#janitor steve

[bmodiwrites]

You Drew Stars Around My Scars

Hi friends! This one is based of a prompt I got sent a couple of days ago. The general gist of it is janitor x workaholic AU. So, here we are! Eddie's a story board editor with nothing to go home to and Steve, well, he's a janitor. This little beauty is filled with cuteness, a few twists, and lots of steddie goodness. Oh, there's some naught stuff, too. Minors, DNI! Check it out here or over on AO3! Let me know what you think in the comments below <3

Dropping the ludicrously expensive color pencil back onto his drawing desk, Eddie reclines back into his chair. He quickly clenches and unclenches his fingers in a desperate attempt to get some blood flow back to them. The sketch before him, a recent episode idea for Epic Kids, is almost perfect – after ten straight hours of work, Eddie is glad to see the thing finally shaping up into what it’s actually supposed to be.

As a story board artist, the demands on Eddie change daily. He doesn’t work for one show or something simple like that. Instead, he works for a company that dabbles in both television and video games. His projects range from children’s shows to multi-million dollar selling video games. No one knew the 90’s would be the time technology blew up – now, so many different game consoles exist, Eddie is never shy on work.

Upon picking up the craft right out of college, Eddie didn’t expect this to be the rest of his life. Sometimes, though, the world works in mysterious ways. The children’s book he always wanted to write comes alive in the shorts he draws and ideas he shares. Though he’s still wanting to put together a D&D epic for younger kids, Eddie is content enough with his lot to continue doodling on someone else’s dime.

He's about to pick the red pencil back up when the creak of his already open door startles him. It’s well past the time at night where anyone else is usually in the building. Eddie likes to close his door until everyone leaves so he’s got the space to himself. Now, he’s drawing in ambient light with nothing to disturb him – except, he guesses, for a gorgeous man dragging along a cleaning cart.

For a lingering moment, Eddie knows the man hasn’t seen him yet. He’s got headphones covering his ears and his head bobs to the beat. Strong hands are already reaching for the tools he’ll need to clean the floor before clearing out Eddie’s trash. This guy is new because no one ever took the time to sweep up the pencil shavings under Eddie’s desk. Lately, he’s been coming back to the office to a clean space. Now, he knows who the culprit is.

Since the guy still isn’t reacting to Eddie’s presence, brown eyes greedily take in their fill. Though the headphones push it down, the janitor has gorgeous hair. It’s thick and dirty blonde. Eddie thinks about the potential for amazing hairstyles and almost swoons. As his eyes roam a little further, Eddie notices wide wire-framed glasses pushed up an angular nose. They enhance hazel eyes that are now looking at him with a mix of panic and surprise.

“Oh damn, I’m so sorry. No one is ever here, I didn’t even think to knock. I’ll uh – I’ll come back later.” The words are out of the new janitors mouth so fast that Eddie’s head spins. Though, he’s quick to put it on right in hopes of keeping this mouthwatering stranger in the room.

“Hey, it’s alright. I should be thanking you. You’re the first cleaner to ever pick up my pencil shavings. It’s awesome, man. I appreciate it.” Eddie finishes his thanks with a soft smile. It should be enough, saying something sweet before moving on. Yet, it’s not. Eddie feels compelled to keep talking. “Are you new?”

The guy looks incredibly uncomfortable for a second before nodding. It’s brief and coarse but it’s a reaction – one that Eddie wasn’t all that sure he was going to get. Happy with that small crumb, Eddie’s smile widens.

“Cool, you’ll like it here. I’ve been working behind this desk since college. Loved every second of it.”

His comment is met with silence that lingers so long Eddie thinks his new friend is done with the conversation. He’s about to grab at his pencil again when that deep voice sounds off.

“Maybe you’re right. It’s really quiet. I like that.” The man pauses for a second, takes Eddie in. His hazel eyes roam over Eddie’s face and down until he sees the drawing on the desk. For an instant, those eyes widen, but the moment is gone long before Eddie can process it.

“I’ll let you get back to your work, Mr. Munson. Sorry again about the interruption.”

Shrinking back at the name, Eddie calls out immediately – “It’s Eddie. Please, call me Eddie.”

Though the man doesn’t verbally respond or outwardly acknowledge Eddie’s request, there’s a short little nod before the squeaking of the cart sounds again and the enigma of a man is gone as quickly as he came.

Over the next couple of weeks, Eddie changes his routine in hope of bumping into their new custodian again. He walks the halls every couple of hours during the day to see if the man works while the rest of his crew does, but never finds him. He then stays a little later, lingering in his office until the call of food or a television show or plain boredom has him collecting his bags to head off for the night.

Eventually, Eddie’s enigma makes another appearance. This time, though, Eddie is not prepared for him. He’s been curled up into the sanctuary of his arm, napping soundly, since his last meeting. They ripped apart his drawing and asked for something completely different than what Eddie had been picturing. The game isn’t even out yet and Eddie is over it. The headache that sets in kicks his ass, making the call of the flat of his desk so very enticing. He doesn’t know he’s fallen asleep until the door kicks open and he’s blinking awake.

“Shit, I did it again. I’ve been saving your office for last every day, trying not to disturb you on your late nights. Sorry, Mr. – Eddie. I don’t mean to disturb you.”

Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, Eddie stops him before he can go. “Wait! You don’t have to do that. I don’t mind the interruption. It’s probably needed. I’m spending way too much time here, anyway.”

With an invitation to stay, the guy doesn’t take off like the rocket he had just been trying to become. Instead, he lingers in the doorway, eyes roaming over Eddie again. Since they’re staring at one another, Eddie doesn’t disguise his desire to look back.

This time, Eddie notices a thin little mustache that covers red and probably delectable lips. They’re plump and forming words that Eddie is obviously missing out on. He clues back in just in time to catch the tail end.

“ – my friend’s son loves Epic Kids. I get so many more cool points now because I know one of the artists.”

Eddie is glad he managed to tune back into reality – catching that compliment makes the rest of his shitty day seem insignificant. Epic Kids is his pet project, one he’s much more interested in than the stupid game pitch still haunting him from his desk. Though, Eddie is unsure how the man before him knows about his involvement. He hasn’t had a new project for the show cross his desk since they first met.

“How did you know I worked on that show?”

The man smiles then, his lips (they are absolutely kissable, Eddie just knows it) quirk into a knowing grin. For the first time since Eddie encountered him, there’s a sign of life outside of trash cans and a grumpy demeanor.

“That first night I barged in, you were working on a doodle that ended up in yesterday’s show. After Lucas finished up the episode, I watched through the credits. Eddie Munson, Storyboard Editor, is pretty hard to miss.”

“It’s kind of unfair you know my name and I don’t know yours,” Eddie petulantly says before he can stop himself. Though, it’s not a bad thing because the man laughs, genuinely chuckles, and points to the embroidered name on the left side of his tacky blue jumpsuit.

“I’m Steve. Steve Harrington.”

Eddie’s cheeks heat up for some reason, as if access to a name gives him so much more. While it’s just a title to call the hot man that roams the halls at night, Eddie sees the vulnerability as something more. An obvious door has been opened and he’s timidly excited to step through it.

Steve becomes a regular fixture after that. It’s easy for him to wheel his cart into Eddie’s office at the end of the night and make conversation while he goes about his duties. Eddie draws or sits in his chair listening intently to everything Steve’s got to say. He learns about the man’s found family and his platonic soulmate who also doubles as a roommate whenever she’s in town. The connection they have is something that should be cherished, despite only being nurtured for a handful of minutes the nights Eddie can force himself to stay late enough.

There is, of course, an easy fix. Eddie isn’t one to actively pursue another person, especially when he’s not quite sure about their interest. Steve, it seems, is the exception to every rule that Eddie’s ever put into place, however. Their time together is too nice not to extend it past the walls of his workplace. Never mind the fact that Eddie is more than excited by the prospect of Steve in anything but the ugly blue uniform he’s forced to wear. The man is beautiful, Eddie sees that through and through. Something tells him, though, that Steve has lots of potential outside of navy blue.

He bids his time until the perfect opportunity presents itself. It’s a Thursday night and Steve is already talking about the weekend. He has yet to mention Friday night, however, so Eddie takes that as his chance.

“What about Friday? Are you free? There’s this joint in town I’ve been dying to try out, thought you might like to come.”

Eddie waits with bated breath as Steve blinks a few times behind his thick lenses. He goes about putting the trashcan back in its spot, even replaces the bag before looking in Eddie’s direction.

“Uh, yeah. That – that sounds good. I haven’t been out with adults I didn’t grow up with in ages. I think I’d really like that.”

It takes a massive amount of effort for Eddie not to happily jump up from his chair. His fist is tingling with the need to thrust itself into the air in triumph, but Eddie keeps control. After finally securing some extra time with Steve, the last thing Eddie wants to do is muck it up by being over eager or worse – immature with his excitement.

It seems, however, that Steve is just as excited. Pink overtakes his cheeks and a smile that Eddie’s never seen before stretches those gorgeous lips wide. And while he’s not making eye contact with Eddie at all, Steve sneakily glances in his direction time and time again as he finishes up.

Eddie feels like he’s back in high school again, fumbling over his first crush. It’s a glorious thing, experiencing freedom like that after the fickle mundaneness of adulthood.

----

As expected, Steve is an absolute dream out of uniform. The yellow polo Steve’s wearing makes the hazel in his eyes stand out beyond belief. His blue jeans are tight in all the right areas, enhancing thighs and ass like navy blue fabric never could. Eddie has to physically close his mouth upon first glance, lest he starts drooling before the date actually gets started.

Thankfully, Steve spots him across the weird little bar and makes a beeline in Eddie’s direction. The space they’re in is an eclectic little place that serves beer while it’s patrons play mini golf on the two courses out back. It’s one of the coolest things Eddie has seen – he desperately hopes this little place won’t be the last of such an interesting idea.

Everyone around them looks to be enjoying themselves, either way.

Glad for that knowledge and reassurane, Eddie makes quick work of getting them both a drink and the things they need to play the first course. Steve is slightly stiff as they start but loosens up by the third hole.

Now that they’re not in the noisy bar and the party before them is a couple holes ahead, Steve relaxes. He starts to shoot better and actually takes a couple pulls of his drink. It’s a relief because Eddie already thought he blew it.

As it turns out, Steve is just a man with a little social anxiety. When it’s just the two of them, Eddie gets so much from Steve. He talks about his family the most, the little brother (who’s not actually a ‘real’ sibling, though Steve counts him as one) that’s been a pain in his ass most of Steve’s life, the niece and nephew he spoils incessantly. It’s a beautiful thing to experience a person so dedicated to the people around them.

Eddie tries to reciprocate by telling him about art school and the program he did throughout. He talks about the children’s book he wants to write, despite never spilling the beans of that to anyone else in the entire world. Uncle Wayne doesn’t even know the plot of Eddie’s dream work. For some reason, Eddie can’t stop himself from speaking so earnestly to Steve. It doesn’t hurt, however, that Steve is pretty candid with his words, too.

The only thing that Steve doesn’t talk about is himself. After the first date and then the second, Eddie chalks it up to nerves and taking things slow. He’s in deep already, so the change in pace is a welcome thing.

Except, it keeps happening the longer they’re together. Two dates turns to two months of dating, two months of Steve avoiding questions, two months of them never once setting foot in Steve’s apartment. Admittedly, the lack of personal details is a little off putting. Though, Eddie is eager enough to see where things might go with Steve that he pushes all of that aside. One day, one day really soon, Steve will open up.

It eventually happens, just not in the way Eddie ever thought it would.

For the first time in their entire relationship, Steve’s walking him towards his door. Well, he’s backing Eddie up against it because they can’t keep their hands off each other. Between their intense connection and the chemistry that runs rampant, Eddie’s been edging himself, waiting for this very moment. It’s a little much now that it’s happening but Eddie’s here for it, eager and willing, too. So much so that he doesn’t question Steve leaving off lights as they stumble inside.

Despite the time it took them to get here, Steve is anything but patient and inexperienced. He doesn’t fumble or miss buttons in the darkness of the room. His accurate attack gets Eddie out of his clothes in record time.

Instead of taking off his own, however, Steve immediately drops to his knees, eager hands finding Eddie’s cock without struggle. Long fingers wrap around the base while Steve’s other hand drops to Eddie’s balls. He rolls them at the same time the wetness of his mouth sucks in the head of Eddie’s cock. It’s so glorious, Eddie can do nothing but thread his fingers through Steve’s hair and pull him closer.

The suction is so good that Eddie has to dig the nails of his free hand into the fleshy skin of his palm. Drawing blood is the only thing stopping Eddie from shooting down Steve’s throat but it’s all too good to make him stop. At least, Eddie thinks that until the end is actually imminent. Then, he tugs on Steve’s hair, pulling him off as gently as possible.

“You’re way too good at that. Care for a little something more?” Eddie asks as Steve stands up from his spot on the ground. There’s a smile on his face, though Eddie barely recognizes it in the dark. He thinks to ask about the light but bypasses the urge – if Steve wanted them on, he would’ve flipped the switch as he passed.

Knowing that, Eddie is a little surprised that Steve takes off his clothes at all. Usually when a person liked to keep the lights off, they liked to keep their clothes on, too. Steve, it seems, is filled with contradictory worries and triggers. He sheds his clothes in the same manner he disrobed Eddie. It’s efficient and quick and soon, they’re both standing in front of each other naked as can be.

Steve doesn’t give Eddie much time to take him in. That self-conscious air is back, despite Steve covering it up by sliding his body on top of Eddie’s on the mattress. They fit together so well it’s difficult to keep up with anything at all aside slick slide of Steve’s hips as he grinds down against Eddie. Their cocks are both wet with pre-cum that makes each brush of their pelvises an electric thing. Eddie is already done in – he’s not sure how much more he can take.

There must be precognition in Steve’s life because he moves away from Eddie right as he thinks that. It’s both a torture and relief, one that’s only made better by Steve shifting his body so he can dig into the bedside table for a condom and some lube. The triumphant little noise he makes is kind of nice, too. It reorients Eddie back to the real reason they’re taking each other apart. He loves Steve. Steve loves him. Coming together like this is the ultimate culmination of their feelings for each other.

That thought echoes in Eddie’s head while Steve lubes up a finger, then leaves a dollop of the cool liquid on Eddie’s hip for later. When that finger breaches him, Eddie lets Steve project his love into him, feeling complete for the first time since things started between them. It’s satisfying and dizzyingly delicious.

Steve is very good at the things he’s doing to Eddie. His fingers take no time at all to find Eddie’s prostate. They nail the bundle of nerves tirelessly before not touching it again for many minutes on end, despite more digits coming to the party.

Eventually, three fingers barely skim against it by the time Steve’s getting antsy for more. Eddie too is right there with him.

“I’m good, Steve. I’m good. I need you, baby.”

A soft chuckle slips from Steve’s lips that are pressed against Eddie’s neck. While hands fumble between them, Steve kisses and nips little marks into soft skin, distracting them both from the lurid slip of a condom down Steve’s cock. Eventually a hard tip presses against Eddie’s entrance and the softest of whispers echoes in his head.

“I’ve got you, Eds. I’ve got you,” Steve mumbles, his words laced with lust and want and anticipation that reaches a peak as Steve finally presses inside.

It’s so difficult to keep his composure, Eddie doesn’t even try. He yells out a loud “fuck” that sits in the room with them. While Steve draws back and thrusts forward, Eddie clings to him. He runs his hands over Steve’s back and sides, tracing lines of something like scarring from one side of his torso to the other. If he was thinking straight, Eddie would’ve taken that all into account. Instead, he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and lets the man drop even more weight upon him, distracting Eddie further.

When the end comes creeping near, Steve’s head is tucked into Eddie’s neck, his harsh breath like a tsunami’s wind. Eddie is hanging on the precipice, already able to cum for minutes now. He’s clutching to that edge just to make sure he tumbles off at the same time Steve does. It only takes a handful of thrusts and a cleverly placed bite of Steve’s teeth right above Eddie’s collarbone for both boys to free fall into the unknown abyss of immaculate pleasure.

Eddie must black out because the next time he blinks back to consciousness, there’s light streaming through Steve’s windows. There are curtains but each one is pulled back, letting in the light.

It’s then that Eddie sees them, the reasons behind Steve’s need to keep the lights off in front of Eddie. There are scars everywhere that Eddie can see. Some are long and thin while others look like something tried to take a bite out of Steve’s skin. The flesh is red and raised, though healed completely all the same. Eddie wants to reach out and touch but he refrains. Intimacy is a gift he doesn’t want to give away. Misplacing Steve’s trust in him is not at all what Eddie wants to do.

Already, it’s too late, though. Steve turns slightly, revealing more of the scars on his chest and neck. There’s a long line around his throat that Eddie is surprised he’s never noticed. It obviously hides well under all the clothes Steve wears. This time, he doesn’t tamp down the urge. His fingers brush up against Steve’s neck on their own accord.

“What happened, Steve?” Eddie’s eyes are welling up with tears. He can’t decide if he’s mad at whatever did this or overwhelmed with the need to care for the man before him. That must be clear – Steve doesn’t draw away or try to hide. He rolls over completely and pulls Eddie into his arms.

“It’s – really hard to explain,” Steve starts, his hand idly running up and down Eddie’s sides as they cuddle. “The town I grew up in, Hawkins – it made the news a bunch of times a few years ago.”

Sensing some familiarity, Eddie wracks his brain, trying to remember but New York is a long way away from Indiana. He still nods his head, willing Steve to go on.

“Some crazy stuff went down that you probably won’t believe. In the end, I took a beating to make sure my family got to see another day. I got… taken and the things that were trying to tear Hawkins apart, they did this to me. A couple times over.”

Steve’s a little breathless when he finishes. Despite not sharing all that many details, Eddie knows whatever he just purged from Steve is a lot. It’s something that’s stricken him down in unimaginable ways.

For all it’s worth, Eddie leans further into Steve, dragging him in a little closer. He doesn’t know what to say but that seems to be okay. Steve wraps him up tighter and lets the easy silence settle between them. Without noticing, both drift off again.

Between a nap and another round of amazing sex a while later, Eddie is famished when they eventually resurface to go about the rest of the day.

Steve volunteered to cook so Eddie wanders around the apartment. He takes in the comic books and CDs. There are toys in a box in a corner and a big tv box tucked into a nice looking stand. It’s simple and nice and totally not what Eddie expected at all.

Neither is the master’s degree Eddie sees hanging from the wall.

“Steve, you went to college? For longer than the mandatory four years?” Eddie’s voice is high, the shock clearly coming through.

Steve comes bounding around the corner, a spatula still in his hand. “What are you screaming about in here?”

Eddie takes a long breath and then another. He looks at the diploma on the wall and then back at Steve. “You never said you were a college boy.”

Laughing lightly, Steve shrugs his shoulders. “You never asked.”

“But – “ Eddie starts, his face flushing. The mere thought is too much. How can he ever say the words?

Steve, of course, beats him to it. “But what? But I’m a janitor? You know, Eddie – that’s pretty narrow minded of you.” The words hold no malice, despite the tone of Steve’s voice.

“I don’t like people or crowds. I have PTSD from all the trauma in my teens. Offices and university campuses are the Mecca of loud noises and large masses of other humans. Instead of putting myself into danger, I work a slow job that fits my complexities. It’s exactly what I need, Eddie. Kind of like you.”

The last sentence is enough to make Eddie’s head spin. He for sure thought he was getting a lecture where in fact he gets the opposite.

Steve strides towards his bookcase a determined look in his eye. He searches and skims his fingers over book spines until the right one is in his hands. “Read this. You might understand things a little better. I always told anyone who asked that the events weren’t real but they are. Everything I wrote down in that book is what me and my friends went through. All of it.”

Steve taps the top, looking directly at Eddie. “Read it, don’t read it. If you’re curious about me, you’ll find a lot of what you want to know between those pages.”

All the sudden, Eddie remembers where he heard the name Hawkins before, where he’d even been privy to Steve’s name prior to them meeting. Looking down at the book in his hands, Eddie distinctly remembers demogorgons and bats with tails that stung and ripped and tore. Quickly, Eddie riffled through the pages in order to get to the back cover.

There, in all his gorgeous glory, was Steve Harrington, not at all smiling at the camera. Reading into the bio, Eddie ticked off all the educational credentials that Steve has. Two master’s and a prestigious scholarship from the university he used to teach at. Despite himself, Eddie is surprised, yet not all at the same time.

Instead of continuing to read through the book in hopes of finding out more details, Eddie closes it and puts it back on the shelf where Steve found it. Sucking in a long breath, Eddie nods, then goes to join Steve in the kitchen. Now that the cats out of the bag, Eddie thinks he might enjoy learning more about his boyfriend strictly from the source himself.

As Eddie settles himself against Steve’s back, he allows himself to relax. Steve’s mystery is one Eddie can’t wait to pick apart. Until the clues lay themselves out for him, however, Eddie’s content to hold onto Steve tight and see where the road leads them. It’s too easy to be enraptured by a man that holds his hand while flipping pancakes with the other.

“Thanks,” Eddie whispers as the breakfast making commotion calms down.

Steve doesn’t ask him what he’s thankful for or demand an explanation. He simply pulls Eddie close and silently finishes breakfast.

Slow and steady.

Absolutely perfect in every way.

tag list (message if you'd like to be added): @infinite-orangepeel, @thefreakandthehair, @corrodedcoughin, @prettyboisteveharrington, @writer-in-theory

[oneforthemunny]

santa claus is comin' to town |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: oliver's first christmas with you and eddie, since the adoption, is off to a not so great start. luckily, eddie knows exactly how to make both your spirits bright <3

read the entire janitor!eddie and teacher!reader series here!

contains: parents eddie and reader. oliver is adopted by you and eddie. past talk of parent trauma and neglect. a little angsty, a lot fluffy <3

“Ollie, look,” You nodded, pulling the young boy’s attention to the center of the mall, right outside the food court, settled in mounds of fake snow and twinkling snowflake lights was Santa’s Village. Children of all ages jumped with excitement, giddy at the chance to tell the man at the end perched on a red velvet throne, what they desperately wanted for Christmas. Their parents handing over wads of cash for a photo, a framed memory they could cherish for years. 

This was the first year you and Eddie would get the chance.

“Do you want to go see Santa?” You asked, grinning down at him with a smile so bright, it rivaled the lights around you. 

Oliver didn’t match your excitement. Instead he looked over solemnly, head shaking in a sad bob that had your stomach plummeting. “No, ‘s okay.” Oliver shrugged. 

You blinked, looking up at the lines. “It’s ok if you do.” You pressed gently, a soft smile to reassure him. He was still getting used to you and Eddie paying for everything, still skittish about it even after the judge made you his legal guardians. “I can go with you, if you want. I just want to make sure you tell Santa so he can get you what you want.” 

Oliver shook his head again, bottom lip jutting gently, small enough to have your face dropping in worry. “No, it’s ok.” He shook his head. “Santa never comes to my house anyways. I don’t think he knows about me, or he forgets.” 

“What do you mean, honey?” Your voice was strained with emotion, trying desperately to stay level, not to sound upset though your stomach was twisting in the most painful way. 

Oliver looked up at you through long, dark lashes. “He never came to my house.” He muttered, a tiny huff of a sigh that made you want to sob. “I’d always send him the letters at school, but he never came.” 

You felt every ounce of his disappointment, bore it heavy on your heart. Your throat constricted, unable to find the right words. What did you say to that? What could you say to make it better? You didn’t know, so instead you nodded, squeezing his hand gently, stopping for a cookie at the small corner kiosk and heading towards the music store Eddie was at. The once cheery, festive music felt mocking now, playing through the speakers. 

Eddie stood by the counter, strumming the newly repaired string of his guitar to test it. His face lit up, excited to show you how they’d fixed it, how much better it sounded now with a proper tune up. Instead, his smile fell. 

“Hey,” Eddie muttered, hand running over Oliver’s locks, ruffling them in an affectionate greeting that had him giggling. “What’s goin’ on?” 

You didn’t meet his gaze, swallowing the burning bile that rose in the back of your throat, eyes downcast towards Oliver. “Hey, you alright?” Eddie muttered, his hand touching yours, calloused thumb gliding across your knuckles. “Somethin’ happen?” 

“No,” He knew you were lying, your voice tight the way it was when something was wrong. “Did you get it fixed?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie frowned, scanning your features carefully. “Are you sure-” 

“-Can I go look at the CDs?” Oliver pointed towards the aisles of CDs, hand gently pulling yorus for attention. 

You nodded. “Stay towards the front, ok? Where we can see you. If you can’t see us-” 

“-Then you can’t see me.” Oliver grinned. “I will.” He chirped, giddily skipping over to the CDs. Somehow, his innocent happiness made your heart break more. 

“Hey, look at me, baby.” Eddie muttered, knuckle brushing under your chin lightly, pulling your gaze into his. “What’s’a matter? What’s wrong?” 

You pressed your lips together to stop the shake you felt coming. “I, uh, I asked Ollie if he wanted to see Santa. Tell him what he wanted for Christmas so we could get an idea for him.” Your gaze wandered to the small boy, on his tiptoes to flick through the CDs in the rock section- the ones he was starting to favor since listening with Eddie. 

“He said,” You swallowed, voice quivering with emotions that you were trying your best to keep in. “He said Santa never visited him, Eddie. He thinks he forgets him every year.” 

Eddie watched your face crumble, turning away to try and compose yourself. His own heart dropping. Rushes of his own childhood, the hope that maybe this year Santa would visit if he stole the Borden’s lights, threw them up on his roof instead so Santa could see. He even kept his light on so Santa would know he was home, but still, he never came. 

Until he stayed with Wayne. 

“Does he,” Eddie ducked, eyes cutting around the store. “He still, like, believes in him and all that?” 

You paused, brows furrowing lightly. “Yeah, I mean, I think he does-” 

“-I got it.” Eddie nodded, finality in his tone. “I got it, baby. Don’t worry.” 

“Ed, wait, just-” You stopped him, eyes cutting to Oliver. “You can’t make him, ok? If he doesn’t want to, then we should respect that.” 

“I’m not gonna make him, baby.” Eddie smiled softly. “I got it, ok. You trust me?” You nodded slowly. You did trust Eddie, in every way with everything. 

“Then let me handle this, alright? Don’t worry about it.” Eddie pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, squeezing your hip lovingly, walking back to the counter to gather his guitar. 

“Hey, Ollie, gotta ask you somethin’, little guy.” Eddie hummed, strumming his guitar, tongue poked out in concentration. 

Oliver was in front of him, mindlessly playing with his own action figures while Eddie practiced, flipping Spider-Man off the couch cushions and launching him over the coffee table with pure childlike imagination. “Yeah?” 

Eddie watched him carefully, trying to play it cool, easy- not to scare the kid. “Mama told me something,” The beloved name you’d adorned before the papers went through. Eddie had christened you with it happily, grinning at the way it made you gleam when he’d call you it. “Said you didn’t want to see Santa.” 

Oliver stopped, action figure hanging in midair, eyes wide like he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Yeah.” Oliver said quietly. Eddie knew he was trying to read his tone, see if he was mad or upset. 

Eddie smiled at him softly, playfully throwing a hand out to him. “Dude, why?” He grinned. “You gotta tell the big man what you want for Christmas.” 

Oliver’s head lowered, dragging the plastic feet of the superhero across the coffee table. “Santa doesn’t come to visit me.” He mumbled. “He never has.” 

Eddie tried not to let his face falter. He knew it was coming, and it still hurt. Instead, he tried to remember what Wayne said, exactly how he’d said it and convinced him years ago when he was in Ollie’s shoes, hurt and disappointed. 

“He didn’t?” Eddie cocked his head to the side. Oliver shook his head, face falling. “That’s weird.” Eddie quipped, lips twisting in thought. He could feel Oliver’s eyes on him curiously, he wanted to play it up for him. “You know, I bet you’re not registered.” 

Oliver blinked. “Registered?” 

“Yeah, your parents,” Eddie cringed at the mention. “You, uh, you have to register everyone to Santa. There’s a lot of kids in the world, and he can lose count sometimes. If you move or if you have more kids, anything, you gotta get them registered so he’ll know. Kinda like attendance, y’know?” It wasn’t nearly as smooth as when Wayne did it, much more rambling, but Oliver’s eyes lit up. 

“You do?” Oliver asked, setting Spider-Man down completely. 

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie nodded, setting his own guitar down on the stand. “I’ve been meaning to call anyways, make sure they were sending me a form down so I could let them know that you’re here now. Let me just call really quick.” 

Oliver followed him, close on Eddie’s heels into the kitchen, where you were cutting carrots for the soup. “Hey, babe,” Eddie called, opening the junk drawer by the sink. “Have you seen the phone book?” 

“The phone book?” You frowned, turning to look over your shoulder at them. “It should be under the coffee table.” 

“No, the one for the North Pole.” Eddie muttered, eyes lifting to yours, shooting you a wide eyed look. 

You paused, tracking his sharp side eyed glance to Oliver, who’s eyes were wide and hopeful, hanging on Eddie’s every word. “Oh,” You squeaked. “Um, I think I put it in the address book in my purse.” 

Eddie fumbled through the contents of your bag, swiping the floral printed contact book with a sloppy grin. “Ah, found it.” He muttered, tongue poking out when he thumbed through the names and numbers. 

“Can I see?” Oliver asked, rising on his tip-toes to look over the edge of the book. 

“Hey, no way, c’mon.” Eddie shook his head. “Santa only gives it to parents. So we can call when you’ve been bad, or when we move and stuff. Can’t give it out or he’ll be mad.” 

Oliver hesitated, scanning Eddie’s face carefully. He was a little suspect, but Eddie said it so confidently, it was hard not to be convinced- hell, you were convinced, listening with careful amusement from the kitchen. 

Eddie pulled the phone off the hook, dialing the number with a covered hand, winking over at Oliver playfully. The line rang and rang and rang, until-

“Hello?” 

“Hi, this is Eddie- sorry, Edward Munson.” Eddie said cheerfully into the phone, just like he would talking to a customer service rep. “I was needing to talk to someone about registering a new house to Santa’s route.” 

There was a pause, the rustling of the line on the other end. “Eddie, what the fuck- are you high?” Dustin Henderson’s confused voice rang from the other end. 

Eddie grinned, jaw clenching at annoyance he tried to hide. Thankfully, Oliver didn’t seem to notice, eyes shining with awe at the phone call. “Yeah, we were just needing to talk to someone about registering our house for Santa to stop at.” Eddie’s tone was clipped behind feigned cheerfulness. “We have Oliver living here now, and we wanted to get the form sent.” 

“Eddie, what-” Dustin laughed on the other end. “Are you messing with me? You’re messing with me.” 

“Yeah, just a second-” Eddie covered the phone, leaning towards Oliver. “Ollie, can you grab my wallet? By the bed?” 

Oliver nodded, scampering down the hall. Eddie waited before turning, cradling the phone close to his mouth. “Henderson, play the fuck along, ok? I told Oliver I was calling the North Pole.” 

Dustin laughed, a loud cackle of a laugh, full belly and entertained. “Why? What are you doing-” 

“-Because Santa has never visited him.” Eddie hissed lowly, ceasing Dustin’s laughter. “And I am trying to get the registration form just to make sure we get added on Santa’s route, so Santa will be sure to visit us this year.” Eddie’s tone lifted, changing instantly back to that cheery tone he had before when Oliver ran in. 

“Thanks, bud.” Eddie grinned, taking the wallet. “Just my license number?” He hummed, flicking it open. 

“Eddie, I’m-I’m sorry, man. I thought you were messin’ with me-” 

“-Yeah, it’s W23-016.” Eddie cut the other man off through gritted teeth. “And it’s Oliver Munson. He’s eight, and his new address is 172 Azalea Lane in Hawkins, Indiana.” 

The line was silent. “What do you want me to do here, Eddie? Like pretend-” 

“Yeah, if you can send the form here, that would be great.” Eddie fought back an eye roll. He should’ve called Steve. “And my wife wanted me to ask, can Oliver go see Santa now and tell him what he wants, or should he wait until after we mail the form back?” 

“Uh, now? Is that what you want me to say? Dude, why didn’t you call me before so I could prepare-” Dustin huffed. 

“Great. We’ll get that filled out, and we’ll go next weekend.” Eddie smiled over at Oliver, heart swelling with warmth over the irritation he felt. “Thanks so much for your help, Nog. Have a good one.” 

“Oh, wow, use my ninth grade dwarf name. Real mature-” Eddie didn’t wait to hear the rest of Dustin’s whining, slapping the phone on the receiver. 

Oliver was bouncing, practically exploding with anticipation and excitement. You thought your heart might burst at the sight. “They’re sending it over.” Eddie clapped his hands. “Told you it was easy, Ollie. They said you just have to sign something when it comes, and we can send it back off to the North Pole, and can go see Santa next week.” 

“Wow,” Oliver beamed, smiling at you. “Thank you.” He muttered, barreling into Eddie’s side, squeezing his thighs in a tight, loving hug.

“You’re welcome, bud.” Eddie smiled, patting his head affectionately. “Can you go put my guitar back in the garage? In the case, please? Make sure to fasten it.” 

Eddie waited until Oliver was running back into the living room to slide over to you. Your eyes shining with adoration, awe. “That was the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever seen, Ed.” You muttered, arms wrapping around his torso. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with you in my whole life.” 

“C’mon,” Eddie blushed, rocking you gently, a half stepped sway. “Not gonna let the kid have a bad Christmas.” 

“How did- How did you even come up with that?” You blinked, chin resting against his chest. “That was genius.” 

“Well, gotta give credit to Wayne.” Eddie shrugged. “He, uh, he did it first. When I came to live with him the first time after my mom passed. Dad hadn’t got me a gift since she died, too fucked up to remember the whole Santa thing. So Wayne told me it was because he forgot to register my house after we moved. I believed it. Made me feel better thinkin’ my dad just forgot to register the house, instead of forgettin’ me, y’know?” Eddie muttered, voice dropping lowly. 

Your heart ached in the most uncomfortable way, squeezing him tighter into your chest. “It was sweet.” You whispered, arms circling around his waist, pressing a kiss to the soft fabric of his t-shirt, right over his heart. It made him flush with heat. “Thank you for that.” 

“Baby, do you have construction paper?” Eddie asked, sliding into your classroom. It was still early, the sun just barely lifting into the grayed Indiana morning sky, frost still fogging at the windows. 

“Um, in the cabinet in the red drawer.” You pointed to the arts and crafts area, neatly organized safety scissors and crayons tucked away. “What are you doing?” 

“I got this idea last night. Ollie’s real excited-” Eddie paused, scanning the classroom for the little boy. 

“He went down to the gym with Mrs. Bronski.” You waved it off lightly, passing out the morning activity papers to each of the spots. “Excited about what?” 

“Excited about Santa this weekend.” Eddie muttered, flipping through the stack of construction paper, shimmying out a sheet of red and green. “Anyways, I got this idea about making the form. I found these letter stamps and ink pads in the art room, asked Lois if I could borrow them and she’s letting me. I think it’d be better printed like that so it look more legit, ya know?” 

You beamed, smiling brightly under the fluorescent lights of the classroom, making Eddie’s heart skip. “Yeah, that’s- that’s really sweet, Ed.” 

Eddie paused, shoulder’s tensing slightly, that familiar wide eyed, scared look creeping into his features. “You- It’s stupid, isn’t it?” He asked, voice tight. “I, fuck- sorry- I just, I dunno I thought it would be cool. Better than… It doesn’t matter. That was too much, I’m sorry, I just got excited-” 

“Eddie, what?” You lifted a brow, tone steady and calm, like it always was when he’d spin out like this. “Ed, I think that’s a great idea. I think it’s really sweet, and I think Ollie will love it.” 

Eddie scanned your features, looking for any reason not to believe you- a quirk in your lips, a blink that felt off, anything. “Are you sure? It’s not… too much?” 

“You think I’d judge you for doing too much?” You tilt your head to the side playfully. “I’m jealous I didn’t think of it because it’s perfect, Eddie. All of it. You’re just,” Your breath hitched, heart fluttering at the sight of him. “You’re just a really good dad, and it makes me so inexplicably happy that I get to be with you. Watch you be a good dad, and a good husband, and just be with you. I’m so happy with you.”  

Eddie blushed, cheeks reddening at your words. If you weren’t in school, the looming threat of HR surrounding you, he’d push you up against the poster board, make out with you right there. 

“Thank you.” Eddie muttered instead, looking down at his work boots, cheeks burning with the praise. “I, uh, I- yeah, I feel the same way, y’know. About you, and you’re a good mom- the best mom.” You rolled your eyes bashfully, grabbing his hand, squeezing it softly. 

“Hey, lovebirds,” Steve grinned, head ducking in your doorway. Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffing with exasperation. “Gotta go get the kids. Do you want me to walk yours up too?” 

“No, I’ve got it.” You smile politely. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll be right there.” 

Eddie was already reaching for your lanyard of keys, dropping them in your hand, pressing a sweet, parting kiss to your cheek quickly. 

He worked tirelessly in his tiny janitor’s closet, pulling out a broken ruler to make sure it was lined correctly, taking breaks in between the lunch cleanup and fixing a ceiling light, until it was perfect. 

Oliver was thrilled when Eddie came home, the bright red paper in his hand. “Guess what came in the mail today, Ollie?” Eddie sang in a silly tone, a grin so wide and dazzling it made you want to melt. 

Oliver signed the dotted line with careful, slanted handwriting. You thought you were going to cry seeing him sign Oliver Munson beaming with pride at the last name that was all his now. 

Eddie snuck it back into your bedroom after going to “mail the letter back”, neatly laying it in your bedside drawer. That night, the two of you lied in bed, looking over every careful detail of the paper, your own prized possession. 

“How long did this take you?” You muttered, fingertip tracing over Oliver’s pen scrawled signature, lip trembling all over again. 

“Not too long,” Eddie’s chest rumbled under you, lips pressed into your hair, holding you against him as close as possible. “Worst part was trying to make sure I didn’t miss a letter or something. I started on green but fucked up Santa. Spelled Satan, so had to start over.” 

You laughed, a small, watery giggle that had Eddie’s grin on you tightening, an affectionate squeeze to your hip. “Yeah, that might have him confused.” You beam, head lolling back on Eddie’s shoulder to look up at him. “He was so excited though, I don’t think he would have cared.” 

Eddie’s lips curled in a soft smile, hand moving to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in for a sweet kiss- the kind that left your head reeling with devotion, letting him press you back into the pillows, body sliding on top of yours. 

“Wait,” You panted, tapping on his chest gently. 

Eddie frowned, rolling off of you. “‘M sorry. I thought you wanted to-” 

You placed the paper back in your bedside drawer, neatly tucking it under a book so it wouldn’t get crinkled. “I didn’t want it to rip.” You smiled softly, flicking off the lamp. 

Eddie could see your eyes, glowing with that devious hint that had his heart jumping with excitement. You crawled over him, legs straddling either side of his hips, your hands in his hair this time, pressing him into the pillow, pinning him with a feverish kiss that left him reeling.

[cuepickle]

T: “I heard Byers got asked to help with picture day at Loch Nora.”

B: “Think Wheeler’s gonna let him get a close up?”

More boarding school AU brainrot. When Billy first comes to Hawkins Academy, Stancy is still holding on by a thread. Loch Nora is the nearby private girl’s college that shares some classes with the academy.

[sadesluvr]

College student femreader and janitor William..

William overhears reader in a heated argument with her bf who cheated on her and it ends with the bf throwing things around and yelling before storming off.

A/N: Thanks for being patient Anon! I wasn't sure what kind of req this was so it's only mildly suggestive. Fluffy! William, ig. Warning for abusive/angry behaviours.

Right off the bat, William knows that your boyfriend is an asshole. He's basically been everywhere on campus, so he knows what everyone gets up to, when and with who. It's not his place to say anything because he's just a 'lowly' janitor, but he's secretly been wondering about how you'd take the news. Of course, he cares about you, but once he's out of the picture he can have you to himself. After all, you're graduating in a few months, and he can quit his job to look after you...

"Who is she?" he hears you yell. The tone of your voice is undeniably filled with rage, but he can hear your words crack ever so slightly as they hitch in your throat. "Who the fuck is she, Chad?"

"No one, she doesn't mean anything!" the boy says. He can't see you, but he can see the scene playing out right in front of him, like some fucked up play. You're on the verge of tears, and he's nonchalant, like nothing ever happened. "She was just some girl on the cheer team..."

"So you're not even going to deny that there is a girl?" you scoff. "On the cheerleading team, of all things?"

There's a pause, and you shake your head.

"I knew something was up," you sniff. "You're hot one day, and cold the next. I'm fucking sick of it, Chad! Get the hell out of my apartment!"

"Woah, what?" the guy sneers. "Are you fucking joking me? I put all this time and effort into you and you're breaking up with me just like that?" he snaps. "Do I look like a joke to you?"

You're silent. He's never raised his voice like this before. William knows this, and he tightens his fingers around the base of his mop, blood coursing through his veins as his jaw clenched. He'd spear the bastard's eyes out if he had to.

"Don't you dare fucking treat me like a second option," he snarls. It's low and ominous this time, and William can hear his heavy footsteps pacing around the landscape of your apartment, the piercing sound of metal scraping against wood filling the usually quiet corridors. "I love you, and I'm the best thing that could ever happen to you. Don't you ever forget that."

There's a thud, and an object, likely a lamp, hits the floor. It doesn't stop there; paper, pens, books, even your remote, all flung across the room like they were nothing, neglecting the fact that these tools were what had once brought you together. William can hear you scream, straining your throat as you beg him to stop, seemingly to no avail until he decides to stop himself; barrelling out of your apartment door like a raging bull, leaving the door open and leaving you alone, exposed to the truth of what you'd laid next to most nights.

William peers in, and he can see you closing in on yourself, staring in disbelief at the mess around you. Anyone would be able to see you tremble; utterly in fear of just how quickly he'd switched his temperament. You look up, aware of the feeling of being watched, and you make a pained face.

"...I guess we disturbed you, huh? I- I'm sorry, I'll ---"

"It's not your fault," he says quickly and pointedly, blue eyes staring directly into your own. He wants you to feel every inch and gravity of his words. "You're better off without him,"

"That's what they all say," you chuckle defeatedly, slumping onto your couch. William took this as a sign to come in, and made sure he firmly closed the door behind him. It was just the two of you alone now, and he was determined to make sure it stayed that way. "Why are guys such assholes?" you continued, and William sighed.

"I wish I knew," he said, sitting on the armchair next to you. What made him swoon was how you hadn't even flinched at the action, when people usually wanted away from janitors as much as possible. You were truly made for him, after all. He cleared his throat, glancing down at you through his lashes, and cocked his head before he spoke.

"...I can assure you, I would never treat you that way, love," he hummed. "You're too much of a doll..."

His cock twitched slightly at the small gasp you let out, watching the way you licked your lips immediately after. Swallowing, you looked up at the older man with glassy eyes.

"Thank you..." you said softly. "I-I I really needed to hear that..." you chuckle, and your smile puts one on his. It would only be a few more months until he could have you for his own; to look after you in the way you deserved to be. He'd spoil you with roses, clothes, trips abroad...Anything and everything he could obtain, even if that meant having to murder your (presumed) ex, and the people around you. He wasn't just a janitor, you see, no - he was much, much more than he let on. But you needn't worry about that for now.

A smirk spread across his lips as he placed a hand on your shoulder, tracing small circles with his calloused fingertips.

"Why don't I help you tidy up?" he grinned. "I'm sure we can find ways to forget about him along the way.."

[lanasgirlfr]

any William Afton/Steve Raglan janitor ai bots recs ?? bc I'm going insane

[shieldofiron]

The duffers want you to think Steve is a loser for being a minimum wage king after saving the world multiple times. I think it’s very Buffy of him and I hope he actually gets a “worse” job.

[wormdebut]

Alright, who’s taking one for the team and writing the Enemies to Enemies who Fuck to Lovers, Rival Dance Crews Fic?

Steve being a choreographer makes me feel some type of way.

[superhell]

house is put in any situation where he needs to diagnose someone without his team and immediately starts drafting random people. and he thinks he doesnt need them

[evilhorse]

I still think “Judah’s Janitorial” has a snappy ring to it.

[aemondsbabe]

Give Me an O!

summary: billy walks in on you in a bit of a compromising situation, and you finally go after what you want

pairing: billy hargrove x cheerleader!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is very flexible, minor injury it's fine, piv sex, unprotected sex oopsy daisy, public sex technically, hand over mouth, fingering, breast/nipple play if you blink, dirty talk, reader's hair is long enough that she can have a ponytail but no other physical descriptors are used, billy is a himbo, steve harrington cameo

word count: 5k

a/n: finally getting around to a request from @sweetshifter! thank you for the idea bby & i hope ya enjoy! also, my first time writing for stranger things! yay! images in the header are for aesthetic purposes only!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @unwanted-animal

🖤 my masterlist

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Your best friend asks as she slings her gym bag over her shoulder, “I don’t mind staying a couple minutes.”

“Nah,” you shrug, still panting a little from practice as you lean to the side with a little sigh, stretching down toward your leg, “You go on, I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Alright, cool,” she chirps, glossy lips flicking up into that sincere, beaming smile that had become her signature, “Bye!” She calls over her shoulder as she turns, white tennis shoes thumping against the shiny wooden floor as your name echoes around the gym. 

“Bye, Chrissy!” You reply with a smile, glancing up as the heavy metal doors at the side of the room click closed, leaving you alone for the time being. 

With a tired huff, you check your watch, one that matched Chrissy’s exactly – gold with a baby pink face. You’d gotten them at the mall last summer, a joint birthday present. 

4:34pm.

A sigh leaves your lips as you lunge forward, hands planted firmly on your hips as you try to ignore the slight burn in your thigh. So, that’s… like, forty-five minutes until basketball practice starts, you think, eyes pointed up at the white metal ceiling as you do mental math, trying to figure out exactly how long you’ll have to work on your stretches. 

Deciding to give yourself a few more minutes before calling it a day, you breathe out steadily through your pursed lips as you switch sides and lunge forward again, savoring the light burn in your calf. After a fifteen second count, you move onto your hands and knees, needing to stretch out your back. 

You hum softly under your breath, one hand planted firmly against the blue tumbling mat beneath you as the other reaches back and grabs onto one of your ankles, your limbs forming a graceful arch above you. A small grunt leaves you as you pull your leg up as high as you can, before dropping it down and reaching back with your other hand to do the other side. Mid-pose, you swear you hear one of the gym doors click open, the one out to the hallway with the locker rooms and various storage closets judging by the direction, but you’re so focused on holding your pose, you honestly can’t be sure. 

Huffing, you decide to just ignore it – Probably just the janitor or something, you think, keeping your eyes focused, once again, on the white metal ceiling as you roll over onto your back. 

Breathing steadily, you let your eyes slip closed as you press both legs together before slowly lifting them up, using your hands and elbows to support your back as you lift onto your shoulders. Wincing slightly at the twinge of pain from your left one, you work through it, trying to keep your breath steady. As your green and gold cheer skirt pools at your waist, you silently pray that if it is a janitor, that it’s at least not the creepy one.

Slowly but surely, you work both legs up and over your head until the tips of your white sneakers press into the mat, your arms planted firmly onto the floor for support. 

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, you count silently, breathing a little shakily as you focus on balancing… and on ignoring your shoulder. 

Suddenly, a loud wolf-whistle cuts through the silence of the gym, punctuated by a few slow claps and the heavy footsteps of someone walking across the wooden gym floor. 

“Aah!” You squeak as you topple to the side, concentration thoroughly broken. Huffing, you prop yourself up on one elbow as your head snaps up, eyes already narrowed into an irritated glare. Upon seeing who it is, you can’t help but sneer.

“Can I help you, Hargrove?” You sigh, exasperated, rolling your eyes as you angle both legs out in a side split, determined to get through your stretches even with the added annoyance of Billy’s presence.

“Just admiring the view, princess,” he drawls, blue eyes trailing up the length of each of your spread legs in a way that makes your cheeks flush, “You’re real good at that, aren’t you?” He questions, plump lips quirked up into that signature, flirtatious smirk. 

“Good at what?” You ask, brows furrowing as you bend over to the left, easily grasping the toe of your tennis shoe as the muscles in your legs stretch into a taut, familiar ache. 

He chuckles at that, hands on his hips as he studies you, the spicy, woodsy smell of his cologne filling the space around you. He cocks his head to the side, pearly white teeth flashing every few seconds as he chews a piece of gum. 

“Stretching,” he all but purrs, golden curls blowing slightly from the large fans that hum loudly on the ceiling. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he ogles at you, watching carefully as you bend to the right, “I bet it’d be really easy to just fold you up like a pretzel, huh, sweets?” 

With a sigh, you finally let yourself relax for a moment and tilt your head up to look at the boy as you lean back on your hands, your ponytail swishing across your shoulder blades as you do. 

“In your dreams, Billy,” you murmur, trying to keep the expression on your face plaid, wholly uninterested, which is easier said than done. 

You don’t like Billy, and you’re very quick to correct anyone who says you do, even if it is just friendly teasing. But, well, there’s something about him that just draws people into his orbit – charisma combined with a certain mystique. You knew from talking to the girls in the locker room that he was a lady’s man, and a player, but from how they all talked about him, there appeared to be something more there, some hidden layer that no one had been able to crack yet. He’s different from the other boys in Hawkins, no small town charm to hide behind. 

Plus, come on, he’s gorgeous. You might not be Billy’s biggest fan but you have eyes. 

“Damn right, in my dreams,” he murmurs, pulling you from your thoughts as he draws out every syllable of your name in a low, husky tone, familiar smirk playing at his lips like always. 

Cocking your head, you narrow your eyes as you peer up at him, “Aren’t you going out with Amber now?”

“Wouldn’t exactly call it going out…,” he answers as he bends down on one knee to retie the laces of his shoe, shooting you a little wink as he does so. 

“Does Amber know that?”

He pauses at that, a little huff of laughter bubbling up from his chest as he fixes you with a grin that is much too self-satisfied for your liking. “Now, princess,” he starts slowly, blue eyes narrowing at you playfully as he rests a forearm across his knee, “Why do you care so much about what I’m doing with Amber?”

“She’s my friend, Billy,” you say, sitting up a little more, the chill from the AC units making the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“So, it’s definitely not because you’re, I dunno, jealous or anything?”

“No!” You cringe inwardly as you say it, too quick and too defensive and just what the blue eyed boy had been hoping for, judging by the smug grin plastered on his face. 

This is how it’s been between the two of you for months now, ever since his stupid Camaro had rumbled into the school’s parking lot way back in August. Since then, it’s been a whirlwind of teasing jokes, sitting through History class after History class as you feel those blue eyes practically boring a hole in the back of your head, and somehow mustering up the willpower to dodge his advances. 

In the nearly three months since his arrival, Billy had managed to charm his way through at least a handful of girls, maybe more depending on which rumors you listen to, but you are determined not to fall for it, not to be just another notch on his bedpost. 

Which would be a lot easier if he’d leave you the hell alone. 

Flustered, you pull your knees up, tucking your chin over top of them as your arms wrap around your calves, silently rolling your eyes as Billy drops to the blue tumbling mat, rolling onto his back with a satisfied sigh, making it clear to you that he was here to stay. 

“Why’re you here so early, anyway?” You question, glancing at your watch once more, “Basketball practice isn’t for, like, another half hour.” 

“Had to drop my stupid step-sister off at some trash arcade,” he grunts, annoyed, “Didn’t wanna waste the gas to go all the way home, plus…,” he pauses, tilting his head to the side to slyly grin at you once more, “I figured I might get here early enough to catch the end of cheer practice.” 

“Creep,” you scoff, much more playfully than you’d intended to. 

The two of you fall into a, surprisingly, comfortable beat of silence. You let your eyes trail over Billy as his own droop shut, one arm propped behind his head as he lazes on the gym mat, jaw clenching every so often as he works the gum in his mouth. You start at his feet, taking in the faded black canvas material of his Converse before you let your eyes roam up his long, tanned, muscular legs. Finally, you reach the familiar dark green shade of his school-branded shorts and your eyes wander up the expanse of his stomach and chest, covered by the grey t-shirt he wears, the familiar eyes of Hawkins High’s tiger mascot staring blankly into your own. 

You nearly gasp as your eyes trail up to his face again, only to find his steely eyes already looking at you, a knowing smirk etched into his face as you feel the apples of your cheeks flush. 

“It’s rude to stare, princess,” Billy drawls, catching you red handed.

“And it’s not rude to perv on me stretching?” 

“Never said it wasn’t,” he shrugs with a little chuckle, sitting up and resting one forearm on a bent knee. You merely roll your eyes as he studies you for a second, the blush on your cheeks deepening enough that you can feel the slight tingle of blood rushing under the surface. 

“Whatever,” you sigh, shaking your head as you stretch your legs out in front of you again. You stretch forward again, letting out a breath as you grab at your ankles and try to ignore the way Billy sits up, propping his forearm up on a bent knee. 

“Could you, like, put your legs behind your head and all that?” 

“Probably,” you say with a little eye roll. 

“Will you?”

“Not for you!” 

The two of you carry on like that for a moment longer — you working through various stretches and familiar yoga poses as Billy seems overly curious about each one, questioning if you can twist into all kinds of poses. 

“Can you do a handstand and do the splits?” He questions, grinning when you groan in frustration, eyes trailing up your long legs to the bottom of your short cheer skirt. 

With a huff, you stand with one hand on your hip, the other pinching at the bridge of your nose as Billy’s incessant questions throw you off the silent count in your head again.

“Did you want something or are you just trying fuck me over?” 

“Mmm, close, princess,” the blond teases, earning another glare from you. Playfully, he holds his hands up in surrender, “You’re single, aren’t you?” He asks, smirking triumphantly at the way you balk.

“I’m not talking about this with you, Hargrove.”

His smirk widens when you don’t deny it, blue eyes darkening as they travel over the length of your body once more. “Look, all I’m saying is that the guys talk in the locker room and… well, I can’t help but notice that your pretty name just doesn’t come up.”

“Maybe I have better things to do than put out for you assholes,” you smirk, quickly stretching out your problem shoulder before kneeling back on the tumbling mat, meaning to finish up with a couple quick pushups.

Undeterred, Billy merely matches your smirk with one of his own, watching as you kneel next to him. “Just come with me to Harrington’s Halloween party next weekend, sweetness,” he offers, his voice a low rumble, “Come on, a couple hours, some drinks. Hell, I’ll even dress up with you, whatever you want.”

“Hmm,” you hum, taking a second to tighten your ponytail as you shoot him a playful little smile, “Whatever I want, huh?” 

“Name it,” he says lowly, watching appreciatively as you get on all fours. 

“Okay, how about…,” you stall, drawing out your words as you extend your legs behind you, grunting softly as your shoulder zings with pain once more, “Willie and Indiana Jo– Ah!” You cut yourself off, exclaiming in pain as you land with a small thud on the mat, wincing. 

“Whoa, hey,” Billy says softly, scrambling onto his knees, brows furrowed as he gingerly helps you roll over onto your back, “You okay?”

You nod, glancing away with a little embarrassed huff as you rub at your shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I just probably sprained it earlier during practice or something.”

“Lemme take a look at it,” he says, offering a hand to help you up.

Not expecting such chivalrous behavior from Hargrove of all people, you only nod dumbly and let him pull you up off the mat, chest heaving.

“Here,” he murmurs, gently nudging at your arm until you turn your back to him. You can hear the tumbling mat crinkle as he steps closer to you, the warmth from his chest practically radiating through his t-shirt as the spicy musk of his cologne seems to envelope you once again. 

“You better not be using this as an excuse to feel me up,” you warn, albeit playfully, pulling your ponytail over the opposite shoulder. 

“In your dreams,” he teases, goosebumps peppering your skin from the low way he says your name and from the gentle brush of his fingers over the back of your arm as they trail their way up to your shoulder. 

He’s silent for a moment, carefully pressing warm, slightly rough fingers against your skin, watching until you wince just slightly when he pokes at your shoulder blade. “That’s where it hurts?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, lips parting ever so slightly as he kneads around the area. You can practically feel him smirking when you sigh a moment later, his fingers working perfectly over the sore muscle as his other hand anchors itself at your hip, “You’re… actually, like, really good at this,” you murmur with a little laugh, needing to find some way to break the silence. 

“My mom is – was, she was a masseuse, back when we lived in Cali,” Billy explains, leaning in closer, his lips all but brushing against your ear as he speaks softly, like he’s telling you some deep, dark secret, “I might’ve looked at one or two of her books.” 

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowing as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.

“Sue me, I was thirteen and they had nudes in ‘em,” he chuckles, biting into his bottom lip when your breathy laugh morphs into a moan when he presses just right against your shoulder. The fingers of his other hand tighten on your hip as he pulls you back against him, his lips just barely grazing over the crook of your neck, “But I still picked up a thing or two.”

“Clearly,” you breathe, brows tugging together as you tilt your head to the side, an open invitation. The blond doesn’t need any more convincing and you let your eyes flutter shut as his lips descend upon your neck, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin. 

The rise and fall of your chest grows shallow as the two of you seem to lose yourselves; you gasp as the hand on your hip trails down over your thigh, until Billy can drag the tips of his fingers beneath the white and gold hem of your pleated skirt just as the hand on your shoulder begins slowly moving around your ribs, to your front. Despite the AC units humming away, you can’t help but feel flush as he presses himself against you, already half-hard against the small of your back. 

With a gasp, you jerk away from him at the sound of a door opening and closing in the hallway, muffled voices and laughter filtering in through the closed doors of the gym. 

“Dammit,” Billy mumbles behind you as he quickly glances at the clock hanging above one of the exits, sighing disappointedly when he sees the time – fifteen minutes until practice. 

Deciding to finally give in to the wants you’ve been harboring for months, you grab one of his hands and playfully bite your lip, nodding to one of the sets of gym doors, “Follow me.” 

Smirking, he follows behind you as you quickly make your way to the doors, both of you pausing for a second to make sure the coast is clear before you bolt down the hallway. A second later, you’re pushing Billy through a door into a random classroom.

“This is the old Health room,” you explain, gasping as he turns and presses you against the old door, the metal of it cool against your back as you quickly scan over the empty room, dim other than the early evening light spilling in through the thin slats of the blinds, “No one ever comes in here.”

“Uh huh, fascinating,” he nods, turning his head to spit his gum into a small trash can by the door, before eagerly pressing his lips to yours. He smirks into the kiss as you mewl, his lips parting to quickly swallow the sweet sounds you make.  

Always one to give as good as you get, your lips move against his just as fervently, both of your hands trailing up underneath his t-shirt as you rub over his stomach, muscles taut under your touch. His tongue slips into your mouth in the same second he presses against you, his thin gym shorts doing nothing to conceal the hardness of his length as it presses against your lower stomach. 

You arch into his touch as his hands cup your breasts through your uniform, a low growl rumbling through his chest as you rake your nails over his chest and down his stomach. Boldly, you reach down and palm at his cock, savoring the surprised grunt he lets out before you quickly nudge your hand down the front of his shorts and into his boxers. 

“Shit,” he breathes, one hand still kneading at your breast as the other skates back up your thigh, his forehead resting against yours. Biting your lip, you watch through hooded eyes as you experimentally stroke over his cock, marveling at how hard he already is, like velvet over steel. 

Just as you feel him twitch in your grasp, the blond pulls away from you with a teasing grin and presses one last kiss against your lips before tapping the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. 

“Fuck, there you go,” Billy rasps, fingers digging into the curve of your ass as you clamber up into his arms, your shoulder only barely smarting as you wrap your arms around his neck. “I gotcha,” his muscular biceps flex as he quickly walks a few feet from the door and deposits on you on top of the, thankfully barren, teacher’s desk pushed haphazardly into the corner. 

“Billy,” you sigh, the sound being practically pushed from your lungs as he presses himself back between your thighs, cheer skirt rumbled around your waist as he all but folds you in half – your hands cling to his shirt desperately, one leg wrapped securely around his hip as the other ends up slung nearly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, princess?” He taunts with a wolfish grin, smirking at the way the muscles of your thigh twitch as his fingers move toward your pussy, hardly hidden beneath your boyshorts. You all but levitate off the desk as two of his fingers swipe over your slit, the apples of your cheeks flushing when he chuckles triumphantly, the thin cotton doing nothing to hide how wet you are. “Finally gonna give me what I want?”

You can feel your ponytail bobbing wildly at the crown of your head when you nod, a whiny moan blooming from your lips when he moves his fingers in tight circles against your clit, the flimsy material of your underwear quickly dampening against his touch. 

“Yeah, yeah, Billy,” your hands tremble as you pull at his t-shirt, desperate for what you’ve been wanting for so long, “C’mon, please!”

“Easy, tiger,” he laughs, tongue running over his bottom lip as he easily tugs his shirt over his head, your own hands scrambling to push down your boyshorts. Taking mercy on you yet again, he helps you, eagerly tugging the white cotton down your legs. He damn near tears them in two as he pushes your underwear over one sneaker, letting them dangle from your ankle. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, crowding against you again as you lean back on the desk, propped up on your elbows. You stare up at him, lips parted, as he all but folds you in half, warm hands pressing against the backs of your thighs, “Fucking leaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Oh!” You hiss, trying your hardest to keep your voice down, head thudding back against the desk as Billy quickly tugs his shorts down, just enough to get his cock out, and teasingly runs it through your folds, “Billy, oh my God, just do it!” You all but beg, teeth biting into your bottom lip at the wet sounds of him moving against you, deafeningly loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

Were you anywhere else, Billy would have absolutely no qualms about teasing you to within an inch of your life – payback for playing cat and mouse with him for almost three months straight. Lucky for you, he’s just as nervous at the thought of getting caught with his pants down as you are, shuddering to think what Neil would do if he got expelled over this. 

With a barely contained growl, he pushes into you, his cock sliding easily to the hilt with how wet you are. Your back arches off the desk as he slides home, stretching you beautifully as he fills you completely.

“Oh – oh my God,” you breathe as he stills, giving you a few seconds to adjust. Your hands scramble over the smooth top of the desk before you grab onto his wrists as his hands hook behind your knees. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans – the way he grumbles your name makes your walls clench around his length, punching another grunt from his chest as he starts shallowly thrusting against you, grinding his hips against yours. 

The two of you dissolve into a flurry of breathy mewls and sighs, each of you desperately trying to keep quiet as the muffled sounds of skin against skin and the dull creaking of the desk fill the room. Your eyelids flutter as you watch Billy above you, golden curls bouncing with each of his thrusts as a light sheen of sweat covers his tanned chest. 

Grunting lowly, he presses harder against the backs of your thighs, practically pressing your kneecaps against the desk below you, blue eyes sparkling as you easily follow his movements. With the small change in angles, the head of his cock thrusts perfectly against that sensitive spot within you, and he grins triumphantly as you tremble beneath him. 

“That the spot, princess?” He questions, smirking when you nod your head with a little broken squeak, “Fuck, I can’t wait to get you in a bed – bet you can bend in all kinds of pretty ways, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, Billy,” you agree, willing to agree to just about anything as long as he keeps moving. You can hardly contain the moans spilling from your lips as he works you higher and higher, the adrenaline from the possibility of getting caught as well as the rush of finally having him making you rush toward your end faster than you normally would. 

Breathing heavily as your pussy clenches at his cock, he lets go of one of your thighs and shoves your shirt up, unceremoniously taking your bra with it. You bite at the back of one hand as he teases at your breasts, using one hand to pinch and pull at one nipple before moving to the other as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. 

“O-Oh, my – fuck, I’m –” You moan brokenly, squirming beneath him as you feel yourself nearing the edge, teeth biting desperately into your bottom lip as you claw at his forearm and waist. 

Cockily licking over his lips, Billy leans forward as he grinds against you, his hips putting pressure on your clit as he covers your mouth with one hand, propping himself up against the desk with an elbow as his other still grasps at the back of your knee. 

You squeeze him tightly as the tail end of his happy trail rubs deliciously over you, giving you just enough stimulation to throw you over the edge. 

“Yeah, princess,” he encourages, grunting with nearly every thrust into you as he feels you clenching around him, pushing him further and further toward his own edge as he clenches his jaw, determined to hang on as long as possible. 

After only a few more thrusts, he quickly pulls out with a small groan. “Fuck, fuck,” he pants, chest heaving as he strokes his cock, painting your lower belly with stripes of his release.

Both of you still for a moment, breathing heavily as you each come down. Half expecting Billy to simply get dressed again and leave, you’re surprised when he softly kisses you, more relaxed this time, as his warm breath fans over your cheek. Dazedly, you kiss him back, your lips moving together unhurriedly as you card your fingers through the sweat-damp curls at the nape of his neck. 

After a moment, you part and your lips quirk up into a shy smile as he moves back half a step, giving you enough room to sit up. 

“Oh, uh,” you breathe, looking down when you feel his cum cooling against your skin. Glancing around the room, you pout a little when you don’t see any tissues or paper towels, “There’s paper towels in the locker room?” You offer, looking over at Billy, watching as he quickly tugs his shorts back into place. 

“I got it,” he says with a small smirk and before you have time to question what he means, he quickly tugs your underwear off your ankle and uses them to wipe at your skin, grinning meanly when you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Jackass!” You exclaim, laughing softly despite yourself, “That’s the only pair I have with me!”

“Nothing wrong with going commando, sweetness,” he says with a wink, chuckling when you wrinkle your nose at the thought while you pull your bra and shirt back into place, “Come back to my place and I’ll was ‘em for you, my parents don’t get back until late, anyway.” 

“You just want a round two,” you laugh, hopping off the desk and straightening out your skirt the best you can before running your hands over your hair, trying to smooth out your ponytail. 

“Told you I was gonna fold you up all pretty,” Billy smirks, crowding against you yet again once he tugs his shirt back on and lightly grasping at your jaw, “Something tells me you won’t have a problem with that either.”

“That’s presumptuous, don’t you think?” 

“Sure, yeah, I dunno what that means, princess,” he says, grinning when you laugh, your hands pressed against his chest as he quickly tucks your boyshorts into the waistband of his shorts, “Just come back to my place, hm?”

“What about basketball practice? Jason hates when people ditch.”

“You really think I give a shit about what Carver wants?” Billy laughs, taking one of your hands in his as he makes his way toward the door.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you finally agree, rolling your eyes playfully as you let him pull you out into the hall.

“And come with me to the Halloween party?”

“You have quite a list of demands, Hargrove.”

“Hey,” he says with a little shrug, glancing at you as you walk side by side toward the locker rooms, “That’s what you get for teasing me.”

You merely giggle as the two of you round a corner, nearly freezing and nervously glancing over at Billy when you come across Steve, chest heaving as he leans over a water fountain. 

Standing straight, he wipes at his lips with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes at Billy, watching as he quickly scoops up his duffle bag from where he’d tossed it down earlier in the hallway. “Dude, why’re you leaving? You’re almost, like, half an hour late for practice.”

“Yeah, well, tell Carver something came up,” the blond boy huffs dismissively before taking your hand once more. You shoot a bashful smile at Steve, blushing as you and Billy walk toward the doors out to the parking lot. 

Behind you, Steve takes a minute to connect the dots, brows furrowing as he plants his hands on his hips. After a second, his eyes widen and he shakes his head. 

“Come on, at school?” He calls down the hallway, shaking his head as you and Billy laugh, “Fucking animals, man.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[transmunsons]

Eddie doing a deal with Steve at that picnic table after school. Eddie’s on his second senior year and pissed off about it. He’s trying to be cordial to Harrington, but he keeps remembering how the basketball team messes with his Hellfire kids.

So he up charges him, gets a little petty revenge; he’s sure Harrington can afford it anyway. The extra money can go toward Eddie’s T payments.

Something rustles in the woods and Harrington freezes, listening. Some kind of wet, furless animal jumps out of the trees in a blur.

Before Eddie can react, Harrington grabs his hand and pulls him up, heading to the closest sanctuary, the high school. Eddie’s freaking out. They run into the building, and Harrington pulls them into the janitors closet. He lunges to the back, reaching for a mop, but Eddie hears a wet skittering in the hallway and slams the door shut. Harrington whips around at the noise and the sudden darkness. Eddie holds his breath until the creature passes.

“What the fuck is out there?” He hisses at Harrington. The closet is cramped and the floor is littered with cleaning supplies. They're right up on top of one another in the small space. “This is crazy, this is so fucking crazy—”

“Calm down!” Harrington hisses back, closer than he expects, breath brushing against Eddie's cheek.

“Calm? Why are you calm, what's wrong with you?” Eddie's heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might burst out of his chest. He can't breathe. “We just almost got attacked by some fuckin' thing!” He flutters his hands to emphasize 'thing' though Steve probably can't see it in the dark. He smacks a shelf.

“I've seen something like it before, it's some kind of demogorgon.” Harrington says. Eddie splutters. The king of Hawkins High just made a DnD reference.

“How do you—that is not a demogorgon, Harrington! Demogorgons don't exist and even if they did, they don't look like that!”

“Hey, you asked and I answered. And my name is Steve.” He reaches around Eddie and tries the door handle. He's practically hugging him.

Steve swears and flicks on the light switch, illuminating the closet. “It's stuck.”

Eddie can see Steve's face properly now in all its glory. The overhead bulb gleams off Steve's stupidly long eyelashes. He almost wants to turn the light back off. His breathing is still restricted.

“Guess we're trapped in here until somebody comes by.” Steve says.

Eddie balks at the thought of being stuck with Steve in close quarters for so long. “No we're not, just gimme a second.”

Eddie shoves a hand up under his Dio shirt so he can pull his bindings a little away from his chest.

“What are you doing?” Steve sounds alarmed. His eyes are wide.

“Don't get excited,” Eddie winks because apparently he has a death wish, “just need to breathe. Get me a flathead screwdriver. The door opens inward.”

Steve snaps his fingers and points at him, “Right, the hinges!” He turns around to rustle through the shelves, which Eddie, uh, doesn’t mind. Goddamn.

He faces Eddie again with a flathead in his hands and a triumphant look. Eddie grabs it with a ‘thanks’ and goes to work prying pins out of the hinges. He can feel Steve watching him. Eddie gets the door loose and shoves it open, catching it so it doesn’t make noise.

Steve stalks past him wielding a mop like a weapon.

“Where are you going?” Eddie stage whispers.

Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie, hair artfully falling out of place. “I’ve gotta find that thing, I’m not gonna let it roam the school.”

Eddie looks at Steve, looks back at the exit, looks down at the tile floor.

“Shit.”

He follows.

[oneforthemunny]

​​janitor!eddie is always leaving an apple on teacher!reader’s desk every morning.

he gets there early before her to do some extra maintenance- the school had given him a raise to do both so they wouldn’t have to hire someone else. it started as a joke between you two. eddie grinned when you’d brought an apple to lunch one day, playful glint in his eye. “an apple a day, huh?” he asked.

steve snorted. “that’s a doctor, munson.” he rolled his eyes.

you shrugged, biting into your apple. “I like apples, ok?” you giggled. “guess I was made to be a teacher, huh? the stereotype doin’ it for you?”

eddie couldn’t stop smiling. so every day, when he’d stop at the gas station by the trailer park, he’d get his usual pack of camels and an apple. he’d place it on your desk, scribbling on a spare piece of paper a little note that left you blushing when you’d find it.

he’d pass by your classroom, catching your eyes when you’d see him, smiling and nodding towards your apple. later, when he’d take you out, you’d kiss him sweetly on the cheek. “thanks for the apple.” you’d mutter. “it was delicious.” you’d let your bottom lip graze over his cheek, sending a hot blush down his neck and cheeks.

eddie wanted that reaction always, so he’d bring you apple after apple, proudly propping them on your desk each day with a little note.

‘you’re the apple of my eye, sweetheart. have a good day. -ed’

you’d giggle, tucking them into your purse. you’d saved everyone, reading them later when you missed him, heart fluttering in your chest.

one day, eddie walks into his ‘office’- a storage closet with a chair and an old desk, a rack to hang his jacket. there where he put his lunch pail was a small tin of hand balm, ‘for working hands’ it read.

eddie’s heart swelled. he’d complained about the blisters and callouses from working at the school mixed with his guitar making his hands rough, the cold cracking them and making them bleed. when he held his hand in yours, you’d ran a finger over the cracked, raw skin with a sympathetic pout.

eddie picked up the tin, the best folded card on top reading:

‘a little of this cream keeps the callouses away (or that’s what the store clerk told me). hope this helps you my hard working man. xoxo’

eddie slipped it into his front pocket, a dopey grin on his face. he dug his fingers into the balmy substance, rubbing it over his hands before reaching into his lunch pail, grabbing the shiny, red apple out and starting towards your class room.

[plistommy]

Alpha!Eddie being the town’s freak but having the biggest knot out there. Omega!Steve who really wants to take it, but is also irritated by the alpha…

Cue to a hard and loud hate-sex in the school’s janitors closet where Steve gets knotted and feels so full he keeps begging for the alpha to mark him, forgetting all about the hate he has for the man as his omega yearns for the alpha.

And oh does both Eddie and his alpha really fucking want to make the omega his.

[sadesluvr]

Can we get some fluff or smut hc of janitor! Steve Raglan and femreader for when it snows on campus and Reader has a hard time staying warm? Its cold af rn and the weather has me thinking..Anywho, Pretty please and thank you!!

A/N: Thank you for the ask, I thought this was pretty cute! Not fem specific so this can be applied to anyone. No warnings, just fluff ahead :)

Steve lived a longgg time ago (not that long but yk) and I don't imagine him to be very rich, so he knows a little something about having to cut corners and cheat the system

He sees you bringing out your warmest sweaters, biggest blankets and taking trips to the thrift store to see what you can find, it kinda makes him sad but he thinks it's cute tbh

As always with Steve it starts off with the small things, knocking on your door to see if you need a hot water bottle

Checking your heating and giving unsolicited (but needed) advice on thermals and flooring...Boring shit, but he just likes being around you

It's a give and take relationship, he helps you and you always offer him coffee

Sometimes he brings you your favourite drink in the mornings/late at night while he asks about your day

Making jokes about you having 'cold hands, warm heart'. You laugh it off and mention something about wearing gloves and he's like 'Noo you can't be mean, you're too sweet :3' DUMB CUTE SHIT TO MAKE YOU LAUGH

Not a warm hc but I can imagine him building a snowman/something out of snow and telling you to look out the window see it in the morning...He's a goofy dad at heart

Bringing you dinner!! I imagine he eats shitty tv meals or sandwiches (bc he can't cook that well) so once in a while he brings takeout

Would totally buy you a heater if you asked. He only spends money on himself so he's dying to spoil you

'Cuddling'/ 'There's only one blanket' trope - Sharing the couch with him whilst you watch TV or whatever. He's a big guy and he radiates alot of heat naturally

If you like the idea of him with a dad bod he's DEFINITELY warm and cosy 👀

Bringing you his old jumpers and sweats to wear

POSSIBLY inviting you to his one night, because he has a 'fireplace' - He does, but that's not the only reason ;)

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Copy that

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 3

Prompts: Lingerie & Sneaking Around

Words: 1,273

Rated: E

Tags: Office AU; Janitor Eddie; Junior Boss Steve; Secret Relationship; Semi-public sex; Steve in lingerie; Groping; Manhandling; Dirty talk; Dry humping; Inappropriate treatment of office equipment

Notes: Set in the same universe as this one

Eddie can tell what kind of day it'll be the second he walks into the office. Chrissy looks up from the files she's organizing on the reception desk and smiles ruefully.

“Hey, Eddie,” she calls. “Good thing you're here. The copy machine on the second floor is broken.”

“Jesus,” Eddie groans as he hands over her usual styrofoam cup of coffee. “It isn’t even nine yet and there’s another copier literally one floor above that. Did that not occur to those corporate dumbfucks?” 

She giggles and draws a breath to reply, but is interrupted by the phone on her desk ringing. 

“I bet that's Steve again,” she sighs.

Eddie’s stomach does a weird little flip. 

“Harrington Junior? I thought he was in New York this week.” 

She shrugs. “His conference got canceled. Listen, can you go check on this? I don't know why he needs those copies so urgently, but this is the fourth time he's called about it.”

As he steps into the elevator, Eddie wonders why he keeps putting up with this shit. He isn't being paid enough to deal with entitled tie-wearers who think the entire universe revolves around them. 

The second floor is still mostly empty, only a few miserable employees settling into their cubicles. At the sound of Eddie’s boots thudding closer, Steve steps out of the copying room, frowning and flushed pink with annoyance. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie says. “I’m here now, aint’ I? No need to get your panties in a twist.” 

“Finally,” he snaps. “Do you have any idea for how long I’ve-”

Something twitches across Steve’s face, something that looks suspiciously like a smirk, but it’s gone as quick as it came as he grabs Eddie by the elbow to steer him into the copying room. 

While Steve clicks the door shut behind them, Eddie walks over to the copier. He peeps into the gap between the machine and the wall, sighs, and bends down to retrieve the pulled plug. 

“Seriously?” he asks. “Again? You need to start coming up with new excuses, because this is getting-” 

And that's as far as he gets before two large hands shove him against the machine and a warm, slick tongue pushes past his lips. Eddie hums a half-hearted protest and tries to pull out of the kiss, but Steve growls and grabs his face in both hands to hold him in place. The copier rattles as he wedges a leg between Eddie’s thighs. 

“Woah, princess,” Eddie gasps as those lips leave his mouth, blazing a hot trail down his jaw and throat. A look towards the door reveals three large cartons of paper stacked in front of it, but he doubts they'll withstand one or two hearty pushes. “Hold on. There's people out there, anyone could-”

“Better make it quick then,” Steve says, breath leaving warm puffs against the hollow of his throat. The seams of Eddie’s overalls groan dangerously as he yanks them off his shoulders. “If you'd have been here sooner, we wouldn't be in this situation. Now c’mon, or are you scared?” 

Eddie growls. Steve’s self-satisfied grin only serves to fuel his rage as he spins them both around and bends him over the copier. 

“I'll show you scared, you little brat,” he says, nudging Steve's legs apart and pinning his arms behind his back with one hand, the other opening his expensive leather belt with practiced motions. He bends and bites down at the base of that long neck, just long enough to feel Steve’s answering moan rattle in his own chest, then straightens back up and yanks Steve’s dress pants down in one violent motion. 

And then he freezes. 

Lace.

Steve Harrington's glorious ass is covered in shiny, delicate lace. It stretches over it in a pattern of pretty flowers and little hearts, golden skin and dark moles shining through the see-through fabric. 

It is red. 

Jesus Christ on a fucking motorbike. 

“What's the matter?” Steve asks. He's craning his neck to take in Eddie’s reaction, face unbearably smug and flushed as red as the lace of his panties. “You planning on doing something or are you just gonna stand there and catch flies?” 

“You might wanna get going soon,” Steve singsongs. “There’s people out there, y’know?” 

He rolls his hips, grinding his ass against the rapidly growing bulge in Eddie’s overalls. His pants slip further down as he does. There's garters. Red, lacy garters hugging thick, muscled thighs and Eddie is not going to survive, is he?

“Oh my God, you're such a slut,” Eddie mutters, and surges in. Steve moans again as he fists a hand into the hair at the base of his neck, pushing him face-first onto the copier. Eddie has a fleeting thought that it's simultaneously lucky and a pity that the thing isn't plugged in because man, those copies would be something to look at. 

“God, baby,” he growls, yanking Steve’s head up by the hair, forcing his back into an obscene arch. “You're gonna kill me one day, you know that?” 

“Hope not,” Steve gasps, fingers digging into the edge of the machine for dear life. Glass creaks and metal rattles as Eddie rocks his hips, grinding their bodies together. “I really like your cock.” 

Eddie laughs, the words igniting a firework of want low in his abdomen. Steve shivers under him as he blankets him with his weight, pressing him down against the hard surface of the machine so that he can whisper right into his ear. 

“Oh, yeah? That what you want, princess? Well, be my guest. I’m gonna stuff you so full, you’ll feel it all day. You gonna walk out of this room and back to your stupid meetings, and all you’ll be able to think of is how good it felt, getting fucked by me. How all you wanna do is go back and take my cock again, you greedy little-” 

“Steve? You in there? What is wrong with the door?” 

Steve is out from under him and on his way to the door before Eddie manages to fully process his shock. 

“Hold on a sec, Tommy! I think it’s stuck.” 

Steve smiles while he pulls up his pants and fixes his hair, like he has all the time in the world. Eddie is so busy bemoaning the loss of the panties and garters that it takes him a second to remember his own disheveled state. He has hardly shrugged back into his overall sleeves and pulled the zipper up when Steve shoves the boxes out of the way and Hagan from Sales stomps into the room, a stack of papers in hand and a scowl on his face. 

“Oh, sorry,” Steve says, full of genuine regret. “The copier’s broken. Eddie and I were just looking into it.” 

Steve shrugs exasperatedly. “I know, right? Looks like someone needs a refresher course on how to treat company property.” 

“Man, does anything in this company work?” Hagan grumbles, stalking past Eddie to flip open the lid of the machine. “Who the fuck did this? There’s cracks all over the place!”

Hagan groans, slamming the lid shut and turning back towards the door. “Whatever, I’m using the one upstairs. Oh, by the way, your dad wants you in his office. Something about New York?” 

“On it,” Steve calls after him. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

As he brushes past Eddie and out of the door, he shoots him a coy smile. “I guess we'll need to conclude this meeting later. Come to my office around lunch?” 

Eddie really, really isn't getting paid enough for this shit. Luckily, the job comes with other benefits. 

More smutty September

[msmk11]

Are They Gone?

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

WC: 593

CW: none

Summary: You and Wanda, your longtime crush, are sent on a mission together.

Day 27 of mk’s mad dash

The mission, in theory, is simple. Get in, steal the data, get out. No one needs to get hurt. But for you, the mission is very very complicated. Why? Because you’re partnered with your crush of over a year- AKA the Scarlet Witch, AKA Wanda Maximoff. In group settings, you’re fine around Wanda. But as soon as you’re left alone, you forget to act like a regular, normal human being. You think Steve’s done this as payback for eating his last cookie the other day.

Natasha says you should be thrilled to have some quality one-on-one time with your crush. She seems to forget you’re not a natural flirt like her.

The first of half the mission goes well, though you suppose it’d be hard for it to go wrong- traveling on a private jet doesn’t typically have many difficulties. And the ones you did face- being in close proximity to Wanda- were handled with the disguise of sleep.

When you land, you and Wanda instantly set off to the office you’re supposed to infiltrate, both dressed in janitor’s clothing. The brunette’s magic gets you in the back door without detection easily enough, and the map you previously memorized plays out in your head as you guide the two of you to the enemy’s data storage units.

It seems that things are going perfectly, and so in your gut you know that something must go wrong. Something always goes wrong.

You’re right, but not in the way you think.

As you and Wanda round the corner on the sixteenth floor, the distinct voice of the enemy organization’s leader echoes through the tiled hall. You both know you’ll be recognized immediately, and panic settles into your chest. It’s quickly replaced with confusion, however, when Wanda grabs you by the wrist and yanks you into a cramped, dark place.

The janitor’s closet.

“Pretty good hiding spot,” the witch mumbles softly.

She’s so close to you that you can feel her breath fan across your face, and you shiver.

“I suppose we fit right in with the mop,” you agree.

A chuckle escapes Wanda’s lips and you can easily imagine the sparkle you’re sure is twinkling in her eye.

Just the thought of her pretty smile makes you nervous, and you instinctively step back. This, it seems, is a poor choice, given the close quarters you’re in. You stumble right into a shelf, and with enough force that a few cleaning supplies come tumbling towards the ground.

Yet again, the brunette in front of you saves your ass, her red magic suspending the fallen objects in place and one of her hands wrapping around your waist to steady you.

Though you’re always mesmerized by Wanda’s magic, as she puts the supplies back, all you can focus on is her burning touch.

“Gotta be careful, sweetheart,” she chastises gently, “could get caught, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Your heart stills in your chest. It almost seems like she cares for you.

You clear your throat awkwardly and shake away the silly notion, “are they gone?”

You expect Wanda’s eyes to glow red while she surveys the hall with her mind, but nothing happens. Instead, she squeezes your waist more tightly and murmurs, “I don’t care about them right now. Only care about you.”

The brunette leans closer to you and you inhale sharply.

“Can’t give up the moment to have a pretty girl in my arms.”

As usual, Wanda leaves you totally speechless. But hey, it’s not like you could argue with that.