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munsster · 3 hours
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so many expressions
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munsster · 2 days
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The Time of the Prey
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Summary: The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made. 
Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader
Warnings: swearing, kidnapping, slow burn, previous trauma/daddy issues, mentions of death, torture, mentions/descriptions of injuries, specific warning will be listed in each chapter. 
A/N: each chapter will be posted at 10:00am every Saturday morning.
To be added to the TAGLIST please send an ask, it helps me keep track or everything. my TAGLIST LIMIT will be 30 BLOGS because after that it’s get very hard to format and make sure everyone is properly tagged.  (TAGLIST CLOSED)
I’ve worked hard on this one, hope you enjoy!
Series Playlist
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Episode One
Episode Two
Episode Three
Episode Four 
Episode Five 
Episode Six
Episode Seven
Episode Eight
Episode Nine
Epilogue
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Extra!
The Husband - Drabble
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munsster · 1 month
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There are plenty of otome games with various characters and different genres but nothing catches my attention because im still in love with this pathetic awkward man
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munsster · 1 month
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
welcome to munsster’s multifandom blog!
requests are open (but slow, i’m only human)!
this blog is 18+, munsster politely requests that minors do not interact!
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STRANGER THINGS
steve harrington, robin buckley, eddie munson, billy hargrove, jonathan byers, etc.
THE ARCANA GAME
N/A
MARVEL
N/A
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Helpful Links
who i will write for
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munsster · 1 month
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do i EVEN DARE write for hockey eddie and steve 🤨
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munsster · 1 month
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rockstar!eddie munson x nepobaby!reader's timeline
i'm finally doing it, putting all the rockstar!eddie and nb!reader works in order on this. i'm going to include the blurbs too bc why not lol. so here it is for anyone wanting a timeline or to read in order. from earliest to latest:
groupie love was a prequel to rockstar!eddie. initially i wasn't going to do much with him but make him nasty and leave it, but you guys loved him so much he blossomed into what he is today haha. this is one of many encounters he had before nb, kinda to establish his relationship, and it's mentioned in the future works too.
sinister play this is the meeting. this is where it all begins. where you meet eddie, how you meet eddie, and more importantly where all this fuck buddy stuff starts.
dark shadows is next. this is the start of the two of them not hate-fucking anymore and it turning into a real relationship. nb shares a secret and so does eddie, and they kinda start to realize the other isn't so bad and they're not so different.
this angsty blurb was requested and written for vivi's blurb game (a blurb game that we play on here sometimes, created by the wonderful @queenimmadolla) focuses on a fight they have kinda following this. it sorta highlights the shift in the relationship now that they know more about each other and have more feelings.
linger is like a long blurb but it's one of the first ones where they're in a real relationship, and they're not fucking mean??? if that makes sense. just a sweet smut piece. they're still in a secretive relationship, the world doesn't know, but they're together.
lowe's blurb was written for vivi's blurb game and follows them as they try to keep their relationship a secret, while being a little horny lol. short and sweet and fluffy.
girls on film is where they've announced their engagement and relationship to the world, it's mentioned in here. sorta shows the shock value they had and how they wanted to keep it going??? that raunchy type rock and roll couple that's shocking to the world vibe.
awards ceremony blurb was requested for vivi's blurb game. it's right after they went public to the world and shows their relationship. highlights eddie winning an award and shouting nb out. very fluffy.
pool blurb is a requested blurb from vivi's blurb game. nb and rockstar!ed have just moved into their forever home. they're talking plans for the future, and it's silly and fluffy.
jealousy blurb was requested for vivi's blurb game, and is after the wedding, one of eddie's 'ex-groupies' shows up where they're at and nb get's jealous. angsty.
pieces of you and me is kinda weird in the timeline because it shows 1) where nb gets pregnant and how but also 2) why they named their girls what they did. the intro to parenthood fic. its's got time jumps but kinda through the years.
treat me rough is technically next??? it's a pregnancy fic about nb pregnant with their first child.
persephone's first vacation is a blurb from vivi's blurb game that was requested. it follows rockstar!ed, nb, and wayne with baby sephy only a few months old on their first mini vacation. super fluffy.
this sunscreen blurb is short and was apart of vivi's blurb game. it's rockstar!eddie and baby sephy.
persephone's first birthday blurb was requested for vivi's blurb game and is a short and sweet blurb that shows their change in dynamic because of parenthood. super fluffy.
the time warp is a halloween special work i did to show rockstar!eddie and nb's relationship throughout the year with a halloween tradition. it's a time jump but it has them as newly weds, pregnant, and with the kids.
the fourth of july blurb was requested as a part of vivi's blurb game. it's a silly blurb with rockstar!ed and nb's domestic life and is centered around one forth of july holiday.
it's tricky is also a halloween fic where they take the girls to hawkins to trick-or-treat for a 'real halloween' experience. another work from the halloween special i did, but fluffy.
the father's day blurb is another requested blurb from vivi's blurb game, and follows a father's day with the girls and rockstar!ed. super fluffy.
paparazzi blurb was a requested blurb from vivi's blurb game, with the twins and nb where they get followed by paparazzi while they're out.
super trouper is more in the future. shows eddie's relationship with his kids but also nb's parents. follows zahra's birthday and is super fluffy and sweet.
gone fishin' is last on the list, and is way in the future. follows grandpa wayne and little vega and their fishing adventure while visiting hawkins for the summer. super fluffy and domestic and cute!
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munsster · 1 month
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(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧
Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡ 
cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene 
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago. 
A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch. 
“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you. 
“I wanna see Max.” 
“She has to be here somewhere.” 
That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest. 
Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here. 
Steve frowns at you worriedly. 
“Who died?” asks a new voice.
You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers. 
“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips. 
“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”
“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes. 
“Is it awful?” you ask. 
“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult. 
“Who’s throwing up?” you ask. 
“Dustin. He’s outside.” 
Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.” 
He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes. 
“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.
You school your impression. “Like what?” 
“Like you like him.” 
You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?” 
She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?” 
“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings. 
“Looks like something. Are you dating?” 
“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.” 
“He was touching you a lot.” 
“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely. 
“Ew,” Max says with a laugh. 
“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s— 
“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder. 
You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug. 
“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly. 
Oh, boy, you think. 
As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.
From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy. 
Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet. 
“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.” 
“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.
“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.” 
“Steve.” 
“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.” 
“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty. 
“What?” he asks. 
His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles 
You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.” 
“Are you okay?” 
“What?” 
“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.” 
“I sounded weird?” 
“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.” 
You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it. 
“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do. 
“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.” 
Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice. 
“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.” 
You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something. 
After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie? 
“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged. 
You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews. 
“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way. 
He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused. 
“You were in the way of the light.” 
“That what it was?”
“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself. 
“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?” 
Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks. 
“It’s good.” 
“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.” 
He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you. 
Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise! 
You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this. 
You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing. 
He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs. 
You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes. 
“You okay?” he whispers. 
You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much. 
“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek. 
Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.
The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen. 
A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say. 
“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.
“I really like you, Steve.” 
He stares at you. “…But?”
“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.” 
“I thought…” And of course he did. 
“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.” 
He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.” 
“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes. 
“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious. 
“Yeah.” 
Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.” 
“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”
“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether. 
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.” 
“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.” 
“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks. 
“I like you too!” he says loudly. 
A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?” 
You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again. 
“You okay?” he asks tightly. 
“I’m sorry.”
He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?” 
You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.” 
He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?” 
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” 
“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?” 
You nod vehemently. 
Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”
—♡—
The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm. 
A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.
“I think I might melt.” 
“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you. 
“You can be my parasol.” 
“Your what?” 
“It’s a sun umbrella.” 
“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up. 
You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.
He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.” 
If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay. 
“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur. 
He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?” 
“That’s perfect.” 
“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly. 
“No… I’m thinking.” 
“Nothing good ever comes of that.” 
“I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth. 
You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight. 
“It’s a question.” 
He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world. 
“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.” 
“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”
He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.” 
“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.” 
His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start. 
“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem. 
“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur. 
His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it. 
You tip your head aside to catch your breath.
“Better late than never,” you joke. 
Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.” 
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️
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munsster · 4 months
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hey! if ur requests are open could you do a little smth about billy taking care of drunk!reader ??
feel free to ignore if you don’t want to :)
designated loverboy
A/N: i just think… dd billy hargrove x passenger princess gif creds: @suledins
Pairings: Billy Hargrove x GN!Drunk!Reader
Summary: Billy makes sure you know how pretty you are, even when you’re drunk. 1.3k words
Warnings: sloppy drunkenness, fluff, established relationship, reader is clingy/touchy, pet names (baby, honey)
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Just last year, Billy had been discharged from the hospital. He didn’t recognize the place he’d gone to school, the house he’d been living in, the body he’d grown into. He felt foreign in a place he’d finally gotten used to calling home.
But then he met you, and it was like you were the only other person speaking his language. He’d never understood a breath of fresh air until he reached your surface. The first time you touched him—his right bicep, he can still feel your fingers there if he closes his eyes—it took a week for his heart to settle down.
Now you’re clinging to him for dear life because you can’t say no to free shots. He can tell he’s going to have to help you to the car when you get this glossy look in your eye. You’re the sloppiest drunk he’s ever met, and it makes him want to stay sober for you.
Billy shovels you into the passenger seat just as the fattest tears come rolling down your cheeks. He clicks your seatbelt into place while your fingers sift through the soft curls fallen over his forehead. Your tears slip down your neck, but he’s trying to catch them with the pad of his thumb.
“What’s wrong, honey?” he coos, cradling your wrist and holding his knuckle to your cheekbone.
“Billy, I don’t ever want you to get rid of your fringe.” You fluff the hair at his brow and pinch the really tight curl by his temple. He cracks a smile. “I just love your fringe, it’s like… your special flair, Billy. Fringe. Fringe flair. Fringe flair… Oh my g—I’m so… good!”
You giggle, only interrupted by a hiccup as Billy smooths his big palms over your damp cheeks.
“You are so good, baby”—and kisses the fingers you shove against his lips—“I’m goin’ to my seat now, alright?”
You think about it for a second and then nod.
“Yes, baby! Just don’t go away for too long, baby!”
He chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth.
“Promise,” and hooks his pinkie around yours. You giggle.
“Promise, baby!”
He flashes his nice teeth and sets his hand on the top edge of your car door.
“Watch your toes.”
You shuffle your feet inward across the floor mat and he watches your smile twinkle up at him just before he shuts the door. When he slips into his seat. you pout at him.
“Was I gone for too long?”
You nod, so he leans over and kisses you.
“All better!”
You cackle and then hiccup against his shoulder as he turns the key and the car grumbles to a start. You stare at the radio, doe-eyed and curious as he pulls away from the curb.
“Wanna play somethin’?”
You nod and weakly reach out to press every button until his tape comes thru the stereo. You sigh and watch him tap the steering wheel along to the song.
Just one more night
And I’m coming off this long and winding road
You smile. “Like us.”
He glances over. “What’s that?”
You point to the stereo and chirp, “That’s what we’re doing, too.”
And you hum softly to the tune:
I’m on my way-ay-ey
Home sweet home
He chuckles and reaches for your hand.
“We are, aren’t we?”
You hold the back of his hand to your mouth and press a sloppy kiss to his knuckles. And, Jesus, when he catches a glimpse of you between the streetlights, you bat your lashes at him and pinch the skin between your teeth. He can’t keep his eyes on the road as he shifts his thigh.
“You’re really warm,” you say.
He looks straight ahead, squeezing your hand.
“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty.”
You set your intertwined hands on the center console and gape at him. He looks back and suddenly you’re frowning again.
“Baby—”
“You think I’m pretty? Really?”
He grins. “Come on…”
Billy only lets your hand go to bring his thumb to your cheek and swipe away the sudden and thick tears rolling down your cheeks. One smacks against the seat, and he can’t help but chuckle. “Baby, please!”
You sniffle, pressing your sleeve to your runny nose. “‘S not funny.”
Stifling a laugh, he chokes, “No, ‘course, honey, I’m not laughin’ at you. Nothin’s funny, that’s not what’s so funny, okay?”
He thinks you might not forgive him this time, but you nod sweetly and whisper, “Am I still pretty, you think?”
Now he’s the one frowning. A little, but it breaks his heart you think a couple of tears will scare him off. Even when you love him past the scars.
“Always, baby, come on, you’re always so pretty.”
It rolls around in your head like a single die, edges rattling against all the hard bone. And the number you land on:
“Even if I had lots of boogers and it just… never stopped?”
“Well…” Oh, and he really should’ve known how serious you’d take it when you slump into your seat. “No! No, that wouldn’t change anything, baby, shouldn’t’ve said it. All the boogers in the world couldn’t put me off’a you, alright?”
Your sad, wet face turns to him. “Mean it?”
He nods. And cracks a smile at how serious you sound. At how genuinely he feels it rotting away so sweetly at his bones.
“Of course, I mean it.”
You grab his hand again, this time shoving it’s warmth against your cheek, and he’s flicking between you and the road. But you just rub the back of his hand as he’s turning onto your street.
“That girl tonight… she was so nice,” you coo, “never met anyone so nice, and she even offered me water and sat with me on the couch. She was so, so nice.”
Billy remembers seeing her next to you. He remebers trying to remember where he’d seen her before. From across the room, he watched you laugh at her joke and felt warmth spread through his taut chest. Loosened him up as he realized you’re the only person he’d happily stay sober for.
“Sounds like I’ve got competition—”
It’s silly of him to say, because he knows you’d start a war before letting him think he’s replaceable in any capacity. But it’s a nice reminder that he’s worth a war. And he likes the sound of your voice.
“NO, BILLY! No! You’re nice, too, don’t worry! But you’re nice ‘cause you love me, and she was a stranger who was nice and I don’t think she loves me. But you do, and that’s why you’re so nice! And you’re nice looking, too!”
He nods like he’s getting the mental picture, slotting the puzzle pieces into places they don’t fit. “Ohh, okay.”
The engine ticks once he brings the car to a stop. He makes sure to hustle when he opens your door and reaches for your seat belt buckle. He doesn’t expect you to ragdoll against him, but he catches you before he teeters all the way backwards.
“Really, you are nice,” you whisper.
“Thank you, baby.”
“Yeah, baby! Can we cuddle about it??”
He shuts your door behind you and hooks his arm around your back tightly so he can be your center of gravity.
“Definitely. Did you wanna wait ‘til we’re inside, or just cuddle out here—”
“No, no, no, no—“
“Are you sure? It’s the perfect temperature out here,” he teases.
“Billy, please no, no, inside, please.”
“But the grass is nice!”
“Billy!!! Please, no grass!!” you whine, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and attempting to drag him towards your door. He pretends to fall weak to your incredible strength.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I’m sure. No grass!”
“Alright, I hear ya. No grass,” Billy says, pulling you back against his side and kissing your temple.
“Promise?” you huff.
“Promise.”
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munsster · 4 months
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Hiiiiiiii loved your Eddie munson x wealthy!reader fix, I was wondering if you could do a billy Hargrove one? Thank you bby💗
billy with a wealthy s/o
A/N: its 100% giving reluctant allies to lovers gif cred: @selinasdalton
Warnings: partying, drinking/smoking, insults (mostly playful), pet names (sweetheart), implied sex
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the FIRST thing i thought of was reader rolling with the popular crowd
ie harrington, tommy, carol etc
and seeing billy for the first time at a party
honestly, he probably offers you a drink or better yet a smoke
and you’re disgusted (horny)
and he thinks he’s totally gonna score (you accepted his drink offer)
neither of you really remember how or when it started
you can never agree on an anniversary date
but you both know he fell first
mainly because he was absolutely floored by just how many insults you had ready in your back pocket
“the ball goes in the basket, airhead” “you look like rob lowe if he was a woman and a munch” “my dog could sink more free throws than you and he’s 20 years old”
honestly, he was a little flattered by your creativity
which is why he knew he had to get in your pants somehow
and the first time you invited him over to your house, you wouldn’t hear the end of it
“hey, richie rich, where’s your robot maid?”
“oh, it’s her day off”
“…”
“i’m kidding,” you tease, “she’s not a robot”
he does not know how to handle the amount of shit you spoil him with
“billy… i really like your necklace”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“i can buy you a new—”
“i dont need a new one, sweetheart”
and you don’t know how to handle the fact that he doesn’t want to be spoiled
but you eventually figure out how to be sneaky with it
making him lunches (con caviar), ‘accidentally’ misplacing his shoes so you have to buy him new ones, taking him to fancy barbershops and paying half the cost so it still seems like he’s paying the full price
some may say it’s manipulative. you say it’s loving.
and the first time he buys you a meaningful, mildly expensive gift, you tear up a little bit
you bringing him to the golf course and finding out 1) he’s really good at golf and 2) he is excellent cougar bait
not that you want the over 60’s hitting on your man, but it’s very sweet when they send him drinks and call him a handsome young man
you definitely encourage him to play into it with some “how are you young ladies this evening?” and “don’t you have to be 21 to sit at the bar?” action
he has his fun with it, but he really only does it ‘cause it makes you smile
would never BEG for anything…. but he DOES get really sad when you don’t bring him to the mall to watch you try on shoes or sweaters or whatever.
yeah, if there’s something he’d beg for, it’s that
he lives for the moment you walk out of the dressing room, do a twirl, and ask (like clockwork) “do you like it?”
his answer is always yes, but you claim to know the differences in his tone that indicate what he actually likes
sometimes, if he’s lucky, you’ll let him sit inside the dressing room. watching you change. watching you change.
he is the reason you’re both banned from sears at starcourt
the first really expensive watch you gift him is INSANE
it has like four dials and you said something about alligator leather and 18 carat gold
he can’t decide between wearing it on special occasions to preserve its value or never taking it off because he loves you
when you do stay at his house, usually no ones home
but you have met max
and she likes to stay away from you
but you took her to get a new skateboard and you think that might’ve helped her warm up to you
just a smidge
now she lets you gossip about stupid boys and watch shitty action movies with her
she even promised she would go as croft’s robin for halloween if you swore you’d go as wilson’s batman
that was an interesting halloween for billy
your mansion house has this shiny ass gramophone in one of the downstairs offices
and you told billy that the last thing that had played on it was a glenn miller ‘best of’ album
and that was just not good enough for billy
so one night, he brought over his twisted sister vinyl and convinced you to dance with him while what you don’t know blasted through the brassy pavillon
he also may or may not have convinced you to make out with him while the rest of the record played
even though you drive a brand new, cherry red benz (convertible, he might add), you still love it when he drives the two of you in his camaro
but you also let him drive your car whenever he wants. and he wants to most of the time.
in fact, he’s pretty sure he drives your car more than you do
he also loves to let you dress him up
and do his hair (please practice that cute hairstyle you saw on him. he’ll think about your hands in his hair for hours on end)
even if youre just going on a chill diner date, you still drag him into your (now shared) walk-in closet and pick out these satin shirts and pressed slacks and the shiniest shoes he’s ever seen
but of course, most of your dates are lavish and breathtakingly creative, anyway, so he’s already dressed accordingly
his new catch phrase is something along the lines of “what happened to eating somewhere normal. like pizza hut”
sometimes, his only requirement is “as long as there’s no chandelier”
you flatter him so often, he gets grumpy on days you forget to call him handsome (or pretty boy, which has really grown on him)
typically, he wouldnt go for all the fuss and feathers, but he likes to see you happy.
and boy, does prettying him up make you happy
seriously, you get the wildest look on your face. it’s fulfilling enough that billy feels safe to say he’s content being your ken doll forever
if you’d let him
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munsster · 4 months
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hey! do you think you could do a steve x reader fic that's grumpy x sunshine? ty in advance!
i have truly had this in my inbox for over a year, so i am so very sorry for hoarding it. i've twisted it a little -- here we've got what happens when you, usually the sunshine to steve's grumpy, has a bit of a bad day yourself. hope you like! sunshine!reader and grumpy!steve on a day when you're the grumpy one | fluff, 1.2k
Steve notices immediately. It's kind of weird, actually. He leans heavily against your door as he shuts it behind him, toeing off his shoes. The plastic of the takeout bags digs into his hands a little but he's just glad to be here, glad to finally see you after a long day. He likes your place better than his and he likes you best of all.
But something is off. There's no music, no familiar smell of that beachy candle he bought you burning. Are you napping? It's possible, but you sounded pretty excited when you called him at lunch asking him to come for dinner. And Steve, sue him, kind of expected you to greet him.
It's kind of an asshole thought, he can admit that, but you always do. You're always nothing short of thrilled to see him, your boyfriend, like he's been away for years rather than a day of work. You throw your arms around him and sing-song his name and kiss him sloppily because you're smiling so wide. Your love for him is infectious and he feels it all the way to his bones.
Because he's not exactly known for being a nice guy, right? Sure, he's not like, a jackass, not anymore, but he's not exactly cheery all the time. He's quieter than he was, a little more serious. It just comes with the territory. Getting older, dealing with shit. God knows he's dealt with a lot of shit.
But you? You're fucking sunshine. There's no other way to put it. He has no idea where you get your endless smiles for him, the laughter that bubbles out of you like sheer goodness personified. And you're with him. You love him.
Steve doesn't get it but hey, he's not going to complain.
So, something has to be wrong. "It's me!" he calls into the apartment. "Steve," he tacks on a bit lamely, hoping it'll make you laugh.
"On the couch," you call back. You don't sound sick or anything so that's not it. He pops into the kitchen to set down your dinner before shucking off his jacket and padding to the living room. When he spots you something in his chest loosens. God, he's so gone for you.
"Hey," he says lightly.
You look up at him from your book with a small smile but it's dimmer than he expects. "Hi, Steve," you say. You're pressed against the arm of the sofa with your legs stretched out, a book in your lap. You reach for him with one hand over the back of the couch. "Did you bring dinner?"
"Sure did," he says. He twines his fingers with yours and leans over to press his lips to your forehead. You sigh. "Nah, screw it," he says. "I'm coming over."
You know what he's going to do. "Be careful --" you try to say but he's already hoisting himself over and onto the couch. You pull your legs to your chest just in time as he bounces on the cushions a little bit.
Steve likes to be close to you. Everyone gives him shit for it when you're out, how he's always on you so much. Arm around your shoulder, thigh pressed to yours at the table. Hand in your pocket or holding yours. You've told him you like it, too, that it's grounding, so that's what he's aiming for. You shove your socked toes under his thigh and he wraps a hand around your ankle.
Time to see what the hell is going on with you. "So," he says. "Who do I need to beat up?"
You look moderately amused. "What do you mean by that, Steve?"
He reaches for you with his free hand. You've got a crease between your brows and he smooths it with his thumb. "You seem...down."
You hug yourself with your arms and sink deeper into the couch and lose his gaze. "Do I?" you say softly. "Sorry."
"Woah," Steve rushes to say. "Woah, no, hey, don't apologize. I just want to see what's wrong."
You say no more. His thumb strokes your ankle lightly and he wonders what the hell he's going to do to make you feel better. He's not very good at this part. You're always the one to bring him out of bad moods, to remind him of all the good stuff he's got going on. He can do this for you.
Steve gently pulls the book from your lap, folding the corner of the page before he puts it on the table.
"I was reading that," you say lightly.
"Yeah, well," he says. "You know I need attention to survive." You huff a laugh. Okay, progress.
Steve reaches for your face again. He lets go of your ankle this time so he can cup your cheek, your knees pressing into his chest a little. It's not a great angle but he can work with it.
"Baby," he says. It's your favorite thing he calls you other than your name since he saves it for moments like this -- when it's just the two of you. "Can you tell me what's wrong? So I can help?"
Your eyes shut and you lean into his palm. You take a deep breath and it shudders a little in your chest.
"I don't know, Steve," you whisper. "I know I'm usually so -- so -- happy, but I just got kind of sad this afternoon." You pull the words from yourself like a confession and Steve hates it. He hates how you sound disappointed in yourself.
"That's okay," he says. "Christ, that's more than okay. You can feel however you want. I mean, come on, you know I'm grumpy basically all the time." He hopes yet again it will make you laugh but he fails miserably as you sniffle. "Okay, come here."
You pull your feet from under his thigh and he hauls your legs over his lap so he can give you a real hug. He can feel your nose in his neck as you inhale deeply. He rubs his palm up and down your spine. He's had bad days, too. Hell, he has lots of them. It just happens, he just never realized it could happen to you, too.
"So, and correct me if I'm wrong here because you know me, but what I'm hearing is you just feel like shit and there's not much more to it."
You nod into his embrace. "That's about right."
"What can I do ?" You pull back at his question and give him a real smile, brighter than anything in the room.
"Just this," you say. "I'm sure it'll go away." Your fingers trace the line of his nose, his chin.
"It's okay if it doesn't," Steve reminds you. You tell him the same thing all the time. "Seriously. I know we have this whole dynamic or whatever but you can feel like shit forever, if you want. I hope you don't, obviously, but I'll take care of you if --"
You press your fingers over his mouth. "It's okay, Steve," you say. "I'll be fine. But I know you would."
Your own lips replace your fingers and you kiss him sweetly. He isn't ashamed to say he melts into it a little. He wanted to kiss you the second he walked in the door.
He's about to turn this into something a little less sweet when your stomach grumbles between you and you both pull back with a laugh. "Okay," he says. "Well, that I can fix."
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!
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munsster · 7 months
Text
bedhead
A/N: I needed a sleepy boy on this sleepy day. and billy H needs a damn haircut >:) gif cred: @julie-thefatones
Pairings: Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader
Summary: Billy wakes with the desire to get rid of his hair eating away at him. 0.7k words
Warnings: fluff, minor angst, established relationship, implied night terrors, messy haircuts, anxiety/insomnia, scars, mentions of bullying
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Everything Billy can touch is cold and dark. The sheets, the hard wood floor, the bathroom light switch, the porcelain counter. The water that pours from the faucet and the silver rings of the trimming scissors you keep in a soft plastic case in the cabinet below the sink. The only noise he can reasonably detect is the whirring of the ceiling fan. And if he listened carefully enough, paused his thundering heart for just a moment, he could hear your breath as it fans across your pillow.
But he came in here for a reason. Wielding the cold metal shears like Goliath and his sword. Marching into battle at six foot something, only to find himself in the mirror, damp with sweat and pale with insomnia. Deep purple cresting his edges and the thin crescents of skin beneath his baby blue eyes. Though the bathroom gives him a sickly green tint.
The first chunk of hair hits the floor with the faintest thud. So faint, it shouldn't be classified as a thud. But it's more the weight of the change than the handful of dark gold curls itself.
He's lopsided now. Now there's no turning back. But he couldn't proceed forward with any strength and confidence looking how he's looked for years. How he looked beating up his friends and calling girls sluts. How he looked on the verge of death.
Billy used to wear his head of sun kissed, West Coast hair like a helmet. Now it feels like a burden. You'd still fawn over him if he buzzed it all off. You'd call him stupid, sure, but he'd still be yours. And right now, that's all he's concerned with being.
Because you peer into the bathroom and coo his name like you don't see the growing pile of hair writhing around on the floor.
"Hi, baby," you whisper, cradling the scissors when he drops them into your hands, "little early for a haircut, isn't it?"
He shrugs, but he doesn't look at you. Like a child guilty of putting a piece of gum in his sister's hair. Only he's the one with the choppy locks, uneven chunks missing by his ears and the back of his head.
"Want help?"
Oh, and there are those baby blues, surrounded by soft pink sclera and nearly drooping from their sweetened places above his flushed cheeks.
Billy straddles the toilet lid backwards, arms crossed and settled on the ledge. He lets you turn his head side to side, up and down, and the pattern becomes soothing. Especially as the extra weight accumulates below his socked feet and over his sloped shoulders.
He thinks he must’ve passed out to the sound of the clippers, because he wakes with a tap on his shoulder. Your manicured pointer on his warm midnight skin rousing him from a dreamless sleep.
“Hmm?”
“All done,” you whisper, kissing his temple when he turns his head, “come look.”
Billy’s fingers feel heavy as he drops them between yours. You can hear the exhaustion in how he slumps to a stop in front of the mirror. He takes his time, a few deep breaths, and a while to admire the cropped cut. The way he hasn’t looked in years. It’s refreshing.
“You look really handsome, Billy. Was about time for a trim.” There’s a lilt in your voice that’s hard to take. It lightens his chest, straightens his shoulders, widens his tired eyes. Because there’s this sort of mischief clear on your face from where you stand behind his shoulder. He can feel it through the mirror. Intoxicating and delicious. Makes him feel beautiful as if he ever has before.
Billy whips around and twists his arms tight around you, collapsing into your embrace like a lovely paper doll. The room is cool like a nice glass of water. Even with the sun hinting at the morning and cars whizzing by down below, the light blue of five AM settles over him like a blanket.
You run your fingers up the exposed back of his neck, and he groans. The hair is short there, his neck is hot, his teeth sink into your shoulder playfully.
“Back to bed.”
He nods and does not let go, just waddles you to the bed, tucking the both of you back under the duvet with a big sigh.
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munsster · 8 months
Note
for or against crunchy peanut butter? that’s the real question?
ur so sexy for asking this 😍💋😉
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munsster · 10 months
Text
Who could be a more doting boyfriend?
Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader
Based off this request
Summary: 10 times Eddie Munson showed just how down bad he was.
Warnings: mentions of weed, food is brought up too, very very fluffy, Eddie down bad, sick! Reader for one, reader only in towel at one point, reader eats bacon in one, fem! Reader, tell me if I’ve forgotten any.
3.7k words because I luv u
Saccharine kisses were her favorite. The kind of kisses where he would ghost his lips over her skin, hovering, before planting a long sweet kiss to wherever he deemed most kissable at the moment.
She loved the way it never failed to make her stomach flip. The way it never failed to make her dizzy in the head and weak in the knees.
She loved that when it made her exhale wonky he’d look at her with this lovesick smile, before pressing more kisses around the area. Quicker, but non less full of love.
That’s why now, laying in bed, sick as a dog, she doesn’t have the strength to push him away. Thats why pawing at him uselessly, the only strength she’d managed earlier, had ceased.
“I’m gonna get you sick.” She whines.
They’re laying in her bed, intertwined like these are her last moments, like Eddie needs to get the most out of them.
Like a sad Victorian painting.
“I don’t care, Juliet, this world is a place I cannot live in without you.”
She scoffs, it coming out more like a cough than anything else. He pats her back as she coughs, letting her sit up to cover her mouth, and frowning when she shakes her head at the Gatorade he holds up for her.
“I’ve got the flu, you dolt. I’m not dying.” He pulls her back down, rubbing at the arm she’s wrapped around his stomach.
She didn’t know wether she was cold or hot, but the goosebumps that rose on her arms, from his fingers dancing over her skin, chilled her deliciously.
“He says that though, right?” He asks.
“Romeo?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve never read the play.”
He ponders this for a moment, tilting his head up, further into the faded grey of his old pillow case.
“What are you think-“
“Shh.”
She gives him an incredulous look, she could be dying for gods sake! Treat her with a little respect-
“O Romeo, Romeo, where..fore art thou Romeo?”
She looks up at him, head not lifting from its position on his chest, but a confused smile is playing on her lips.
“You’ve read it?”
“Well when you take senior year three times..”
“Oh, right.” She tilts her head back down, ear press into the warm skin above his steadily beating heart, as she curls around him.
He stops his fingers dance over her arms, only letting her frown momentarily, before they card their way through her wet hair. They work out small knots and kinks they hadn’t brushed out. He cranes his neck to press a long kiss on the top of her head.
“Did the shower make you feel better?” He murmurs against her hair.
“I don’t know.”
He sighs, knowing her too well to think that she’d admit his suggestion didn’t work. “I’ll go get the tv from the living room and wheel it in here, Kay?”
She nods, nasally voice making him frown. “Mkay.”
He gently removes himself from under her, making sure to pull the blankets back up before completely retracting.
“And the vapor rub. I’ll grab the vapor rub too.” His palms dig into his mattress as he hovers over her.
“God bless.”
He smiles at her, lips coming down to kiss hers affectionally. She kisses back before she realizes what she’s done.
“Do not kiss me, Edward, I know you’re not vaccinated.”
A deep groan leaves his lips as he walks away, into the living room for the TV and vapor rub.
“What is a desperate man to do?”
She can’t help but smile as she tucks herself into his freshly clean, for the first time in 2 years, sheets.
She rummages through his drawers, fingers making quick work of the unfolded clothes thrown in them.
“Eddie?” her voice drifts through his bedroom door, and into the kitchen, where he’s staring intently at the microwave.
He pushes his door open, weary as to where to put his eyes while his girlfriend is in nothing but a towel.
“Yes?”
“Do you know where my clothes are? I thought I left them in this drawer but..”
“Oh! Hold on!”
He goes back though his door, returning with a basket of laundry. It’s not fresh, nor warm to the touch, but it was definitely recently that it had been washed.
“You washed my clothes?”
“It was after you got sick,” he shrugs nonchalantly, cheeks tinging a shade, due to the way she smiles at him.
The smell of them wafting up into her face only deepens her already bright smile. She picks up her shirt, bringing it to her nose and inhaling.
“And you used-?”
The look on his face is downright bashful. “I remembered it was your favorite, so I picked you up some when I went shopping with Wayne.” He scratched his neck, “S’no big deal really.”
Her arms wrap around his neck, towel hanging on for its life.
“No, it is. Thank you, baby.”
Her fingers scratch his scalp lightly, digging into his curls and tugging gently. He feels like a dog being pet. Is this what they feel like? Lucky bastards.
He fears his leg may start kicking.
“You’re welcome.” He muffles into her neck, arms wrapped around her waist so that the towel doesn’t fall, “I’m glad you’re happy.”
She had called him from work, voice full of tears.
“My sweet girl, can’t you come home early?”
“Janie was supposed to come in today, but she flaked, so now I’m alone.”
“Come home, leave Austin and Marie to close today. No baby, we don’t need that money for the rent, enough cars needed fixing this week. I promise, come home- my home.”
So she did.
But trudging through Eddie and Wayne’s front door, he was nowhere to be found. His van was outside where it normally was, his shoes were haphazardly thrown in the direction of the front door - like they normally were, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Each shoe is toed off quietly, as she softly calls his name, not wanting to disturb Wayne’s weird sleep schedule. “Eddie?”
She’s scrubbing at her face, trying to get the tear tracks off.
“Eddie?”
She pads through the hall, into the bathroom where she can hear water running.
“What’s this?”
He looks up, panic stricken through his face.
“No, no, no. Go sit on the couch real quick.”
Nothing but hurt is read on her face. “What, why?”
He rushes up, cupping the back of her neck with his wet hand, while the other slides around her waist, pulling her closer.
“I did something for you.”
“You did?”
She peaks behind him into the dingy bathroom. He’s got the water running and her favorite soaps out displayed on the tub.
“No peaking!”
He uses the hand around her neck to push her face in his chest.
“You ran me a bath?” It’s muffled in his Megadeth shirt.
“Do you like it?”
“Is that your way of telling me I’m dirty?”
“What? No, no, no. I just thought that you might- uh, I thought that you might like it-?”
She laughs and he basks in it. Letting it cleanse and settle over him.
“I was joking, honey.”
He smiles, teeth poking through has he lets out breathless - relieved laughs.
“Go,” he skews his head toward the bathroom.
“But-“
“Go, I’m making dinner.”
“You’re making dinner? Baby.”
“I’m ordering from that Chinese place, the one across the street from the library,” He lets out another breathless laugh. “Go.”
“Oh, okay then.”
Something is stirring inside of her chest. Something warm and light. It muddles around, making her heart flutter and palms sweaty.
She’s never gotten a love letter before.
It’s not the most put together thing she’s ever seen, but it’s got to be her favorite. It’s small, but pink, and she could tell Eddie used his best handwriting for this. At the very end he signed it off with -E and a poorly drawn version of his guitar.
Where did he get pink paper?
She holds it in her hands like it’s gold, like it could tear at any moment, but two fingers pluck it out before she has the chance to read it a third time.
“Who wrote you up?” Rob asks suspiciously, eyeing the pink referral slip between her index and middle finger.
“No one-?”
Oh, that’s where he got it.
She tugs it from Robins fingers, flipping it so she could see the back - or what is actually known as the front of the paper.
Eddie Munson Grade 12 10/3/86
REASON FOR REFERRAL
-Cutting Class
-Lack of Cooperation
-Restless, Inattentive
ACTIONS TAKEN PRIOR TO REFERRAL
-Detained Student After School
PRESENT ACTION AND RECOMMENDATION(S)
-Student Regrets Incident, Cooperative
Robin reads the back as Y/N reads the front. He wrote her a love letter on the back of a referral slip?
“He wrote you a love letter on the back of a referral slip? What’s next? A receipt from a drug deal?” She ignores the instant, drug deals don’t have receipts dipshit, thought that pops up.
“That’s so sweet! He wrote me a love letter on pink paper!” Robin can’t help the twitch of a smile on her lips. “You think he’ll write me more?”
“If he doesn’t I’ll jeopardize his business.” She slings her arm around Y/N’s shoulder.
“What are best friends for?”
“It’s too early, it’s too early.” She whines as Eddie pushes back her hair, pressing light kisses into it, while she wraps her arms tighter around his chest.
“I know, I know.”
The sun shines in through Eddie’s open windows, the red sheet nailed above the larger one casting a crimson hue over them.
They tangle in the bed sheets, languidly and lethargic, similar to the way they held each other when she had the flu.
“C’mon, baby you gotta wake up.”
She grumbles, hands snaking under his back, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin as his box fan blows on them. They settle and he smiles as she opens her eyes.
“Why’s your shirt on?” Her sleep raspy voice tugs multiple strings in his heart.
Eddie always slept shirtless.
“I’ve already been up, sweetheart.”
“You’ve already been up?”
He smiles down at her, pushing some hair from where it sticks to her forehead. “Mhm.”
She pushes up, arms caging Eddie’s chest, as she hovers over him.
“You’re wearing your kiss the mechanic apron.” she points out, like he wouldn’t have known.
“I am.”
“Did you make breakfast?”
He shrugs, “Get up and see.”
She whines, shaking her head, laying back down on him. “Carry me?”
He thinks about it for a moment, looking down at her droopy eyes and tapping her thigh. She wraps her legs around him and he sits up, letting her be carried in his arms to the kitchen.
She smiles, resting her head on his shoulder, as he murmurs “Needy, needy, girl.”, shuffling to get a better grip on her.
“You hungry?” He softly asks.
“I’m tired.”
“Oh, I know.”
The counter is cold against her thighs as he sets her down. She squirms sadly, and he can do nothing but smile affectionately at her.
The plate he hands her is paper and warm. He sets a napkin on her lap, before the plate, so it doesn’t burn her poor thighs. Though, her eyes are closed as he does this, hands messily wiping the sleep from her eyes, so she doesn’t see the food.
“Warm.”
“Very warm,” He nods. “Eat, baby.”
Pressing a fork into her hands, he gently tugs her hands away from the cruel work they were doing to her eyes.
“Bacon? You got me bacon?”
“Benny was giving slabs away for free, down at the diner.” He bends over and kisses her jaw.
“I love bacon.”
“I know.” His voice is nothing but teasing, though, she doesn’t mind.
“You cooked the bacon by yourself?” She sets her fork down, grabbing his hands, and inspecting his arms. “And you didn’t get popped by the oil?”
He flushes, “Wayne helped me. But I made everything else by myself!”
She looks down at the food fondly. Eggs cooked like she taught him when they first started dating. Toast unburnt. Wayne’s bacon.
Wayne’s bacon was so good.
“Go get a plate, I’m not eating without you.”
“On it.”
“Okay, hands like this.” He grips her fingers, smiling as she lets him bend them in the right places. “Yeah! Okay, now pluck the third string.”
She plucks it, and it comes out sounding significantly better then 10 minutes ago. “You’re doing it! I’m so proud of you.”
He attacks her cheek with kisses and she scrunches her nose, pulling away in feigned annoyance.
“Teach me to play I Have a Dream.”
“What?” He pulls back agast. “I’m teaching you to play guitar on sweetheart, and you want me to teach you to play ABBA?”
She giggles, laying her head in his neck. “Yes, please.”
“No, baby, I’m teaching you to play 2 Minutes to Midnight.”
“No,” There’s a whiny edge to her voice. “That song is so hard.”
“You could do it.”
“Only if you helped me.”
“Deal.”
He lifts the guitar back up, twisting her fingers to the right frets.
“This is going to be so metal.”
He laughs out loud.
“-and I told Robs to go to the front of the class and tell the teacher, but she didn’t wanna embarrass herself In front of the Nancy.”
Eddie nods along, leaning against the lockers. This isn’t a conversation he’s particularly interested in, but-
“I think they’d make a good couple, don’t you?”
“Who?”
“Robin and Nancy!”
“Rob and Nance? Totally.” He waves his hand, as if dismissing any thought that they wouldn’t be.
“I knew you’d think so.”
The halls are almost empty, dismissal bell rang 5 minutes ago, but when you don’t have a bus to catch you always have a little extra time to put your stuff away.
“Are you ready?” Eddie asks, watching her shove books in her locker that she refuses to take home.
“Almost,” She turns to Eddie, looking behind him. “I just thought I heard Rob and Nances voice. I guess I’m going cra-“
She stumbles, having slipped on something, even though she could’ve sworn there was nothing on the ground a minute ago.
“Woah baby, woah baby.” Eddie grips her arms tightly, but not cruelly. Just tight enough to keep her upright. “What was that?”
“Slipped on,” She looks down at the floor “My shoelace, I guess.”
“You guess? Baby, you gotta be careful.” He bends down to one knee, patting it lightly for her to put her foot on.
Her left hand is flat against the lockers for balance as he ties her shoe for her.
“You can’t have untied shoes, sweetheart. Y’could trip and hurt yourself.” She watches fondly as he shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine, I just don’t want an injured girlfriend.” He finishes, patting her foot in approval.
“You wouldn’t love me if I was injured?”
He stands up, “Who said that?”
“You did!”
“I love you so much I wouldn’t be able to look at you, cause seeing you injured would make me so sad.”
“You wouldn’t take care of me?”
“I’d call mama Steve, I can’t stand to see you hurt.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He grabs her cheeks and presses a hard kiss to her mouth. “You’re welcome.”
Eddie’s room is dark like it normally is. His bong is next to him and his guitar is on his knee resting.
He loves nights like these.
He taps his knee rhythmically, slow, unlike his other songs. A power ballad if you will.
He’s been at this for hours. Strumming, tapping, and scribbling lyrics into a blank page of his math notebook.
Just as he pulls his pick out of his mouth again he hears a soft knock on his door. It’s probably just Wayne.
“Hey, boy.” Wayne cracks the door open, checking to see if Eddie is decent. “I’m leavin now.”
Eddie checks his watch, humming in confirmation.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”
Wayne nods. “You writing a new song?”
Eddie smiles at his uncles effort to make conversation.
“Yeah, for Y/N.”
Now it’s Wayne’s turn to smile. “She’ll like it.”
He could hear it through the walls? Eddie flushes.
“You think?”
“Yup.” Wayne puts a baseball cap on. “I like ‘er.”
He turns to leave, closing the door behind him, leaving Eddie in shock.
“I’m out!” He hears Wayne yell, before locking the door behind him.
“Bye!”
That was.. strange.
Her eyes hurt from reading, her back hurts from hunching over her bedroom desk, and her heart hurts from not accepting Eddie’s kisses.
This is one of the rare nights that she isn’t sleeping at Eddie’s, having to study for the math test tomorrow, but 20 minutes ago Eddie came in through the window, and she’s gotten no work done since.
It doesn’t really matter, due to the three hours of studying she got in before he came, but it’s still stressful nonetheless.
“Cmon baby, let’s go to bed.” Eddie’s Laying on her bed, flipping through a magazine.
“I can’t, I’ve gotta study.”
“Baby, you‘ve been studying since 9:30.”
“So? What time is it now?” She doesn’t look up from the equation.
“12:43? You gotta sleep at some point.”
Startled, she checks her watch, eyes widening when she realizes he’s right.
He’s getting up, tossing the magazine, and pulling her up outta the chair. He wraps his arms around her neck, kissing the top of her head a generous amount of times.
She whines pulling away, causing him to gasp in offense.
“What could I have possibly have done?”
“Want it on my lips.”
“Only if you promise to go to bed with me.” He bargains.
“Fine.”
He grabs her face and kisses her just the way she likes. Saccharine and sweet.
“Will you come to bed now?”
“Only because I love you.” She nods glumly.
He smiles playfully down at her. “Oh, but I love you more.”
They had been watching a movie.
A newer one, starring Micheal J. fox. It wasn’t wasn’t usually Eddie’s thing, but he had agreed for Steve.
He’d insisted that they watch it. “No! You don’t understand! He goes back in time to-“
“Don’t spoil it for them!” Robin rasps.
“I’m not, Rob, I’ve just gotta get them hooked.”
“You don’t hook someone by spoiling a major plot point?”
So here they were, under warm covers, watching a movie that neither of them particularly wanted to watch.
Candy was splayed out In front of them. Red vines, runts, nerds, and sour patch kids, getting dug into every couple minutes. And though Eddie had whined about Steve making them choose this, after the first opening scene he was hooked.
“Goddamn, did you see the way he flung into the wall?”
She had, but she also had seen the rope tied to his stomach.
“Did you see the rope around his stomach?”
Eddie laughs, his chest shaking under her as he looks away from the tv. “No, can we rewind?”
She was content with this. Even though she didn’t particularly enjoy the movie, Eddie did, and that was enough for her.
“Damn,” Eddie mumbles, staring intently at the screen. He’s got one arm hanging off the couch, joint between fingers, and the other rubbing up and down her spine.
They’d been in this position since the movie started, utterly comfortable.
Eddie’s trailer had the worst insulation, and even worse ac and heating, so this was nice. Eddie was always warm, a natural heater, so this was always nice.
Nothing strikes in his head as unusual, they lay like this every night, but something about the way her breathing was so even gave it away.
“Hey doc, you better back up, we don’t have any road to get up 88.” The pretty Lea Thompson is perched on Micheals lap as he gives his line.
“Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads.” He drops his aluminum glasses over his eyes, starting the car.
Eddie’s hand lazily rises from her back and up to her head, hovering. “Sweetheart?” No answer, “Are you sleepy? Are you asleep?” still, no answer.
He cranes his neck to the side, trying to get any glimpse of his tired girl sleeping, stuffing out his joint in the process.
“The movie ended,” He whispers. “I think there’ll be a second one.”
No reaction. He sighs, letting his hand move back down and continue the work it was doing to her back. He can’t move or wake her, it would do too much to his poor heart.
She shuffles in her sleep, head leaning up towards Eddie. He holds his breath until she’s done, then he lets his nimble fingers work over her hairline. Brushing away stray hairs gently, letting his middle finger swoop down her nose, cupping her face gently, just to look at her.
He loves moments like these. Moments where he gets to stare at her so unapologetically. Moments where he gets to memorize every detail about her face, without her looking over and asking What are you looking at baby?
The slope of her nose, the way her eyelashes curl, the tilt of her mouth, the way her eyebrows furrow at something in her dream.
“You’re so pretty.” Is whispered from his mouth absentmindedly.
She can’t hear him, stuck in dreamland slaying monsters dutifully, traveling the world with Eddie, shopping with Max, or swinging bats with Steve.
He knows she can’t hear him, but it still feels necessary to say. It’s something he needs to say.
Her breathing intakes, it’s something sharp and shallow. For a moment he thinks she’s woken, but her pretty eyes haven’t opened.
“Sweetheart?” He whispers, but the quick breathing doesn’t stop. “Bad dream, hmm?”
He bends his neck down, holding her in his arms, and scattering multiple kisses over her hairline, trying to calm her.
Slowly her breathing calms again, and he lets sweet relief wash over him. He needs to get them to their bed.
Once he’s fixed her in his arms, he carry’s her to the room, gently setting her down in her spot and pulling up the covers.
He gets up to take his shirt off, but a warm hand stops him.
“Don’t leave.”
He frowns, ache dwelling in his chest at the thought. Climbing under the covers with her, he lets her cling onto him, “I’m not.”
Guess he’s sleeping with his shirt on tonight
4K notes · View notes
munsster · 10 months
Text
brain like a sieve
A/N: i am on a MAD ONE with the way im writing. she has motivation and inspiration and fingers of STEEL. (gif creds: @neblisi )
Pairings: Eddie Munson x GN!Reader
Summary: Eddie’s on top of the world when you tell him you love him. So much so, in fact, that he forgets to say it back. 0.8k words
Warnings: established relationship, kissing, fluff, insecurity, obliviousness, pet names (bunny, bug, lovebug), ONE half swear word (i SWEAR it took so much self control, i dont know how i limited myself)
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You’ve got this fiery look in your eye right before you say it that distracts him.
“I love you, Eddie.”
And your hair is wild and your hands are wound into the collar of his shirt and he can’t help but wonder what divine force of nature got him here. Made him so lucky.
And in the midst of everything: Eddie forgets to say it back.
He kisses you sweetly and holds you at the waist, drinking in the way you look at him and tug him closer. But he still doesn’t say it back. A minute passes, and everything settles and he thinks you’re beautiful and you love him, and he forgot to say it back.
You go home in a frenzy. Why didn’t he say it back? You can barely do your laundry without running the conversation over in your head. Did you do something wrong? You think you’ll wait a week, give it time, maybe he’ll call and say it. Maybe he’s still processing it. Does he not love you back? You end up waiting two days before calling him in the middle of the night.
“Okay! We can talk, lovebug. Why don’t you come over tomorrow night? I’ll order takeout.”
You can hear Eddie’s smile through the phone, completely unfazed by the ungodly hour and by the confusion and hurt in your voice. Your eyes go wide, and you slowly nod.
“Yeah… that works,” you say.
“Alright, I’ll see you then.”
But you’re still confused. He spoke and smiled like nothing was the matter. Like you hadn’t been down on your knees with devoted confession for him. Maybe he just didn’t hear you. Except you know he heard you because you said it in the rest between laughter and conversation and the way he gave you a soft smile meant he had to have heard you.
“I brought cupcakes.” You stand on his porch steps, shivering from the cold, wind licking your face and threatening to blow you off your feet. Eddie grins and takes the plate from you, grabbing your hand and leading you to the kitchen. He sets the soft yellow platter down beside the bags of takeout and whips around to leer at you like a big cat.
“Hi, bunny,” he whispers. And you’re already flustered.
Eddie smiles because he knows and plants one on you like you’ve never kissed before. Like it hasn’t been his favorite pastime the entire time he’s known you. Despite how stone-faced you told yourself you’d be, you crumple into temptation and whine when he pulls away.
Moments later, you’re both perched on his bed, facing each other while he’s smiling and poking at your knee.
“So…” Eddie says, batting his lashes.
“So?”
“Well, you said you wanted to talk—”
“Oh”—you press a hand to your face and take a deep breath—“I know, I’m just… okay… d’you remember the other day? We were cracking jokes on your bed and messing around in general and…”
“Yeah, I remember.” He inches ever closer, tugging at the sleeve of your coat like a needy cat. Because you don’t know how distracted he had gotten all while thinking about how pretty you looked. How pretty your laugh is and how he doesn’t know where he’d be if he didn’t have you.
“And then I said…”—you sigh—“I mean, I told you I love you, and you didn’t… say anything—”
And as if all of the blood had been drained from his face, he goes ghost-pale in embarrassment. He feels nauseous and panicked.
“Oh my God! Bug! I love you, I love you, I do, I’m—oh my God, I got completely distracted, I’m mortified, I swear, I—”
You feel relief, yet your voice is still small when you ask:
“Distracted? Distracted by what…?”
“Well”—and it makes him shy owning up to his conscience like this—“you were laughin’ so hard and… and then I snorted which made you laugh even harder and I was thinking… ‘bout how beautiful you looked smiling so wide, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. And you said you loved me and I was on cloud nine. You were grabbing me and you looked like you could cry from laughing and I wanted to kiss you and I love you. And I’m sorry I got distracted.”
Your jaw unclenches and you sit there for a second, blinking at him in disbelief and yet complete understanding.
Then you tackle him, pin him to the bed with a yelp. And once he’s done wriggling, he’s scared for his life with how furious you look pressing him down like this.
“Eddie Munson!”
“Don’t be mad at me, please! Because I love you—”
“Shut up,” you say, grinning when he cups your face and swipes his thumb across your cheek.
“I do. I lo—”
“Shh, precious few words, Eddie.”
“Too bad, that sucks, I’m completely in love with you,” he huffs, “Now say it back.”
You grin and you look like you could bite a chunk out of him right about now. And he’s pretty sure he prefers it that way when you say:
“…I love you.”
“Damn right.”
masterlist
2K notes · View notes
munsster · 10 months
Text
microscope
summary: steve wants nothing more than to ask you out. however, constantly being under the eyes of nancy, robin, dustin, and the rest of the kids makes it nearly impossible for him.
word count: 6.8k pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader
"you know, i've been hearing a lot of boo-hooing from you. you, steve harrington, who has the perfect solution to all your problems right in front of your face."
steve scoffed, rolling his eyes at his friend as he tossed a stack of returned films into a bin behind the counter. he internally grimaced as he thought about the fact that he'd be emptying that same bin back onto the shelves tomorrow morning, likely whilst having that same conversation with robin, both more or less against his will. "don't start with this again, robin."
"i'm not the one who started it! you did, with your gushy, lovey-dovey, pining, bedroom eyes every time you look at y/n!" her hands flailed around her as she spoke, dramatizing her words in that way only robin could. "seriously, i don't know how she hasn't caught on yet. because, of course that's not the only way you make your feelings totally obvious. every time you see her-- whenever your lives aren't in immediate danger, i mean-- she's the only person in the room you actually outwardly enjoy speaking to. you randomly bring her up in every other conversation. you call her sweetheart without even thinking about it. and don't think i don't realize that half the time you're at dustin's house it's for her. not to mention you haven't gone on a date in months, and not because you can't get one! it's like--" robin scoffed, a mixture of realization, amusement, and astonishment-- "it's like you've found the girl you've been looking for, but you're too chicken to actually ask her out!"
"first of all, the sweetheart thing? yeah-- that was one, maybe two times. second of all, there are only so many girls in hawkins. how do you know there's not a deficit of girls nearby that i haven't already dated?" robin tried to interject, knowing that his second reason was total bullshit, but steve raised his voice as he continued, preventing her from speaking. "anddd third of all! the rest of that can all be justified by the fact that y/n is my friend!"
"friend schmend. the two of you are going to end up together, i can feel it. mark my words, harrington!"
"i'll mark them if you stop repeating them," steve grumbled, returning to the task at hand as robin hummed in satisfaction.
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"so there's really nothing going on? like... nothing, nothing?"
steve's day was becoming a miserable cycle. first it was robin. now it was nancy. he was beginning to consider going home and hiding from his remaining obligations for the day, but lucas was starting five in the basketball game that night, so he really had no choice. so there he was in the hawkins high gym, grimacing as his ex grilled him about the girl he was in love with. moreover, steve had thought he was secretly in love. apparently he hadn't been doing too great a job of keeping things under wraps. so not only was he going to have to spend another night with all of his friends pretending he wasn't in love with you, but he also had to listen to them as they threw it in his face that he was.
so, yes, steve was miserable.
"nothing is going on, nancy," steve stated flatly, eyes scanning the area near the entrance. he knew that if you showed up, she would quit it (nancy was one of the few of the bunch who at least halted her interrogations when you were around to potentially overhear). robin was a section over in the gym bleachers, clad in her band uniform and gripping her instrument, too focused on vickie's presence beside her to notice steve and nancy sitting so close-by. although he was currently missing the constant subject changes throughout conversations with robin, he was glad she was too distracted to join nancy in harassing him. mike was standing on the sidelines with lucas while he stretched, the boys laughing at something a grinning lucas had said. the rest of you had yet to arrive. in other words, there was nothing stopping nancy from taking her turn to question him about his nonexistent relationship with you. he was trapped.
he was also saving the seat to his right for you, fully prepared to face the repercussions of that choice if someone realized it too soon. regardless, he was praying you showed up before anyone else so he could avoid having to literally fight over the empty foot of space on the bench. regardless of where you ended up sitting, steve just wanted you there. he wanted to be near you, and to hear you laugh at dustin's silly basketball jokes, and to watch your expression shift from suspenseful to proud any time lucas shot and scored. he knew you'd turn to him and grin for no reason at some point, like you always did. he would be stunned by how effortlessly beautiful you were, but he'd just blush and grin back without a second thought. you'd make him happy in the ways that mattered. he could never be miserable with you there.
"okay, well... do you want something to be going on?"
steve turned to nancy at that, brows ruffling as he eyed her. "what do you mean? nance, have you been talking to robin? because, seriously, she's nuts. like, out of her mind--"
"no, no, no," nancy interrupted. her hair swirled around her head as she shook it, further emphasizing her answer. "i haven't been talking to robin. i've just noticed the two of you spending more time together than usual, and... you would make sense together. i mean, she makes you happy, and you make her happy. it's pretty easy to see that much."
steve paused at that, eyes flickering to the door one more time before carefully selecting his next words. his tone was less harsh this time, having a better understanding now of what nancy had been trying to do. she was encouraging him. "we're just friends, nance. you're right about her making me happy, but we're just friends."
nancy started to respond, offering him some hopeful nonsense about giving it a little bit of time, but steve was no longer paying her any attention. his eyes had finally found what they'd been searching for, and the sound of his heart thudding in his chest suddenly drowned out nancy's voice. you were there, and you looked perfect. your outfit was nothing special, really-- he'd seen you wear the same thing plenty of times before-- but steve still felt a wave of awe wash over him when he caught sight of you, a smile creeping onto his face. you hadn't noticed him yet, your eyes beginning to search the crowd before suddenly turning to look at max, who'd walked into the gym with you. you laughed at something she said, presumably a snide comment about the jocks or the antsy crowd or whatever else max was unimpressed by upon arrival, and steve's breath hitched in his throat at the amused expression on your face. a second later, though, you found him in the crowd. your eyebrows raised when the two of you made eye contact, and your hand reflexively shot up to wave at the shaggy-haired boy. he returned the gesture, abruptly snapping out of his y/n-induced trance. when he glanced back at nancy, she had a smug, knowing look on her face, clearly entertained, but said nothing.
"hey there," you said, dropping into the empty spot that steve had been so ready to fight someone over. mike had parted ways with lucas and joined you and max on your walk to the bleachers, and they seated themselves in front of you as you greeted steve and nancy.
"hey, y/n. how's it going?" his tone was calm and balanced as he spoke to you, concentrating hard on remaining as nonchalant toward you as he would the others. he had to play it cool; nancy was watching.
you let out a puff of air, chuckling a little at the question. "as good as it could go, i guess. dustin's feeling particularly unruly today, so it's been an interesting afternoon. but little brother can't dish out anything i can't handle, so let there be basketball!"
he smiled at that, a laugh passing his lips as he fell into conversation with you. this was what he'd needed all day. just a simple, uninterrupted five minutes talking to you. "where is the little demon? no way he's missing this game when he told me i had to be here."
"bathroom. he was too busy torturing me with science facts to pee before we left the house to pick max up, and then he was too 'immobilized by the need to urinate' that he couldn't get out of the car and use max's bathroom. i don't think i've ever seen him move as fast as he did getting out of the car after i parked outside-- dusty boy had to go."
"maybe that's his karma," steve suggested, prompting laughter from both of you. "huge ego, tiny bladder."
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a few minutes later, dustin was emerging from the hallways. he suspiciously squinted at steve as he walked in, having recently noticed that his best friend had been paying his big sister a lot of attention in the last few weeks. he had tried his hardest to remain calm about the situation, but he was already panicking. what was he supposed to do if steve dated you, somehow fucked it up, and you ended up hating him? how would dustin's relationship with steve fare if he broke your heart?
at the same time, though, he wanted you both to be happy-- or to at least get the chance to be happy. in fact, he would love for you to be happy with each other. two of the people he loved the most in the world ending up together seemed poetic in ways that dustin couldn't find the wording for. the best analogy he could come up with was a comparison to peanut butter and jelly, but he knew that was too cliche to voice. so he didn't mention anything, not you and steve or peanut butter and jelly, and just sat back and watched. some days he watched optimistically. maybe after today they'll realize they're perfect for each other. other days, he watched like a hawk, a childish urge to kick steve in the groin for looking at his sister like that festering inside him. i'm going to knock him out. i'm going to give him two black eyes-- that'll teach him a lesson. but he never did anything. just watched and waited.
in the last few weeks, watching without commenting had gotten more difficult than dustin ever expected. one advantage to being your brother and steve's best friend was that he noticed things some of the others might not. he saw steve taking extra long strides to make it to the door first, opening it for you as you continued rambling about some meaningless topic, any time the two of you were walking through a threshold together. he saw your eyes roll the slightest bit when steve mentioned a girl he'd gone on a date with a few months back. he saw steve waiting in his car to make sure you got inside alright after he dropped you off-- something he never did for dustin. he saw you smoothing down your hair before getting out of the car to sit besides steve at the basketball game. he saw how the two of you saw each other.
so instead of continuing to give steve dirty looks as he approached, dustin sucked in a breath of air, forced himself to change perspectives, and made some adjustments to his facial expression.
when he finished glaring at steve, his eyes locked with nancy, who returned eye contact and gave him a sympathetic smile. she understood being protective of your sibling, and she knew what the fear of losing steve felt like. but she also had a strong feeling that things would turn out going well for all three of you; at this point, your quickly-blooming relationship with steve had been a long time coming. of course, she couldn't communicate all of that knowledge through two seconds of eye contact, but dustin at least saw that she understood.
"hellooo, people!" dustin grinned at you, steve, and nancy as he seated himself between mike, whom he amicably bumped shoulders with, and max, whom he wiggled his eyebrows at. each of you acknowledged his arrival just before a whistle blew. lucas and four of his teammates made their way onto the court, and dustin felt a wave of relief upon having something else to focus on. "let's watch some basketball!"
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"you did amazing, lucas!"
"oh, yeah! super graceful out there, just like i taught you. way to make me proud, kid."
you snorted, lightly whacking steve for somehow finding a way to make lucas's success about himself. "very humble, harrington."
nancy, mike, dustin and max followed close behind you and steve, congratulating lucas on the team’s win as they stepped up beside you. the game had ended 20 minutes ago, with hawkins securing the win. lucas had been granted some time to hit the showers and say his goodbyes to his teammates before meeting back up with the rest of you by the gymnasium doors. the school was far from empty, a plethora of people still lingering around the gym and in the parking lot, and the bustling seemed to comfort you all.
“okay, who's getting a ride home from me?” the kids began chattering over one another in response, and the only way you deciphered their chorus of answers was by mentally noting whether they'd pointed at you or steve. you'd chauffeured dustin and max on your way, and nancy, mike, and lucas had carpooled with steve, but lucas was now planning on riding home with you (assuredly to spend more time with max). in the bustle of the conversation, you heard mike say he'd left his bike at lucas's house the day before, meaning he'd be joining whoever lucas left with so he could get his usual mode of transportation back. this left steve riding with nancy, and you dropping off mike, lucas and max on your way home with dustin.
steve was still hyper-focused on behaving normally, resisting the urge to look at you with what robin had described as his "gushy, lovey-dovey, pining, bedroom eyes" too frequently. at this point in the night, he was regressing to the sullen mood that he'd begun that day with. he knew that he'd have to part ways with you within a few minutes, and that was enough to ruin his night. because of that, he didn't really care who he had to drive home, or that nancy would be his only passenger, or how your mood change entirely when you realized that nancy would be his only passenger.
you knew you should've held it together better. unbeknownst to steve, the kids had been on your back, too. dustin would quiz you about your day whenever you spent ample time away from him, prying until you coughed up every detail of any time you'd spent alone with steve. there had been one evening a few weeks earlier when max and lucas were on their way to use the pool at steve's house, and they'd seen your car pulling out of steve's driveway as they turned onto his street. dustin wasn't with you. the next day, max showed up at your doorstep to accuse you of being in a secret relationship with your friend. you thought you’d convinced her otherwise at first, but three weeks later she told you she was still waiting for the day you two “finally came clean.” nancy told you she’d overheard mike telling el over the phone that you and steve “still haven’t gotten together,” which then led to a very awkward conversation between you and nancy about how she wouldn't mind if you wanted to get with steve despite their history.
you knew what it felt like to be scrutinized in the exact same ways steve was, and you were just as antsy as him when they were around to observe.
you should’ve held it together better. but you slipped.
“okay, great. you and me, nance. all ready? let’s hit the road.” he dropped his hands onto her shoulders, beginning to steer her toward the exit when he was halted by your reaction.
what did you do in response to steve’s urgency to leave with nancy? you scoffed.
for a split second, you thought maybe, maybe, no one heard it.
unfortunately for you, everyone heard it. (admittedly, it was sort of loud. arguably more of a guffaw than a scoff.) steve froze, his hands falling from nancy's frame as he twisted back around to quizzically look at the source of the noise. the others followed suit, all peering at you before exchanging their own encoded glances with each other.
so... maybe 'slip' was an understatement. maybe you completely threw yourself under the bus, let the cat out of the bag, spilled the beans, all of it. totally exposed yourself. if they had an inkling before, they had proof now.
after a moment of tense silence passed over the group, steve looked at you, surprised and unnerved by the noise you'd made. he opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, but you were already moving on, turning to speak to dustin. “let’s go, little man. round up our passengers for me.” and you spun on your heel and walked out of the high school.
as you walked out, dustin immediately turned to steve, his finger extended until it was a mere inch away from steve’s face. “you,” he said threateningly. “you idiot! you absolute goddamn imbecile! son of a bitch!”
as dustin threw halfhearted insults at the older boy, the kids behind him groaned in mortification. “steveeeee,” max complained. “you’re better than this!”
lucas snickered, looking at max as he gestured to steve. “what makes you think he’s better than this? look at him! he has no clue what he’s done!”
“oh, he knows what he’s done,” dustin grumbled. “he’s done something to upset my sister. and for that, i might have to kill him.”
steve was just beginning to defend himself when robin came bounding down the halls, a duffel bag slung over her arm and an unknowing grin on her face. “hey! i’m so glad i caught you before you left! what are the odds you could give your old friend, coworker, fellow monster-slaying warrior robin a ride home?”
she tried to further explain the circumstances that led to her losing her original ride, but she was cut off by the kids' roars. they spoke over one another, and all at once robin heard, “oh, thank god!” “perfect timing!” “you’re a little late.” “jesus christ!”
her expression shifted to confusion, finally sensing that she was out of the loop on something. she looked to steve and nancy, opening her mouth to question the strong reaction from the younger crowd when steve cut her off. “yeah, i can give you a ride. c’mon, we were just leaving.” he looked pointedly at the kids as he made the latter claim, swaying them to keep their mouths shut for the remaining three minutes that they’d be together.
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it was a fifteen minute ride from the school to max's house. the redhead was sitting in the passenger seat of your car, subtly glancing over at you every few moments as the three boys bickered in the back seat. she hadn't said anything since you started driving, but the backseat occupants had been whispering essentially the entire time. you had turned on the car radio when the awkward silence and coughing became too much to bear (which, to be precise, was within two minutes of the ride), and they'd immediately began to quietly theorize behind you.
during the last five minutes of the ride, the whispering intensified noticeably. you still couldn't make out their exact words, but all three of them had raised their volumes enough that you could decipher which voice was which. you'd had just about enough of their poor attempts to hide the fact that they were talking about you, and you were just about to give them a piece of your mind. before you reached your tipping point, however, max cleared her throat and spoke to you in her own low voice. "robin ended up going with steve and nancy, by the way," she muttered, mentally noting the muscles in your jaw slightly relax when you processed what she said. you threw her a grateful look, letting out a barely-noticeable sigh of relief. max paused, gauging your mood before adding something else. "you know he likes you, right?"
your eyes moved to the rear view mirror, peering at the boys' reflections to confirm that they were still preoccupied with their own conversation before responding quietly. "i know."
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steve knew from the moment he opened his eyes the next day that it was going to be another day from hell. he groaned aloud when his alarm clock woke him up, his nose scrunching as he slammed an open palm on top of the machine to silence it. when his bedroom reverted to a state of heavy silence, steve tossed the same hand over his face, mentally recapping the events of the previous day as he prepared to get out of bed. "and you didn't go after her," he grumbled to himself, tossing the comforter off his body and shifting into a sitting position on the side of the bed. "god damn moron didn't go after her."
yesterday he'd had to listen to the girls-- his peers, people his own age-- question his relationship with you without any concrete evidence. today, he was going to have to fight for his life against dustin for ruining your night, disappointing you, not finally confessing his feelings for you instead of trying to run off with nancy, and whatever else dustin felt like drudging up in the midst of the singular discrepancy. worst of all, steve felt like he deserved it. he felt like shit for making you feel anything other than adored and appreciated, and he had already spent plenty of time beating himself up over it when he got home the night before.
no matter how he felt, he couldn't shake the anxiety he felt over you being upset with him. granted, he wasn't even sure that you still were upset with him-- maybe this only seemed like a big deal in the moment, and he was actually already forgiven-- but the uncertainty was enough to make his stomach flip a few times whenever he considered the possibility.
he knew he had to talk to you as soon as he could. he had a shift at the video store that morning, which was why his obnoxious alarm had sounded so much earlier than he would've preferred, but the next thing on his agenda for the day would be to find you and apologize-- grovel, if necessary, until he was sure you weren't harboring any hard feelings toward him. he'd probably have to hear a lot of commentary from everyone else before he got to talk to you, but he doubted anyone could be much harder on him than he was already being with himself. so he threw on his work uniform, blocking out a memory of the time you told him he looked "magnificent" in that green vest, and hopped in the car. just a few hours and he could talk to you.
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it took the kids longer to show up than steve expected. half of him thought dustin might be standing at the front desk with his arms folded across his chest when steve walked through the door. but no, they didn't get there until three hours into his shift. he'd already restocked the shelves, rung out a handful of customers, and taken his thirty-minute lunch break by the time he heard the bustle of the 4 freshmen entering. the first coherent thing he heard was lucas's whisper, asking, "do you see him anywhere?" he popped his head above the shelf he'd been reorganizing in an attempt to pass the time, throwing the group a hesitant smile as they spotted him in the far corner of the store. when he joined them in the open area beside the register, steve opened his mouth to greet them only to be immediately cut off by dustin.
"have you talked to her?" he drilled, a stern tone behind his voice to match the demanding look in his eye.
"no," steve replied hesitantly, not sure of whether or not the boy was planning on allowing him to elaborate further. his eyes darted around the small crowd before him, taking in max's curious gaze and the amused expressions lucas and mike wore before flickering back to dustin. the curly-haired boy was glaring at him expectantly, and steve rushed to fill the silence before dustin could yell at him again. "i was planning on going over to see her after my shift."
dustin squinted at steve, inspecting his face for any sign that he might've been lying. he found no evidence of falsehood, nodding slowly as he mentally lined up his next set of questions. as dustin was thinking, max piped up. "do you feel remorse? i mean, do you fully grasp the depth of what you did?"
"hey, i'm asking the questions here," dustin said pointedly to max. he blinked a few times, then turned back to steve. "well, answer her!"
steve stuttered a bit as he responded, surprised by the question despite how prepared for this confrontation he'd thought he was. "uh, i-- what-- well, yeah, i feel remorse, but it's not like i did it on purpose. it was-- i didn't mean to make her upset."
"you were drooling over nancy! literally rushing to get out of there when the only thing motivating you was the idea of being alone in a car with your ex-girlfriend! literally!"
"okay, when you put it like that, it sounds really bad," steve admitted dubiously, wincing at the reminder that you probably thought he had feelings for nancy again. "but that wasn't actually what was going on!"
dustin didn't seem to care what steve had to say to defend himself, simply moving on to address his second issue. "and not just that, but you've also been stringing her along for months now, acting all flirty and romantic and obsessed with her, basically going on dates all the time, and then denying that anything is going on between you two!"
"that is not true," steve contested.
"dude, that's kinda true," lucas interjected.
at the exact same time, mike added, "yeah, you definitely do all that stuff."
"we don't go on dates! we hang out! y/n would tell you the same thing-- because we're friends, and nobody is stringing anybody along."
"that doesn't explain why she got so upset at you wanting to spend time alone with nancy, though," max remarked. steve groaned at this, growing tired of talking in circles yet again about his relationship with you. max's eyebrows raised at the older boy, eyes slightly widening in a combination of false innocence and genuine interest. "i'm just saying."
"exactly! if nothing's going on with you, why is she so worried about you and nancy? and--"
"okay, fine!" suddenly steve was interrupting dustin, and all eyes were now expectantly trained on his noticeably fed-up expression. "you're right! i have feelings for your sister, and i'm pretty sure she has feelings for me too, but i haven't been able to ask her out properly yet because i have a bunch of people watching my every move and asking me questions about her and us at all times! so maybe if you would all stop breathing down my neck, then i would be able to figure out a way to ask her out without seeming like a total creep!”
silence fell over the group, all of them stunned that steve had finally confessed the truth. the kids hadn't thought steve would give his big secret up that easily, and even steve himself had intended to keep his emotions under wraps for a while longer. he at least wanted to tell you about how he felt before he told dustin. but, clearly, that was no longer an option.
just as it began to set in steve's mind that he'd just confessed his true feelings to dustin, max, lucas, and mike, the front door swung open and another person stepped foot in the store.
it was you.
"uh, hi everyone," you chuckled nervously when you walked in. you held a vhs tape in your left hand, the other holding the strap of your bag to secure it on your shoulder. the tension in the air was immediately apparent to you; it wasn't often that these kids were stunned into silence, so you recognized the expressions well. no one flinched to respond when you walked in, but they seemed caught when they saw you. steve, on the other hand, was visibly clenching his jaw and avoiding eye contact with the others. he was unmistakably distraught, and the tight-lipped smile he threw you as you entered did nothing to convince you otherwise.
you took a few steps toward them, just about to blatantly ask what you'd walked into when max spoke up. "hi y/n," she stepped in front of the others as she spoke, meeting you halfway between their position and yours. a second after she greeted you, her mouth moved again, releasing no sound. you made out what she mouthed clear as day: steve is mad. her eyes held a sort of amazed-but-apprehensive look, and it clicked in your mind what must've happened. dustin. max assumed you'd caught on then, subtly sending you another hint. "returning a movie?"
"yeah," you said, feigning a smile as your eyes flickered behind the girl. dustin had now snapped out of his stunned silence, obviously observing closely as you made your next move. mike and lucas seemed to be on alert, both glancing between you, dustin, and steve to see how the situation would unfold. "steve, you wanna help me out over here?" you nodded toward the counter in the center of the room, walking backwards in the direction as you gestured.
"uh, yeah," steve said, clearing his throat when he realized how low his tone was. "sure, i gotcha."
the two of you made your way to the register, steve's back to the kids as he stood across the counter from you. your eyes shifted to your little brother as you placed the vhs tape on the counter, watching as he took a step forward only to be physically stopped by max. words were exchanged between the two, and dustin gave the back of steve's head one final intense glare before moving to the opposite side of the store and fixating his eyes on a random shelf of films. thank you, max, you thought gratefully.
when you looked back at steve, he seemed to be lost in thought, already in the process of marking your latest rental as returned. you gave yourself a few seconds to just look at him. you could tell he hadn't brushed his hair when he woke up that morning because the hair on the left side of his head was flattened out in comparison to the rest. the first button on his vest was secured to the second buttonhole, something you would've laughed at on most other days. his eyes were the same brown as always, but the distracted expression behind them made you slightly uneasy. soon enough, your few seconds to admire the older boy had expired, and it was time for you to force him into a conversation. "so," you started, earning a glance and raise of the brow from him. "how's the shift going? running the show solo?"
he chuckled, shaking his head at your small talk. "yup, it's all me this morning. and, of course, i was running a smooth operation until the fiends showed up."
you shot him a pitiful smile. "i'm sorry about them. i told dustin to leave it alone, but he's--"
"obsessed with protecting you?" you nodded, and steve chuckled again. "yeah, i know. he always has been, and he always will be. i don't blame him. it's just-- agh, it's a lot sometimes, i guess." you could feel him thawing out as you fell into conversation, gradually easing back up after facing the turmoil that was your little brother. steve's mind seemed to shift then, almost as if he'd had a lightbulb moment within. "hey, you know, i'm sorry about last night, by the way. i didn't mean for it to seem like i was trying to get away from you, or get alone with nancy, or anything like that, because none of that is the case."
"you don't have to apologize, steve. i'm sure you've already had a hard enough time explaining yourself to dustin; you don't need to explain anything to me on top of that."
"no, no, i do, though," he insisted. as you talked, the vhs you'd entered with was resting beneath steve's palm, having long-since been forgotten. he turned his body to fully face you as he spoke this time, and you took a split second of that transitional time to mentally note the way his hand engulfed the tape. you almost lost all focus in that moment, already starting to thinking about steve's hands, warm and big and firm, instead of his relationship with nancy or your brother's pestering or anything else. but when he spoke again, the tone of his voice had changed, and all of your attention was drawn back to the conversation. "it's been months of everyone else demanding an explanation for you and me spending so much time together, and the least i could do is actually give you an explanation."
"trust me, i get it. they give me a lot of shit too, for pretty much anything that involves you."
"anything and everything. like, if dustin sees me wave at you when i pick him up from your house, it's all i hear about for twenty minutes. any time max hears that you and i spend any time together she has to clarify whether or not it was a date. even nancy and robin do it. i mean, when we left the gym last night the two of them went back and forth the entire ride on what i could do to get you to forgive me. i honestly don't remember the last time i went a whole 24 hours without someone asking about you, or mentioning us, or calling me out on something. it’s just so frustrating. i mean, i spend months striking out with every dud of a girl i talk to, and then i waste a few more months with a bunch of chicks who i know aren't worth my time, and then i finally realized that there's this perfect girl right in front of me, and i can’t work up the courage to do anything about it because of the pressure from our friends and her little brother? kind of pathetic, if you ask me."
"the perfect girl, you say?" you smirked at him, his face flushing a little when you locked eyes.
"i-- yeah, the perfect girl." he smiled a little as he looked at you, feeling his own mood shift from anxious and overwhelmed to hopeful and optimistic.
" i don't know about perfect. maybe she's kinda cute, but perfect? seems like a bit of a stretch."
"no, i mean, i get that it's hard to believe and everything, but she's a total catch. she's drop-dead gorgeous, obviously, but she's also smart, and determined, and so caring. like, i don't think there's anything this girl wouldn't do to protect the people she loves. seriously, i've never met a girl like her before, and i'm pretty positive i never will again. she's pretty much one of a kind. yeah, she's perfect."
the nonchalant tone of his voice as he spoke confirmed to you that steve had calmed down after his interaction with dustin. more than that, you were shocked by the things he'd said. as you'd said to max the night before, you knew steve liked you. it wasn't like he did some superb job of hiding it from you or anyone else; everyone knew that steve harrington didn't waste his time hanging out with one girl for months if he wasn't actually interested in her. in all honesty, though, you hadn't thought it was as much of a true emotional attraction as a combination of loneliness and sexual tension. his never having made a move before was what you'd considered confirmation of that theory; he didn't actually care enough to risk his friendship with dustin, so he just left it alone. regardless of all the logic you'd used to justify your relationship with steve, here he was confessing that he had all sorts of feelings about you.
without noticing, you'd gone completely silent during your moment of realization. steve was looking at you with anticipation and a little fear, smiling nervously as he said, "sorry, was that too much?"
you laughed, shaking your head. "no, that wasn't too much. it's just kind of insane, you know? i mean, if you told me sophomore year that king steve would be calling me 'the perfect girl' one day, i would've laughed in your face. but here we are."
"here we are," steve repeated with a smile. "for the record, though, king steve is dead and gone. god, i hated that guy." he rolled his eyes as he spoke then, cringing at the memory of who he used to be.
"yeah, i can't really disagree with that. king steve was a dick. but i'm glad you're the steve that took over for him."
"well, this steve would really love it if you'd give him a chance. i might do dumb shit sometimes, but it's just because i get so in my head about what people think. but when it comes to you, i'm sick of worrying about what everyone else will say. i just--" he leaned forward, both elbows resting on the counter between you, and locked as with you as he spoke again. "will you go out with me?"
you could've sworn someone was holding a lighter to each of your cheeks in that moment. whether it was because of how hard you were blushing or how hard you were smiling, you weren't sure, but you could feel the heat spread across your face as you answered. you leaned forward as you spoke, too, placing your hands on top of his where they rested on the counter. "i would love nothing more, steve."
"jesus christ," steve breathed, letting his head hang low as he exhaled a chuckle and hid his face from you. when he lifted his head again, his face was just as pink as yours. "i didn't know if i would ever get the opportunity to ask you uninterrupted. even then, i didn't know if you'd even say yes!"
you squeezed his hands in yours, laughing at his confession. "obviously i said yes. what girl could say no to that hair?" you reached up and tugged gently on the hair atop his head, laughing when his nose scrunched in response.
steve grabbed the hand that had been in his hair as you dropped it back down, feeling another wave of relief and adoration wash over him. "i would come around the counter and kiss you, but your little brother is definitely still watching us."
you snorted at that, nodding. "you're totally right. and, unfortunately, the only way to get him to leave here is to take him with me when i go. so, instead of kissing me now, you can wait until later tonight when you pick me up to go out."
steve laughed, letting your hands slip out of his as you pulled away and started walking toward your brother and his friends. "i'll pick you up at 7?" he called after you.
"i'll be ready by 6:30," you shot back with a smile. then you moved a few feet across the store to find dustin, lucas, mike, and max huddled behind a shelf of vhs tapes, obviously struggling to eavesdrop on your conversation with steve. you fought back a laugh at the sight of them, cramped and clueless, before announcing, "anyone who wants to know what's going on with me and steve, leave the store now and you'll get your answers."
steve had never seen those four fools move so quick, and before he knew it, they were outside. he shot you one last lovesick grin as you waved goodbye to him with a smile. "see you a 6:30."
maybe today wasn't such a day from hell, after all.
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munsster · 10 months
Text
best friends kiss
A/N: i LOVE oblivious pining/ yearning trope, see me running it into the ground for the next month give or take
Pairings: Best Friend!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Summary: What’s a heartfelt makeout sesh between good friends? 1.0k words
Warnings: best friends to? lovers, established friendship, fluff, kissing!, denial of romance, obliviousness to the point of frustration, insecurity surrounding relationships, reader uses she/her pronouns otherwise character descriptions are gender neutral, reference to canon
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“So… are you two dating?”
Perched side by side, legs intertwined, fingers locked, foreheads nearly touching as giggles pass through the limited space. You’ve got your hand wound into the hair at the back of his head, and his fingertips are digging into your soft and denim-clad thigh like he knows you that well. That intimately.
It’s movie night, and Mike Wheeler doesn’t understand how distinct the line between friends and lovers should be.
You look at each other like the question was outrageously offensive. Like even the thought is abhorrent. Yuck and gross and more laughter as you both vehemently deny any sentiment of the sort.
“Not even close, Wheeler.” His hand is on your thigh.
“It’s too hard to explain best-friendship to youngins these days.” He looks at you with a glimmer in his eye, and you push your fingers through his hair to his neck.
Just an hour before, chocolate fudge had melted down the side of your sundae bowl, coating your fingers in sticky-sweet sludge. Steve had noticed almost immediately—the two of you had been sharing a serving—and seized the cup from your hands, lifting your fingers to his mouth so he could lick the topping from your hot skin.
Everyone was ogling at the two of you. This again.
“Thanks, stud,” you had teased.
“Anything for my darling sweetums.”
A loud snort and a half-cackle later and you two were back to silently sharing a spoon and inching closer beneath your sherpa blanket.
And it wouldn’t be half as weird or awkward in your head if, back at your shared apartment, it wasn’t all silence and shy glances. Back at your shared apartment, there’s no sharing spoons or blankets or handholding or giggling. There is space between your seating arrangements, and your schedules are offset to avoid unwarranted eye contact. It’s awkwardly domestic like there’s something to be nervous about. Something unconfronted and unconfrontable.
Not like it’s ever been uncomfortable. No, the snack bowl is a safe divider for solo movie nights and there’s a diner down the road where the two of you opt to eat in silence and split the check. The silence is welcomed, of course, but different. Different from the hustle and bustle of the high school rascals and Family Video and house parties. Different and, at times, swell.
“Stevie…”
You coo it, and he glances over at you with a mouth full of popcorn, drunk on the gentle way you manage to command his attention like that. The light of the TV drenches your cheek blue and white, and he smiles when you wriggle beneath your blanket.
“Mhm?” There’s popcorn grease painted across his mouth, and it makes you laugh. He rolls his eyes. “Well, would’ya mind helping me out a little?”
“If you insist,” you huff, pushing onto your knees, abandoning the large bowl to the side, one hand firm on his shoulder, the other gripping his jaw. You lean in, and his heart stops when your tongue pokes out against his cupid’s bow. His eyes go wide when you pull back enough to realize what you’ve done.
But he’s already got his fist in the collar of your tee, tugging you into his space once more, mouths open and clobbering for a long-awaited kiss. Or kisses with the way your bodies hold each other closer.
Well, not as long-awaited as legend would have it; the two of you have kissed many times before. On the cheek, on the hand, on the forehead, Hell, even on the mouth. But this time, it’s more than a ‘hello’ or a new year’s eve, it’s without reason and without rhyme in your shared living room on your shared couch with the lights low and nobody but the two of you to bear witness. To breathlessness and close-contact that goes no further than a few needy kisses on a Thursday night.
The half heart necklace that dangles around your neck magnetizes to the matching one he wears. It’s from a theme park gift shop about two hours out of the way of Hawkins and it’ll crumble if you tug it hard enough, but you both convince yourselves it’s better that way. The kids don’t understand your interactions, and they’re in a constantly inconsistent state of ‘why’ and ‘ew’ and curiosity and waiting for something normal to happen. Something less platonic and more tangible, maybe.
Because Steve is treating you like a girlfriend. Not only that, but he’s doing a damn good job at it. He surprises you with hand-picked dandelions and buys drinks for you and gives you discounts and drives you everywhere.
But he’ll deny it.
“Nah, I’d be no good at it”—the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing—“I’ve tried it. I think I was made for the friendzone.”
And as delightful it may be to imagine, you’ll find it unnecessary.
“We’re just good friends. We already do most of the couply stuff, so why try and put a label on it?”
Dustin felt so out of the loop at one point, he decided to conduct his own mock-interview. Set up a stolen borrowed camera from the audio-visual room and hung a sheet up behind his desk chair to act as a backdrop. You had laughed when he called Mr. Steven Harrington into the studio.
“Do I love her?” Steve had laughed and gone a little pink at Dustin’s third question, the first and second being on the subject of favorite colors and ideal first dates. “‘Course, I do. We’re best friends, aren’t we?”
“Aw, c’mon, do I love him? What is this, preschool?” It had made your heart flutter in a moment of unexpected vulnerability. “We’re mature adults, we obviously ove each other.”
Would you ever date each other?
“…”
“…”
“Hadn’t thought about it.”
“Hmm, that’s a hard question.”
But Steve still thinks about the way you pressed your tongue to his upper lip, and you still think about the way he looked at you when you pulled away.
masterlist
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munsster · 10 months
Text
listen....... i know i've talked about Chatty-Cathy™️ Steve in the horniest way imaginable, but what about—and hear me out with this one—talkative Steve finally shutting up when he fucks you for the first time. because it's been a while, and you're so pretty and soft and that pussy is divine. like he's babbling on and on and then you sink down onto him and he's breathless. Reduced down to a handful of nonsensical whispers and gasped "ohh god"s all while grasping at you tighter to make sure it's real……. yeah
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