#simon-writes

[thelostmagicians]

Hugs | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve Harrington hated hugs until you came along. [1.9k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, implied homophobia (against Robin)

♡

Steve Harrington hated hugs.

Hugs were meant to be soft and warm like ice cream on a sunny day, crackling fire on a chilly night, but to Steve they were anything but.

He blamed his aversion to hugs on the lack of affection he received as a child. He couldn’t recall a time when his father even gave him a simple pat on the back let alone a hug. And his mom, she tries, but when a rare ‘I love you’ slips past her lips it’s in the same tone she uses for the grocer at the store, so Steve can never tell if she means it.

Steve didn’t know the meaning of love until Nancy Wheeler broke his heart and Dustin Henderson nuzzled his way in with an unlikely friendship and demodog. Since then, he’s opened up his large and previously empty heart to a talkative Robin Buckley, Dustin and his group of ragtag friends, Nancy Wheeler (albeit it’s different now), a smidge for Jonathan Byers, and even Eddie Munson. Even though he loves his friends to the point of self sacrifice he can never seem to spare them a hug. He’ll give them an encouraging nod and an affectionate high five, but he’s never been able to engulf any of them in the warmth radiating off his chest. And Steve feels awful for this, he truly does. He felt awful when Dustin had to seek solace in Robin’s arms when Eddie was injured and when Lucas clinged onto Max’s hand while she was on life support. He knows they understand it isn’t anything personal, but he still wants to be able to show his feelings through a soothing hand hold or a comforting embrace.

The first time he sees you he's at Nancy’s house for a small gathering celebrating the completion of her and Jonathan’s internship at the big fancy newspaper in New York. You’re in the kitchen helping Nancy with the snacks, smiling wide at her full of sunshine and sparkle, a stark difference from the gloomy aura of Hawkins.

“I see someone’s caught your eye already,” Jonathan giggles, breaking him out of his trance.

Steve glances at you a final time before he turns to Jonathan and steals his drink.

“Hey, why can’t you just get your own?” Jonathan whines a little, the result of a smoke sesh with Argyle and Eddie slowly wearing off. Steve can tell he’s only got a few minutes left to question Jonathan about you before he sobers up and uses this to tease him in the future.

“Who is she? Don’t think ‘ve seen her here before,” Steve tries to act as nonchalant as possible, but he can tell he’s failing with the way Jonathan smiles.

“She’s mine and Nance’s friend. We met her at the internship and she wanted to visit here for a change of scenery. Isn’t that crazy, someone from New York finds a place like Hawkins interesting enough to visit?”

Steve nods in agreement, because why would someone like you, someone so full of light and everything good want anything to do with the drabby town of Hawkins.

“What’s her name?”

When Jonathan says your name loud enough for him to hear over Robin and Eddie’s loud chatter Steve gasps softly. He mumbles your name to himself thrice because it tastes sweet on his tongue, sweeter than the cherry popsicles he likes so much. You talk for the first time that night, nothing past basic introductions, but it’s enough for him to drive home with a smile on his face because he liked the way your lips looked when you said his name.

_

The first time you hug him he’s taken by surprise his body goes rigid and then pliant. He isn’t exactly reciprocating the hug, but he isn’t pushing you away like he would the others. He pulls back first taking a look at your disheveled appearance, Nancy had called him earlier frantically telling him you needed to be picked up from Creel House and he wasted no time coming to your rescue.

He brushes the dust off your shoulders as you huff in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry for this, Nancy told me to wait for her and Jonathan to get back but I wanted to see the house for myself. I thought I could handle it, but I guess it’s a little too creepy for me,” you explain sheepishly.

Steve chuckles awkwardly, still a little loopy from your hug, “Yeah this house isn’t for the faint of heart. We brought the kids here once to err- explore and we still have nightmares about it.”

Steve curses under his breath as you give him a curious look, pushing more details out of him. “There were just a lot of spiders, ya know and the history makes it creepy enough,” he plays it off like it was no big deal but he had an inkling you knew there was more to the story.

_

The second time you hug Steve it leaves him winded, but he decides he likes the feeling. He lets you hold onto him longer than last time and pulls back when you sneakily go to ruffle his hair. He pouts a little, hands swatting yours away while he tries to fix it the best he can without a mirror.

“Don’t worry Steve, you’re still the prettiest person in all of Hawkins,” you say giggling.

His cheeks heat up but he likes you too much to throw a fit about your teasing. You’ve gotten closer over the past few weeks, always bringing him and Robin lunch during work and he thinks he might just keep you.

_

Steve realizes you're a hugger when the first thing you do after you pick him up from the station is trap him in your warm arms instead of yelling like the others would have. He thought he was over high school bullshit, but he couldn’t hold himself back when Robin called him from Tammy Thompson’s house on the verge of tears because Tommy Hagan accused her for looking at a girl a little too long for it to be considered straight. He was fuming when he pulled up to the house, Eddie meeting him at the doorway trying to convince him to not make a scene. He tossed Eddie his keys telling him to take Robin home while he threw punch after punch at Tommy for making someone he loved feel unsafe.

He pushes you off gently trying to explain what happened but you shush him softly, eyes falling to Hopper as he claps him on the back a proud smile on his otherwise stoic face. Everyone’s waiting for him when he arrives at the Byers, Joyce with a first aid kit, Jonathan with a smug smile (probably reminiscing his first fight with Steve), and Robin with eyes full of love and gratitude. He lets everyone fuss over him that night before he falls asleep on the Byers’ couch with your hand holding his.

_

Steve lets you hug him often now, he rolls his eyes and huffs a bit, but allows it with the pretense of it being the last time. It never is, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

You’re on his kitchen floor passing a bottle of wine back and forth sharing core memories. The others have gone home already after the last movie ended but you seemed reluctant to leave, so Steve offered you the guest room and a pair of old pajamas.

“Do you have any happy memories, Stevie?” You ask gently.

Steve shakes his head, “Not really, didn’t really have much of a happy childhood I guess, the only one I can think about is going to my Nana’s for christmas, but she died when I was five.” Steve’s a little tipsy now absentmindedly spilling his heart out to you not thinking about the repercussions.

You smile sadly, “I know what you mean, sort of.”

Steve waves his hand urging you to go on. You sigh softly, “I’ve been almost everywhere and yet it feels like I haven't experienced anything. I have loving parents but I never feel like they love me for who I am, they only love me for what I am, you know? To them I’m more of a trophy, something crossed off on the path of life to show accomplishment. I told you I came to Hawkins to research small towns for a project, but I think that was just an excuse. When I met Nancy and Jonathan they spoke so fondly about everyone back home. They might’ve been in New York, but their hearts resided in Hawkins. I wanted to find that for myself and followed them here…and I think I did.”

Steve shoots you a soft smile full of hearts as your eyes fill with unshed tears. You try your best to scoot over in your tipsy state and fall into his lap resembling a clumsy hug. This time he doesn’t pull away.

_

It’s nearing summer break for everyone now. Nancy and Jonathan are heading back to New York in a few weeks to present a proposal to your guys’ boss in New York for a new paper about small towns with mysterious histories. They put together a portfolio with files full of research done by you, articles written by Nancy, and photographs taken by Jonathan. The kids are finishing up finals and making plans for junior year. Robin passed her first year at community college and he quit his job at Family Video to work at the station with Hopper. And you, you decided to stay back in Hawkins. Steve can’t find a better excuse than this to throw a summer party at his house.

The sun is shining, bellies are full, hearts are happy, and laughs are loud in Steve’s backyard. Steve opened up his pool for the first time since Barbara Holland’s death and he thinks it’s time he starts moving on. Everyone is in the pool having fun, everyone except you and Steve. You’re lounging on one of the chairs, Jane Eyre in your hand and a lazy smile on your face, so it was no surprise Steve chose to stay at your side.

Steve is terrified to bare his heart to you, to tell you how he really feels, he thinks he might as well hand you his heart and a hammer on a silver platter. But then he remembers the shy smile you had when you told him you were leaving New York for good and you were staying in Hawkins. He looks over to you, your book finally pushed aside in favor of watching your friends have fun and he can’t hold his feelings in any longer.

His fingers brush up your arm slowly making their way to pet at your soft cheeks.

“You know you’re the only one who’s allowed to hug me.” It’s a concealed declaration of love an I love you that only the two of you can decipher.

“I know.” I love you too.

Steve smiles shyly before gently cupping your chin and pressing his lips to yours in a much awaited kiss. He pulls back gently only to pull you into his chest. He squeezes you hard pouring all his love into the first hug he’s ever initiated.

Steve Harrington used to hate hugs, but not so much anymore, not when your arms feel like home.

[mournfulroses]

Simone de Beauvoir, from "Inseraparable: A Never Before Published Novel,"

[quarterlifekitty]

Lately I’ve been getting a kick outta the idea of Ghost having a girlfriend that Johnny is painfully interested in (tale as old as time). But she a lil neurodivergent and selectively mute (edit; I originally labeled reader as non-verbal, but I was made aware mutism more accurately describes this!). She’s comfortable enough with Simon that she’ll talk to him when they’re alone, but she won’t say a word to Soap (she doesn’t talk to the other guys either, but you know that Johnny chooses to take it so damned personally).

The worst part is that Soap will say shit to her, and she’ll give Simon her little signal so he can bend down and she can talk to him so fucking quietly. It’s like they speak a different language and Simon is the interpreter. And it’s so infuriating to him because shit like this will happen.

“Ain’t you looking a right picture, bonnie— that dress new? Fits ye like a damned glove, sweetheart.”

You tug on Simon’s sleeve so he can lean down. Soap is rocking back and forth on his heels, anticipating an answer. He’s down so bad, he doesn’t even care that he’ll hear it from Simon’s lips and not yours. You whisper for what feels like minutes on end.

“She says thanks.”

“God damn, L.T.— you know she fuckin’ ‘ad to ‘ave said more than that!” He whines indignantly, Simon smirking. Simon knows all about his little crush, and chooses to let the lad suffer. His time will come when you’re ready.

This goes on and on for months on end— and you know what? It’s hard for Johnny to jerk off to the image of you wedged between him and Ghost when he has no idea what you sound like, moaning or otherwise. You can probably see him half hard in his jeans every time he heads home from a movie night with you and Simon.

“G’night, L.T. Night, hen.” Soap’s almost all the way down the walkway when he hears something almost inaudible over the ambient sounds of the night.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Now that’s gonna keep his fantasies fed for weeks.

[the-raindeer-king]

You're in bed with Simon, who's on leave after some long, exhausting mission. It's your day off, and you've finally gotten home after running errands. You barely get the groceries into the fridge before Simon's dragging you to the bedroom, insisting it's time for a nap.

Both of you are asleep in record time, snuggled up together.

It's sometime later, that you're somewhere between awake and asleep, aware that there's no longer sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. You're ready to drift off back to sleep, and then something hard hits you in the mouth.

You've just barely registered that Simon elbowed you in the face, when he's pulling you closer, his hands cupping your cheeks.

"I'm sorry. 'm sorry. 'm sorry," he rushes out.

"You hit me," you whine in response.

"I know, love. 'm so sorry."

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, your head tucked underneath his. It's not like you were really upset to begin with, but it's hard to even pretend to be, with the way he's holding you. And you happily let yourself drift back to sleep.

[moldycigarette]

this x simon “ghost” riley

cw!: praise, size kink, creampie, breeding kink, bulge, simon’s a nasty dog (and i tried to warn ya)

—————

simon never fails to remind you how much bigger he is than you.

you’re short? no problem, all those missing inches go to simon. oh wait you’re tall? whatever, he still towers over you.

are you chubby by society’s standards? just means there’s more for him to love. skinny? that’s okay too, he’s always down to eat whatever you can’t finish.

no matter what size or shape you are, it’s a guarantee that simon is still bigger than you. and he always manages to remind you of that in the bedroom.

his large hands around your waist, pounding into you with his thick cock. he obsesses over the bulge in your cute tummy from his size, practically drooling over the fact that he can’t even fit inside you’re pretty pussy all the way.

whether he’s fucking you doggy style or in a mating press, he will always tower over you. he makes sure you’re cum is on his fingers and his tongue alone before he shoves his meaty dick inside you; this man has the libido and stamina of a god.

“g’nna fuck this p’ssy so good, love. fill ya’ up to the brim,” he moans, his thrusts growing more erratic as he feels that familiar heat in his stomach.

you’re coming right along with him, seeing stars while he peppers kisses in your neck. “such a good girl f’r me, g’nna make the best mama.”

—————

um sorry didn’t mean to let out my inner whore

[machveil]

Roommate!Simon Riley that kisses you. no, not on the lips, but nearly everywhere else. some days it’s small, walking up behind you in the kitchen and resting his hands on your hips - not fully, just ghosting his palms over you like you might shatter if he fully held you. he does it when it’s early, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he dips down, lips pressing to the nape of your neck. he mumbles a ‘good mornin’’, mutters something about what you’re making and how he wants some

Roommate!Simon Riley who kisses the crown of your head when you’re cuddled on the couch together. from dawn to dusk, if you’re cozied up with Simon his lips are stuck to you. nose nudging your hair, he’s not really paying attention to what’s on - Simon’s more focused on breathing you in, eyes closed and appreciating the scent of your shampoo. his lips drift, head tilting to kiss behind your ear when you comment on your show, “Mm, tha’ right?”, he murmurs, gravely voice whispering to you

Roommate!Simon Riley who kisses you from your knees to your ankles. a shit day, after you’ve come in through the front door Simon is leading you to bed. you can’t put up a fight when he makes you lay down, sitting on the edge of your bed. you can’t argue when he drapes your legs over his lap, mumbling something about your boss being a prick. all you can do is close your eyes and relax when he rubs at your legs, massaging the meat of your thighs and calf, working his way to your feet. you don’t say a word when lifts your leg up slightly, peppering featherlight kisses down it, “Should let me ‘ave a word with ‘em.”, he mumbles, smiling when you chuckle

Roommate!Simon Riley that all but tackles you to the floor when he comes home from a deployment. he’s roughed up, aching and sore, a mess of a man - but he’s alive. he moves on autopilot, strong arms pulling you against his frame, a bear hug, a death squeeze, his embrace secure. before you can ask him if he’s okay, if he’s hurt, his lips are pressed to your forehead. chapped and dry, but Simon’s. his chest rising and falling into a steady rhythm knowing you’re safe and sound. he’s moving on autopilot when he slumps down, lips pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek, “Missed you, sweet’art.”

[peachesofteal]

You’re at the bar with your friends when the 141 walks in. You don’t notice because your back is turned but when you spin around on the stool with a laugh, something catches your eye.

Someone’s cock outlined in a pair of jeans, shoved into the top of his right pant leg.

You can’t look away. Practically uninhibited, you stare, blinking. Too long, you look for too long, and when you realize, your face heats and you frantically look away-

Only to lock eyes with the man standing next to him.

You turn away, tucking your elbows in your sides, trying to shrink into nothing as you look down at your half empty beer in shame. A minute passes, and you breathe a little easier, foolishly hoping you’ve gotten away with your shameless behavior.

No.

The same guy leans against the bar a moment later, arms crossed, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ye like what ye see?”

“Uh.. um. I don’t… know what you mean.” His lips quirk to the side, jerking his head towards the hulking behemoth of a man you were staring at.

“It’s alright,” his fingers crawl across the bar top, and then skate up and down your forearm. “We dinnae mind.” We?

“We?”

“Me an’ Simon. We love to share.” Oh my god- is this… is this really happening right now? You take a better look at him. He’s stunning, playful mohawk complimented by eyes so bright they could pierce your heart. Your mind runs away, scenarios twisting into fantasies of things you’ve never experienced. Things you wouldn’t even know where to start with.

“I-“ There’s warmth at your back. Too hot, too firm, and the man next to you turns his head, heavy lust lidding his eyes.

“Was just tellin’ Bonnie we like to share.” The man behind you hums, and a palm slides to your hip. You rattle on the stool, confused and… damp between your legs.

“Oh yeah?” He traces the curve of your neck, tilting your chin upward. “What do you think sweetheart?” His lips brush against your ear. “Want to see it?”

[kurogxrix]

me when the READER in the X READER has a name:

like babe the fic ate but i do NOT look like an Aurora🙁

[simonbrain]

it doesn't matter how quietly you attempt to get off at night; your lieutenant is always listening, always grumpy about the pretty sounds disturbing his slumber.

you were embarrassed when he brought it up to you (keep it down, can't fuckin' sleep with oll tha' racket), so you opted to not use your vibrator the next night, instead using your fingers like some lady from the 1800's. it wasn't as efficient, but it did the job, and you were knocked out after a few orgasms.

you think you're doing good, as he doesn't confront you about your nightly activities for a few days after that. not until one morning when he pulls you over to an obscured area outside, not paying any mind to your stumbling and hissing.

even with the mask on, you can tell he's scowling. "how many times do i 'ave to tell you to keep it down?" he grumbles, peering down at you through golden eyelashes. his head tilts as he speaks, and you have to force yourself to not squeeze your thighs together in front of your superior officer. "i can hear tha' wet cunt through the walls every night—are you tha' thirsty for it, pet?" a finger clips onto your belt loop, and you're being tugged closer, a chuckle rumbling from him when he takes notice of how flustered you're getting.

you've never wanted to explode into tiny pieces more in your life than this moment. your cheeks feel hot, and you can only stare up at him and watch as his gaze roams down your body. heated. predatory.

"i— i don't want—" you try to deny what you know is inevitable because ghost always gets his way, but it's thrilling to watch how he pushes his body against yours, the smell of him overpowering your rational thoughts. he only peels the mask high enough to free his mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat, a gloved hand finding its way to the front of your pants.

that night, when you crawl into bed with a fully charged vibrator, warmth already swirling in your belly, you think about how ghost's hands felt on your body. how he so meanly nudged the fat head of his cock in until he was fully sheathed, stretching you so thin you swear he was going to split you apart.

("there we go," he coos—or rather snarls at you, thick fingers filling up your mouth because you were whining too loud for his liking. "knew you wanted this fuckin' cunt stuffed full o'me," he groans while pawing at your chest, harsh pants hitting your ear. "tha's why you're so loud, innit? nasty fuckin' thing.")

how he kissed you like he was trying to consume you, licking into your mouth with such fervour, you were surprised he hadn't already burst into flames. he resembles a brick more than an actual human sometimes, but patience has always been his strongest quality.

you really shouldn't be surprised when ghost pours into your room while you're making yourself dizzy with thoughts of him, your brain liquifying on the pillow from the constant delicious vibrations against your throbbing clit. the sound of the door being kicked shut behind him startles you as he stalks over to your bed.

"i'm starting to think you like pissing me off." he growls softly, the bed squeaking underneath his weight. the vibrator is still buzzing against you, and you swallow when his eyes drop down to the soft, wet mess between your legs. "get on your fuckin' knees, girl."

[slater-baby]

Simon Riley x f!Reader

Simon’s the type of guy to have your contact name in his phone as just “wife” — like an actual caveman.

No emojis, no capitals, no nothing. Just “wife.”

The first time the 141 happen to see it, they nearly laugh themselves into a stupor. It’s quite the image, imagining skull-faced Simon Riley plodding around the house, snarling the words “woman” and “wife” with all the testosterone and wolfish pride of some brutish working man.

But to Simon, it’s much simpler than that.

“Self-explanatory,” he’d explain, offended that they’d think of him so lowly, “She’s my wife. Mine. Ain’t nobody else’s. Anybody who’s got a problem wit’ me callin’ her the title I gave her can right well piss off.”

Though, that’s not to say the 141 are exactly wrong. In fact, you kind of like how pushy and red-blooded Simon can get sometimes…especially in between the sheets.

“C’mon, girl,” he grunts, slapping the fat of your ass hard enough to leave a red hand print on your skin, “Want me to be yours? Want this cock to be yours, huh?”

“Yes,” you mewl, grabbing bruising handfuls of the sheets.

“Then fucking prove it to me,” He growls, “C’mon, make yourself cum on my cock—fuckin’ prove that I’m yours,” he yanks you up with a hand in your hair, a snarl between his lips, “Faster, love, c’mon—I ain’t got all fuckin’ day.”

[mebssann]

imagine you're living in the post apocalypse and your adopted dad still makes you do homework

[thelostmagicians]

Summary: Eddie Munson's reputation has never been worse, but you must like him for him. [2.8k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, sad boy Eddie

♡

This ain't for the best, my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me

Eddie’s always had a bad reputation, in high school he was known as The Freak, which soon morphed into Devil Worshipper, but the worst label he’s had so far had to be Murderer. It’s been almost a year since he’s been cleared for the murders of Vecna’s victims, but Hawkins has yet to move past it and believe in his innocence. 

His friends stay strong by his side and even Hopper has a soft spot for him now, but it still isn’t easy. He’s taunted and harassed relentlessly, everywhere he goes, fired from jobs, rejected by girls, and his once dream of going on tour with Corroded Coffin squashed when he lost their slot at the Hideout. Some days, he thinks about packing it all up and moving away, leaving behind his past and the trauma, but he wants to be strong. He wants to show people that their words can’t break him any more than the Upside Down already has. He’s made peace with the fact that his reputation will never change and that he’ll lead a despairing life in Hawkins, but at least he’ll do it with pride. 

-

The first time Eddie sees you, it’s storming outside. Wayne is getting ready to close the garage while he’s checking the register. He sees you running towards, your worn out purse doing nothing to cover you from the pouring rain. Your shoes squeak as Wayne ushers you in, gently pushing you to stand near the heaters.

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s closing, but I just moved here and my car keeps making this weird noise, and tomorrow is my first day of work and I don’t want anything to go wrong and…” you keep rambling, frustration seeping through your words.

“Take a breath darlin’, you’re okay,” Wayne reassures.

You nod, hands clutching your bag as you take deep breaths. Wayne’s gaze meets Eddie over your shoulder as he gestures at him to bring the office chair around. Eddie grimaces when the chair squeaks against the tile floor, hoping you won’t notice, but his wish goes ignored when you meet his eyes. 

One look into your eyes and he’s a goner, his heart fights to jump out of his chest, his hands clam up on the chair, and he forgets how to breathe. You shoot him a soft smile and he nearly topples over, legs having a mind of their own. He hurriedly drags the chair near you while Wayne gestures for you to sit. 

“What’d you say was wrong with your car?” Wayne’s voice breaks Eddie out of his trance and the smirk he gets tells him Wayne knows more than he lets on. 

“I’m not really sure, it just makes a chggg… chggg…” you trail off, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. 

Eddie chuckles under his breath, god you were so fucking cute. 

“What time does your work start tomorrow?”

“nine a.m.,” your eyes light up with hope at Wayne’s question. 

“We’ll have it done by eight, you can come pick it up then. Do you need a ride back here?”

“Oh no, It’s only a five minute walk away from my place. I’ll be okay, thanks.” You glance out the door, the storm barely visible now, you thank both of them profusely rushing out the door, squealing with giddiness when you think they can’t see you anymore. 

“That was awfully nice of you,” Eddie accuses. 

“Yeah it was… only for my favorite nephew though.”

 “I’m your only nephew,” Eddie huffs, “Still didn’t think you would volunteer to work late because I have a crush.” 

Wayne smirks at Eddie’s admittance, “I didn’t. Have fun working and don’t forget to double check the doors before you leave.” He shrugs on his leather jacket, bustling through the front door, leaving a very confused Eddie in the lobby. 

_

Eddie stays up until three in the morning, fixing everything wrong with your car. He goes home sluggish, but doesn’t forget to set an alarm for seven, so he won’t miss you when you come to pick up. 

He’s awakened by a loud pounding at his door, instead of the shrill of his alarm. He trips over clothes as he shuffles out of bed, grabbing his old hellfire t-shirt before swinging open the trailer door. 

Wayne’s frantic face appears before him, hands grabbing his shoulders and checking him over, while repeatedly asking if he was okay. Eddie runs his hands through his hair finally fully waking up at Wayne’s distraught voice, “Wha’s going on, somethin’ happen?”

Wayne’s eyes turn dark, “The shop… someone came over and…”

Eddie doesn’t let Wayne finish before he’s grabbing his jeans and shoes and running towards the building. He can spot the words from nearly a mile away, crimson paint making it unmissable. Murderer covers the entire side of the building, the dripping of the paint being a near perfect replication of blood, the windows are smeared with the same paint, handprints accompanying the paint strokes. The sight itself was gruesome and cruel, the situation wasn’t anything new to Eddie or even Wayne, but it was still distressing when it happened. It was the same viscous cycle over and over again, Eddie and Wayne reporting the incident to Hopper, who would then catch the perps, but release them just as fast because he had no power against the rich of Hawkins, and then Eddie and his friends would spend the next few days helping Wayne scrubbing down the shop. This has happened so many times that Eddie doesn’t even flinch anymore, but today was different, you’re coming in to pick up your car in under an hour and he doesn’t think he can get the shop cleaned up by then. A disgruntled sigh leaves his lips as he grabs the nearby mop and bucket to start scrubbing. 

-

Time passes by quickly, Eddie’s arms sore from tirelessly scouring, but he isn’t even a fourth of the way done. Just as he’s about to head in for a quick water break, he spots you flitting over in your pretty blouse and flouncy skirt. You reach his side before he can hide and he busies himself with wiping off the red paint on his jeans.  

“What happened here?” Your soft voice sets his heart aflame and he tries to think of any excuse to explain all this away, but his mushy brain forces him to tell you the truth.

“I-I don’t really have the best reputation in Hawkins and people are… um v-very keen on reminding me of that,” he stammers. 

You glance up at the wall, the r at the end of murderer being the only thing that’s almost gone. Wayne was able to spray down the windows with the hose, but some of the handprints remained stubborn, similar to the scars he’ll never heal from the night he saw Chrissy die. You frown looking at the mess and Eddie feels like he’s suffocating, your silence heavy in the air, filling his mind with intrusive thoughts of despair. 

“Your car’s ready by the way, it shouldn’ give you anymo’ trouble,” he whispers.

You nod and head inside, returning momentarily with jingling keys. “Wayne said you stayed back late to work on my car, thank you.”

He shrugs, “It’s no problem.”

He’s expecting another awkward silence, but you surprise him, “Do you need help? I mean I can’t help right now because I have work… but I can come back after and help you out.”

“You want to help me? Did you not see the murderer written across the walls?”

“I did. I just don’t believe you’re as good of a murderer as Hawkins thinks considering I’m still alive.”

Eddie laughs loudly, head thrown back, brown curls flying on his face. “I don’t know I did work on your car, so maybe I’m trying new methods, you know, straying away from the usual stabbing.”

You smile at him before getting in your car, you roll your windows down as you back out, yelling out, “I’ll be here at five!”

-

We can't make any promises, now can we, babe? But you can make me a drink

You stayed late that night, helping him until Wayne’s shop glittered clean, what would have taken him a few days to finish, only took him a few hours. It felt like everything was easy when you were next to him, your presence alone giving him a new outlook on life. He talked to you for hours and hours, words flowing out like quick sand, sharing every thought and experience and you were no different mouth moving a mile a minute, eager to learn about him, but also teach him about you. 

Although you exchanged numbers before parting ways, you hadn’t had the chance to give him a call, work and a new environment getting in the way. Eddie on the other hand found excuses to not call you in fear of what you might say. Maybe you only gave him your number to be nice, or you hadn’t called him yet because people’s opinions on him finally got to you, or maybe you just didn’t like him. He knew the excuses were a shield to protect his heart, but no matter how many times he tried he could never find the courage to dial your full number, always stopping before the last digit and hanging up. 

-

He’s genuinely surprised when you walk into the Hideout at 2 a.m. on a Thursday morning. You look rundown and tired, but your eyes light up when you see him, smiling so bright it blinds him momentarily. 

“H-hi.”

“Hey, Eddie. I didn’t know you worked here.” That was a lie. You knew he worked here once your co-worker let it slip that she avoided the Hideout because of Eddie. You started frequenting the bar almost every night hoping to catch a glimpse of him, until finally one of the other bartenders showed mercy and told you the time for his next shift.

“Yeah, I work the dead shifts, when people really aren’t around,” he looks down sadly, busying himself with dirty scotch glasses. 

You smile softly, hand reaching to squeeze his, “You’re not who people say you are, I hope you know that.”

His neck heats up, blush blossoming its way towards his cheeks, “you know I never thanked you properly for that night, helping me out with cleaning the shop.”

“How about you make me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

-

Sometimes I wonder; when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes...I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

Nowadays, instead of nightmares keeping Eddie awake it's you. You're always in his dreams, keeping the bad memories at bay with your sweetness. Sometimes he dreams of the day you first met, but most nights he dreams of a future together. He isn’t brave enough to ask you out, but he can feel his heart get stronger and stronger the more time he spends with you, the usual taunts and threats being easily brushed off now instead of sticking to him like honey. He doesn’t know what a future with you looks like, but he hopes it’ll always feel like this, safe, happy, and serene. He dreams of holding your hand, whisking you away on dates, and charming you until your heart gives out and you finally shut him up with a kiss. Waking up from a dream about you is more painful than waking up from a nightmare, knowing that everything he dreams to have with you can only be achieved when he’s asleep.

_

You wake up everyday eager for nightfall so you can see Eddie in your dreams. It hasn’t been long since your first meeting, but you’re addicted to him, his laugh, hair, charm, wit, everything and anything about Eddie is your favorite thing in the world. You feel at peace just thinking about him and you’re eagerly counting down the minutes for when you can see him next. You dream about lying in bed with him, waking up late, cooking breakfast, doing laundry, all the chores you hate doing, but you want it all with him, even the boring-ness of life. You have to set your alarm an hour early now, otherwise you’ll keep snoozing it just to bask in your dreams longer and soak up as much Eddie as you can before facing the reality of him not being yours. 

-

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate  Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate

You and Eddie hang out almost everyday now, whether it’s an early morning at the hideout or late nights in his trailer, you talk about anything and everything, conversation flowing easy and warm. He looks happier than he did the day you met him, almost boyish and young, eyes full with hope. You hope it stays that way. 

You feel different too, lighter on your feet, a smile permanently etched on your face, and love blossoming in your heart. You know you have feelings for Eddie, strong ones at that and you know he feels something for you too, but you see the hesitance in his eyes almost like he’s scared to believe you’re real. Every time you reach for his hand he pulls back, fearful his touch might burn you, he shuffles farther away from you when he sees a passerby hoping to save you from the ridicule that accompanies him. You’ve told him you don’t care what others think, but he thinks it’s too good to be true, which is why, today, you decide you’re going to sweep Eddie Munson off his feet. 

Your first stop is flowers. Eddie has never said anything about his favorite flower, but you think sunflowers are the most fitting for the boy who warms your heart. You stop by Benny's for his usual order before heading to his trailer, your palms sweat and your knees shake, walking the short distance from your car to his front door seems like a battle, your heart as heavy as the bags you're carrying in. You're nervous, sure, you're pretty confident that he likes you like that, but change is still nerve wrecking, even if it can be good. You knock fast and loud before you lose your courage, part of you hoping he doesn't open so you can go back to wallowing, but another part, a bigger part, of you is giddy with anticipation. 

He swings open the door, sweats hanging almost too low, and an old band t-shirt falling off his shoulder thanks to the stretched out collar. 

"Hey, sweetheart. What brings you here?"

The speech you had prepared vanishes, mind becoming blank as his stare looms over your face, you act before you speak, hands shoving the sunflowers roughly in his chest. "These are for you. I didn't know your favorite flower, but I thought you'd like sunflowers... 'cause, well... you're my sun, I guess." You shyly meet his gaze.

His eyes are tender, oozing love, but it's his tone that makes your heart plummet. "Sweetheart, this is nice 'n all, but we... you and I can never work. You don't wanna be with someone like me."

You sigh, dropping the Benny's takeout on the floor, you reach out and let your fingers brush back his curls, and then slowly trace down his forehead to his cheeks, then lips. He sighs softly, eyes closing as the ache in his heart is replaced with bliss, your fingers stop at his chin gently cradling it, encouraging him to meet your eyes. 

"Eddie, I don't care what people think.. or say.. or do. All I know is that I'm my best when I'm with you, you make me feel alive and safe. I like you for you. If I make you even half as happy as you make me, then..."

He chokes back a sob, bringing you chest to chest forcing you to share the same breath of air. "I'm my best when I'm with you too. You've changed my life for the better, you're my first thought in the morning and my last one at night."

You laugh through your tears bringing his face close to yours hoping you can finally taste the lips you've dreamed of, but he beats you to it, pressing his lips to yours, giving you a kiss as soft and tender as him. 

Eddie‘s delicate heart finally mending with your love.

[sentientfloatingeyeball]

Possibly the greatest NPR exchange ever recorded

[fishsinsareacknowledged]

One night stand with ghost that turns out to be a husband ghost in disguise. Hooking up with your lieutenant was supposed to be a haha funny thing. A good stress relief to maybe build morale. Not for you to have an overbearing husband on duty 24/7. Forcing you into his office during work hours just to have you sit on his lap. Pulling you closer just enough so your back presses to his chest.

Doesn't even complain when you get bored and roll your hips against his, just pulls you closer and let's you use his body while he works. Sure his dick's hard but who's going to do all this paperwork???

Don't even think about sleeping alone. He's bringing you along on missions too, with the help of price of course. Lunch? You're eating with him, dinner too. No fighting it, especially when he's feeding you personally in his office with a gentle hand squishing your cheeks and a steady hand with your spoon.

Doesn't even let you workout alone, he's always on standby. Blonde hair catching your attention in the gym mirror because he's always nearby after the one night. Going to the pub? He's joining. Following behind like some guard dog that pays for all your drinks and drives away sleazy guys. Don't you think he's doing his job well as a husband?

Tell him he's doing good. He's doing his best to be there for you. And be yours. Forever. But tell him he's doing well please?

[zvdvdlvr]

imagine ur bd being out of the picture and your little girl running up to si ☹️🤍

   “Daddy!”

   Simon looked down, eyes wide at the little girl wrapped around his right leg. Johnny eyed him carefully. He was thankful none of the other café patrons paid any mind. “I’m not your daddy, love,” Simon said. He tugged his leg away gently but the strength of a child is hard to match.

     “Annalise, get off that man,” a woman cried. In the blink of an eye, she knelt near Simon’s leg and tugged the child away.

     “Dada!” She shrieked. Annalise’s chubby hands reached out for Simon’s. “Is dada, mama!”

     You shook your head. “I- I’m so sorry, sir. Her dad was in the military. Anna thinks everyone in fatigues is dada… Do you want me to get either of you a coffee to pay you back? I’m truly sorry.”

     Soap discreetly elbowed Simon harshly in the side. “‘M quite alrigh’ lass. Simon, here, would take a coffee if your serious. If you’ll excuse me, I got to go. Bye, little lassie,” the Scot rushed, face lightinf up at the way Annalise giggled as his parting.

     Annalise was still cooing and reaching for Simon. You just shifted her on your hip and rubbed her back. “Simon, yeah?”

     “That’s me, ma’am,” Simon nodded, feeling suddenly extremely exposed without the balaclava he had decided not to wear for one single occasion. “You don’t have to pay me back-“

     “Nonsense. I would feel like a bad person if I just let my kid latch herself onto your left and call you dad and then just swoop her up and leave,” you said, reaching for your wallet before walking over to the ordering counter. “What can I get you?”

     Simon ordered a small of his usual, watching you pull the money from your wallet without glancing at how much it costed. He observed you in that split second- a beautiful baby girl on your hip who thought any man in camo was her dad. So he had been in the service… Simon watched you smile kindly at the teen behind the counter who fumbled for your change. You murmured a quiet, “It’s quite alright, take your time.” A well-mannered, well put-together individual who was also very attractive. Simon knew what Johnny was doing when he left and Simon would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought you were a catch.

     “I seriously appreciate the coffee, ma’am, but it was unnecessary,” Simon said as you tucked your change back and waited for the drink. “As long as the kid’s alrigh’, I don’t need anything in return.”

     You smiled. You smiled at Simon and he swore his cold heart jumped in his chest. Clearly your bright smile disarmed Annalise as much as Simon because she let out a bubbly laugh and put her hands on your cheek. “What if I said I wanted to?” You asked coyly.

     Simon watched Annalise play with a baby hair near your face. “Then I’d say it’d be a cruel thing to tell a gorgeous woman no.”

[dollsghost]

i love an "oh fuck" moment during smut.

picturing simon stopping his thrusts momentarily to hook his arms under your knees and press you open wider, using more of that hulking weight to bully his cock deeper into your weeping cunt.

it was already toe-curling, already mind-numbing and delicious but this new position and how absolutely soaked you are allows him to sink impossibly deeper. it's like lightning shooting through your entire body when he gives an experimental thrust, your eyes shooting open before rolling back into your skull as his cockhead rubs against some previously undiscovered sweet spot. it hurts, but in the best way possible; the pressure sensitive in a way you've never felt before.

"oh f-fuck.." you can barely gasp out, your hand reaching down to press against his pelvis. to stop him or urge him further, you don't know, but simon simply continues the slow roll of his hips, satisfied grumbles leaving him as he watches you grapple with the newfound sensation. "'s so deep..." you sob through clenched teeth and furrowed brows, and simon swears you've never looked more beautiful, taking his cock like the angel you are. like you were made for it.

that's when he really picks up the pace, hips slamming against your own, and you're making sounds you've never made before. it makes simon feral, the need to draw more of those unabashed sounds bone deep. it isn't long before you're cumming with a shriek of his name, and you don't even register the gush of liquid that comes with it. you don't register the gleam in simon's eye either as he leans down to press his lips to your ear, huffing out his praises all while never stopping the movement of his hips.

"sweet girl," he rumbles, suppressing a shiver when you keen in response, your orgasm having turned your brain to mush. "give me another."

you're in for a long night.