and Steve loves you. Had anything happened to him today, you would never be able to forgive yourself.

Your anger towards yourself is being taken out on him. Not to mention your fear of what’s to come with battling the Upside Down. You’re so focused on your thoughts that you don’t even feel the tears escape your eyes. Your sniffling caught Steve’s attention. As he looks over at you, his face softens.

“Oh baby don’t cry.” His voice is soft and comforting. He grabs one of your hands and brings it towards his face. He brings it to his lips and gives the back of your hand a few sweet kisses before he rubs your hand on the side of his face.

You peer out the window, noticing Steve turning to pull into an empty parking lot. He parks the car and lets go of your hand. He then pushes his seat back, away from the steering wheel. 

Steve reaches his hand over to pet your hair before putting it behind your ear. You finally turn your head to face him, your lip trembling, your eyes a little red. Your face breaks his heart.

“Please let me hold you.” He begs. That was enough for you to climb over the middle and straddle him, being very cautious of his injury. You wrap your arms around his neck, immediately sighing in relief. Steve immediately wraps his big arms around your shoulders and lower back. You two have not stopped for a second during this chaos to even give each other a much-needed hug. You both fell into a long and comfortable silence, matching each other’s breathing patterns. 

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” He says in almost a whisper. He rubs your back soothingly. 

“It was so scary,” you’re voice cracks. 

“I know baby, I know.” He says as he hugs you tighter. He presses a kiss on your shoulder.

“I don’t want any more people to get hurt, I just want it to be over with.” If anyone can understand your stress right now it’s Steve. He just wants to be able to live a normal life with you. Without these dangerous missions and having to constantly look over his shoulders. He knows how exhausted you are from having constant nightmares and how you let your overthinking thoughts take over. Steve grabs your face with his hands and moves your face to face his. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you okay? We are gonna get through this.” You look away from his gaze with a slight pout. Steve brings you in for a kiss. 

“Turn off that pretty brain of yours ok? Just relax for me.” He goes back in for a kiss, this time it’s longer and deeper. It’s the kinda kiss that can make you go dumb. The kiss starts to get faster, all that can be heard is heavy breathing. The energy in the car shifted so quickly. He pulls away and leans back against the seat while you lean the opposite way, your arms holding onto his knees to stabilize. 

You both look at each other up and down. Steve now getting an idea of how to distract you from your thoughts. He leans up, wrapping his hand around your neck, and smashes your lips back into his making you whine. Steve moves down from your lips to your throat, kissing that spot that turns you into putty. You let out a breathy moan.

“I like that vest on you.” You say. Steve lets out a breathy laugh against your neck. “You look hot in it.”  

“Oh yeah?” He mumbles against your neck. Steve’s hands move to your hips, grinding your hips against his cock that is now hard. Steve goes back to roughly making out with you. This goes on for a bit before Steve reaches a hand under your skirt and lace panties to feel you. 

“You must really love this vest.” You’re practically soaking now. You moan at the contact finally getting some relief. You felt yourself getting wetter with each touch. He continues his circular motions before moving his fingers towards your wet opening. He starts off with one finger. The contact making you instinctively lift up. 

“Relax for me baby,” He whispers in your ear. You lean yourself back into the position you were in before, making you feel more exposed to him even though your clothes are still on.

“Fuck your so wet.” He goes in with a second finger, thrusting them deeper and faster. You roll your head back, moaning. Steve’s other hand gripping at your hip to steady you. He then adds a third finger and uses his thumb to brush other your clit. This makes your hips buck up and grind against his hand.

“Oh fuck- Steve” you moan louder. You look down at where everything is happening. Your skirt drapes perfectly over the dirty scene below you. You bunch up the bottom of your skirt together and hold it up reveal the not so pure actions happening underneath it. 

“Oh shit honey that’s so fucking hot” Steve chuckles, quickening the pace of his fingers. A squelching noise now echoes throughout his car. You clench around his fingers. So close to your climax. He brings the hand that was gripping your hip to your mouth. Steve rubs his thumb over your lips. You immediately wrap your lips around it, moaning as you swirl your tongue around it. 

“Fuck baby come for me.” Steve says, eyes stuck on your mouth. You moan around his finger. He continues his fast and hard pace to help you ride out your high. 

After you come down from your high, he removes his fingers and brings them to his lips. He moans at your taste.  Now impatient, he quickly lifts his body to remove his pants and underwear. His hard cock slaps at his stomach. His tip was red, dripping with pre cum. You lift yourself up on your knees while Steve lines himself up with you. You lower yourself down on him, catching his tip before sinking down on him. You both gasp at the contact. There was barely any pain as Steve worked you up well. Once you’re fully seated on his cock, you take a minute to compose yourself. 

“Fuck your so big.” You whine as you shove your face in the crook of his neck. You and Steve have had sex manyyyy times, but there’s no denying how heavy and big he always feels inside of you. Steve’s hands find their place on your hips squeezing tightly.

Once you get used to his size, you begin to lift up and sink back down. You go slow, still cautious of his injury. But Steve needs more. He loves how caring you are and how you’re trying not to hurt him but he can’t wait any longer. Steve reaches over to pull the lever of the seat to lower it more. He then plants his feet on a higher platform and starts thrusting up into you and hard. 

“O-oh shhitt”. You let out a high pitch moan. Steve wraps his hand around your throat. 

“Yea? You like when I fuck you hard like that? Fuck all of those bad thoughts out of that pretty head of yours? Hm?” He literally growls at you. You feel hot all over now. You brace yourself on the arm rest. Your mind goes completely blank now, only thing you can process is how good he’s fucking you.

“L-love it. I love it Stevie please.” You moan. Both of your eyes are hooded, completely fucked out as you stare into each other’s eyes. You feel his big, hairy thighs slapping a the back of yours. He starts hitting that sweet spot inside of you causing you to roll your eyes back. You clench hard around him.

“Oh fuck baby do that again-shit.” He says as he throws his head back. You clench around him again. He groans a bunch of curse words as he reaches under you to start giving attention to your clit. 

“Oh fuck I’m gonna come please please-oh shit." You can’t even control what comes out of your mouth anymore. Whining and babbling pleads. Your mind feels like mush at this point. You’re overwhelmed with all of the different sensations. 

“Yea you gonna make a mess all over my cock? Come on pretty girl come for me.” Your second orgasm hits you hard, legs jerking on either side of him. Your pussy milking around his cock, practically begging him to release inside of you. Steve’s thrust becomes sloppy, signaling he’s close.

“Please Steve fill me up, fill me up so deep please.” That pushes Steve over the edge. His grip around your body tightens, bringing you chest to chest. He fills your ear with groans as you feel his cum fill you up. He gave you one final thrust before stilling inside of you. You both relax against each other, taking a moment to catch your breaths. Steve is the first to break the silence.

“Remind me to thank Eddie for this vest.”

[pretentious-blonde]

soft spot

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after being drenched by the rain, steve just wants to take care of you whilst reminiscing over his “king steve” days

warnings: none

a/n: it was raining so here you go, also steve is a gossip you can't change my mind

The stairs leading up to your apartment were usually a challenge, but today they felt endless. Each step you took was accompanied by the squelching sound of rainwater trapped in your shoe, only irritating you further as you climbed. Your hair was plastered to your face and you could tell how horrendous the strands looked as they stuck to your skin, drops of rain that still clung to your eyelashes blurred your vision. You started to regret your ambitious decision to walk home, Steve had insisted on picking you up but of course, it had to start pouring halfway home. Typical. 

You let out a sigh as you reached the top floor, rummaging in your bag before your hands managed to snag your keys, shivering slightly from your soaked clothes, the coldness seeping into your bones. The door let out a gentle creak as you entered, stepping inside and savouring the warmth of the flat as you allowed it to flow over you. 

“Steve?” You called out into the empty room. 

Within a few seconds, his head poked out of your shared bedroom, brown hair falling over his forehead from jumping up so quickly. His brown eyes widened as he took in your drenched state. 

“Oh, honey, what happened?” His voice was laced with concern, his question answered by the loud crash of thunder that rumbled loudly from outside. 

“You said you would call. Look at you! You’re soaked through.” His large hands flew to your coat, heavier due to the rain, peeling it off your body like it was tissue paper. 

“I was fine—“ You began to say, only to be cut off by his excessive fussing. 

“You’re clearly not,” he shook his head as he hung up your jacket, a small puddle already forming underneath that he would have to deal with later. “I can hear your shoes from here, sweetheart. And your hair—“ he brushed a wet lock out of your face and behind your ear, his concerned expression making you giggle. “You’re shaking, honey. Gonna get sick like this.” 

You just smiled at him through your waterlogged lashes, his over-the-top worrying making you laugh more are you batted his hands away. “I’m fine, Steve. Really. It’s just rain, it happens all the time.”

“Nope. No way,” he said, not letting you respond as he was already halfway to the bathroom. “You’re gonna catch a cold and I’m not gonna let that happen.”

His voice was playful but still firm, the sound of running water became audible as he returned to your side. 

“Bathtime,” he said teasingly and you knew there would be no point in arguing, not when he was in full-blown protective mode. God, he could be so stubborn sometimes. 

The brunette boy led you into the bathroom, muttering under his breath about how you should have just phoned him as you trailed behind, wet clothes dripping onto the floor. You stood patiently in the doorway as he rummaged in underneath the sink, his furrowed brows relaxing as he found what he was searching for. He straightened up with a playful grin and held two bottles, bubble bath from one of those birthday sets you got ages ago and forgot about, finally being put to good use. 

“Alright, angel, we got options here,” he said as he inspected the labels on both. “Lavender or…this one’s called ‘Sunset Bliss’. I guess they are bottling sunsets now.”

You roll your eyes before tapping your finger against the small orange bottle, trying to hold back a smile. “Sunset Bliss, obviously.”

“Good choice,” he said whilst nodding as if you passed some sort of test, opening the cap and pouring it into the tub. “Gotta get some sunshine back into today, right?” His voice was light as he leaned over the bath, holding his hand underneath the faucet to check the temperature, adjusting it just how you like it. Just shy of scalding.

He stood back up and hesitated as he looked down at you. “Do you want me to stay with you, or should I wait outside?” His tone was gentle, so as to not pressure you. Just that lovesick gaze that was laced with a hint of concern. 

You shrug your shoulders at his question, still shivering slightly as you respond. “You can stay. I still have to tell you what Robin and I got up to.”

Steve’s eyes softened as he nodded, stepping towards you with a tender smile. His fingers were gentle as they brushed against your skin, treating you with care as he helped you out of your rain-soaked clothes. He was so sweet as he worked, treating you as if you were the most precious thing to him. To which he would probably agree. 

There was nothing suggestive in his movements, no expectation—just the quiet intimacy you had come to associate him with. He adored being close to you in this way. 

Once you were free of the drenched clothes, he held onto your arm as you lowered yourself into the water, feeling a sense of pride as you sighed in relief. The water was soothing to your freezing skin, helping thaw out your numb fingers and toes. He took a seat on the bathmat next to you, resting his chin on the edge of the tub as he gazed at you expectantly. He always had a soft spot for your ramblings. 

“So,” he began as he drew out the word, an amused look on his face. “What did you and Robin get up to while I was slaving away at work? Any trouble?”

You splash a bit of water on his face at his teasing before sinking deeper beneath the bubbles, beginning to babble about your day, not leaving anything out as he loved hearing all the small details. No matter how mundane. He listened, amber eyes focused as he nodded along, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic comment and then laughing at his own joke. God, he was a dork. 

Steve reached out and traced small patterns on your arm with his fingers, his touch light. “Do you want me to wash your hair, sweetheart?” He asked you with eager eyes—he always wanted to do things for you. Things you really didn’t need help with. He was constantly coming up with excuses, helping you made him feel good. He liked to feel needed. 

You shook your head with a chuckle. “You don’t have to.”

He scoffed and you knew he would not take no for an answer, already reaching out for the shampoo bottle on the side of the tub. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He said with finality, popping open the cap and allowing the scent of citrus to fill the steamy air. “Besides, I’ve got hair down to a science,” he said with a wink as he moved behind you. 

You tilted your head back to look up at him and he placed a soft kiss against your lips, gently moving you to face forwards, careful not to get any water in your eyes. His fingers were firm as they massaged your scalp, blunt nails moving perfectly as you shut your eyes, leaning closer to where he knelt. 

“You do have great hair,” you tease, eyes still shut, focusing on the motion of his hands. 

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was my nickname in high school,” he smirked, you don’t see how proud he looked of the title at that moment. 

“Part of your charm huh?” You poked at him. 

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed as he carried on with his movements. “Speaking of charm,” he continued, “any updates on Robin and Vicky? Has she finally made anything resembling moves?”

You groaned as you recalled the previous conversation you had earlier that day, the hour spent listening to Robin pining. “She is still being awkward about it. I swear she panics every time she talks to her, and you know how she talks too much when she’s nervous.” 

Steve snickered, a sound so boyish you couldn’t help but join in. “Robin? No way.” His sarcasm earned him another splash to the face, making him laugh even harder. 

“Hey! I’m just stating the facts!” He said. “But seriously, she needs to just ask her out already. Vicky is clearly into her.”

“I know right? They would be adorable together,” you agreed with him, enjoying the playful sass he was giving. If there was one thing Steve secretly loved, it would be gossip. He ate it up just like he did back in school, he always knew the drama from listening to people talk in the hallways. Plus he could never keep a secret, that’s what he had you for. You pretty much knew what every citizen of Hawkins was going through based on their movie choices at Family Video, he always kept you up to date on those. 

“She better not mess it up,” Steve added, rubbing conditioner through your hair, making sure to focus extra on the ends. “Might have to step in. Play matchmaker.”

You scoffed at the statement. “Like you’d do any better?”

He shoved your head playfully. “Honey, I have excellent matchmaking skills. You’re looking at the guy who got Nancy and Jonathan together—but maybe that’s not the best example.” He paused, thinking for a second, before the both of you burst into laughter.

You felt his hands slow as he finished working product through your hair, you turned your head to find him looking at you warmly. “I’m not worried about Robin and Vicky. If they’re meant to be, they’ll figure it out. Just like we did.”

Your heart clenched at the look on his face, all soft eyes and adoring smiles. The expression that was reserved for you and you alone. 

“Yeah,” you whispered as you turned back around, allowing him to carefully rinse your hair for the final time. “Just like we did.”

He finished up and shifted to your side once more, fully facing you. “All done, angel. Feeling better?” His voice was low and sweet, like syrup. Sticky and saccharine. 

“Thank you,” you tell him honestly, as you move to get up. He rose as you did, hands outstretched to help you climb over the ledge of the bath, making sure you were steady on the bathmat before reaching for a towel. Wrapping you up with exaggerated care.

“Alright, sweetheart, wait here. No running off,” he said as he finished tucking the towel around you. 

You giggled, watching him scoop up your pile of wet clothes from the bathroom floor. “And where exactly would I go?”

He walked to the door and held a finger up, pointing at you. “Knowing you, you’d probably find some trouble to get into. Plus, I don’t want to mop up any more water from the living room, so stay put.”

He disappeared into the hallway and you could hear the familiar beep from the dryer, along with him talking to himself about what buttons to push. He always complained about how many setting the damn thing had. 

Not wanting to keep you waiting for long, he reappeared, holding a pair of your pyjama bottoms and—of course—one of his old school jumpers. 

He handed them both to you with a small smile. “Vintage Hawkins, what do you think?”

You raised an eyebrow as you inspected the item. “Didn’t think you’d want me wearing something that is so… ‘King Steve’”

Barking out a laugh as he helped you into the soft material. You had spoken a bit about his past, he openly disclosed that he may not have been the best person then. You withheld using the nickname, usually reserving it for when you wanted to rile him up. 

“I don’t mind,” he said with a shrug. “You would’ve been way too good for me back then. No way we’d be friends in high school. I was kind of a dick.”

You hummed as you wriggled into the dry clothes. “Kind of?”

Steve held a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Wow, okay! That hurts, honey. I’m nicer now aren’t I?”

He helped you tug up your pyjama bottoms, taking a step back to admire you, as if you were dolled up for a date. He loved you like this. Warm and comfy, wearing his clothes. “You are very nice. Maybe too nice.”

He flashed that beautiful, boyish grin once again. “Too nice? No such thing.” He pulled you closer to him. “I had to change my tactics to win you over. I’m whipped for you, just ask Robin.”

Leading you to the couch and pulling you down next to him, he grabbed a blanket and draped it over you both, looking over your shoulder to make sure your feet were covered too. 

“You know, I don’t think I would have liked you much back then,” you teased, poking his side and earning a surprised yelp from the boy beneath you. “Mr. ‘I’m too cool for everyone.’”

Steve ruffled your drying hair playfully before continuing. “Yeah, I was pretty insufferable,” you can hear the cringe in his voice as he looks away, cheeks heating slightly at the embarrassing memories. “But look at me now, completely reformed and with a gorgeous girl looking all pretty in my lap.”

It was your turn to blush as you hid your face in his chest, TV playing softly in the background as you let yourself melt into his embrace. He always made it easy for you to unwind around him. Completely relax. It was simple with Steve, it always was.

“I’m glad I’m not that guy anymore,” he said, his quiet voice laced with sincerity, fingers running through your hair. “Because now, I get to be here with you.”

You tilted your head upwards, eyelids beginning to droop, surrounded by his warmth. “I’m glad too,” you tell him as you feel your body getting heavier.

The white noise from the TV and Steve’s embrace lulled you into a gentle sleep. He smiled down at you, seeing you completely at peace on his chest. He placed a soft kiss on your temple, inhaling the smell of you mixed with the citrus shampoo he had used earlier. He felt content, full. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, not speaking too loud at the risk of waking you. His fingers drew shapes across your back as the TV droned on, but he wasn’t paying it the slightest bit of attention. Way too focused on the sweet girl in his arms, and nothing in this world could make him want to move. 

[cameronwillow]

I’ll follow you until you love me

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Reuploaded!

When Eddie Munson first meets you, he’s instantly enamored. After he stumbles on your social media, he can’t resist every opportunity to know everything about you. Be near you. Even if it includes being a stalker.

Warnings! Stalker behavior! Talks of male masturbation! Oral! Fem receiving! Unprotected sex! Unedited and reuploaded from my previous account! Thank you to @bloodibambiidoll who helped me with this originally! I don’t actively write for Eddie but this is one of my favorites!

Eddie knew he was breaking some sort of code. But he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. He was…addicted. You weren’t even friends. Friendly was the better word. He knew you for only a couple of weeks. Your parents owned his favorite music store and he was sorting through the collection of Black Sabbath CDs when he saw you for the first time, also going through CDs in the metal section.

He immediately fell for you. Everything about you was perfect. Your body. Your face. Your clothes. Your voice. Eddie was completely mesmerized when you both had a conversation about why CDs were essential to the music listening experience. It took everything in him not to kiss you and ruin your pretty lipstick.

As soon as he was alone in his van, he yanked out his phone. Typed in your name and hunted for any sign of accounts you have. He didn’t even use his social media but you would be the exception. You were everything. After several minutes, he finally found your pretty picture. He sighed and leaned back in the seat.

It was your instagram. And in your bio you listed your tik tok, twitter and even your Facebook. Jackpot. Eddie’s eyes scanned over your uploads, his breathing getting heavier. It was almost as if he had a taste of your life. Your world. His thumb clicked on one particular picture where you were wearing his favorite color. It was a dress. A form fitting one. Rising to your mid thigh. Showing off your perfect legs that he so badly wanted to dig his fingers in. Your breasts were pushed together, the shiny heart shaped necklace above your chest aching for him to tug on as he pounded into you.

His fantasies didn’t end there. The whole week in between his shift at work and when he came home, he devoured everything you posted. He watched every video you reposted, he needed to know your humor, your likes, your dislikes. He couldn’t tear himself away from looking at you.

One night, you post your work schedule for the next week at the music store. And that’s when he decided he needed to see you again.

His shift ended at the Hawkins bar two hours after he originally planned because some fuckwad didn’t know how to show up on time. The music store would only be open for another hour so he raced to his van and probably broke three laws speeding to the building.

He speedily parked, exited and practiced in his head what he would say. He needs a copy of the band you liked Bad Omens. You posted about them all the time. Eddie needed the physical copy. Something you both talked about so it wouldn’t be weird if he asked for a disk. He inhaled and pushed open the door, glancing around as the bell rung. A collection of people were here, he tried to keep his cool. The CDS. His hair was tied into a bun and he wore all black. You always wore dark colors too. But would you even notice him? He shook his head and confidently strides to the shelves.

It was different. More organized. All the decades were correct. Everything was straightened. You had the magic touch. Eddie smiled when his fingers grazed over the plastic, you had touched these. He saw Bad omens right away, but he came here for help. He purposely took a step back and wore a confused expression.

“Eddie?” There. There you were. His cock twitched. Goosebumps rose on his skin. He didn’t turn right away, no. You wouldn’t get it that easy. As badly as he wanted to turn around and-

Your hand gently grazed his shoulder. He wanted to rip off his leather jacket to feel your fingers on his bare skin and his breath shuddered. Finally, he shifted in your direction. Eddie almost kissed you. He had to plant his feet heavily on the floor to prevent himself. Your eyes were soft, searching his brown irises. Small crinkles around your brows showed hours of work but your mouth. Fuck. Your mouth was curved into a polite, curious smile. You wore all black, a bad omens shirt, leggings and boots. A small name tag was right above your heart. You looked perfect. But he focused on your lipstick, the same you wore that first day. He wanted to smear your makeup. Make it run down your face while you were on your knees. He wanted to grip your hair and guide you through-

“It is Eddie, right? Don’t tell me I forgot.” He jerked his head.

“Yes. It’s Eddie. I’m glad you’re here. I’m in serious need of a music recommendation,” Eddie internally melted when you flashed him a grin.

“Well, I’m happy to assist you. I’m assuming you want this in the form of a CD?” You gave him a knowing look.

He clapped his hands. “ You remembered that. Yes. Always.” You giggled and you extended your hand towards the collection of CDs on the shelves.

“What sound are you looking for? I know you like metal. But do you want a classic recommendation, something underrated or unknown?” You sounded so considerate. You were doing your job, he knew that. But he clung to whatever interest you gave him.

“Honestly, what are you listening too? I want something different. You can only listen to so much Metallica and Black Sabbath,” Eddie dramatically pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

You nodded in kind. “Your secret is safe with me. But I can’t believe you’re actually asking for my opinion.”

“Why? I mean, I’d assume someone who shares my appreciation for metal has great taste.” He saw you from the corner of his eye, you dip your head down for a second. He needed to pace this conversation, withhold what he knows. He just needs to keep hearing your voice. He was almost trembling from the way you were accepting his attempts at charm.

“I mean-If I’m being honest. My favorite band is Bad Omens.” Eddie raised his eyebrows and nodded towards your shirt. His shoulders relaxed. Finally. This was how it went in his head.

“I haven’t listened to them. I’ve seen them on tik tok, but I just haven’t dived in.” He hoped you believed his lie.

“Excuse me?” You both turned and a older man stood at the entrance. Wearing a guns and roses shirt and light blue jeans. “I need help.”

Eddie’s chest burned. No, no, no. He just got you talking. You face him with a shadow of disappointment dancing across your features. He wanted to scream at the man but he had to stay calm. He couldn’t risk you seeing him differently. You didn’t hardly know him.

Yet.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. Gotta help him. But the CD is right there, and if you ring the bell someone will check you out. It was nice seeing you! I hope you like it!”

He was struggling to bury his anger even long after he paid for the album and made his way home. Eddie paced his room. You. You were so beautiful. So sweet. He wanted to keep listening to you talk. He wanted to know every single band you loved. He wanted to carve the sounds into his memory forever. He wanted-no, he needed more of you. He dug his phone out of his pocket.

Settling on his bed, knees spread apart, his thump quickly found your profile. You had so many followers. So many people watching, commenting and sharing with you online. He clenched his jaw when he looked at your story. Eddie blinked at the loud music attached. You had a closed lipped smile and your eyes were shut. And the caption talked about how much you hated rude customers. But then he recognized the song. It was Bad Omens.

He chewed his bottom lip. Was that because of him? Were you thinking about him? The same way he thought of you? He turned up the volume. Listened carefully. Was this song on the album he bought? He picked up the bag and yanked out the plastic, reading the song list on the back . Yes. It was. Eddie pressed the CD against his chest. You touched it. He brought it higher, over his chin until his lips pressed against it. He held it against his mouth, while he stared at your photo.

Eddie memorized your work schedule. Maybe he could stop by again tomorrow. Fuck, he couldn’t. He had to work and It was too soon. You would be confused.

He couldn’t fit anymore CDs on his shelf but he was considering fucking building a new one if that allowed him to buy more from you.

The next day he was in his car. Parked across the street with a few cars giving distance from the music store. He didn’t plan it. He was going into work in a hour. But He just needed to see you. Just look. That’s it. A death of Peace of mind CD was playing in his van and his jaw was clenching so hard from waiting for you to step out. He had fell asleep with his phone on his chest from frantically scrolling on your profile last night.

He didn’t know how his resolution disappeared so quickly. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet you were. How quickly his conversation with you ended. He couldn’t stand it. He needed more. Eddie’s breathing shortened when the entrance opened and you stepped out. His chest expanded when you adjusted your bag, shuffled to close the door behind you and cast your search around the direction of the street. Fuck.

He gripped the steering wheel, so hard his hand trembled as you moved aside for a stranger. You smiled brightly then you started to walk in the opposite direction. His eyes trailed down your body. Black jeans, black hoodie and converse. They lingered on the curve of your thighs in those pants. But he frowned. Were you walking home? You didn’t have a car? Fuck. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything at all. Why wouldn’t someone take you home?

Without a second thought, he turned the keys. In the back of his mind, he knew he was going overboard. He had work. He needed to leave. Soon. But god damn he just needed to make sure you got home safe. His van came alive and he maneuvered onto the street. There was a stop light coming, and he sped up to try and beat it before it turned red. He didn’t know how he would remain invisible as he followed you, but he had to try.

Eddie wasn’t sure how he managed, but you didn’t turn to see his van. Your apartment wasn’t far from the store thank fuck. He settled across the street, behind two cars. The same tactic he used earlier. You jogged up the driveway, where there wasnt a car. His suspicions confirmed. The complex wasn’t big, it looked similar to his own. But next to the door where you entered, was a large window. Of course, blinds concealed whatever was on the inside.

He glanced at the clock. He needed to get going. He hated being late. But your address was seared into his mind. He would never forget it. Eddie pulled out his phone, frantically clicking on your instagram. You had a new story. You were smiling, an adorable grin and your fingers were held in a peace sign. The caption said you were finally home. He wanted to help you relax. Spread your legs and make you see stars and never think about a stressful day again.

His dick was growing hard. Your sweet face. Covered in his cum. Your eyeliner running down your cheeks. His hand ghosted the center of his pants before he stopped.

No. No he wouldn’t touch himself. He needed you. He needed to cum inside you. You deserved better than him jerking off in his car. Eddie exhaled, forcing himself to drive.

The night shift was always packed. Plus as the manager, he was responsible for training and handling reckless drinkers. His hair was tied up, his usual style for his shift and his sleeves were rolled up, muscles flexing as he slid a glass to a guest. But his mind was a whirlwind. He hadn’t been able to check his phone. What were you doing? Were you relaxing? He was buzzing with energy. He hadn’t even told Steve about you yet, who apparently was busy with his own infatuation. Eddie kept looking at the clock. He had to stay over again but closing was coming soon. Halloween was in just a few days. What were you going to do? Dress up? Go to a party? Fuck, he needed to know.

He fucking fell asleep before he had a chance to look at your instagram when he got home after 3am. He crashed on his couch, still wearing his work clothes with his phone in his pocket. Eddie practically shoved the end of the charger into his phone, his leg bouncing from waiting for it to turn back on. He knew he should have charged it. Now, it would take longer to see you. Fuck, he needed to see you and your perfect face. Perfect body.

He wanted to touch himself. He wanted to imagine your lips wrapped around him, choking on his dick as his hand is pushing you further. His hand even drifted to his crotch until he stopped himself. No. No, he promised himself he wouldn’t cum until it was inside you. You were his. He checked his phone again as it finally came back to life. His fingers were frantic as they clicked on your name.

You uploaded a new story. Eddie sighed in relief. As it came up, your face looked tired. You weren’t smiling, instead you were holding up a glass, clinking it with another glass belonging to your best friend. His chest tightened. He wanted to be there. He wanted to drink with you, hold you and take care of you. You had to walk home. And he had to fucking work. He swiped to the next story.

It was this morning, he knew only because of the time included. Just an hour ago. You were smiling this time. It was your day off and you were thrilled to to go the Halloween store today. Eddie couldn’t stop looking at your bright eyes, the excitement and he needed to see it again. In person.

He had to try. He would go the store. Pretend he was looking for a Halloween costume. But when? You didn’t give a time. It didn’t matter. He would stay all day and wait. It was his day off too.

Eddie threw himself in the shower, got dressed and drove to the store. It didn’t matter if it was an hour away. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t planned dressing up, or that he would have to swap schedules. You were on his mind. Whatever you were doing, he wanted to be a part of it.

Bad omens played loudly in his van as he came into the parking lot. Eddie’s heart started to hammer as he unbuckled and stepped out. His neck was warm at the thought of hearing your voice again so he tied his hair up.

Opening the door, he was greeted with gruesome decor, rows of costumes and several people shopping. Fuck, how was he supposed to find you? If you were even here yet? His shoe tapped impatiently as he was torn on where to go. Costumes. That’s where he’d start. But what kind? Sexy? Scary? in between?

As he walked down the section, he pretended to search. His rings occasionally getting caught in the fabrics and plastic. He wasn’t interested in this. He didn’t want to participate without you. Oh god, who drove you here? Were you going to be alone? He didn’t think about that. He just moved. Eddie dug out his phone from his pocket.

“Hey, Eddie! Is that you?”

He froze.

Eddie turned around and there you were.

This time, you were wearing a dress. A black one. With a matching sweater and combat boots. But his eyes fell to the tattoo on your chest. He hadn’t seen it because you always wore higher neck tops. Eddie almost salivated. Your makeup was dark again with your apparent favorite lipstick. He wanted to touch your skin, run his tongue along the art. He knew you would taste sweet. So sweet.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Eddie dropped into a serious expression. “Are you following me?”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “No, I just saw you-“ Then he grinned. He knew he was such a tease.

“I’m joking, sweets. I’m just here for my Halloween costume.” Such a fucking lie. But he needed to establish a common ground.

You sighed in relief.

“Me too. We had the same idea.” You didn’t protest at the nickname. Eddie tried not to smirk. You were happy to see him. He had to ball his fists to keep from touching you.

“What are you going as? I haven’t decided.” Eddie forced himself to sound light hearted but he truly needed an idea. You set the stage on his actions.

You gestured, “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

And then you stuck out your hand. Eddie thought he would bust in his pants. He accepted as you gently guided him to the other side of the store, where a large amount of costumes were hanging on the wall. Your grip was firm, warm and steady. You were confident in taking his hand. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your lower half, covered by the fitted dress. Your calves peeked out from the slits on the side. He saw more ink. How many tattoos did you have? He wanted to explore them. Compare them to his. You came to a stop and released him. Eddie wanted to stop you, grab your hand again.

“I’m going with this,” You pointed to the hanging plastic bag and Eddie followed direction.

The picture was a Sweeney Todd costume. Fake blood included and wig. It would be hot. You could pull off anything. But the wig he wanted to protest against. Covering your perfect hair? The hair he wanted to dig his fingers in and pull? Caress? Both? “That’s a great one. I think you’ll stand out. Not everyone knows that reference.”

You smiled again. Eddie felt like he won the lottery. “I like to stand out from the crowd, I guess. My best friend is throwing a Halloween party this year. And I finally had the day off to come here.” Eddie nodded, swallowing the urge to reveal he already knew that.

“I hope you’re not working too hard but I can’t stop listening to the CD. You knew exactly what I needed.” Your hands reached up, pressing against your chest. “You really like it? I’m not used to someone actually agreeing with me.” Eddie couldn’t believe that. Who could resist you? Who wouldn’t give your favorite band a try? He would fix that problem.

“Why wouldn’t I like it, sweets? I’ll have to get more recommendations soon, it makes my driving more exciting.” You opened your mouth to respond but something caught your eye and you excitedly beamed.

Eddie turned, desperate to find what caught your attention other than him.

“That’s my favorite slasher movie! If I hadn’t already decided on this, I would wear that.” Eddie’s eyes widened. It was a Ghostface costume. Why didn’t he know that? He ground his teeth. He should have looked closer at your posts. Maybe he would have seen it. You had amazing taste in movies.

“An amazing movie. That would have also been a perfect choice. But I’m not sure anyone could be scared of you, pretty girl. You’re way too sweet.” The names slipped out his mouth before he could catch himself. But you dipped your head and bashfully peeked at him through your lashes.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He itched to say more, compliment you more but he didn’t want to freak you out. Especially considering he watched your instagram everyday to know exactly what you were doing but he needed you. He would do whatever he needed to make you feel the same way.

Your phone started to ring. Eddie wanted to beg you not to answer. No, stay here in the moment. You sighed, holding the device up. “It’s my dad. I need to take this. But I hope I’ll see you at the store again! And maybe we can talk more. You really get me.” And then you turned away, quietly speaking to your father.

Each time he managed to speak to you, get somewhere, it was interrupted. But this wouldn’t be wasted. No. Eddie moved away from you, as painful as it was and quickly picked up the Ghostface costume. He didn’t know how he would make this work but god damn it he would.

Eddies emotions went beyond his limit when he was hunched over, phone glued to his hand as he poured over your story on his bed when he got home. Your stories consisted of showing off the costume you bought and then several memes about Halloween being everyday for you. And then you posted your old looks. Most of them were edgy, skulls, prosthetics and some were even masks. Except one. You were wearing a short, thigh high black dress. Fishnets and heels. Your face painted with the Crow makeup. Your chest ink and your leg tattoos were on display.

The intricate thorns that wrapped around both thighs but on the left center was a large showing of multiple flowers. On the right was a skull, jaw slightly open to allow a dark snake to wrap around.

His cock felt like it was going to burst but he would not give in. He just didn’t know what to do. How would he get into the party? Sneak in? He was going insane.

And that’s when Steve hit him up. When Eddie answered the phone, Steve proceeded to explain that there was a Halloween party at a penthouse. And the owner just so happened to be your best friend.

Eddie thanked whatever universe, energy or even a God if he even bothered to look at him considering what he was doing. It was Halloween night. He wore the long, black gown. A black shirt and jeans underneath. Heavy boots. Most importantly, the Mask. Steve charmed the security, getting them both inside. The lights were off only to be be replaced with LED strips covering the edges of the wall and even the ceiling.

The living room was spacious, modern furniture and sleek tables covered in red cups, beer bottles and liquor bottles. He squinted his eyes, his vision obscured by the mask. No one paid much attention to him, most people had some sort of horror film costume, he wasn’t the only Ghostface. Fuck. How would you tell it was him? He did all of this for you. Music blared, he could feel it in his chest as he walked around the penthouse. Stepping on decorations fallen to the wood floor.

Steve left his side but Eddie knew he was looking for the hostess of this party. Where were you?

There.

His breath hitched and he froze in the doorway of the kitchen. You were pouring a drink in a solo cup. Your costume was perfect. The white puffed sleeves, black vest and striped pants. Fake blood coated your hands, darkening your fingernails. You weren’t wearing a wig, instead you had the signature white streak in your hair. Good. You didn’t need the wig. He opened his mouth to talk but you turned and started walking into the next room.

No. No. Why did he take so fucking long? He was here right now. He used so much effort to be close to you. Eddie took a steadying breath. And he walked directly behind you, he kept trying to tap your shoulder but you were quick. Nearly jogging. His boots hit against the floor, growing louder from speed. You maneuvered through the crowd. Where you going? He almost lost you but you started climbing the stairs where more cobwebs and pumpkins sat.

Were you running from him? From someone else? Was your best friend up here? His mind raced with endless options as he continued prowling behind you. No one was here. He almost slammed into you as you abruptly halted.

You spun around.

“Eddie, why are you following me?” Oh, fuck.

Up close, your makeup was messy. Eyeliner smudged heavily, your lips were dark and glossy. You looked up at him through lashes. But you didn’t sound angry. Or fearful.

You sounded…playful.

He tilted his head. “I was-“

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know you’ve been following me. I know every time you look at my pictures. I knew that you followed me home. And it wasn’t an accident at the store the other day. I was hoping you would buy this.” You reached over, grasping the material of the cloak between your fingers.

Eddie grew hot. He thought he could be subtle but apparently not. You knew the whole time. But why weren’t you upset? He didn’t want you to be. But that would have been naive.

He clutched your hand. “I couldn’t help it. You’re perfect. The moment I saw you, I knew I needed you. I needed to see you, make sure you were safe. I can’t get you out of my mind. Fuck. And I just wanted to be here tonight to finally talk to you without being interrupted. All I’ve done is listen to the album you love. I know you said you weren’t mad but please, god I need you. I need to feel you. I need to-“

“Fuck me?” You finished. “Did you touch yourself while looking at me, Eddie?”

He was buzzing, ignited from the way your lips were in a smirk. You stepped closer and with your free hand, you removed his mask. His hair was even messier and his nostrils flared as he took in your perfume.

He was almost against the wall but he couldn’t take it. Eddie’s hands gripped your hips and he smashed his lips to yours. You tasted better than he imagined. And you met his intensity. Eddie flipped so you were the one pinned against the wall, diving his tongue inside your mouth. His cock was so hard it hurt and he pressed his pelvis against yours, grinding into you. A moan escaped your mouth and he reached down, grasping your knee and pulling it around his hip. He could feel how wet you were through your pants.

Eddie ripped away from your mouth, moving to concentrate to the soft skin of your neck when you grabbed him by his arm and burst through a door he didn’t notice was there. He only had time to register a bed in the center of the room before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled his bottom lip with your teeth. “I wanted you the first day you came in,” You murmured. Eddie pushed your back against the bed, landing him on top of you and he straddled your lap.

“I-can I-can I fuck you?” He had to ask, as frenzied as he felt, he needed you to want it as much as he did.

“Fuck, Eddie. Yes, I want it so bad.” You whined, arching your back into him as he buried his face in your neck, peppering kisses against your jaw before sucking the spot above your collar bone.

You tore off the cloak, before taking off his black shirt with it and running your hands down his chest, stomach before tugging his belt. Eddie lifted his head, helping you as he kicked off his jeans. But he wanted to taste you. He slid down, peeling off your tight pants and your underwear. Eddie got impossibly harder as you mewled as he separated your legs.

Your cunt dripped with arousal and he spread it apart, coating his thick fingers. He dove in, flattening his tongue against your clit. Eddie moaned at your sweet taste as he licked down your slit before slipping his tongue inside you. You were jerking your hips to hump his face, his nose continually hitting the sensitive nerves in the center.

“I’m gonna cum.” Eddie didn’t speed up, he stayed hungrily lapping your pussy and your movement locked, your thighs squeezing his head. The entire lower half of his face was glistening as he pulled away.

Eddie crawled over you and captured your lips in a bruising kiss. Smearing cum all over your mouth, messing your lipstick even further. Just like he imagined.

“Please, fuck me.” You whimpered and he clumsily took off his boxers, releasing his heavy cock leaking with precum.

Eddie lined his dick against you before pressing inside, stretching your pussy as you clenched around him. He groaned from deep in his chest and shuddered. Your nails dug into his skin as he started thrusting, deep and hard. The bed was slamming against the wall.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby.”

He couldn’t even speak anymore, you felt so good he saw stars and he loved the pain from you scratching him. “I’m-I’m close.”

He wanted to hold off for you but the way you cried out, burying your face on his shoulder, Eddie spilled into you. Fuck condoms, he thought. His breath came in choked pants as he pulled out and scooped you into his arms. He was completely naked and you only had a shirt on, that he planned on removing once he caught his breath.

“I can’t believe you knew the whole time. And I can’t believe you liked me back.”

Your head turned as he held you close to him, his arms tight around you. He never wanted to let you go. Now that he’s tasted you, he could never stop.

“Eddie, why do you think I let you follow my account? Why do you think I told you to listen to bad omens? I wanted you to think about me. Besides, your friend Steve pulling the same move on my best friend.”

Dividers by @cxrrodedcoffin

Tagging @cxrrodedcoffin @bloodibambiidoll @userchai @stillwjk-channie-lixie @littlexdeaths @loserboysandlithium @lesservillain @take-everything-you-can @taintandviolent @starkeysprincess @oceanblvd111 @marchsfreakshow @eddiesxangel @xxladymjxx

[trulyumai]

make that two

—synopsis: yeah, Eddie was down bad. he couldn’t even read a few sentences in before casting his gaze back on you. I mean… could you blame him?

—warnings: none!

—pairings: eddie munson / gf! reader

You sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a hefty textbook while Eddie paced nearby, running a hand through his curly hair.

“Okay, so we need to focus on the themes of existentialism in this novel,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “How about we start with the main character’s struggles?”

Eddie paused mid-pace, his dark eyes drifting toward you. You looked up, and for a moment, the world outside faded. His lips curved into a lazy grin, and you could see the admiration etched in his expression. “Honestly, sweetheart, I think you’re more interesting than this assignment.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, unable to suppress a smile. “Come on, Eddie! We can’t just blow it off. We’ve got to pass this class.”

He sat down beside you, resting his chin on his hand, a teasing spark in his eyes. “Yeah, but look at you! How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re sitting there like the goddess of wisdom?”

You felt your cheeks heat at his compliment. “You’re impossible,” you laughed, nudging him lightly. “Focus, or I’ll start charging you for tutoring sessions.”

Eddie chuckled, leaning closer, his presence warm and comforting. “Alright, fine. Let’s talk about ‘existentialism’ or whatever.” But his gaze remained fixed on you, and it was clear that his mind was elsewhere.

“Eddie,” you said, trying to pull him back to the task at hand. “The themes—”

“Yeah, themes,” he interrupted, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “But seriously, how do you make studying look so good? It’s not fair.”

You tried to stifle a grin, but it was futile. “You’re just saying that to distract me!”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, feigning a dramatic sigh. “But can you blame me? You’re like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day.”

You shook your head, exasperated yet delighted. “Okay, Mr. Munson. Let’s make a deal. If you can stay focused for ten minutes, I’ll reward you with… a kiss.”

Silence ensued. You almost wanted to take the words right back before he bolted up.

His eyes widened, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind. “Ten minutes? That’s a long time in Eddie-world,” he said, puffing out his chest playfully. “But I accept your challenge, fair maiden!”

As you both settled into the assignment, Eddie’s mind wandered again, his gaze drifting back to you. He watched the way you flipped through the pages, the way your hair caught the light, and the soft concentration on your face. It was impossible to focus when you were there, right in front of him, like a muse.

Shit, was he always so.. smitten like this?

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, breaking the silence. “This isn’t working. I’m failing already.”

You giggled, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “But really, I can’t help it. You’ve got this… magnetism. It’s like a spell you’ve cast over me. Wait.. you’re not some warlock are you?!”

Your heart raced at his words. And no matter how much you wanted to laugh, you still grunted out a displeasurable sound. “Eddie, focus! We need to get this done!”

With a dramatic sigh, he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “Fine, I’ll focus. But just know that my thoughts are filled with visions of you. It’s your fault I can’t pay attention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, feeling lighter in his presence. “Alright, one more attempt. Let’s break it down together.”

For the next few minutes, you guided him through the key points of the assignment, his attention wavering but gradually sharpening as you spoke. When you finished, you leaned in closer, a smile on your face. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Not with you around,” Eddie replied, leaning in as well, his eyes sparkling with mischief and admiration. “Now, about that kiss…”

“Eddie!”

….

“…please?”

[wonderlandwalker]

First Impressions | Eddie Munson x Reader

Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox Summary: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner. (read part 2 here) Content Warnings / Tags: Pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n Word Count: 1.4k A/N: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it

“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.

“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.

“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.

“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.

“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it. 

The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.

“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”

“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.

As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile.

“Alright, not a fan of handshakes, noted.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.

“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.

“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.

Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out

“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.

“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition. 

He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely

“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.

“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do.

“Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.

“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand 

“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.

Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold. 

“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.

“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do.

“- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face.

“You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.

“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking

“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.

“I’d love to.” 

“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.

“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence. 

“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.

[part 2 here]