#steve harrington x taylor swift

[munsonsreputation]

hii! omg so i rlly love your writing its incredible. i have two requests but you can choose whichever one! the first one is an imagine w steve and the reader based off of call it what you want by taylor. orr a hurt/comfort imagine where the reader is basically comforting steve maybe aft he’s had a fight w his parents or something? again i rlly love your writing literally look forward for new writeups all the time!

at least we did one thing right

a/n: this one has been sitting in my inbox since forever and i managed to stir up this cute little thing. ciwyw is one of my favorite tracks of reputation and i can't wait to get the re-recording of this (hopefully soon!!!)

The party was in full swing, and by party you meant all of your close friends who are gathered in Steve’s living room and kitchen entertaining themselves while you and Steve hid away in his backyard like a routine.

His gaze flickered through the sliding doors, mock concern etched on his features as he mutters under his breath, “I swear to god, they better not pick the pineapple off the other slices.”

You turned your head to see what he was going on about, and sure enough the teenage boys were ravaging the kitchen like they hadn’t eaten in days. At this rate, they were like bottomless pits, and you weren’t quite sure how they were able to put away a portion of food without blinking.

Still, you snorted, swatting a hand over his thigh and garnering his attention back to you.

“They’re growing boys and their appetites are different from when they were twelve. We can order another if they’re still hungry.” You shrugged.

He shook his head, shifting to pull your legs over and across his lap.

“I ordered pineapple for you, and you should at least get to have one slice of it.” Steve insisted, though your orbs were too clouded with heart eyes to see the irritation he wore for the innocently selfish boys.

You pursed your lips into a tight smile, hooking your arm over his bicep, tugging yourself closer to him, “You’re so cute for someone who hogs all the blankets at night.”

He looked down at you, shaking his head with a mushy smile coming over him, “Hey you’re the one who likes the house freezing!”

Steve rumbles a string of laughter into the air, using his free arm that’s not being clung onto, to drape over your frame, practically wrenching your whole body onto his as you begin joining in the amusement. You give up on trying to get the upper-hand, letting yourself sit comfortably in his lap, your joined hands resting on either side of your bodies and you lean down to lay your head on his chest.

You snuggled deeper into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling the lingering scent of his cologne. It’s a simple pleasure of yours to be wrapped up in his arms, high above the whole scene, in your own little world like nothing else mattered.

“You’re my portable space heater, got all the warmth I need,” you declared, pressing kind kisses over his chest feeling his lips brush over your hairline.

Steve thought he must have done something right in this lifetime in order to give himself to you in a way he hadn’t given anyone else before. He doesn’t care that it’s simply you two sneaking away just to act like corny teenagers again. All of that fades into nothing when you look at him the way you do.

But before you could savor the moment, a familiar voice interrupted from above, followed by the squeak of rusty wheels gliding across the frame.

“Are you guys having fun out here without us!” Robin shouted, ringing out closer as she approached you both, but of course not without the presence of Eddie by her side.

You sat up, laughing, while Steve groaned and craned his neck to greet them. “You guys have to stop sneaking off to do whatever this is,” Eddie teased, gesturing between you both with a lighthearted smirk.

Steve grunted, “You’re just mad you don’t have a girlfriend to love on,” he shot back, pulling you down by the wrists to meet his lips in a messy kiss that left you giggling.

Eddie feigned revulsion and quickly retreated back inside, while Robin settled beside your bodies, her eyes twinkling with affection. “I still think you guys are adorable, even though this sneaking off thing is getting old.”

Robin had always been rooting for the two of you — there was just something about you both that made perfect sense, and when you finally bit the bullet, it was safe to say she was celebratory about the whole thing.

“We just don’t want to bore you guys with our public displays of affection,” you teased, sharing a knowing smile with Robin who threw her head back and laughed at all the times your friends would scold you both to cut out the lovey dovey acts.

Steve interjected, “Last time we cuddled on the couch you kicked us out of movie night…in my house!”

Robin rolled her eyes, pointing an accusing finger at him. “That’s because we could all smell the sexual tension between you guys. Seriously, just get it out of your systems before we get here.”

You slapped your hands over your flushed face, groaning behind them, “Noted. We’ll remember that for next time.” You promised, shaking your head.

Steve couldn’t contain his laughter, his eyes crinkling as he turned to his best friend with a pleading look. “Now, can you please leave and let me make out with my girlfriend in peace?”

She rose up out of the lounger with a grin, “If there’s one thing you guys did right, it’s each other… and I don’t mean sex!” With that she disappeared back inside, leaving you both to yourselves.

Steve gently pulled your hands away from your face, his soft smiling easing away any idling embarrassment that you knew was all in good fun. He brought your hands closer to his lips, spreading kisses across your knuckles that made your stomach flip with warmth.

“Well, at least did one thing right,” He murmured, raising his brows up at you as you blushed and nodded.

“We sure did.” You whispered, before cupping his cheeks and bringing yourself down to him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, closing the distance between your lips, fitting themselves together like a daydream. The jokers and the drama queens could take all the swings and call it whatever they wanted to — as long as you and Steve knew it was love.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[translatemunson]

glitch: the photodump

hello everyone! after reading and being inspired to jump back to edits, i ended up with a cute photodump related to chapter 5 of GLITCH. love you @munsonsreputation

(yes, i made a gif, the quality is not the best, but here's one frame of it so you can read the comments <3)

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

[theplanetsandstars]

I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind (reading my fav x reader tags)

[steddieasitgoes]

Their dining room table has been taken over by thousands of tiny little beads and elastic in different colors. 

Steve sits opposite their sixteen-year-old daughter, a thin elastic band clutched in one hand and an assortment of approved beads laid out in front of him. He picks up a small purple crystal-like bead and tries to feed the elastic through the minuscule hole. 

“Christ, why isn’t this hole bigger,” he groans, squinting as he tries for the third time to thread the bead onto the elastic. 

“Aw, but I thought you liked tight holes, sweetheart,” Eddie teases, sauntering into the room. 

Their daughter pretends to retch before turning up the Taylor Swift song playing from her phone, hoping to drown them out. It doesn’t matter that they have a state-of-the-art stereo system in the other room that sounds a thousand times better than the shit speakers in her phone. She likes the convenience. 

Steve, on the other hand, glares playfully at Eddie. “Seriously, not in front of our daughter.” 

“Oh, please, don’t pretend she doesn’t know things.” 

“I mean, yeah, but she doesn’t need to know things about us.” 

“I really don’t,” their daughter agrees. 

Eddie laughs before collapsing onto the seat beside Steve. Assessing the beads in front of him, Eddie collects a few and gets to work. 

“Hey,” Steve whines, swatting Eddie’s hand away when he tries to steal one of his beads. “These are mine. You didn’t even get her approval.” 

Eddie scoffs. “I don’t need her approval. She trusts me, right bug?” 

Their daughter rolls her eyes, but nods. Eddie hoots victoriously before going back to his own bracelet. Steve shares a look of amusement with their daughter. One that says it’s better to let Eddie think he won than try to give him a set of rules to play by. 

Many things have changed about Eddie over the years, but one thing that has remained the same is his disdain for other people’s rules — even if the rules are coming from his daughter. 

When Steve tries to take a peek at what Eddie is working on a moment later, he gets a swift elbow to the ribs. “No peaking!” 

Shaking his head, Steve gets back to his own bracelets. It’s a lot easier threading the beads when he grabs his glasses from the bedroom and he manages to finish two daughter-approved bracelets in the time it takes Eddie to finish whatever he’s been working on. 

“Are you ready to see the best bracelet ever?” he asks, standing up with all the dramatics he had when he was thirty years younger. 

Steve and their daughter nod, setting aside their own bracelets to look at Eddie’s creation. 

A rainbow of beads, all different shapes and sizes surround a group of block letter beads that reads: Fuck Ticketmaster. 

Steve laughs while their daughter smirks, shaking her head. 

“It’s not a Taylor lyric, but I appreciate the sentiment.” 

“Our bank account definitely agrees.” 

“So will the Swifties, you’ll see!” Eddie says, reaching for another random set of beads to start another bracelet.  

The three of them spend the rest of the afternoon making friendship bracelets. Well, Steve and their daughter do. Eddie continues making “Fuck Ticketmaster” and various other obscure and random bracelets. The highlights of which include a red beaded monstrosity with the word “scarf” on it and one that just says "Olive Garden."

Unfortunately for Steve and their daughter, Eddie’s unhinged bracelets are the biggest hit at the concert. He ends up trading all his bracelets before they even get into the stadium. 

He doesn’t let them live it down, proclaiming himself the King of Friendship bracelets. 

[xoxoladyaz]

It Hits Different This Time

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Rock Star Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

“Steve.” 

He hears Robin knocking on the door, her knuckles tapping firmly against the wood.

“STEVE.”

He’s lying on the bed in Robin’s guest bedroom, limbs starfished across the plush gray comforter, staring at the ceiling fan. Taylor Swift is singing to him, blasting from the Alexa speaker next to him.

Oh my, love is a lie, shit my friends say to get me by 

“Alexa, volume up.”

“Steve – STEVE!”

It hits different, it hits different this time

“Alexa, off,” Robin says as she marches into the room. Taylor’s voice cuts off almost immediately and Steve huffs, frustrated.

“Steve, as much as I love listening to your ‘Sad Taylor Swift’ playlist, you need to eat something. Go for a walk. Take a shower.”

“I’d rather not.”

Sighing, Robin kicks his left leg until he’s made enough room for her to collapse down beside him and gaze up at the spinning fan. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

They lay in silence.

“It’s just – our three-year anniversary, Robin.”

“I know.”

“He didn’t even text me.”

“I know.”

“And the supermodels at the club! And the tweets!”

“I know, Steve.”

There’s moisture pricking at the inside of his eyes now. “I just – it’s dumb, okay? I thought we could make this work. But I guess I’m not as important to him as he is to me.”

“Dingus,” Robin chides, and he turns his face away so she can’t see that he’s actually crying now. (She still probably knows that he is; Robin always knows. He just doesn’t want anyone to see.) “Okay, is Eddie Munson a huge idiot? Yes, and he has been for as long as we’ve known him. Is he kind of an asshole now that he’s famous? Yes. Do I think this is the end? Not necessarily.”

Steve snorts. “It’s been four days, Robin. Nothing for four days. I think it’s already ended.”

Robin cuddles up to his side so now they’re legitimately snuggling together. “Look, all I’m saying is he’s going to be back in the state in a few days and I think you owe it yourself to at least have a conversation with him. Either you two decide to work things out and start communicating better or you decide that he’s not pulling his weight to make his relationship work and you get closure. Either way, I think you need to talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Steve sniffles. “You’re probably right.”

“Steven, I’m always right.”

“I’m sorry, do you want to talk about the Pixar question you fumbled on trivia night?”

“Dingus, I swear to god if you don’t let it go - ”

/////

Eddie’s groggy and nauseous and fuck the sun is too bright. He pulls at the window-shades as he stumbles into their kitchen, dropping his Louis Vuitton bag on the floor. The fact that he’s managing to walk while coming down from a five day bender that he barely fucking remembers is kind of a miracle. 

“Steve! Stevie, baby, I’m home!”

Silence.

What day is it today, Saturday? He’s probably at the farmer’s market with Robin. Eddie’s a few days early anyways, wanted it to be a surprise. And honestly, it’s probably a good thing Steve’s not home, Eddie needs to keep sobering up.

He pulls a fresh bottle of water out of the fridge and collapses onto the restored dining-room chairs they bought a few months ago. He tips it back and drinks it down greedily, swallowing the cool water down his aching throat. “Oh, that’s good,” he moans to himself, dropping the now empty bottle onto the dining room table.

The empty bottle that clangs against something. Squinting, Eddie opens his eyes and looks down.

There’s a small box sitting at his spot, a card laying haphazardly onto the side. It looks like someone opened it and scribbled all over what they originally wrote.

Eddie frowns and grabs for the card. It’s Steve’s writing. Whatever he’s crossed out is unreadable. Instead, all there is is the following:

I would say Happy Anniversary, but judging by the fact that (1) you didn’t return my call or even text me back and (2) the paps caught you at the club with the guys and a bunch of supermodels instead, I’m going to assume that you’re not interested in celebrating it anymore.

Eddie feels his stomach sink so fast that he’s going to lose all the water he just drank. 

Look, Eds, I am so proud of you for making your dream come true. I would never ask you to give that up or sacrifice your music for me. But I’m tired of feeling alone in this relationship. Of feeling like you don’t love me as much as I love you. Because I would do anything for you, but I think this all proves that you wouldn’t do the same for me.

Anyways, I still want you to have your gift. It wouldn’t make sense to give it to anyone else. 

Your biggest fan, Steve

He can’t see straight and it’s not because of the drugs. He can’t breathe and it’s not because of his asthma or his wicked smoking habit. 

He grabs the small box, flips it open, and chokes back a sob.

It’s a perfect replica of Aragorn’s ring, the ring he’s given that proves he is Isilduir’s heir. He’s wanted it foryears, but it was never something that he thought he could buy for himself. Sure, he could buy whatever random luxury shit without a sweat, but something so meaningful to him? Because reading The Lord of the Rings saved his fucking life in high school? His brain couldn’t deal with him buying it for himself. His therapist says it’s one of his many hang-ups regarding money and fame and his self-esteem issues, but that’s not what matters right now.

What matters is that Steve gave this to him, loved him enough to have it made for him.

And now Steve is gone.

Eddie grabs for his phone with shaking hands and checks the date.

“Fuck.”

Five days. 

He’s five days too fucking late.

He’s dialing Jeff before he can even realize he’s doing it.

“Dude, I really don’t want to be talking to you right now.”

“Jeff,” Eddie barely gets out, his voice choking on a sob. “Steve is gone.”

Jeff’s silent for a moment. 

“I’m on my way.”

[icedheartss]

You know how to ball

I know Aristotle

[katerinasas]

AUGUST. 🩰

steve harrington x fem!reader

in which steve harrington and his girl just love august.

steve harrington and his girlfriend (you) LOVE august.

teenagers are always falling in love at that time of year, including you guys. every august, falling more in love.

steve loves his girlfriends darkened skin and lighter hair. your new shoes and clothes you’re so proud of. your bright smiles. football games and homecoming dances with you. having 8am to curfew with his girl because they’re able to do whatever they want after 3pm. “study” dates. late night trips to diners and it’s still hot enough for you get away with shorts! (and one of steve’s hoodies, of course.)

august reminded you of love. excitement. that certain feeling no one can explain at the beginning of the school year. unashamed hand holding through the parking lot and “accidentally” running into each other in the hallway when you should’ve been in class

for steve and his girl, for teenagers all around the globe, the beginning of school is for new opportunities. new love. new realationships. all things new. but most importantly, the best kind of love.

teenage love. and steve harrington and his best girl have certainly found it.

—

august is my favourite time of year

praying when me and you go back to school we get a steve harrington ☝🏼

[fairylights-throughthemist]

Eddie Munson as tracks on The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift

Fortnight

Exhusband!Eddie x Jealous!Reader

The Tortured Poets Department

Friends to Lovers to Strangers with Eddie

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Toxic!Mean!Eddie x Reader

Down Bad

Protective!Mafia!Eddie x Reader

So Long, London

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader have spent lots of time in London during their relationship. Now that it’s ended she never wants to return.)

But Daddy I Love Him

Dad’s Best Friend!Eddie / Older!Eddie x Reader

Fresh Out The Slammer

Ex-Con!Eddie x Reader

Florida!!!

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Reader’s [now ex]boyfriend cheated on her, she went to Florida on vacation to forget about him. At a local bar she meets a certain rockstar touring the country with his band.)

Guilty As Sin?

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie broke up with you, yet you can’t stop thinking about him. Not even with another man in your bed.)

Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader just made their relationship official and his fans can’t seem to keep their mouths shut. Haters online compare you to other women he’s been seen with, they make comments about your body and they don’t think you deserve Eddie.) (This description also fits for Delicate from Reputation.)

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

Mafia!Eddie x Catholic / Virgin / Good Girl / Shy! Reader

loml

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Situationship!Mean!Toxic!Eddie x Reader

The Alchemy

Hockey player!Eddie x Reader

Clara Bow

Rockstar!Eddie x Actress!Reader

(Reader always getting compared to other actresses, everyone wants her to be bigger and better than anyone before her. Eddie being the only one able to comfort her.)

The Black Dog

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

imgonnagetyouback

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Jealous!Reader

The Albatross

Virgin!Eddie x “Slut”!Reader

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Eddie becoming addicted to drugs, reader trying to help him but giving up when he cheats on her.)

How Did It End?

Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(No one caring about how you’re doing, only asking about Eddie and asking what happened.)

So High School - my first fic ever!!

Best Friends to Lovers, Eddie x Reader

(Eddie and Reader playing Kiss, Marry, Kill while high, Reader naming people when it’s Eddie’s turn, one of them being herself, leading her to ask “Are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me?”)

I Hate It Here

Eddie x You

(Yes you. We all know you read to escape reality.)

thanK you aIMee

Eddie x Reader

(Based on the title, not the lyrics)

(Think All Of The Girls You Loved Before, Reader thanking one of Eddie’s exes for contributing to the amazing man he is now.)

I Look In People’s Windows

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

The Prophecy

Eddie x Reader

(Post Vecna…)

Cassandra

Toxic!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Reader watching Eddie’s show in the pit and getting sexually harassed / groped by some creep. Not wanting to interrupt the show or cause a scene, she keeps quiet. Anxiety and stress leading up to a breakdown, Eddie being high out of his mind asking if everything’s okay. You snap at him and tell him about the incident at his concert but he doesn’t believe you. The day after your breakdown, Eddie asks you what happened last night, after a quick recap of the events your petty boyfriend chooses not to believe you.)

Peter

Exboyfriend!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

(Similar to Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me. Eddie being ignorant and giving half assed advice like “Just ignore it”. He doesn’t show how much he cares due to his newfound love for drugs.)

The Bolter

Eddie x Reader

(Reader being afraid of relationships and attachment. Her trying to bolt from Eddie’s love but he doesn’t let her. Steve and Robin being supportive of Reader and Eddie’s relationship, they felt the need to tell him about her attachment style before it was too late.)

Robin

Dad!Eddie x Mom!Reader

The Manuscript

Exboyfriend!Eddie x Reader

A/N: This is my first time writing anything so please be nice !!!!

[cassofheartsss]

Dress

a/n: Originally this wasn’t inspired by dress but then I realised it was sort of like dress so yeah

You and Steve are friends and have been for ages and you’ve had the biggest crush on him for ages so when he called you and asked you if you wanted to go to a party with him and obviously you said yes. You met him when he was younger and had a buzz cut and you had your hair bleached because you wanted to be one of the ‘cool’ kids. Even in your worst times he could see the best of you. Flashback to your mistakes (dating billy), your rebounds and your earthquakes even in your worst lies he saw the truth in you. It was inevitable from the start. You always knew being friends with him would ruin you but you didn’t care because admitting how you felt might’ve ruined your friendship fully. You put your dress on and did your hair and makeup and put your heels on. Steve then pulled up outside your house so you quickly left and locked the door then got into Steve’s car.

“You look stunning as always” Steve says to you making you slightly blush. God everything this man said made you fall for him more.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself Harrington” You reply making him laugh. You talked the whole car ride then got to the party. He parked then got out of the car and you quickly followed. You went to get drinks and you were having a fun night. That was until your ex, Billy Hargrove, walked in. You should’ve known he’d be at the party but you prayed he wouldn’t be there.

"Steve I need you to flirt with me and act like you're dating me" you say quickly. You knew this would annoy Billy especially since Steve was his enemy and a bonus was you actually liked Steve.

He pauses mid drink and looks over at you like you’re crazy, "Why?"

You roll your eyes, "Steve improvise look me in my eye and lie to me"

He raises an eyebrow, still looking at you like you’re mental, "Lie to you?"

"Act like I'll believe anything." You say.

He glances over at the door and notices Billy, a look of realisation dawns on his face. He smiles inching closer to you and he wraps his arms around your waist and the scent of his cologne fills up your system. "And if I'm not acting?" You didn’t know what to say so you went silent for a few seconds. Everyone thought that they knew you both but they know nothing about all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation.

Your eyes widen as you look up at him. You were a blushing mess. "What??"

He laughs leaning closer as both of you feel Billys eyes on you. "This could be us" He says.

“Seriously?” You ask not quite believing him. Your hands were shaking from holding back from him.

“Seriously” Steve said nodding. You were screwed. The moment he said that everything around you stopped. Just like it did when he said your name. He was the only thing you saw. He was the only thing you focused on. You didn’t want him like a best friend.

Fron the start this was inevitable. You both knew it. And if this ended up with you burned atleast you were electrified.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Closure Pt. 3

I'm taking requests! Please send you ideas in! I'd love to write them!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader

Warnings: swearing, anger, idk what else

Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave with you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.

Part Summary: Robin invites you over for a small get-together before you leave, little did you know Steve was also invited.

*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist

Based on Taylor Swift's Song Closure. This was a request. I tried to make everything as general as possible. Pls let me know if missed something ty. Also Eddie did not die in this.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

It's just an hour. And it'll be nice to see everyone again. I mean, I haven't seen Robin in years. I wonder whatever happened with Vickie.

I press the doorbell of the older-looking apartment. A loud ring echoes from the other side of the door. Immediately, it's opened by an excited-looking Robin.

" You made it! " She grins, pulling me into a tight hug. Her hair's grown slightly but she still looks the same as she did in high school. " We have so much to catch up on. I haven't seen you in forever. "

" Of course I made it, Rob. I wouldn't miss this for the world. " I smile at the girl.

She leads me into the apartment, loud voices immediately flooding my ears. " Make yourself at home. There's snacks and games in the living room. And Eddie brought beer. There's a few people I invited that you might not know. I hope that's okay. "

" That's alright. I don't mind. "

" Well well well, look what the cat dragged in. " Eddie's playfully acts annoyed. His hands are on his hips, a pout on his lips. His arms support multiple new tattoos, some of which look fresher than others. " I thought you died. "

I roll my eyes. " Still alive and kicking. I see you're still a drama queen. "

Eddie gasps. " Am not. "

" It's good to see you, Ed. " I grin while hugging the slightly older man. " How's the band? "

" Better than ever. " Eddie pulls out a folded sheet of paper from his black jeans. He opens it, revealing this band logo on the very top. " We're playing multiple venues now. And we've been asked to go meet with some exec hot shots for a record label. " His excitement is evident in his tone. " We fucking did it, Y/N. "

" I'm so proud of you! "

The doorbell rings and Robin jumps up from her spot on the couch to answer the door.

A few muffled voices make their way down the hallway as Robin brings the guests further into apartment.

" What about you? What've you been up too? Livin' good up in the big city? " Eddie asks. His arms are splayed out comfortably on the top of the sofa behind him. His legs are lazily crossed out in front of him, his posture very casual.

I don't get to respond. A voice behind me grabs my attention.

" Y/N? "

I know that voice.

Steve.

I turn my head to see the man I'd been hoping to avoid for days now.

Fuck.

Steve's eyes are wide in confusion. He looks slightly older but still just as attractive as he did all those years before. His hair is still styled the same, only slightly longer.

" Steve? " I mumble in surprise.

" You two know each other? " Robin asks, a smile on her face. She has no idea about us.

I nod stiffly. " We did a long time ago. "

A small movement behind Steve's shoulder grabs my attention. Nancy Wheeler peeks over his shoulder, curious to who I am.

" Oh my, Y/N? " Nancy smiles warmly.

Even better.

" Hey, Nancy. " I greet politely. Moments ago this apartment felt fun and casual. Now it feels absolutely suffocating.

I thought I was done with Steve. I threw his shit away. Why is this bugging me so much? He's a stranger now.

Then why does he feel so familiar?

The doorbell rings again and Eddie lets out a grown. " How many people did you fucking invite, Robin? At this rate the whole towns gonna be here. "

" Shut up. It's the pizza. I'll be right back. " Robin rolls her eyes before disappearing into the hall.

" Didn't you two used to date? " Eddie asks out of the blue, pointing to Steve and I.

" Uh, yeah. " Steve nods awkwardly.

Eddie looks between Nancy and Steve. " Shit, you two dated too! "

Ten points to fucking sherlock over here. Really solving all the worlds greatest mysteries.

" Man, that's awkward. "

" You think? " I glare over at him. Of course, he had to bring that shit up, didn't he.

The room grows quiet. Nancy and Steve sit side by side on the ground across from Eddie and I. A small brown coffee table separates us, thankfully putting some distance between everyone.

" Who fucking died in here? Why are you guys so quiet? " Robin asks while carrying the pizzas in. " This is supposed to be a game night, guys. Not a sit-awkwardly-on-the-floor-in-weird-silence-and-stare-at-the-floor night. " She places the pizzas on an empty area on the coffee table. " I'm gonna grab some plates and napkins. When I come back I want everyone talking. " She playfully orders.

" So..." Eddie drags out the word awkwardly. He reaches into his pants and pulls out a small baggie filled with long white rolls. " Anyone want some weed? "

" You're not smoking weed in my apartment Munson! " Robin shouts from the kitchen.

This is going to be a long night.

*******

" I'm gonna go get some air. " I take one last swig of my beer before standing up.

Who knew Eddie and Robin were so competitive when it came to twister?

They don't seem to hear me over their loud trash-talking. Robin cackles loudly as she manages to contort her body somehow to get her arm onto a green circle. " It's alright, old man. You can give up now. We all know you've got fragile bones. "

" Shut the fuck up. You're just salty I kicked your ass at uno. " Eddie's voice dies down as I make it outside.

Outside is cold and quiet but it's a nice change from the loud environment inside. It's pretty late. Everyone is tucked in their houses, away from the streets.

I'd spent the last two hours debating if I should go home. Every time I'm about to say I need to go, thoughts about how I wouldn't need to leave if I didn't still feel sad about Steve start to pop up.

" Can we talk? "

" What's there to talk about, Steve? You sent me a letter. I read it. We're fine. " I reply stiffly.

" You never replied. " Steve steps out further onto Robins' front porch. He leans against the railing a step's length away from me.

I don't bother to look at him. " I didn't feel like it. I'm not into the whole letter thing. You know that. "

I've never been a fan of writing letters. It feels less personal than talking to someone else in person or on the phone.

Steve lets out a small sigh. From the corner of my eye, I spot the steam of his breath from the cold pre-winter air. " I'm sorry. "

" You broke my heart, Steve. " Anger bubbles in my chest. " You fucking broke it. Why did it take you so long to write to me? Why didn't you try to call? " I look over at him.

" I didn't know where you lived. You moved across the country, how was I supposed to get in contact with you? " Steve asks, his eyes staring into mine.

" That's bullshit Steve and you know it. If you really fucking wanted to you would've tried to get ahold of me. I was still at home the entire summer after graduation. You could've asked my mom for my number or-fuck even my address. You had options and you chose not to do anything. How am I supposed to believe you? " I feel my face heat up from anger.

" Admit it, Steve. You sent me that fucking letter because you feel guilty. You're ashamed of yourself. You wanted to smooth things over, make yourself feel better. Well, I'm sorry, but I'm just not ready to pretend nothing ever happened yet. It wasn't just the fact that you broke up with me, Steve. We were friends. Best friends, at least I thought so. You just threw our friendship away. " I let out a bitter laugh. " And the ironic part was you were worried that you telling me how you felt would ruin our friendship. No, you did that when you let other people's opinions into our relationship. "

" I was a fucking coward, Y/N! What do you want me to say? " He asks desperately. " I lived off of the opinions of others and that ultimately cost me the best fucking thing that happened to me. " He grips the cold railing in front of us tightly. " I lost you because I was too scared to be myself and I will never forgive myself because of that. " He sighs. " I don't want you to forgive me, Y/N. I just want to know you're okay. "

" I'm not okay, Steve. I-I'm so conflicted. " I gesture to the man. " I still love you and I'm so fucking angry about it. I shouldn't still love you but I do. "

" I still love you to. " Steve replies honestly. " I haven't stopped thinking about you. I wonder what you're up to and who you've become all the time. "

I miss him too.

" What do we do? " I ask after a moment of silence.

Steve shrugs. He looks defeated. " I don't know. "

" Are you and Nancy dating again? " I ask quietly.

Steve shakes his head. " What? No. We're just friends. We haven't dated since the end of Senior Year. She's with Jonathan. "

We fall into another silence.

" I'm not ready to date you again. I don't know if I ever will be. " I begin.

Steve nods sadly. He shoves his hands in his pockets. " I completely understand. "

" But I'm willing to try to be friends again. Only friends. "

Steve's eyes light up. " Really? " A small smile of relief breaks onto his face. " Thank you, Y/N. Thank you so much. I promise this is going to better than last time. I'll treat you better than last time. "

" This doesn't mean your forgiven, it just means I'm willing to try. "

Steve nods. " I get that. I won't let you down. "

Is this stupid?

Probably.

Will I get my heart broken again? I don't know.

But we only live once and who knows where this could go. Maybe Steve has changed. Maybe he's a better man.

I guess we'll see.

Steve Harrington, please don't break my heart again. Please.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog@queen-apple24

[munsonsreputation]

the very first page not where the storyline ends

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [4.8k]

warnings: mild cursing, slight mention of steve's childhood, overall fluff and all that romantic stuff

summary: a sparkling night and a flawless dance you shared with Steve Harrington wasn’t how you imagined your love story to begin. Nothing could have prepared you for it, but you’d both spend every dance and forever wondering how enchanting it was to finally find each other.

The speakers blasted a slow song, prompting couples and friends to make their way onto the dance floor while all you could do was watch from the sidelines as their bodies swayed.

Part of you didn’t mind one bit, while the other wished that at least one of your friends could have asked you to dance just so you wouldn’t be lonely. Thankfully, the outskirts of the dance floor lingering with the other strays didn’t make you feel too bad, knowing you weren’t the only one without a slow dance for the night.

You watched on with a fond smile, admiring all the high school sweethearts you hoped would turn into forever lovers — and high school friends that would turn into lifelong ones. Despite your initial annoyance at the lack of romance, you loved the idea of potentially witnessing it from others.

Sipping on the overly sweet and likely spiked punch, you finally pulled your eyes from the dance floor, looking everywhere but there in hopes of curing your achy heart. It was then that you noticed the figure from across the room and eyes that belonged to it seemingly fixated on you.

The orbs belonged to Steve Harrington, one of the most popular boys in all of Hawkins. Everyone knew who he was, yet his eyes seemed to call out to you from across the room, asking if you two have met before accompanied with that charming smile plastered across his lips.

You twiddled your fingers at him cooly, setting the flimsy plastic cup down on the table, breath hitching nervously in your chest as his silhouette started to make its way to you. His hands tucked into his pant pockets, coming closer to you with a shyness you’d never seen up close and personal before.

“I’m Steve,” He spoke loud enough, standing in front of where you were seated, careful to not let his shoes come in contact with the excess fabric on your dress that flooded the floor.

“Hi, Steve.” You grinned, looking up at him through your mascara coated lashes, blinking wildly because it had to have been a dream.

Meanwhile, Steve felt like a loser. A total hopeless romantic idiotic loser, to be exact. You were the prettiest sight his eyes ever laid eyes on. Even from across the room, he had known that, but getting to see you without craning his neck in between the dancing bodies was like a punch to his gut.

He felt lovesick, mouth held slightly agape as he gawked at you like a work of art. Entranced by the flecks of glitter that swooped over your lids and the high points of your cheeks. But it was your eyes that mesmerized him, piercing into his own and holding them like it was the only thing you wanted to do even if he was the one that was enraptured.

“Do y-you wanna dance?” He proposed, clearing his throat and blinking after what seemed to feel like an eternity of not.

His shoulders pulled into himself, looking back at the dance floor, then back to you hoping you wouldn’t turn it down because then his heart really wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Your lips pressed into a tight smile, nodding without hesitation.

“Yeah, sure.”

His chest rose and fell with a relieved puff of air, finally dragging his hands out of its confines as he held them out towards you. You gladly took them, letting him lead you through the figures and into an open spot.

Instinctively, when you both settled, your arms went around his neck, feet already moving back and forth to the beat of the song as his warm hands settled around your waist and he began following along. It wasn’t anything complicated, a simple side-by-side motion that felt surprisingly comfortable for something that was usually so intimate.

Steve kissed his teeth, stretching his neck outwards as his eyes darted around, prompting you to furrow your brows and follow his sights, trying to see what he was getting at. You had thought maybe he was second guessing his invitation to you.

Then he finally spoke, “Is your date gonna come out of the bathroom and beat me up for asking you to dance?”

Worried filled orbs drifting back to you as you rolled your eyes playfully, not as anxious as you were just a few moments ago.

“I don’t have a date tonight.” You replied, watching as he looked at you stumped, his brows pulled together, a baffled crease forming between them.

“How?”

“What?”

“How could someone not ask you out to prom?” He shook his head, still clearly confused by the information that he just couldn’t believe.

“Says you, Mr. Popular.” You teased with a smirk, “I really hope you don’t secretly have a date who’s going to accuse me of stealing you.”

Steve barked out a laugh, shaking his head, “I promise, I don’t.”

You nodded, happy with his answer—and even more happy that he was enjoying the dance as much as you.

“I don’t think I put myself out there enough,” you blurted out, wincing at your brutal honesty that you wished you had cushioned slightly.

His head tilted, staring at you puzzled at what you meant. “Huh?”

“That’s why I think no one asked me out to prom.”

You bit down on your lip, hoping he didn’t just ask you to dance out of pity, because then it would be totally embarrassing to leave him with that thought.

Yet Steve didn’t budge the way you thought he would. Instead, he shook his head undoubtedly, lips tugging up into a sincere smile as if he knew.

“That can’t be true.”

You spoke just soft enough for him to hear, eyes batting up at him, “How do you know?”

“Cause I’m a total stranger who asked you to dance while I was having a full-blown anxiety attack on the inside worried you would say no.”

He blurted his words out without a second thought. Voice so firm without any stammering to suggest he was trying to play up the sympathy for you.

Your eyes widen at the confession, mouth forming a smile that you couldn’t seem to hold back even if you tried your very best. There was no way that Steve Harrington was nervous to ask you to dance.

That just didn’t seem plausible given what you have heard. All the swooning and giddy stories that came from whispers in the hallways, and now suddenly you were there right in front of him. He was already making you dizzy in a way you hadn’t felt before.

“You’re joking!” You laughed, smacking his chest lightly as he shook his head.

“Honest to god!” He promised you, letting one hand leave your side as he gripped your wrist, keeping your hand on his heart.

With a little more pressure, he urged you to press down and feel the truth.

“My heart is beating out of my chest, right now.”

You could feel the thump even past his silly pocket square. It definitely wasn’t at a resting beat. It felt as if it was jumping out, as if it wanted to escape the confines of his chest and be one with yours.

Oh, Steve Harrington was making you sick with the love bug, and you didn’t know if you would ever be cured of it.

Your cheeks were burning from the ceaseless smile that spilled upon your lips. Even when you tried to bite on the inside of your cheek to fight it off, you just couldn’t seem to do it. Pulling your eyes away from his bashfully, he finally let your hand return to its place around his neck, yet his own smile didn’t falter either.

“Well, I’m really glad you noticed me,” you breathed, finding it in yourself to look up at him still star-struck by everything that happened in a matter of minutes.

“You definitely just made my night.” You added kindly, pressing yourself up on your tiptoes to place a glossy peck on his cheek.

His arms tightened around your waist, not wanting to let you go even as the song slowly died out, “It doesn’t have to end tonight.”

“You think so?” You giggled, lifting your shoulders, wondering what you were about to get yourself into.

“I have a feeling.” He grinned, placing his own kiss on your cheek, hands not leaving your frame, nor feet straying away from the dance floor for the rest of the night.

Time seemed to pass so quickly after senior prom. Blurring between your first moment with Steve to the many you shared over the course of the following months, to then in his backyard breaking off pieces of white bread and throwing them out for the baby birds to snack on.

He admired you from his place under the umbrella, seated and keeping out of the sun while you both waited for his friends to arrive. He had been waiting for this moment for a while now, wanting nothing more than to introduce you to his closest friends, which felt more like his family.

The radio buzzed on with the generic hits, its volume low despite his home being tucked away from the rest of the neighborhood where they couldn’t hear. Part of him just didn’t want to scare the birds off while you were busy making sure they had the proper amount of carbs for the day.

Only then when the familiar song kicked up through the speakers, not only did his fingers instinctively turn the volume knob up to full blast, but he also was out of his lounger before he could even think twice.

“Steve!”

It’s a mixture of a giggle and a squeal, and you had no choice but to wrap your arms around his shoulders. He hoisted you away from the corner of his backyard, thankfully at the perfect time where all that was left was crumbs on your fingertips and the birds flew along to watch from the branches of the tree.

“You know the drill, sweetheart.” He chided, giving your behind a love pat, before finally settling your bare feet on the bed of freshly mowed lawn, saving your soles from the heat of the ground.

“We’re supposed to be preparing. This is like a huge deal for me.” You pouted up at him.

He casually guided your arms over his neck for you, acting as if he was paying no mind to what you were saying.

Steve placed an endearing kiss on your lips before draping his arms across your back, nearly falling into you as your bodies swayed to the music — the same song that played at prom, of course.

“They’re gonna love you, baby.” He pressed another kiss right below your ear, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“You know how long it took me to convince them you were actually real? They still don’t think I managed to get you to say yes to being my girlfriend.”

You smiled achingly into his chest, burying your face as if he couldn’t feel it through the thin material of his t-shirt. He didn’t know why you liked to hide so much, especially when you got all blush-ly because of his words, but if you were going to be hiding where he could feel it, then he didn’t mind at all.

“I just really want them to like me.” You admitted, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath of him in.

His fingers squeezed the dough of your sides, rubbing up and down gently, “If it makes you feel any better you made one hell of a first impression on me. Literal love at first sight.”

He could feel you smiling again, gripping him just a bit tighter at the need to have him closer, if that was possible at all. Steve was good at those kinds of things, ironing away any worries you had, whether it be about a big test or meeting his friends for the very first time.

In many ways, you just wanted them to know that you were making Steve happy, and you hoped you were making him as happy as he made you. Even after three months of dating, you still got shy at times, and you worried a lot about making a fool out of yourself in front of him. But he never would fail to remind you that he loved you from the very moment he laid eyes on you, and nothing would ever get in the way of it.

“Stop swooning me, Harrington.” You pinched his back gingerly, face finally coming out from hiding as he did the same and finally met your eyes.

“If you say so, but now I’m gonna start spinning you.” He grinned, standing straight and going to lace your fingers through his.

“Babe!” You giggled noisily, feet floundering around as he moved your body in and away from his, twirling you as you went.

There was a sort of carelessness to it, the kind where you didn’t have to worry about banging into other people on a crowded dance floor, and the one where you couldn’t give a damn about looking like an uncoordinated mess in front of him. All of that stuff didn’t matter when it was just you and him.

“So she really is real?” a voice sounded from the open gate where a group of individuals stood with pleased smiles blanketing their faces as they watched on.

“Hi!” you bubbled cheerily, attempting to halt your movements to save you the mess of meeting his friends that way.

But Steve didn’t relent, shaking his head with a smirk as he dipped you low while you shrieked.

Steve turning to face his friends for only a second as you tried to suppress your giggles that wanted to erupt, looking up at him from the angle you were in, all of a sudden forgetting his friends were watching.

“Sorry guys, it’s tradition. Can’t stop dancing until the song ends.” He revealed, as they all nodded with a laugh, letting themselves in and putting their things down.

“Don’t stop on our watch. I actually think it’s cute.” Robin tapped her fingers together not bothering to hide her smile at the scene of her best friend so happy with you.

“Kiss me?” He finally looked down at you, never letting his grip falter even a little bit.

“Hurry! Before the song ends!” You giggled, tugging him down by the neck connecting your lips before your back met the plush of the grass.

Steve groaned against your lips, while you laughed not caring about being smushed. After a few “sorries” were mumbled out to him, you pushed at his chest, sitting up on your elbows to wave towards his friends while he wrapped his arms around your midsection still wanting to hog you.

The boy with curly hair stepped forward, eyeing his beloved babysitter.

“Okay, we get it. You’re in love, now can we please meet your girlfriend?”

Steve rolled his eyes, pressing a final kiss to the side of your head before letting you go.

“She’s all yours unless the song comes on again, which in that case, she’ll be mine for 3 minutes and 25 seconds!” He called out as you got up and skipped away.

“It’s so nice to meet you all…properly!”

It was a special occasion… not the fact that you both were grocery shopping, but the fact that you were grocery shopping to have your very first meal at your shared apartment. It had been a long time coming, craving to have a place you both could finally call your own.

Sure, it was far from luxurious as his parents’ mansion, but it was yours, and that was what mattered. Its coziness was actually the selling point for you and Steve, the mere excuse to get to be close to one another rather than having to yell out from the next room when you he was away for too long.

He still thought it couldn’t truly be real. That it still had to be the night of his senior prom and he was staring at you from across the room with flashes of the future that he could only imagine, but this time it was actually real life.

“Baby, you good?” You snorted, chucking in a bag of chips into the cart noticing the way Steve stared at you blankly.

He grunted, blinking slowly before nodding, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He shook it off with a smile, still making no effort to push the cart. Thankfully, the aisle was all yours.

“You sure? You look a bit dazed, honey.” You frowned, pressing your palm to his forehead trying to feel for a fever.

He shrugged timidly, letting you do so even though he knew he wasn’t under the weather like you thought, “I dunno, I just can’t believe we’re grocery shopping for our place. Ours. Still kinda not used to saying it.”

You giggled, jabbing your finger gently into the dimple of his cheek, “Well believe it, because until the lease ends, we’re gonna be paying the bills like true adults.”

He grabbed at your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he murmured against the skin.

“And I get to listen to your snoring all night long and when we decide to nap during the day.” He teased, not missing the way you groaned and tried to pull your hand away from him.

“Don’t make me put you out on the couch.” You threatened with no malice, as he finally let your hand fall.

“You wouldn’t dare, you love cuddling me too much.”

The two of you walked further down the aisle, stopping again as something had caught Steve’s eye.

“Hey, we should get these for when you’re craving something sweet.” He spoke, plucking the cookies off the shelf, reading the label to see what flavor they were—they had to be your favorite.

“Baby?” He called out after not getting a response from you, looking around to see what you were up to before he realized you had set your purse down into the cart.

Your finger pointed up at the intercom, softly playing a song. The song. Usually Steve's ear was trained to listen for the tune, but his thoughts about finally having his dream come true must have distracted them—thankfully you could never miss it.

“Really? Here in the open?” He whispered surprisingly, looking down both ways seeing a few customers walking by minding their business.

You nodded with the shrug of your shoulders, smiling as you reached out for him. “Yeah, who cares? It’s our song, and it’s tradition, right?”

“Right.” He said, slowly a smirk floating on his face as he set down the box of cookies into the cart, making his way over to you.

The song isn’t as clear as it would be being blasted through the stereo system of his car or the speakers at senior prom, but the melody alone evokes a movement that is second nature to you both. His hands on your waist, yours snug around his neck, feet moving side-to-side.

You smiled up at him fondly, loving every dance you share, but you couldn’t help but to make sure that one stuck to memory a little funnier than the other times.

“But for our sake, let’s try to keep it PG. I really don’t want to be banned from the nearest grocery store because we were making out in the middle of the snack aisle.” You warned, watching as his nose scrunched up and laughter erupted from him.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He promised, stealing just one kiss, promising he’d make it up to you at your home later.

The sand felt foreign against your feet and so did the salty water residue that clung to your skin. Sun beating down on you in a way that didn’t make you feel sticky or gross like usual Indiana. All of it felt so different, but you couldn’t imagine it without Steve.

The two of you managed to get away from Hawkins for a week. Your schedules aligning perfectly and so did your bank accounts. It wasn’t a complete tropical vacation, but it was out of state, where there was an actual beach where you could see the waves coming in and the horizon looking out.

“Pinch me. This feels like a dream.” You sighed, shaking your head up at the sky in disbelief, trying to commit every detail to memory not knowing when you’d get to experience this again.

Steve chuckled softly beside you, throwing his arm across your shoulders instead. “You always smack me when I pinch your butt,”

“Shut up.” You shook your head with a smile, looking over at him in all his summer glory.

Shirtless, swim trunks sitting perfectly over his waist, as his skin was peppered with the same bits of salt and sand that was on yours.

“Lover’s Lake can’t compare to this can it?” He raised his brow toward you, watching as you shook your head before looking down at what surrounded you both.

“Definitely not, but I will say your car appreciates the absence of sand.” You pointed out knowing how much the sand was more of pain than a luxury.

Steve sucked in a breath, shaking his head at the thought alone. “Oh, we’d have to get one of those heavy duty vacuums to get every grain out and those things are expensive.”

You shared a laugh, the both of you picturing the kids begging Steve to drive them out to an imaginary beach, following by the onslaught of sand that he probably would never get to fully clean out. Sure, Hawkins was missing out on a legitimate beach, but it just gave him an excuse to bring you out here to enjoy all by himself.

“Thank you again for taking me here.” You cooed softly, leaning your head closer to his chest, tugging yourself closer to him.

His laughter rumbled where your cheek rested, his other arm slinging around your midsection.

“Baby, we went half on the ticket.” He reminded you, knowing none of it would be possible if you both didn’t contribute.

“I know, but I wouldn’t have been able to come at all if it weren’t for you. There’s no one I’d rather be here with other than you.”

Steve grew up with memories of visiting a few states when he tagged along with his parents on their work trips. He had pictures outside every airport he landed and departed from, and even more at famous landmarks and cities, yet none of them came close to touching you.

You were an entirely different planet in his eyes. You took him places he never would have ever imagined going—growing up and taking on the world with a sort of fearlessness as long as you were by his side.

There was no other way to describe it to you, and even if he tried, he was sure he wouldn’t make much sense.

But to put it simply, there was no place on Earth or any other universe out there where he could imagine himself without you. Even if you both were stuck in Hawkins for the rest of eternity, he’d be content knowing he’d be waking up and falling asleep right beside you every day.

“You’re getting all sappy.” Steve brought his hand up to smush your cheeks together, smiling down at you as you puckered your lips asking for a kiss to which he granted you immediately.

“I love you so much.” You whispered against his lips, pressing a little firmer into him as if you were trying to prove it in the kiss itself—but he already knew it by heart.

“I love you a lot more,” He promised you, lacing his fingers against your jaw, cradling you closer until you both pulled away, catching your breathes and taking each other in.

Steve looked back at the messily packed beach bag resting on the laid out towel.

“I think this calls for a dance, yeah?”

Before you could respond, he left you for a just a second, bending down to reach beneath your packed clothes and pulling out the Walkman he had borrowed from Max for the week.

“You record the song on a tape?” You laughed endearingly, watching as he unraveled the headphones carefully and propped it up on the bag, turning it up to full blast.

“The things I do for love.” He smirked, pressing play as the fuzzy music played softly against the wind and waves.

The sand felt foreign against your footsteps, yet your moves felt like breathing, something you didn’t need to second guess even out there where everything felt brand new. Your soft singing filled the air, Steve humming along with you before he swiftly spun you into his chest.

You swayed into him, holding the moment of you wrapped up in his arms and giggling at the kisses he spoiled you with. Your arms finally loosened on their own accord, spinning yourself away from him, but his arms had untangled from yours.

Funnily enough, when you turned around to see if he had slipped away because of the uneven ground, he was in fact on his knee, holding out an opened box with a shiny ring sitting inside it, waiting to fit itself on your finger.

“Will your marry me and give me a lifetime of dances?”

If someone would have told you years ago that you would be getting married to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, you would have told them they were out of their minds. Yet there you and Steve were.

It wasn’t anything extravagant, in fact it was intimate. Close friends and family gathered for the day in a small chapel to watch and listen as you and Steve read out your vows and sealed the deal with rings and a kiss, followed by a celebration at a nearby banquet hall.

Steve had shed more than a few tears as he watched you walk down the aisle, mouthing the words, “I love you” countless times until you finally reached him at the altar. It took everything in him to starve off kissing you right then and there because it was all he wanted to do.

Truth be told, Steve’s heart had always been yours, even before he even realized that he was going to be spending the rest of his life with you. He knew it the second he saw you from across the room and mustered up the gut to ask you to dance. Honestly, from that point on, he knew he was yours.

“And now for their first dance. Please welcome for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Harrington!”

The DJ was no other than Eddie Munson, a close friend of yours who offered to take on the double role of best man and announcer for the special occasion. Before you and Steve could even tell him what your first dance song was going to be, he had already known what it was.

He and the rest of your friends had been witness to the countless amount of times you and Steve had broken out into a dance no matter the time or the place.

Your loved ones clapped and cheered, watching from their places on the outskirts as you and Steve walked hand in hand, cheekily smiling at everyone who was about to bear witness to the most romantic dance of all time.

“Ready?” Steve squeezed your hand, grinning wildly as he led you both to the center of the dance floor.

You squeezed his hand back, letting the train of your dress fall behind you as you finally let go and draped your arms across his neck. “Always, baby.”

The piano echoed through the speakers, and soon Dionne Warwick’s voice followed suit. “I’ll Never Love This Way Again,” was the soundtrack to all the dances you and Steve had shared throughout your relationship — all 3 minutes and 25 seconds, spent in each other arms without a care in the world other than each other.

Your steps weren’t rehearsed, nor did you and Steve have to prepare for that first dance. Everything moved so smoothly, looping in circles and giddy laughter as everyone else seemed to dissolve in your peripheral the longer you spent out there in his arms.

It was enchanting to say the least. Your love story was like something out of the fairytale books that you used to read when you were younger, but you and Steve’s were much more special by a long shot. There was no one who could ever come close to replicating what you two shared with each other.

Whatever was in the air that prom night of senior year, love or luck — it fated you two together and from that point on, it was the first page of a story that would stand the test of time in every universe.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: this wip has been sitting in my docs since forever and i finally mustered up the motivation to finish it!! honestly i've been on a fluff kick and i really feel like steve harrington is a speak now girlie (and fearless, 1989, and rep hahaha) but enchanted it like his go-to romance song with his girl. i hope you like it and let me know what you think!!! 💜💫

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[hawkinsindiana]

here's 5.1k of the first time you see steve cry, some absolutely delicious hurt/comfort courtesy of madame @stevebabey and myself >:) PLS ENJOY

canon to almost paradise, pre s3

—

steve doesn’t know what to do. 

his quads are starting to burn; he’s been crouched outside your window for the past couple minutes, but there’s no sign of you. not physically at least — he can hear the faint thump of some pop song echoing through the radio and an open notebook on your desk. you were here. 

he should’ve just called. this is stupid. you could be gone for another ten minutes, maybe you’re not even home anymore. he’s drumming his fingers against the sill, praying that none of your neighbors see him as he debates whether to leave or stay. he wants to stay. he needs to see you.

thirty seconds pass before steve spots movement from inside — you enter your room with a cookie wedged between your teeth and another three clasped in your hand. steve can’t help but smile; it’s ridiculous how fond he is of you. 

fond… that word doesn’t feel large enough to hold all his feelings for you, but the obvious one seems too damning—

the thought ends abruptly; the treat in your mouth helps to muffle a panicked yelp as you spot steve perched on the other side of your window. steve grimaces even though you’re beginning to laugh and you eat the entire cookie in one bite. he mouths a ‘sorry’ as you start to stride over, setting the other desserts onto your desk before lifting the window up. a burst of chilled, early march air sends a shiver down your spine. you still have crumbs on your lip. 

but your smile is wide as you greet him, your posture awkwardly bent over so you can address him eye to eye, “we have to come up with a better system than this. you end up scaring me like… seven times out of ten.”

your teasing warms steve in a way that makes him never want to leave your side. he thinks you’d let him stay there, too.

before steve gets a chance to reply, you’re offering him one of your cookies. it looks like something that your mother made and knowing claudia henderson, he’s pretty confident that means it’s extra sweet. 

“want one?” 

your voice is just above a whisper, a quiet tone that won’t be overheard by the others inside. given his fragile mental state, steve has to resist withdrawing from your affection. the thoughts in the back of his mind are screaming at him; you’re so happy to love him and share your dessert, meanwhile you’re stuck with him — someone who can’t think about saying that word to you without feeling nauseous. not because of you, but because of what could come after. 

maybe some part of what his father said has some truth to it.

but despite all of that, steve still can’t say no to you. he swallows his emotions as he takes your offering with a gracious smile — your eyes sparkle just a little bit more.

“you know i could never turn down a mrs. henderson special,” steve says with his classic charm. he sinks his teeth into the doughy cookie and nearly groans aloud; it’s still warm. this batch must be fresh. steve feels a pang in his chest thinking of your home, lively and bustling — someone’s baking, someone’s studying, music and noise in every room. it’s so starkly different from where he’s just come from.

the sweetness on his tongue isn’t enough to distract him completely from the reason he’s here, his heart desperately seeking you out. you push your window up a little more, just high enough so steve can climb through and he shoves the cookie in his mouth. bracing his hands on the sill to hoist himself up and over, he lands with a loud thump.

“shhh,” you hush, even though you still have that entirely enamored smile on. it’s impossible not to feel a little gooey whenever he does these things, no matter how much you try to contain yourself. your boyfriend sneaking through your window is just so normal and, embarrassingly, something you thought you might never get. 

you smother down a laugh at steve’s crouched position, pausing like his quietness will make up for his previous landing. when there’s no reaction, he straightens and dusts off his jacket before eating the rest of the cookie.

“oh my god,” he says, or tries to. it comes out muffled as he chews. he swallows, taking a second to run his hand through his hair before he properly turns to you, “thank god for your mom’s baking, honestly.”

you agree with a quiet hum as your smile grows more smitten. you weren’t expecting to spend any time with him tonight, much to your dismay, so this is a very welcome surprise. cupping steve’s face in between your palms, you take a moment to greet him with a kiss that he graciously returns. the chill that had seeped into his skin is quickly banished with your touch; his ears flush a bright red at how sweet and effortless your affection is. he’s so glad he came to see you.

“hey,” steve mumbles when you pull away, your eyes twinkling upon seeing his blush.

“hey yourself,” you reply, feeling your own face heat up. 

you take a couple steps backwards until your thighs hit the edge of your mattress. as you sit down, you continue playfully, “so… what did i do to deserve a visit?”

it’s an easy way to ask. not that steve ever really needs a reason to come see you — you’re that sweet on each other. but something churns uncomfortably in your gut; steve’s not the type of guy to show up without a phone call first. with your words, steve’s face darkens and it’s definitely not the last time you’re going to be disappointed about being right.

it’s now that you realize how he’s dressed. a crisp white collared shirt sits beneath his jacket and a pair of dark slacks hang from his hips. he’s forgone his usual sneakers for some dress shoes. as far as you know, he didn’t have anything this fancy after tonight’s basketball practice. your brow shifts into a minuscule furrow, small enough that it goes unnoticed — so where was he?

steve clears his throat, shoving away the tightness that formed with your question, “my, uh, my dad’s back in town.”

“that’s a surprise,” you say, shifting on top of the comforter, “i thought he wasn’t coming back until next month.”

steve doesn’t speak, but instead acknowledges the similar confusion he had felt with an annoyed expression. you cross your ankles, “and your mom?”

biting his lip, your boyfriend shakes his head. 

oh.

steve’s father is not known for being an overwhelmingly caring parent, but rather on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. he’s extremely authoritarian and blunt, with a healthy scoop of entitlement on the side. while you’ve only met him a handful of times, that man has always left you with an aching feeling inside your chest and a wrinkle between your brow; you can’t imagine how steve feels. and considering his mother isn’t here, you know his father’s abrasiveness will be ten times worse, not that her presence has ever stopped him before.

you pray that steve’s night went better than expected, but you can already tell that thought is in vain. there’s a defeated look in his eyes and a familiar weariness in his posture. he looks lost.

like a flashlight in the dark, you extend your hands out to him, beckoning steve to come closer still. he slides his palms into yours almost instantaneously, as if waiting another second would’ve been too difficult for him to bear. he swears the place where your skin meets glows like the evening sun, golden and overwhelmingly warm — a feeling that grows as you gently guide him to your bed. you offer a small and comforting smile as the mattress dips under his added weight; he keeps one of your hands in his. 

steve knows you don’t expect him to say anything — he could sit here in silence and you’d gladly indulge him. but he decides that’s not the reason why he came here.

“he was in a rush when i got home. he made dinner reservations for tonight and barely got here in time after his flight,” steve begins, regretfully pulling his eyes from you to focus blankly on the floor, “think i had maybe ten minutes to shower and get dressed.”

he sighs, dragging his hand down his face as he tries to focus on your warmth beside him, “he was just… worse. angrier, louder, more…”

he pauses to try and think of another word to describe his father’s demeanor but finds himself distracted by your grip on his hand, soft yet firm. constant. he gives up, moving his free hand through the air in a dejected motion but you understand perfectly — more of everything. 

you tut softly, using your fingers to brush some hair behind his ear before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“i’m sorry, steve,” you pout, “that sounds awful.”

steve hums a thank you, relishing in the combination of your touch and soft words. having you in his life has made such a difference; it’s hard to imagine what it’d be like without you. the loneliness he would feel… he can barely comprehend it.

you know steve well. there’s a restrained rage that hides just underneath his skin. he’s not telling you everything.

“how…” you trip over your words a little as your fury begins to build. not because of him, but because of how insistent steve’s father is with being cruel. he’s the one who taught steve to doubt himself. it makes you blood boil to think the fire may’ve been stoked tonight.

“how was it? did he say something to you?”

there it is again — the tickle in the back of steve’s throat that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard he tries. it grows after hearing the concern in your tone, the anger on his behalf. he nods once, voice far weaker and wobblier than he would like, “yeah.”

the word sinks into your chest, a deep claw right between your ribs. it aches, all from the way he says it. you’ve seen steve upset before but this… this is something bigger than that. this is a deep wound, one that isn’t easily healed.

but you’re willing to try. you’ll do anything to help him.

giving your palm a quick squeeze, steve reaches for his collar with his free hand as he tries to get his thoughts in order. it’s something you’ve seen him do a thousand times when he’s growing uncomfortable or upset — fiddling with the neckline to give him space to breathe. but it’s only when he tugs on something else do you notice he’s also wearing a tie.

it’s twisted and messy and you wonder if he’s been yanking on it all night. as he tries to work the fabric free, it’s fruitless, his rough motions only succeeding in rubbing the fabric cruelly against his neck. steve grows more frustrated every second, his voice low, “god, fuck—this stupid thing, fuck—”

“hey, hey. here, let me help,” you interrupt, grabbing his wrist to rescue himself from his futile efforts. he’s far too worked up and his fussing is only tightening the knot. steve huffs loudly and surrenders, emotions still running too high and you guide his hand away.

his focus turns to you and steve visibly softens, his shoulders slumping enough that he shrinks a whole inch. he blinks rapidly, his eyes turning away from you again; you decide to focus on the tie.

it’s twisted up, you realize, because it hasn’t been tied properly in the first place. steve knows how to knot a tie — you’d seen him do it many times before. you ignore the worry this fills you with and steel yourself. it’s a fickle thing but you manage, pulling at the tie until the knot finally comes free. the fabric slithers down his chest and you follow it with your palm, a soothing touch.

when your eyes drift back up to his pout, you watch as a single tear falls onto the swell of his cheek. your hand reaches for his face before he gets a chance to move; the tear is quickly removed by the pad of your thumb without a second thought. steve bows his head, hoping to obscure some of this emotion from you, but you won’t let him. you shift as well, eyes desperately searching his face. 

“what happened?” you whisper, a gentle coax to see if he wants to talk. if he shakes his head, you’ll leave it. your heart aches profusely as you watch a deep sadness work its way across his face but worst of all, you can tell he’s holding back. it’s almost like he can’t bear to look at you, as if seeing the worry in your expression would push him over the edge. you care about him so much it’s nearly overwhelming; steve can’t remember a time when he mattered this much to someone — where even the hint of a cry was met with an outpouring of love.

you return your hand to his, squeezing gently. your voice is so soft he can barely hear it, “it’s okay, steve. you can— you know i won’t…”

you drift off, struggling to find the most eloquent words. how do you tell your boyfriend he can cry around you without having to actually tell him that?

you swallow the lump in your throat and move your eyes to his hair, taking your fingers and running them through the brunette strands. suddenly, you feel quite nervous yourself.

“i’m still gonna love you.”

a whimper slips out of his throat.

a noise has never broken you so quickly. instantly, you’re kicking your feet up onto the bed to lean into him properly, winding an arm around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

as another tear falls, it seems like it’s followed by hundreds. years of anger and complicated emotions come pouring out into steve’s hands, his face buried in his palms. the only thing you can think to do is sit here and let him cry, a comforting touch placed on both his back and his thigh, reminding him that you’re still here with him. you’re not planning on going anywhere.

“he always says the same stuff so i’m used to it now,” he finally says, pulling his hands away from his face to see his skin wet and stained with tears. he shakes his head in disbelief, relishing in the feeling your warmth brings beside him, until it reminds him of something else. with a clenched jaw, he sniffles, completely defeated, “it’s the shit he said about you that just… pushed it over the edge. i mean—”

steve manages a small laugh, “it’s you. how… how could i not let that get to me? you’re everything and i—”

you try not to let his words affect you but there’s no helping the ripple that shudders across your face, a whirlwind of the worst of your ugly emotions. inside you, there’s a part that wonders constantly about just how much trouble you’re worth — first it was billy and all the shit he’s brought with him, and now steve’s father. you’re ashamed how strongly you feel that perhaps steve would be better off without you, no matter how much he swears it’s worth it, which he does even now as he sobs in your bedroom. the common theme of you, ill-fitted to be in his life, is beginning to wear down on your soul. tonight, it chafes particularly meanly.

but you’re tough. this moment isn’t about you. inhaling sharply, you swallow and it feels like it’s full of nails — the lump instantly regrows when you notice steve stopped speaking and watched your reaction closely. his wet eyes grow mistier and misery seeps into his face, a choked noise forcing its way up his throat. steve smothers it into his hand.

“i’m sorry,” he croaks.

your heart weeps. what is he sorry for? the hand on his back sweeps up, a gentle touch on his head. you brush back his hair, thumbing softly beneath his eyes to brush away the stray tears.

“what’re you apologizing for?” you say low and soft, willing away the wobble in your voice as steve searches your face almost desperately. his eyes look lost. his curled form resembles a child, awoken from a cruel night terror. you ache to help him, to ease the burden.

“s’not your fault,” you assure him in a whisper, pressing closer. your words have the opposite effect, worry hiking a mile high when steve crumbles again — he sags, burying his face in the curve of your neck.

“i’m sorry, i— i’m so sorry,” his words come out all hiccup-y, his breathing too fast and ragged. your arms are around him in an instant, grounding and safe as you pull him in closer. your chin rests on top of his head. steve’s arms shift, wrapping around your middle desperately — his fingers grip tight like you might slip away if he loosened his hold for even a moment. twisted together, steve cries and cries, an endless stream of apologies. you refuse to let it deter you; one hand settles on the back of his head, soothing the hair on the nape of his neck. the other rubs up and down his back, all while you murmur soft assurances for him to hear.

“s’okay, you’re okay,” you say over and over again, working diligently to sooth him, “i’m here, it’s okay.”

steve wishes he knew what he was apologizing for, but part of him understands he’s saying sorry for everything. i’m sorry for mentioning my father finds pleasure in despising you, the only thing that’s ever brought me true happiness. i’m sorry for arriving unannounced. i’m sorry i can’t say ‘i love you’ yet. for the rumors. for your nightmares. for being less than you deserve. for everything we’ve been through together. all of it — a culmination. 

several minutes pass before steve’s breathing reaches a regular rhythm and the tears stop all together. his grip on you relaxes over time, slowly understanding that you stayed despite his outburst; his fingers unfurl from the fabric of your shirt. steve sniffles once more, now noticing how tear-stained your clothes have become — more guilt climbs up his throat. it never comes to fruition; instead, he finds himself focusing on the soothing pressure of your touch. the feeling melts away. you shift to press a kiss into the crown of his head. with your nose still buried in his hair, you speak.

“stay here tonight. please.”

your hold on him tightens a bit more, your eyes watering as you think of him returning to his father and away from any comfort you can bring him, “i don’t want you going back there. not tonight.”

somehow, steve manages to burrow deeper into your skin, his arms around you squeezing comfortably. more light blooms in him as the intention behind your words trickles down into his heart — you are his home now. he nods weakly, swallowing the pain for another time. right now, he simply feels like resting in your embrace.

“okay.”

“yeah?” you ask, slowly beginning to unfurl yourself from him; you want to see his face. with a bit of coaxing, you gently guide his head away from his hiding place and smile softly, wiping the leftover tears from his cheeks. upon seeing the care for him in your eyes, he can’t help but confirm, his hands smoothing down along your back in appreciation.

“yeah.”

he's beautiful, even when he's a mess. the tip of his nose is a ruddy red and it's running terribly. tears cling to his eyelashes, sparkling beneath the low-light lamp of your room. you press a quick kiss to his temple, same as you've done a thousand times before, and lean backward. your touch never leaves him as you locate your tissue box, steve sniffling loudly as you grab a dozen.

in an attempt to either make him smile or feel extra loved, you hold one in front of his nose and say, "blow?"

"gimme those," steve guffaws, his free hand coming up to snatch them from your grip. he blows his nose and it toots noisily like a trumpet, making you laugh. he sounds a bit nasally when he speaks again, his eyes fond as he looks at you.

"can blow my own nose, thank you."

you nod with a soft hum just to tease him. he blows his nose once again, clearing it all out and takes the other tissues when you offer them, scrubbing at his waterlogged face. he smiles gratefully at you and then heaves a great big sigh, shoulders rising and falling, before he slumps backwards to lie back on your bed.

"who knew crying was so exhausting?" he mumbles, the question meant more to himself.

you scoop up one of his feet and plant it in your lap, beginning to undo his laces. you can’t say you like his fancy shoes.

"i did," you jibe back. you poke his ankle, aiming for one of his moles, "why'd you think i'm always napping in your arms after i bawl my eyes out?" 

steve watches your hands, sliding his shoe off and moving onto the other dutifully. you're making him more comfortable and you do it without even being asked. another wave of tears threatens him again because you love him like it's easy — steve has spent most of his life being told the exact opposite.

"thought that was more to do with my, y’know, rugged arms than the crying part..." he admits jokingly, thankful when it makes you giggle a bit. you shrug, faking indifference but it earns you a smile. 

after you finish taking off his other shoe, you place his feet down so you can crawl up to him. you stop and settle with your chin on his chest and steve has to put a hand behind his head to prop himself up to properly see you. you're quietly in thought, staring at him intensely. steve feels his heart quiver — you're awfully good at reading him. at seeing him and knowing him.

"d'you wanna talk about it? what… what he said?" your words come out soft again, low as a whisper, even though it's just the two of you here. 

another sigh leaves steve, your head on his chest moving with the exhale. he glances up to the ceiling as he contemplates whether or not he wants to continue this conversation. upon meeting your eyes, he knows you'll do nothing but listen. his free hand drops to your arm, fingers lovingly curling around your bicep.

"it was mostly the same shit, like i said," steve shrugs in both acceptance and defeat, "so usually i can just stay quiet. it doesn't get to me as much if i don't try to fight it, y'know?"

you hum softly in understanding, gaze still locked on his expression as he pauses to nibble on his bottom lip.

"except this time, he uh..." steve expels another deep breath as he thinks back on what was said and his reaction. he scoffs, "well, he's definitely figured out what we are, that's for sure."

he ends his sentence with a slight laugh and a squeeze to your muscle. adorably, you grin and roll your head to the side; steve swears he can feel you blush with your cheek pressed to his chest.

"that's one less person we gotta tell i guess."

steve chuckles and you do too, both of you happy to find some humor in this god awful circumstance. but the joy is short-lived as he recalls the dinner; the delight in his father's eyes at finally finding his son's breaking point, how steve's food grew cold as his appetite quickly left him. he could eat another ten of your mom's cookies. then the familiar anger begins to bubble up again — he clenches down on his teeth.

"i could've punched him, baby. i... fuck, i should've," he mutters, his head shaking slightly in disbelief, remembering the absolute fury that controlled him in those tense moments. it's just like it was that night at the byers — maybe worse than that, if it’s even possible. 

first, there was a comment about how you’re his only friend now. it was said with such a disgusted tone that steve had to take offense — his father made it sound like befriending you was somehow affecting his reputation. apparently the henderson name doesn’t carry enough weight around town, and what it does carry isn’t something the harringtons should be associated with. as if it matters to steve — he’d rather be accepted by your family than anyone else in this stupid town.

but as steve finally fought back to defend you, it became clear what steve’s true feelings for you entail. he’s never defended anyone from his father’s wrath.

halfway through you being compared to nancy wheeler — “now she comes from a good american family” — steve realized that his father knows. 

he’s not sure who told him or how much he heard, but it hit steve harder than billy’s punch did. one little comment about your ‘promiscuity’ was all he needed to confirm the suspicion. it took every ounce of willpower steve had in him to not choke out his father with the tablecloth.

something steve's learning is the intense grip you have on his emotions — both the positive and negative ones. he's sure that's not entirely healthy but he could care less. he never wants that passion for you to disappear. 

steve continues, "and yeah, yeah, i know he's just trying to get a rise outta me but jesus christ..."

silence follows as he trails off, refusing to tell you any more. you don’t deserve to hear any of that repeated. you're still studying steve, eyes drifting along the slopes of his face to catch any sign of another tear. thankfully, he seems fairly composed this time around — frustration taking the place of his sadness. but when he meets your gaze again, it softens back into gratitude and affection. neither of you are able to look away.

steve's hand moves up to your face, his fingers deftly tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear; his voice is overflowing with fondness, "pretty sure you're my carbonite."

you, however, do not react as he expected. your face instantly wrinkles in confusion, propping yourself up as you try to decipher what he means. some mixture of a scoff and a laugh leaves your lips as you realize what he meant. he's lucky you find it endearing.

"steve, it's kryptonite, not carbonite."

"that's the same word."

you giggle again, “no it’s not—”

“they end with the same sound, it’s close enough,” steve bickers back, “besides, you understood what i said anyways.”

a sigh leaves your lips as you meet his eyes, your cheeks aching from how wide your grin is, “i did, but how about i be the one who makes the nerdy references in this relationship.”

steve raises his hands, “hey, you’re not gonna hear me complain’.”

another laugh from you. steve’s expression shifts back to one of affection, “i mean it though, y’know. you have this… hold on me that i’m still trying to figure out. it’s crazy. you know any non-nerdy words to describe that?”

you hum and nod, your smile wistful. your chest tightens.

“yeah, i think i do.”

the look in your eyes gives away the answer. steve swallows — his mouth suddenly feels extremely dry.

to combat any awkwardness before it begins, you immediately get up to grab the other cookies you’d forgotten about. you share them between you, careful not to get too many crumbs on your bed. while steve dutifully watches, you take another twenty minutes to finish your physics homework before you begin your typical bedtime routine. 

coming back after your shower to see your boyfriend shirtless and comfortable beneath your blankets is not a sight you will be forgetting anytime soon. as you crawl into bed with him, it takes a ridiculous amount of self control not to stare at the thatch of chest hair that’s been growing over the past couple months. he’s so warm and has a pink tint in his cheeks that makes you swoon; you decide that he looks positively adorable. 

as you settle in beside him after adjusting the pillows and turning out the light, you can’t help but pick at his thoughts. 

“you gonna be okay?”

steve nods, his hair mussing against the pillow, “yeah, i don’t give a shit about what he says.”

now that his emotions are back to their regular balance, he’s much more indifferent. he can see it clearly and understands that none of it is his fault. there’s nothing steve can do to prevent how his father feels; that isn’t a burden he needs to carry.

he shifts beneath the covers, his leg finding yours. your feet are chilly. he smiles as he reaches out for you, tucking one of his arms beneath the pillows so he can pull you in closer. steve curls the other around your torso, his palm laying flat against your back while you tangle your legs together. it’s awfully snug and you’re sure he can feel your heart pounding.

“i’ll be alright as long as i have you,” he mumbles, taking a moment to let his eyes gently rove over your face. you force yourself to hold back your smile so you don’t look like a total dork, but it’s awfully difficult. you figure you probably look positively in-love regardless.

“well, it’s a good thing i’m not planning on going anywhere, hm?”

steve seals the sentiment with a kiss — the best way he knows to ensure you’re confident that he feels the same. he lets the tips of your noses touch after pulling away and brings his palm up to your face. his eyes are almost jet black in the dark; only a sliver of chocolate brown remains, thanks to the streetlight outside your window.

“thank you,” he whispers, “for everything.”

your body heats up from both his touch and his words. it’s almost too much for you to handle. but you answer him all the same and with a genuine smile, “of course. any time.”

with a final kiss to your forehead, steve properly cuddles you in close to him, his nose buried into your hair. as you curl your arm around him, inhaling the scent of his cologne, rest finds you both soon after.

[hairmetal666]

Steve and Eddie don't like each other at first. Or, no, that's not quite right. They're still bonded from everything. They're friends, sort of, but they don't spend time together outside the group, have trouble talking one-on-one.

Steve doesn't think about it much. So, he and Eddie won't ever be real friends, okay. He's a little disappointed, but mostly he doesn't understand how he feels about the other guy. He's always anxious when Eddie's around, clumsy and stuttering, infected with Robin's tendency to nervous chatter. It doesn't make sense. It's just Eddie. But that's the thing. It's Eddie and Steve doesn't know how to act around him.

And Eddie? Well, he spends a lot of time avoiding Steve because the fucking cascade of butterflies he gets every time Harrington is around. He knows what it means, knows even he isn't immune to the Harrington charm, but he needs to be. He needs to keep his heart safe. So, he keeps his distance because Steve Harrington is not for him and never will be.

It changes during movie nights. First it's teasing Dustin and Mike, mocking whatever horrible movie the kids put on, and then it's inside jokes, and playful bickering, and evenings with just the two of them drinking beer and sharing joints.

Then it's August. It's too hot everywhere and Steve's parents are home, so they're in Steve's car, driving with no destination, a couple joints in Eddie's jacket pocket and a six-pack in the trunk. They're listening to a mixtape Eddie made Steve, a bunch of metal. Steve still doesn't get it but there are a couple of songs he enjoys. Rainbow in the Dark starts--this is one Steve likes, reminds him of Eddie and not just because it's Dio. Sun filters through foliage and into the car windows, backlighting Eddie's curls like he's some kind of deity, beautiful and ethereal, not part of this world.

Steve starts singing along to the music, can't help himself. His friend throws him a beaming smile, big enough that Steve thinks his heart stops. He smiles back. He and Eddie sing the rest of the song together, and Steve is...he's content. He's happy. He hasn't felt this way since--well fuck--since 1983. Their eyes meet again, gazes linger, warmth pools in Steve's chest and low in his stomach.

Oh. He thinks. That's what this is. It settles something inside him, the knowing.

Time passes, they get closer, share a bed most nights. Doesn't matter where as long as they're together. Sleep better this way, both of them.

They're at the trailer when it happens, sharing a joint, loosely tucked against each other in bed.

"I've never had a friend like you," Eddie says. His eyes stay fixed on the smoke he exhaled. "I know you and Robin are--like, I get it. But you're--for me--"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He flushes from his chest to forehead. "For me too."

It's enough, they both think. They're standing on the edge of more have been for months, but this? This is good. There's no need to push, to force. They're hurt, Steve thinks. They're healing. And they have time.

Corroded Coffin plays their first show back at the Hideout in December. Steve's never seen Eddie like this, performing. His shirt is cropped and artfully torn, his jeans more rip than pants. He's wearing eyeliner and his hair is wild. And the way he moves, sinuous and sleek, hips thrusting in a tantalizing rhythm as he shreds on the guitar. Steve wants so badly he feels it in his teeth.

He finds Eddie smoking behind the Hideout after the set. His eye are too bright, his smile manic, the adrenaline keying him up to the highest setting of Eddie. Steve knows he matches the energy, can't help it.

Eddie throws himself into Steve's arms, wrapping around him tight enough that no space lingers. The musician presses his face into Steve's neck, nuzzling, lips pressing against his pulse point. They touch always, share a bed and cuddle, but never like this; nothing like this. Steve pulls Eddie closer, and groans at the mutual swivel of their hips.

Eddie's breath comes in panting bursts, and Steve thinks, "here it is, finally, finally," but the door next to them bangs open and they jump apart at the noise.

Their friends and the rest of the Corroded Coffin guys come out, frolicking and shouting, complimenting Eddie on the show. If anyone noticed them embracing, notices the way they both adjust their clothing to hide their matching arousal, they don't say anything.

Steve wakes early the next morning, early enough that Eddie doesn't even stir beside him, hair wild and eyeliner smeared.

He gets out of bed, starts breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, Eddie's favorite. He's so intent on cooking that he doesn't hear the other man come up behind him, doesn't realize he's even awake until a warm body presses to his back, long-fingered hands slipping under his t-shirt, tracing the scars on his stomach. He leans into it without a thought. They touch all the time, but they don't touch like this.

"Watcha making, sweetheart?" Eddie whispers.

"Your favorite," Steve answers.

Eddie makes a little sound, almost a whimper, and presses his face to Steve's neck. Steve lifts his chin, leaning into Eddie and offering more. Warm lips press against his jaw, down to the moles on his throat. A moan slips from his lips as he grinds his ass into Eddie's hardness. The other man groans, grabbing at Steve's hips.

Somewhere in the press of their bodies, Steve has the presence of mind to turn. He lifts his hands, cups Eddie's jaw, thumbs caressing the stubbled, scarred skin of his cheeks. "Okay?" He asks. His voice shakes.

Eddie's eyes are wide, shining, and he swallows hard. Steve knows he's overwhelmed, knows that the words won't come. Instead, Eddie nods, and finally finally they kiss.

Steve is flying. His blood soars in his veins, his heart lifts off. It was always supposed to be this. Always supposed to be them.

It was slow. It was easy. It was small jokes, and long looks, and little touches, and singing in cars and best friends and sharing beds.

His heart belonged to Eddie Munson for months. It will belong to him forever.

[arkhamknightz]

masterlist!! - a quick look at all of my work :)

spiderman!

super cafe! - tasm!peter

in sickness, and in health - tasm!peter , till death do us part

ghost of you - tasm!peter

to love someone else - tasm!peter

dc universe

lacy - dick grayson

when wally falls in love - wally west

masters of the air

sunday, monday or always - bucky egan

criminal minds

tolerate it - spencer reid , closure pt. 2

exile - spencer reid

andrew garfield!

love grows

crush culture , part 2.

sleepy baby!

steve harrington

bullshit.

i didnt mean it

joe keery

love songs about you

matt murdock

cruel summer

walter mckey

cant stand it

evan peters

labyrinth

delicate

miscellaneous !

dustin henderson - replacement

eddie munson - revealed insecurities

[xspeter]

𝑭𝑶𝑳𝑲𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑬 (𝒌𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏)

𝑨 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝑻𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒐𝒓 𝑺𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒃𝒖𝒎, “𝑭𝒐𝒍𝒌𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆“. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑚！𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑒！

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓; 𝑻𝒉𝒆 1: 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓; 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞) 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐉.

𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆; 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝑨𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝑫𝒚𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒚: 𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒗𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 100 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆, 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏; 𝑬𝒙𝒊𝒍𝒆: 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝑩𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏; 𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒕: 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲.

𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏; 𝑴𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒍: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐇𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠.

𝑺𝒂𝒎 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓; 𝑺𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒌𝒊; 𝑨𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐲𝐝𝐢𝐚.

𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓; 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝑻𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈: (𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐰𝐡) 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓; 𝑰𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒕 𝑨𝒇𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒔: 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭.

𝑱𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓; 𝑰𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒚 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒌𝒆; 𝑴𝒂𝒅 𝑾𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝.

𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓; 𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒚: 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐦𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲.

𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚; 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒌𝒊: 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

𝑱𝑱 𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒌; 𝑷𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆: 𝐉𝐉 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏; 𝑯𝒐𝒂𝒙: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭?

𝑺𝒂𝒎 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓; 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔: 𝐈𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.