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starsinthesky5 · 2 months ago

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dating joe burrow (headcannons) || joe burrow x reader

description: little things about you and joe’s relationship 💗💗

a/n: this was a request I got! (request can be found here) i haven’t tried this before so im feeling it out :) the fact that it took me the whole week to write this is wild 😭 let me know if you guys like this or have any thoughts, ideas, whatever 💗

side note- almost had a heart attack because i thought none of this saved. this is what i get for writing directly in my tumblr drafts and not google docs first like usual

word count: 4.1 k

warnings: allusions to smut

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he’s a total gentleman. he's always opening your doors for you, carrying your bags, and you never have to ask him to. he just does it on his own, it was a sweet unspoken rule. he says that he knows you’re incredibly capable of doing things on your own and he loves that about you, but he says you always deserve ‘the princess treatment’ and no princess should ever break a sweat or struggle with anything

he’s always holding your hand when you two are walking together. he hated when you couldn't hold hands because it made him feel far away from you (even if you were right next to him). holding your soft hand, running his thumb along your soft skin, and having your fingers intertwined was the best feeling in the world for joe

when you're out on the streets, he's always watching out for anything you might step on or walk into such as puddles, uneven surfaces, or grates where your heel may get caught in. you joked that he was like your personal bodyguard, and he took on that role and title proudly. he said that guarding you was a more important job than being a quarterback for a billion-dollar franchise--that's how much he cared for you

he wasn’t a big touchy-feely guy, but with you? with you it was a completely different story. his hands were always on you, his lips were always pressing sweet kisses around some part of your body, and he was so addicted to you. when he was with you, touching you was all he could think about and when he wasn't with you, he was always fantasizing about the next time he was

he loves kissing your neck. sometimes a little roughly to leave a few pretty marks so 'everyone knew who you belonged to' but sometimes very sweetly & gently. so many sweet kisses. his soft lips left no part of your body untouched. he was so soft around you compared to the way he was around friends, his teammates, and family. the second it was just the two of you, he became a little baby--your little baby--and was the most precious thing on the planet

you two could be watching a movie on the couch and somehow his head would end up in the crook of your neck, all his focus on kissing your soft skin instead of what was happening on the TV screen

this would happen when you were trying to finish up some stuff for work too. you would be typing away on your computer and he'd be sitting next to you, so bored and in need of attention from you. he'd start pressing light kisses around your collarbone, and then move up your neck, his kisses getting rougher and more alluring. next thing you knew, your computer was on the floor along with a pile of both your clothes

he loves it when you thread your fingers through his soft hair while he lays his head on your chest, which he also loves. he loved laying his head on your chest because something about hearing your heartbeat made him feel safe, feel at peace. his arms always wrapped around your middle and his cheek was always squished against your breasts. he just adored it--maybe even for a few other reasons too ;). seeing him like that after a hard day at practice or after a rigorous workout brought you so much satisfaction. you made him feel like that. he didn't need anything else to make him feel like that, just you. it was that simple

he’s always giving you his full attention when you’re talking. it’s like you’re the only person in the room for him. you two could be on the sidelines of paycor right before kickoff, surrounded by thousands of fans and football players, but you’re the only person he’d be able to see and hear. the rest of the world disappears around him whenever he hears your pretty voice

your family love love loves joe.

initially, when you told them you were seeing someone and that someone was joe burrow, they didn’t believe you. they couldn’t believe that you bagged a football player, specifically the star quarterback, and you were slightly offended for a second but their initial reaction made the look on their faces even more enjoyable when you brought joe to your hometown for the first time with no warning

joe was so nervous to meet your family, it was honestly so cute. he was so quiet and trying to keep calm the entire way to your parents' house. joe was the most confidant person and the most shy person you knew. the cool guy persona he sported every game day was there, but so was the adorable little shy baby that got in his head about things sometimes. he just wanted to be perfect for your family, wanted to show that he was the right man for their perfect & special daughter

your family loved him as soon as they saw him carefully help you out of his car, holding your hand tightly, and leading you to the front door all while making sure that your dress wasn't showing too much because of how intense the wind was that day. he was an absolute gentleman for you, and they loved that

he hit it off with your family within 10 minutes of being at your house, it was insane. he had so much in common with your siblings and even had great conversations with your parents. there was no silence in the house that day because everything was just constantly flowing naturally

he was most anxious around your dad but all of his nerves disappeared once he called joe out to the porch for a drink after dinner. joe thought he was about to get the 'you're a professional athlete, I know how they roll and I'll make your life hell if you break my daughter's heart' talk, but it was the complete opposite. your dad told him how thankful he was to joe for being in your life, for putting that everlasting smile on your face, for making you feel loved in a way you never had been loved before. that's what joe needed to hear, that he was doing good with you. doing good for you

he’s so respectful to your parents and even addressed them as ‘sir and ma’am’ for a good second. you tried to tell him it was alright to refer to them by their first names, but he felt awkward about it because of how much respect he had for them even though this was his first time meeting them

eventually, he started calling them by their first names. you could see that he was getting more and more comfortable around them and didn’t feel the need to hold up a super suave act. he could be himself around you and your family, they felt like home to him. you felt like home to him

joe's parents loved you as soon as they met you as well

they were so thrilled that joe had a woman like you in his life. someone who showed him so much love, care, and support

you weren't super nervous to meet them, mostly because he gave you no time to be. he knew that if he told you in advance that you were going to Athens, you'd freak the hell out. so that's why he told you about 30 minutes before you reached his parent's house. you figured that he was just taking you someplace like a park to go on a walk or something simple like that, not to meet his freaking parents

joe loved that he could bring you home to his family. he loved that he could show you around Athens and experience all the things he did growing up but in a new light because you were with him

he brought you to his favorite spots to eat, his favorite places to go on walks, his favorite shops, and places he spent a lot of time while growing up. he even snuck you into the football stadium--his football stadium--at the high school one night. joe remembered feeling his heart explode at the sight of your beaming smile once you stepped onto the field and saw his name plastered around the stadium. you just felt so proud of him and your entire body showed that. that's the moment he knew he loved you

he said those three special words, those eight letters, to you first. it came out so nonchalantly one night like it was something that was meant to roll off his tongue that easily. hearing those three words come from his mouth for the first time felt so right, like the stars and planets aligned specifically for you both in this moment.

the funny thing was, he said it as you guys were stargazing. you were lying on a big blanket in his backyard and watching the planets & stars together

you were looking up at the sky and there was a big smile on your face as you counted how many stars you could see. joe also had a big smile on his face, but not because of the stars. it was because of you. he was looking over at you, thinking about how he was genuinely the happiest he had ever been in his life at this moment, how things finally felt right in his life. it was all because of you

"the stars make me think about how infinite the universe is, but even with all that endless space, the thing I want most in the world is right here next to me. being with you makes everything else feel small, like all I need is right here," he said to you

and then he ended his sweet small speech with an adorable, sorta quiet because he felt nervous, 'i love you'

you felt your heart explode when you heard him say those three words. the same three words you wanted to say to him since the day you met. you had never loved someone like you loved joe, this was so special and you both knew it

his house was so clean and organized, the exact opposite of what you thought it'd be like when you first came over. you thought it would be full-on bachelor pad, messy, boy vibes. but it really wasn't. it was clean, organized, well-decorated, and it stayed like that. it really felt like a man lived there, not a boy. and joe was a man all right, that was very clear

joe loved to send you cheesy football puns. his personal favs were "you're the touchdown to my game-winning drive", "you've intercepted my heart and I'm not even mad about it", and "you're the MVP of my heart"

lots of late-night snack runs after prime-time games. it was honestly insane to you at first because you thought he'd want to get home ASAP, but he wanted his sweet treat--and he wasn't just talking about you ;)

he even brings you to practice sometimes. you loved to watch him from the sides, doing his thing and watching him in his element. he sometimes even through the ball back and forth with you before or after practice--always showing off a little to make you laugh

your form had definitely gotten better ever since you started throwing with him. you are learning from the best of the best

joe's closet is your closet. he loves it when you take his shirts and hoodies. you love how big his stuff is on you and also how everything smells just like him. it's even better when he's away and you're missing him. his scent is always on you no matter what

joe's always there for you whenever you come home from a hard day at work or are just having a shitty day in general. he's always there, holding you against his chest, letting you soak his shirt with your tears while he presses soft kisses on your forehead and listens to you vent about everything

he knows how hard you work, so it breaks his heart to see you crack under pressure or feel like you weren't doing enough. he gave the best advice and was the best listener, having him in your corner was the best thing that could've happened to you

it was also the best thing that could've happened to him. you were his escape from the pressure that the football life brought. his peace after all the chaos that transpired on the field. his calm within the storm

joe likes to get up early, like early early. he says that he likes to get the most out of the day, which is fair. but it's honestly so bad because you hate getting up early, but his adorable morning smile makes up for it. it's the first thing you're graced with when you get up

when he wakes up, you wake up (even if you feel like dying because it's so early). he always ends up laying his head on your chest as he presses kisses along your skin, your fingers lightly scratching his scalp at the same time. it's the best way to wake up in all honesty. in each other's embrace, all warm, cozy, and secure

he's so cute in the morning. his hair is all messy and he has this raspy voice that makes you want to pounce on him, even if it is still a little dark outside as the sun isn't even fully up.

during the off-season, he made it a rule that he'd cook you breakfast at least twice a week. joe wasn't the best cook (he was learning) so his attempts at cooking breakfast were always so sweet to watch

also because watching him cook breakfast half-naked was like personal porn for you. his tan, bare, muscular back was the star of the show

he'd attempt to make you french toast, pancakes, waffles, literally anything your heart desired. he got better each time he made you food, but also because he'd help you out whenever you made dinner so he picked up on a few skills

it was pretty funny whenever he'd have breakfast fails. like the first time he tried to make french toast, he burnt them and one piece even caught on fire. it was so funny to watch him run around frantically trying to make sure he didn't burn the house down

he loved to help you out when you made dinner. he made himself your little sous chef, helping you out in any way he could. he'd turn on some music so you two danced around in the kitchen as you cooked together, it was something so simple but it brought you two so much joy

your favorite songs to dance around to together were disco by surf curse, my girl by the temptations, angeleyes by abba, heavenly by cigarettes after sex, apocalypse by cigarettes after sex, hunger by ross copperman, pretty boy by the neighbourhood, and lover by taylor swift

sometimes you were so caught up in dancing together that you completely forgot about the food on the stove. the dancing sometimes led to some other things, so naturally, you got distracted. you would end up ordering some chinese takeout and calling it a night whenever that happened

joe loves kissing you. like a lot

sure, he loves kissing spots around your body, but nothing could compare to the feeling he'd get when your lips were pressed against his

that man loves his sloppy, sexy, slow makeout sessions more than anything. noses brushing against each other, his hands wandering around your perfect body, tasting each other...it was so good. especially because 90% of the time they led to some other things ;)

joe was so careful with you in that sense. he always made sure you were alright before you two did anything. he never pressured you for anything, everything would be done on your terms

he's too good in bed. like it's insane. he quite honestly takes your breath away. he can do it all. slow lovemaking & hair-pull worthy, sheet-gripping sex. the way he worshipped your body was truly something out of a fairytale. you'd lose track of time whenever you two got in bed like that, and it was honestly worth it. he was just so damn good. you wanted to stay like that with him as long as you could

he's a lowkey blanket hogger too. he wraps himself in a little burrito blanket, looking all cozy and soft while you stare at him with a straight-lipped face. buttt he caves and lets you into his little blanket burrito. it's so comfy, especially in the winter. the combined heat coming from his body and the blanket made you feel like you were in a soft cocoon

joe loves it when you call him joey, J, burrito (a funny play on 'burrow'), or JB. you didn't really use his other nicknames such as shiesty, joe cool, or joe brr because it felt wrong. those were all football joe names. your nicknames for joe were just joe names

he loved that he was just joe to you. he made sure when you first started dating, you got to know just joe. not Cincinnati Bengals star quarterback joe burrow. just joe

you always found joe doing the most normal things super hot and sexy. he could just be sitting on the couch and doing something on his iPad and you'd find yourself drooling (it was definitely because of that man spread that sent you into orbit)

bringing in bags of groceries out of your car, washing the dishes, putting away your laundry for you, cleaning up the kitchen. it was all so fucking hot. he was just so hot

sometimes while he was doing these things, you'd have an epiphany. you'd realize that he was all yours. nobody else's, just yours. he'd laugh whenever he caught you like this. it was so enchanting to him how you'd randomly become hyperaware that you were his girlfriend and he was your boyfriend

you and joe love flowers so much. you always surprise him with random flower deliveries (especially after a loss) because you know his face will automatically light up once he sees the beautiful plants. he also scheduled weekly flower deliveries for you. a vase of flowers would be at your door every monday morning, the perfect way to start off the week

he loves to pamper you as well

he's always buying you things without reason. clothes, jewelry, books, random little knick-knacks. he just loved to show how much he loved you in every shape and form possible

all of your daily jewelry was given to you by him. your two necklaces (one being a necklace with his initial), your 3 bracelets, your 4 rings (two on each hand, one being a promise ring), and your anklet which had 9 citrine orange gemstones in it along with multiple diamonds

proper date nights are a must in your relationship. even during the season, he made sure you had one night in the week where you two went out for dinner together. but you'd also have the best date nights at home

sometimes you just ended up building legos on the floor & watching a silly movie as a date night, but you two loved doing simple things like this. sometimes you'd just eat dinner outside in the backyard together as a date night. sometimes you'd just go on a night stroll together. simple things like that were special because it kept you two grounded. you didn't need to go out and drop $200 on some fancy dinner when you could have the same level of enjoyment by sitting on the floor, building a lego set from 'the office', and stuffing your faces with takeout. as long as you were together, you didn't really care what you did

he never fails to tell you how amazing you are. those sweet nothings he'd whisper in your ear every night before bed were the things you craved the most in your previous relationships. just being told how much you brighten his world, how pretty you are, how easy it is to love you, and other things like that made your day. he never skipped out on telling you those things

you love hearing his laugh. whenever he laughs around you, he laughs with his whole body. it's such a sweet sound, a sound you wish you could hear forever

you were so obsessed with joe’s body. his thick thighs, large muscles, veiny hands, and gorgeous face. he was a literal greek god, it was so hard to believe this man was real. he was equally as obsessed with your body too, and he made sure to show you that almost every night ;)

your friends love joe so much. they always call him your prince charming, the man who made all your dreams come true and the man who treats you like you're a real-life princess. they always tease you because of how down bad you act for him too. whenever you're with them and joe isn't there, they have to keep a tally of how many times you bring him up or say 'i miss joe'. they find it precious that you act that way for him

when he first met your best friends over dinner, he was lowkey intimated by them. they're so protective over you, so they had this tough front on. the entire dinner was like a test for him, and he passed it with flying colors

they watched as he paid such close attention to everything you said, how he was holding your hand under the table, how he subtly checked in on you to see if you were comfortable, offering his jacket in case you were cold, stayed off his phone the entire time, his nonchalant & genuine compliments towards you, making sure you were included in all the conversations, actively engaging with your friends and making a genuine effort to get to know them, his gentle touches like placing his arm around you or lightly rubbing your arm, how he spoke so highly of you, how he took care of the small things such as filling your water glass without you even having to ask, the little inside jokes you two had, and noticing and responding to your little signals when you got anxious that only your friends knew about until now

after the dinner, your girls pulled you over and they had the biggest smiles on their faces. they told you to send them a save-the-date invite ASAP because they knew you were going to marry that man. they saw the way he acted around you and that alone was enough to seal the deal

his friends loved you too. they instantly noticed how perfectly you matched joe's vibe, how happy you made him, and how you were practically made for one another. they called you two peanut butter & jelly; you went together so well

game days were always so fun for you two

you grew up in a football family so you were already a big football girl before you even met joe. being a football players girlfriend was written in the stars for you

joe didn't believe you initially when you mentioned to him how much you loved football. he thought you were just saying that to impress him. he found out the hard way that you were being serious

you two were watching a MNF game (prior to actually becoming boyfriend/girlfriend) and your (then) favorite team was playing against one of their longtime rivals. joe's jaw was on the floor the entire game because of how you were screaming at the tv, jumping onto your feet at every bullshit flag & call, and so locked in on everything that was going on

your keenness towards football made your relationship even more exciting. you'd get to watch your boyfriend do what he loved, which happened to be one of your favorite things in the world

seeing you in his suite every week gave him an extra boost. he knew you were watching him and he wanted to make you proud & happy at all times

he also loved to see your game-day outfits. seeing his name, his number, his colors all around your body did some unspeakable things to him. sometimes he wondered how fast it would take for anyone to notice he was missing. the storage closet seemed like the prime quickie spot on game days ;)

you had a routine before kickoff too. you'd go down to the sidelines before the start of the game to give joe a little pep-talk and it always ended with a passionate kiss and little handshake you two made up on your first date (a sort of good luck manifestation tactic). at the end of the game, win or loss, you'd be waiting in the tunnel to give him his post-game kiss and a singular rose (as you know, he loves getting flowers)

the orange rose you gave him after the 2021 AFC championship game (the super-bowl sending game) sits in his office. he got it pressed and plated by a professional, a way to preserve the special memory that the flower held

the love you two shared was truly something that only came around once every few lifetimes. it was so special, so rare, so exciting

“every time I look at you, I feel like I’m falling in love all over again. the way you laugh, the way you move, even the way you think—it’s all so beautiful to me. i could spend the rest of my life just watching you be yourself and never get tired of it. i can’t stop thinking about you. you’re always on my mind, like a song stuck on repeat. every time I’m with you, it feels like the world fades away, and all I can see, hear, and feel is you. i’m completely mesmerized with everything about you," he said to you

--The End--

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fan fic #joseph lee burrow #joe burrow bengals #joeyb #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #headcanon

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dearest-nell · 5 months ago

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here comes your man

s. harrington x f!reader, 2.1k

summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: i was half asleep when i wrote this so all i can say is my bad, and i hope my three am deleirum brings you some joy

Hey… you might wanna come pick up your Stevie-Boy. He’s a bit wrecked...

It was a phone call you had half expected, though you didn’t mind admitting that you wished it had not come at 3am on your Saturday night. Steve had been so excited for a night out with the boys – work seemed to be piling onto him more than usual, and more often than not you’d find him half asleep on the couch by 8pm, arm propped uncomfortably beneath his head and back twisting awkwardly. This night came along with the extra TLC you prescribed him this week, taking on a little extra responsibility around the house so he might relax even just for a moment. Steve was a caretaker by trade, and doing things for himself seemed to hark back to a time where he only did things for himself. It took a lot for him to rewire that belief in his brain – self care did not mean selfish, he was a good person.

You thought that the time out with his friends would remind him of that; how wonderful he was, how loved he was. He could be without responsibility for a night and simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he was… you hadn’t heard such an amused lilt to Eddie’s tone for a long time. You spent the drive over pondering just what kind of state your boyfriend might be in, your eyes heavy, body cooling with the iced air that blew through windows opened in an attempt to keep yourself awake. Eddie at least had sounded coherent, so you figured you would not be alone in the battle to try and haul your boyfriend into your beat up car.

Dressed for the comfort of your own home, it took one disgruntled look towards a stubborn bouncer to let you past without paying an entry fee. You wondered how often this happened – half asleep partners turning up moments before closing to take their inebriated darling home. The thought made you chuckle softly to yourself, body weaving through the stragglers of the night still dancing to a wrapping up DJ.

Eddie had told you they’d meet you by the lounges when you arrived, though Steve was nowhere to be seen as you approached your tired looking friend, his face pleased, if not a little weary.

“Where is he?” You questioned, letting Eddie lean down to wrap his arms around you tightly, his weight pressing heavier on you that you had expected under the influence of what you assumed had been many, many shots.

“At the bar. I thought he’d crashed half an hour ago, but he’s had a second wave.”

You felt the short burst of laughter bubble up, an unsurprised uh-huh leaving your lips at the notion, eyes drifting towards the thinning crowd collected for the last call. Eddie let you go with a shrug, stepping back to let you go.

“Alright, I’ll go get him. I’ll wave if I need you, ‘kay?” The nod you received was answer enough, and you set off leisurely towards your unsuspecting boyfriend.

Steve was half hunched over the bar, palm rolling an empty shot glass flatly across the sticky surface as he waited for an already busy bartender. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the expression with such clarity – eyes heavy, blinking slowly as they tracked blearily across the back of the bar, that sweet, contented smile plastered on his lips for no reason at all.

Following suit, you leaned yourself up against the bar beside him, elbows propping you up to rest your head in your palms.

“You getting another drink, handsome?”

Steve made a soft sort of mumbling sound, his head lulling to the side as he leaned away ever so slightly. “Mm, yeah… think so.”

You nodded, smiling at the way he swayed on his feet. “Oh, I see. You wanna have some water with me?”

Steve rubbed harshly at his face, eyes screwing shut tightly before blinking hazily at you. “No, thanks.”

His gaze turned away, his grip on the shot glass faltering for a moment, reflexes only just catching it before rolling over the edge. You reached slowly to pluck it from his hand, though he recoiled sluggishly at the contact, forcing your brow up into a curious arch.

“How about I take you home, then? Seems like they’re wrapping up.”

Steve sighed, hands running through his hair in that same familiar flustered motion you were so acquainted with. Ordinarily, Steve would have been bouncing out of his skin to see you, but right now, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“Look, it’s nice of you to ask, but ’m taken. My girlfriend’s comin’ to get me.”

Oh, how sweet. You’d never seen Steve so far gone that he hadn’t recognised you, but now that you focused your own tired eyes, you could see that his own were barely open to begin with. Your smile widened, amusement settling over you at the sweetness of him.

“Really? You’re not even gonna look at me? Maybe I’m worth breaking the rules for.”

He scoffed at that, body straightening up as much as his addled state could allow, his feet stumbling beneath him to put another feet of distance between the two of you.

“I’m sure you are f’someone else, but ‘m not interested.” His tone was more clipped now, friendliness falling away in the hopes of deterring you. “Not another girl in the world for me but her.”

God, he was sweet, and more in love with you than you could have ever hoped for a person to be. Your heart ached, entirely overwhelmed with adoration for this man who was waiting for you.

“Well that’s very lovely.” You cooed, turning sideways to look at him, one arm dropping to your side while the other hand continued to prop your chin up, helping to hide that rosy blush that seemed to stain your cheeks. “I really think you should look at me, though, Stevie.”

You watched as the thought crossed his mind, a slow understanding that something about this interaction seemed out of place. It seemed to take another moment for reality to set in, his body turning and eyes widening comically as they came into focus.

“Honey!”

It had you in hysterics, the way his arm gave out from under him, narrowly avoiding his torso from smacking down against the bar top as he lurched towards you. Your arms extended out to catch him, meeting him halfway until his body was pressed tenderly against yours, eager hands creeping up to cup your cheeks, holding your face towards his so he might really look at you.

“You’re here!”

Your laughter rang out happily, eyes crinkled at the delight mirrored in his own.

“Yeah, baby, of course I am. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

If an iris could change shape, then you were certain you saw Steve’s melt into delicate hearts just at the thought of you coming out to take care of him. His thumbs ran adoring lines across your cheekbones, trembling slightly with restraint.

“S’good to me.” He mumbled, words drowning out within the still deafening music that surrounded you. “Missed you.”

You felt him slump against you ever so slightly, still conscious of weighing too heavily against you even in his inebriated state, though how he was holding himself up anymore was anyone’s guess. It was your sign to wave Eddie over, though, who without fuss looped a supporting arm around Steve’s back.

“You gonna let your girl take us home, then? I’m gonna pass out, man, I’m so wrecked.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarmed to have been so suddenly pulled back from you to lean on Eddie, and he reached out a hand in a needy sort of motion towards you. “I wanna dance with her before we go.”

Too sweet for his own wellbeing, you offered him a sympathetic look, slipping yourself under his other arm to help prop him up.

“We can dance at home just you and me, okay? In our pjs too — won’t that be nice. We just don’t wanna keep Eddie waiting too long; he’s all danced out.”

You watched the contemplative look cross his features, leaving him distracted enough for Eddie to start guiding the three of you towards the door without much fuss from Steve.

“Did you have fun though Ed? Really?” Steve asked, genuine concern threading through his tone as he addressed his friend who managed an affirming nod in response.

“Loads. We’ll all go out again soon, but I’ve gotta give you back to your sweetheart before she gets too jealous.”

Steve’s nod was so serious as he processed the words, entirely missing the small look of amusement shared between you and Eddie as you pulled yourselves from the establishment.

“Yeah.” He agreed, his head lulling sideways to rest on the crown of your own. “She needs me.”

It had sounded like a joke when he said it, but even you could sense the small severity behind the words, almost reassuring himself of the truth behind them. Of course you needed him.

��Yeah, she does.” You confirmed, kissing at his shoulder clumsily as you tried to focus on your steps, narrowly avoiding toppling the three of you right over uneven pavements underfoot. “I always need you, honey.”

You did not need to look at Steve to know that he was smiling — you felt it as you held him, felt it in his touch and the heat of his body carefully wrapped around yours. At least this night felt like a success in your eyes. Steve was happy, and you had done your part to make him so. He’d be awfully hungover tomorrow morning, but he’d be happy, and that was all that seemed to matter to you in the moment.

Eddie managed to hold Steve upright while you fiddled with the lock of your car door, the boy now contently distracted with regaling tales of the night to the man who had witnessed them first hand. Getting him into the car was easy enough, tucking him cautiously into the front seat, your body leaning over him to click his seatbelt into place, his hand lifting to rub at your lower back in thanks.

“You’re the best, y’know, baby? The real best. The best best.”

You paused to smile at him, head shaking in amusement before brushing your lips against his cheek, relishing in the way his hand gripped excitedly at you for the briefest of moments. “I could say the same about you, y’know.”

“Nuh uh.”

A groan sounded from outside the car, drawn out and exasperated beyond compare. “Jesus H Christ, I’m begging for someone to take me home. It’s so fucking late, guys.”

You pulled back with a laugh to witness Eddie’s petulance, your hand coming out to gesture to the back seat. “Then get in the car, dingus, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve slurred from the front seat, the battle against his weariness now long lost, eyes closed and head resting heavily against its back, unable to hold itself up any longer.

Eddie clambered into the back with a half assed eye roll, splaying out across the work back seat until he, too, was one with the upholstery. “You guys aren’t gonna be gross and sayin’ i love you’s all the way home, are you?”

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh shit, I haven’t said I love you yet!”

The charming little frown that spread across his face was enough to melt you in your entirety, your hand reaching out to brush his check with affection, his nose nuzzling sweetly into the cup of your palm. “I’m not worried about it; I know you do.”

“Yeah, but I do love you. I was thinkin’ it the whole time, thinkin’ you’re so pretty n’ all. So pretty that I couldn't remember to say it.”

Eddie just huffed again in the back seat, his complaints overtly ignored despite the growing expletives.

“I love you too, Stevie. How about we get Eds home and get you some water, then we can be as sweet as we wanna be.”

Steve’s lips pressed into your palm, his kiss unhurried and uncoordinated as the alcohol hindered his usual grace, a mumbled m’kay tickling your skin as he spoke.

You looked up into the rearview mirror, dropping your hand to Steve’s knee for the boy to hold, keeping his neediness satiated for the time being as he grasped it between his own eagerly. “You hear that, Eds? You’re in the clear. Let’s get you boys home.”

A grumbled thank god and the creaks of the backseat window being clumsily wound down was enough incentive to start your travels, a pleased smile gracing your lips to know that Steve had been given exactly the night he deserved after all.

959 notes · View notes

munsonthings86 · 9 months ago

Text

sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

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