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spoodrm4n · 2 years

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Glances Unnoticed

Parings: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: Dustin drags you out into the woods with none other than Steve Harrington to look for the creature that had eaten your cat. You get roped into a lot more than you bargained for and old wounds are reopened and realizations are made at the end of the night. You just wouldn’t expect to end the night with Steve Harrington spending the night.

Warnings: angst, mentions of blood, mentions of injury. angst to fluff!!

Word Count: 6.8K

A/N: This fic has taken me the longest out of all I’ve written and it’s also my favorite. I love a good angst to fluff. ALSO, let’s pretend that Steve wasn’t on his way to Nancy’s house to apologize and that he and Nancy broke up after season one!!!! Okay thanks :) Feedback is always apreciated!!!

“Y/N! Y/N, come on! It’s an emergency!” You groaned and put the pencil in your hand down as Dustin attempted to knock down your door. You opened your door and Dustin stumbled a bit, smiling sheepishly.

“What Dustin? I’m trying to get homework done.” You sassed as he walked into your room. He looked frazzled.

“I sent mom to go look for Mews.” He started and you shrugged.

“Okay? Did someone see her?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Why was he telling you this?

“Mews is dead.”

“What?” You blinked.

“Mews is dead and I really need your help! Do you remember all of the demogorgon shit that went down with Eleven last year? Well I may have accidentally raised a baby demogorgon and it ate our cat and now he’s on the loose.” You stared at Dustin, mouth agape. “Oh, and Steve is here.” Dustin motioned to your doorway and you turned to see none other than Steve Harrington.

“What the fuck, Dustin? Your little pet ate Mews? Do you know how much mom loves that cat?” You scolded, running your hands down your face. “And how are you even gonna catch this thing? It could be miles away by now!”

“We have a plan.” You turned back to Steve who looked incredibly out of place in your house.

“Of course. Enlighten me,” you rolled your eyes and grabbed your jacket from your bed, slipping it on. You followed Dustin and Steve outside to his car.

“We have bait. We just gotta lead Dart to the junkyard and capture him–”

“Kill him.” Dustin and Steve said at the same time. You raised an eyebrow at the two as you all got into the car. You let Dustin have the front seat as he continued his conversation with Steve.

“We’re not killing Dart, we’re trapping him and putting him somewhere he can't escape.” Dustin argued.

“You literally just said it was a mini demogorgon. We’re killing it, Henderson.” Steve deadpanned, pulling out of your driveway.

“I second that,” you piped up, raising your hand. Steve gave Dustin a pointed look and Dustin crossed his arms, sinking in his seat. The car ride to the railroad tracks was filled with Dustin and Steve’s bickering and you tried to think back to why you even agreed to help the two.

You knew Steve from school. He was a year older than you and you had heard all the infamous rumors of ‘King Steve’ throughout your high school years. Somehow you had gotten mixed up with him, Nancy, and Jonathan last year and had all fought a monster from another dimension together. Steve was a senior now and the last you had heard about him was that he and Nancy had called it quits. You had talked to Steve maybe a handful of times after your shared near death experience, but you had kept yourself busy with school and extracurriculars like band and being head of the yearbook design. You thought he was attractive, sure. The guy was well dressed and had a pretty face. You wouldn’t complain if you had to look at him. And it turns out he isn’t as big of an asshole as you had thought.

You all reached the train tracks and Steve stopped the car. You all piled out and stood at the trunk as Steve and Dustin pulled out buckets of raw meat and gloves. Steve shoved a bucket into your hand and you scrunched up your face. He pulled the familiar bat with nails sticking out of it out of his trunk next and then shut it.

“I’ll trade ya,” Steve put on the gloves and took the bucket from you, handing you the bat. You smirked as you tossed it between each hand.

“Yeah, this is much more of my speed.” Sarcasm dripped from your voice as the three of you set off. You walked in front of the two, avoiding the raw meat they were throwing onto the tracks behind them.

“So… about that girl you like.” You heard Steve start. You raised your eyebrows but kept walking in front of them, eavesdropping.

“What do you do when you like a girl, Steve? What did you do with Nancy?” Your eyes widened at the mention of Nancy Wheeler.

“Oh well, you just gotta act like you don’t care. It pulls them in quick, man.” Steve stumbled over his words and you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

“That’s how you treated Nancy?” Dustin continued to bring up Nancy. Not very cool of you, little brother.

“No, Nancy was– she was different. And it doesn’t even matter. We broke up over half a year ago!” Your head tilted just a bit at his words, mulling them over in your mind.

“Well this girl is different!” Dustin argued, sounding exasperated.

“Woah woah, you’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?” Steve’s tone shifted, resent seeping through them.

“No, no.” Your brother replied softly. There was a brief pause before–

“Good. She’s only gonna break your heart and you’re too young for that shit.” You frowned. Nancy Wheeler had really done a number on him, huh? You kept walking as the silence between them lingered.

Steve’s gaze lingered on your back, watching the slight sway of your hips and how your white sneakers kicked at the railroad ties. “Farrah Fawcett spray.”

“What?”

“Use the shampoo and conditioner and when your hair’s damp, not wet, okay? When it’s damp, you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”

“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin echoed and you smiled.

“Yeah, Farrah Fawcett. You tell anyone I just told you that and your ass is grass.” You pursed your lips. “You too, Y/N.” You finally turned to look at the two.

“Oh yeah, because I’m just dying to give away Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington’s biggest secret.” You joked, twirling the bat in your hand. “Some of us have real things to worry about.” You jabbed, turning back around. You were almost to the junkyard.

“Y/N, you have zero social life, you do realize that, right?” Steve argued, clearly you had struck a nerve with him.

“But I do have a 4.0. It looks great on my college applications,” you called over your shoulder, smiling to yourself. Dustin smirked up at Steve, appreciating his sister’s wittiness.

“So that’s where you get it from,” Steve muttered to Dustin, rolling his eyes and continuing to throw out bait. Dustin grinned up at him.

…

“How come the only person helping me is Y/N and this random girl?” Steve yelled at Lucas and Dustin. The boys grumbled out insults to each other and reluctantly started helping Steve.

“I’m Y/N, by the way. Dustin’s older sister.” You introduced yourself as you and ‘random girl’ carried scraps of sheet metal to the bus.

“I’m Max. You and Steve an item?” You choked on air at her question, your face heating up. You dropped your sheet metal and braced yourself with your hands on your knees, choking on nothing. You recovered after a second and turned away from her so she wouldn’t see the blush covering your face.

“No way, he’s still hung up on Nancy Wheeler.” You picked up the sheet metal and continued walking beside Max.

“His longing stares towards you every minute would say otherwise.” Max scoffed, placing the sheet metal next to the bus. She picked up a hammer and nails and started nailing the metal to the side of the bus. You joined her, trying to shake off her words.

“Longing stares, my ass.” You mumbled, lining up the nail and getting ready to hit it.

“Yeah, sometimes at your ass.”

“Max!” You missed the nail, a loud clang sounding out. “Uncalled for.” You turned your focus back to the task at hand.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry. But seriously. I’ve been here for half an hour and the amount of pining I’ve witnessed from him is insane.” She continued, working on another piece of metal.

“What’s insane?” You jumped, missing the nail again. You groaned.

“Nothing, Steve. You all set up on the other side of the bus?” You finally hit the nail on the head.

“Yeah, we’re good to go. Sun’s setting as we speak.” Steve clicked his tongue, helping you and Max nail the last pieces of metal to the bus.

“Her name is Max,” You spoke up, tilting your head towards Max. Steve looked at you, then to Max.

“Steve Harrington. You’re Hargrove’s younger sister.” He knew he recognized the redhead from somewhere.

“The one and only, unfortunately.” She muttered, finishing up her piece and stepping inside the bus where Lucas and Dustin were.

“Was it something I said?” Steve frowned, hitting in the last nail for that piece of metal. You had finished yours now too and you shrugged.

“Come on, it’s about to get dark.” You suggested, picking up your supplies and stepping into the bus, Steve behind you. You were self conscious of Steve behind you now after the conversation you and Max had shared. Your face felt hot as you quickly moved to sit down against the rusted side of the bus. Steve sat down a bit farther from you, leaning against one of the old seats by the emergency exit on the roof where Lucas was.

You frowned at Dustin’s rudeness towards Max as the two got into it. Their quarrel ended and Max huffed, turning to climb up the ladder to the roof with Lucas.

“Good. Show her you don’t care,” Steve flicked open his lighter again and snapped it closed, extinguishing the flame.

“I don’t.” Dustin snapped. Steve turned to your brother and winked at him. “Why are you winking, Steve?” Steve quickly averted his gaze, hurt flashing across his features for a moment as he tried to brush off Dustin’s harshness.

“Dustin, don’t be like that. And that is horrible advice, Harrington.” You called him out from across the bus and your brother scowled at you. You could tell Dustin was down bad for Max. You stood up and walked over to the two, leaning against another discarded seat.

“Guys! 10 o’clock!” Your head snapped up to Lucas and you rushed to a window, Steve finding the one next to you as you both looked where Lucas had seen the monster.

“It’s not taking the bait.” Dustin knitted his brows together. The monster was just standing there, sniffing the bait but not actually eating it.

“Maybe it’s tired of cow.” Steve shrugged and picked up his baseball bat, walking towards the doors of the bus.

“I’m coming with you,” you spoke up, finding an old crowbar next to one of the pried up seats. You grabbed it and followed behind Steve.

“No way, Henderson–” You cut Steve off by shoving him out the doors.

“Shut up and just go.” You whispered, walking beside him to where the baby demogorgon was sniffing around. You raised the crowbar ready to swing when Lucas called out to you both again.

“Watch out! 4 o’clock!” You snapped your head in that direction and felt your stomach sink. There was more than one of these things. Steve stayed where he was. You and Steve were now back to back, weapons raised and ready for a fight.

“You ever fought before?” Steve spoke over your shoulder. You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, remember the Byers’ house last year? Freshman year was also interesting,” you squeezed the crowbar in your hand as the monster started towards you. As it was about to jump onto you, you swung as hard as you could, sending it into a nearby car. You continued to swing as more pooled out from the ruins of the scrap yard.

As you were swinging at a dog running at you, another was jumping onto you from the other side. It bit down on your arm and you yelled, ripping the creature off. It fell to the ground and you brought your crowbar down onto it, smashing its head.

You could hear Steve grunt and the smack of his bat behind you. You were both outnumbered.

“Henderson, run!” He yelled, turning to face you. You took one last swing at one, earning a whimper from the dog-like creature as it flew back and then Steve was pulling you by the arm back towards the bus. You cried out as his fingers dug into the fresh wound you had received. He shot you an apologetic look and pushed you inside the bus. He ended up with his back flush against your front as he closed the doors. You stumbled back, acutely aware of how close he was and fell into the driver’s seat. He jumped back as the dogs started attacking the door and landed in your lap. If your face wasn’t red earlier, it sure as hell was now.

“Shit! Sorry, Y/N.” He cursed, scrambling off of you and pulling you to the middle of the bus away from the door, this time by your good arm. You looked behind you to see a wide-eyed Dustin. He tackled you in a hug as the scratching from the outside of the door died down. He pulled away after a moment and then punched you in the arm.

“What the hell, Dustin?” You yelled at him, rubbing your arm where you had just been assaulted.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” He scolded.

“Oh yeah, like I wanted to almost get mauled by a gaggle of baby demogorgons!” You threw your hands in the air. Dustin glared at you for a moment longer before Max and Lucas were dropping down with the rest of you.

“They’re going somewhere,” Lucas supplied. You and Steve shared a look. You didn’t like where this was going.

…

You walked out of the bathroom, having cleaned and wrapped your wound and went to find Steve and the kids. You had been assigned babysitting duty along with Steve, the two of you were in the kitchen as the kids discussed getting involved.

“No! We are on the bench! And we will stay on the bench until we are needed to play. Does everybody understand?” Steve threw a towel over his shoulder and jutted his hip out, hand resting on it.

“This isn’t some stupid sports games!” Mike argued. You couldn’t help but have sympathy for the boy. His best friend was being puppeteered by some monster from the Upside Down and he had just learned that his girlfriend was alive and had been with Chief Hopper this whole time. It had to be a lot to take in for him.

“I said, does everybody understand?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response. A quiet chorus of agreements sounded from the kids and that satisfied him. You froze as a car revved into the driveway of the Byers.

“That’s Billy. He’ll kill me– kill us if he finds us here.” Max panicked, looking to Lucas specifically. All the kids shared anxious looks.

“I’ll go and talk to him. You all stay here– and keep an eye on them.” Steve directed the last part towards you. You nodded back at him and stepped back further into the house so Billy wouldn’t catch sight of you. You mentally face palmed as the kids piled up on the couch to peek out the window.

“Stand back here, he’ll see you guys.” You hissed, paranoid. You knew Billy was a tough guy. He was most certainly a douche, but you knew the guy was jacked and that you might not put up a good fight against him. The kids didn’t budge and you swallowed. You heard them all gasp and you found yourself thinking the worst. All the kids ducked out of sight away from the window.

“Do you think he saw us?” Dustin whispered. The door getting slammed open answered his question and the kids got up quickly, piling behind you as you stepped away from the door.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Y/N Henderson and Steve Harrington all in one night! What the hell are you doing with my sister,” Billy spat. He strode towards you and the kids retreated further. You stood up taller, putting on a facade of fearlessness.

“Where is Steve?” You grit through your teeth. Billy was in your face now and your chests were almost pressed together.

“You with Harrington, now? Little miss 4.0, band nerd and the dethroned ‘King of Hawkin’s High’, huh? You could do so much better.” Billy whispered in your ear before he pushed you back. You were thankful for the Byers’ dining room table behind you as you stumbled back, catching yourself on it. He turned his attention towards the kids and before you could stop him, he was grabbing Lucas by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the china cabinet.

“I told you to stay away from my sister!” Lucas kneed him in the crotch and Billy let go of him, allowing him to scramble back to his friends. “You’re so dead, Sinclair!” Billy roared, but a hand was on his shoulder, turning him away from you and the kids.

“No, you are!” Steve. You stood in front of the kids again, acting as a shield as Steve landed punches on Billy. Billy started laughing, making your blood run cold.

“Turns out you got some fire in you after all! I’ve been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone has been telling me so much about.” Steve’s chest heaved, high on adrenaline. He pushed Billy against the counter, punching him in the face. You watched Billy’s hand creep along the counter, grasping a ceramic plate.

“Steve!” You called out, but he had already smashed the dish against the side of Steve’s head. Your feet were moving before you could process and you were ripping Billy by the back of his shirt away from Steve. He whipped around to face you, hand flying up to grip your throat. His other hand wrapped around your bandaged injury, digging his fingers into it. Your eyes filled with tears and you tried to scream, but only a choked whimper sounded out.

“Look, Harrington. Your princess is here to rescue you!” Billy laughed, hand tightening around your throat. Steve came up behind Billy, sweeping his legs from beneath him and he fell, but you had been brought down with him. Steve pulled him off of you and you sucked in a breath of air, coughing in the process as tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Steve flipped Billy beneath him and raised his fist. He had gotten a few good hits in before Billy was flipping them around. He punched Steve in the face over and over again and you watched as Steve’s head lolled to the side limply with each hit.

“Stop!” You begged, trying to push him off of Steve. “You’re gonna kill him!” Billy was off of Steve and on you before you could even blink. He backhanded you, your head hitting the wooden floor with so much force you swore you saw stars.

“What’s it matter to you, Henderson?” He scoffed, punching you one last time before another dish was sacrificed for your own well-being. Billy fell back from you and Max jabbed one of the syringes filled with the medicine that had knocked out Will into his neck.

“What did you do, you little shit?” Billy fell onto his back away from you and you scooted backwards as Max crept towards Billy.

“You are going to leave and you will never bother me or my friends again.” You crawled over to Steve on the other side of the room as Max threatened Billy.

“Steve, come on. Wake up,” you sat beside him, hands smacking his face ever so lightly. His face was a bruised and bloody mess. His eyebrow and lip was split open, his hairline matted with dry and fresh blood, left eye swollen. He didn’t budge.

“Y/N, come on. We gotta go,” Dustin was tugging on your hand and you looked up at him. “You look like shit,” he added quietly, taking in the discoloration of your face.

“He’s not waking up, Dustin.” You said dumbly, ignoring his last remark. Your brain was still trying to catch up with what had just happened and your throat hurt.

“We’ll bring him with us, but we have to go. A party member needs assistance.” Dustin helped you to your feet and you stood there for a second, blinking away the dizziness. You helped Mike and Dustin carry Steve to Billy’s car.

“Can you drive?” You turned around to face Max, squinting so you could only see one of her instead of three.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to right now. My visions fucked.” You rasped out, blinking and willing the dizziness away.

“Looks like I’m getting some practice in,” Max huffed, opening the driver's door. You got in the back with your brother, Mike and an unconscious Steve. Lucas sat up front with Max as she started the car, jerking it out of park and stepping on the gas, jerking all of you backwards. God help you stay sane through the rest of the night.

…

You sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s car, Dustin in the back and Steve driving just like you had started earlier that day. You were all silent, mulling over what had happened that night. Your head was killing you, Billy’s hits still having a lingering effect on you. You were sure Steve was fairing way worse, but he was doing well enough that he could drive you and Dustin home. Your vision still wasn’t faring too well. Billy must’ve hit your head in just the right spot to where he screwed up your eyesight.

Steve pulled into your driveway, silence still drowning you out. Dustin got out without a word, clearly exhausted from today’s events. Your heart hurt with the fact that he had already gone through so much shit and he wasn’t even in high school. You went to leave, but a thought stopped you, your hand resting on the door handle.

Steve Harrington’s parents were never around. It was obvious with all of the parties he used to throw and how he could basically do whatever he wanted at any time. You felt your stomach sink at the thought of Steve going home to be by himself when he was still obviously hurting– mentally and physically. You knew how long the night had been for him. It was late into the night and all of the lights in your house were off, you knew for a fact that your mom was asleep. She wouldn’t see Steve come into the house and he could easily leave out the window in the morning since your room was on ground level.

“Hey, Steve?” You spoke up, voice still strained. He looked at you, still silent. Your lips formed a thin line. You couldn’t let him go home alone. “Do you maybe wanna come in? I can help you take care of your… face.” You smiled awkwardly, shoulders raising in a bit of a shrug. He stared at you for a moment.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds nice.” He finally said, pulling the keys out of the ignition. You gave him a real smile this time, finally getting out of his car. He followed you to the front door and you opened it for him, letting him inside. You led him to the bathroom that was in between you and Dustin’s room. You flicked on the light, opening the door more, letting him in. You opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed some gauze, disinfectant and some bandaids, to which you almost missed because of your poor eyesight. You ducked down, opening the cabinet under the sink. You pulled out a washcloth and closed the door back up, standing up straight. You looked at Steve behind you in the mirror and saw his gaze tracing up your figure. You coughed, bowing your head and turning on the faucet as your face heated up for the millionth time that night. You wet the washcloth and turned off the faucet stepping to the side.

“Sit,” you instructed, pointing to the edge of the sink. He hopped up without a word and you stepped in between his knees, reaching up to dab the washcloth on his split eyebrow. You squinted as you worked, vision becoming clearer when you did so. You didn’t want to mess up Steve’s face anymore than it already was.

You were so focused on cleaning the right place on his face that you didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his cut lips. Steve watched you, eyes scanning your face with a soft gaze. He thought the concentrated look on your face was adorable.

You moved onto wiping his hairline, then his nose, then finally his lips. You stepped back from him, satisfied with your work and grabbed the disinfectant, dabbing it on the clean side of the cloth and wiping at his eyebrow. He winced, flinching back as the cloth made contact with his cut.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You whispered, pulling the cloth away quickly.

“It’s okay,” he grabbed your wrist gently and led it back to the cut on his eyebrow. He held it there for a moment before he was letting go, hand falling to rest in his lap. You dabbed at it a bit more and then set the cloth down.

“You should probably shower, then you can put a bandaid on it. I’ll see if I can find some clean clothes for you.” You started to open the door, but he grabbed your hand, twisting you back around to him.

“Sweetheart, I’m not the only one who’s worse for wear.” Steve tsked, pulling you back. He hopped off the counter and grabbed a washcloth from the same place you had. Mimicking your process and wetting the cloth. He brought it up to your temple, wiping the blood away. You tried not to cringe as your headache flared up again and your vision became fuzzier. He finished in that spot and moved on to your nose. “Oh, your nose is definitely broken. That shithead,” Steve cursed, dabbing extremely light so he wouldn’t hurt it more.

“I was the one who intervened.” You shrugged, suddenly finding the floor more interesting.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know? I had it all under control.” He furrowed his eyebrows, tongue poking out as he continued cleaning your face.

“Yes, because being pummeled while unconscious just screams ‘I have it under control’.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe not, but you didn’t need to do any of that. I mean shit, Y/N look at your neck.” You turned to look at yourself in the mirror and cringed at the line of blue and purple that circled your neck.

“My mom’s gonna kill me.” You breathed, fingers reaching up to trace it.

“You could just say you got a hickey.” Steve shrugged, discarding the bloody cloth with his own on the edge of the sink.

“In the shape of a hand? Yeah, very believable. I think she would die and go to heaven if I got a hickey in the first place,” you mumbled, turning back to face him. “Thank you.”

“Only returning the favor, Henderson.” He smiled back at you. You bent down to pick up the dirtied washcloths, fully intending to throw them out so your mother wouldn’t see and opened the door.

“I’ll go find you some clothes. Be back in ten,” with that, you closed the door. You walked to your kitchen, throwing the cloths in the trash and covering them up with other garbage. You then went into the coat closet, knowing that your mom kept some of your dad’s old clothes in the closet. You weren’t sure why she was still holding onto his things, but for the first time it came in handy. You pulled a t-shirt down, sweatpants, and some socks. You piled the clothes in your arms and made your way back down the hall, being as quiet as you could to not wake up your mom.

“Y/N?” You jumped out of your skin and you turned around to see Dustin standing in an old baggy science shirt and some pj pants. He rubbed his eyes. “Who’s in our shower?”

“Uh, Steve.” You offered, smiling tight lipped.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, uh. Steve Harrington. You know, the one with the hair–” “Y/N, I know who Steve is. Why is he in our house?” Dustin stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Because I invited him in.” You shrugged, the clothes in your hands rustling against your shirt as your arms moved.

“You invited him in? To like– stay the night?” Dustin pried. Dustin obviously wasn’t convinced. Or he was convinced of a completely different idea unknownst to you. He knew that you liked Steve, even if you hadn’t really realized it yet. Dustin was witness to the prolonged stares and touches and it seemed tremendously obvious to everyone except for you two that you liked each other.

“Yeah. I felt bad just leaving him alone at his house. You saw what happened to him tonight,” you tried to argue.

“Or maybe you just didn’t want him to leave you alone?” Dustin smirked, raising his eyebrows. Your jaw dropped at his insinuation.

“Don’t be stupid, Dustin. Go to bed. It’s literally almost four in the morning.” You shooed him to his room. He laughed to himself as he walked towards his room. “Goodnight, Dusty.” You spoke before he closed his door. He popped his head back out, curls a mess on his head.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled, genuinely this time. He closed his door and you continued to the bathroom, clothes for Steve in hand. You tapped your knuckles against the door.

“Come in!” Steve called and you opened the door. You froze in place, almost dropping the clothes in your hands as your eyes fell upon a shirtless Steve. You stood there for a moment before a hand snapped in front of your face. “Henderson?”

“Shit, sorry. These are for you. My room is to the right of this one, just when you’re done, come to my room and knock before you come in so, you know, you don’t walk in on me naked or something like that–”

“Y/N, thank you. I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve grinned at you, taking the clothes from your hands. You snapped your mouth shut and spun on your heel, quickly leaving the bathroom and rushing to your room. You closed the door and cringed.

“Why do I open my mouth?” You groaned, striding across your room to your closet. You pulled out your oversized band tee and your sleeping shorts, laying them out on your bed. You pulled your shirt over your head and undid your bra, chucking them into the laundry basket in the corner. You unzipped your jeans and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them and tossing them as well. You slipped on the t-shirt and shorts and breathed out, feeling better now that your dirty, grimey clothes weren’t on you.

You sat down on your bed and looked over to your desk. The light was still on and your half-completed homework sat where you had left it. You thought about completing it and you walked over, looking down at the desk but frowning when the words blurred into each other. No chance you were getting that done anytime soon. You jumped when you heard a knock at your door.

You opened it and there stood Steve. He was in the sweatpants and socks you had given him, but the shirt was nowhere to be found. Moles dotted his torso like constellations. His hair was damp, but still had some volume to it. You thought back to earlier that day when you had found him standing in your doorway, looking incredibly out of place. He didn’t look so out of place anymore. You could get used to it, in fact.

“Sorry, I usually sleep with no shirt, if that’s okay with you?” His voice became timid, eyes searching your face for any dispute. You closed the door behind him as he walked in.

“No, that’s fine. I-I don’t mind. You can have the bed,” you pointed to the bed over your shoulder. “Sorry I don’t have Farrah Fawcett spray.” You joked, moving to throw a pillow and a blanket down on the floor for yourself but Steve spoke up.

“Haha,” he said flatly, “and no way, this is your house. You’re letting me stay over too,” he disagreed, moving to sit on the floor where you had thrown the blanket and pillow. You couldn’t find the energy to fight with him on it, so you sat on the bed, shuffling under the comforter and pulling a pillow under your head. You listened as Steve shuffled around on your floor and got comfortable. Silence filled the room.

You stared at your ceiling, replaying the night events in your head. You looked down at your arm that had been bitten by one of the demodogs, the bandage soaked through in a few small places. You should probably look at it, but you didn’t budge. Your vision remained blurry and your throat hurt like hell. You felt tears spring to your eyes. You bit your lip, holding back whimpers and sniffing.

“Y/N?” A head of hair was popping up from beside your bed. “You okay?” You sucked in a breath, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Can’t sleep,” you managed. “I think he messed up my eyesight. Everything’s been so damn fuzzy since he backhanded me.” You confessed. Steve was sitting on the edge of your bed by you in a second.

“I thought it was weird you were squinting so damn much. That fucker.” You were scared that Billy had taken a part of your life away. You knew he had taken your peace of mind already, and you resented him for that, but he had also taken your good eyesight which was permanent as well as the demodog’s bite on your arm; a physical reminder of the hellish night you had lived through.

“Do you think I’ll ever feel normal again? Like even after last year and the demogorgon; I don’t think I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I’ve been paranoid constantly. I never really healed from that, and tonight? It’s like it reopened old wounds and now I have this god-awful reminder twenty four-seven of what happened tonight.” You whispered, eyes still on the ceiling.

“I know what you mean, trust me,” you turned to face him. His eyes were on you, deep brown boring into your soul. “We can only try our best. But I can tell you that this time you don’t have to do it alone.” He offered a small smile.

“Can you come up here?” Your voice was small, afraid of rejection but also desperate for him to be by your side.

“Of course,” he breathed, and you scooted over, making room for him on the bed. He bent down and grabbed the blanket and the pillow on the floor. He put the pillow beside your own and slid under the covers with you, draping the blanket over the both of you.

You made sure there was a space in between the two of you, but you were both facing each other. The once suffocating, awkward silences you had shared were now comfortable.

Steve looked at you– really looked at you for the first time since the car ride to the railroad tracks. You looked exhausted to your core, your once bright eyes now dull and unfocused. Your nose was still at a crooked angle and your lips were parted ever so slightly. Despite all of it, you were one of the most beautiful– if not the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Steve almost kicked himself for never realizing just how breathtaking you were. You were also impossibly smart, witty, funny, caring, honest, and tough. It all clicked for Steve at that moment. He liked you. And he wasn’t mad about it. He didn’t get the sinking feeling he did when talking to other girls after Nancy. You just felt so… right. Everything about you was perfect.

“Do I have something on my face?” You questioned after he had been staring at you for a couple of silent minutes now. Your face grew hot under his gaze.

“No, no. I just kinda realized something. Even though it’s been practically staring at me in the face all day.” He laughed, tucking his arm under his head.

“I don’t think I could pick up on anything if it was staring at me in the face in the midst of the chaos today.” You smiled at his laugh. You liked it when he laughed because his eyes crinkled at the edges and his nose scrunched up ever so slightly. It was cute. “What is it?”

“You’re incredibly beautiful. It’s unfair.” He breathed, tongue poking out to lick his lips. A light smile grazed his face. You stared at him a moment longer before you started laughing.

“Oh my gosh, good one, Harrington.” You said in between giggles, shoving him in the chest playfully. Your laughter died down and Steve’s stare never left you. “Wait, you’re not joking?” You blinked, wide-eyed.

“Okay we need to work on your self esteem issues… but no, I’m not joking, Y/N.” You felt the air get knocked out of your lungs. You stared at him, probably looking like a fish out of water with your mouth agape.

“What?” Your voice was so quiet that it was barely heard by Steve. “You think I’m pretty? What about Nancy?”

“I prefer beautiful– drop dead gorgeous even,” he grinned at you, propping himself up on one of his elbows. “I loved Nancy, but I’ve moved on. Stuff wasn’t working between us and I don’t think it ever would’ve. It’s been like over half a year.”

“So you’re not in love with Nancy anymore?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Nope. I’ve found someone way better,” his eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes for a moment before– “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded dumbly, unable to form words and Steve snaked the hand he wasn't propped up with to your back, pulling you closer towards him. You looked up at him and he leaned down, lips meeting your own. His hand that was on your back moved to your side, finger brushing along your ribcage. You held his face in your hands, pulling him down farther into the kiss. He shifted to where his body was over your own, the hand that he was using to prop himself up moving to the side of your face. His tongue traced your bottom lip and you opened your mouth a bit, allowing him further access. You trailed your hands further down, hands running down his shoulders and gripping his forearms. The muscles in his arms twitched beneath your touch. The hand he had on your side moved down, going underneath your shirt and trailing upwards, fingers softly skimming your stomach. You gasped and Steve smirked into the kiss.

You pulled away, out of breath and rested your foreheads together, eyes still closed. His hand under your shirt continued to run up and down your body, retracing your form. Your hands squeezed his biceps and you finally opened your eyes. Steve was staring back at you, eyes crinkled at the edges and a dopey grin on his face.

“You are gorgeous, Y/N Henderson. You’re smart, witty, funny, brutally honest, kind hearted and so beautiful.” His breath tickled your nose and you smiled up at him.

“You are beautiful too, Steve Harrington. You’re brave, level-headed, compassionate, loyal, stubborn, goofy, and so beautiful.” You kissed him again, wishing you could relay the honesty in your words. The both of you pulled away and Steve laid back down beside you, hands still lingering on your skin. He pulled your back flush against his front and wrapped his arms around you. The two of you stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other's presence. A thought occurred to you.

“Max said something at the scrap yard earlier,” you turned your face just a bit towards Steve. He hummed, encouraging you to keep going. “She said she had noticed you staring longingly at me.” You chuckled as Steve scoffed.

“Okay I may have found myself staring at you once or twice.” He admitted, arms pulling you closer to him. He moved his face to the crook of your neck.

“She said you were staring longingly at my ass.” Steve shot up from the crook of your neck and cleared his throat, coughing a bit. You waited for his response.

“Yeah…” he paused, “maybe once or twice.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #stranger things #stranger things season two #steve #steve harrington fic #steve fic #angst #steve harrington angst #angst to fluf #steve harrington fluff #mutual pining #henderson!reader

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fuckign-uh-hi · 1 year

Text

hi im just gonna drop my ao3 account bc its gonna take me too much time to link the fics ive written and im just lazy so

My ao3 account

uhhhh yeah i also have a bunch of wips so maybe ill post come parts from them idk

#ao3 stuff #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie x gareth #gareth emerson #eddie munson #theres a bunch of smut #uh what else #there is fluf #and autistic Eddie #there will be more fandoms i promise #im just really good at stranger things fics so #there will be stuff for the sandman #dreamling #im looking at you #idk what else yet but yk 🤷

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v8mpstamp · 11 months

Note

"you gonna be quiet enough so i can fuck you?” risky sex with steve, parents across the hall😩

Hear me out reader cant sleep because they're too horny for steve (whom is asleep right beside them), unable to do anything about it in risk of his parents hearing them, that is till steve wakes up sensing their frustration and just as hot and needy as reader, teasing and making reader promise to keep quiet, bonus if they’re still spooning while fucking

Oh i’m hearing you out😩 might have gotten a little carried away hope you enjoy!

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: MNDNI! 18+ smut, unprotected p in v sex

Master list:

_____________________<3_____________________

you lay in Steve’s room, pressed against his bare chest, his parents just across the hall, clock hitting 2:42 AM.

You’ve been lying here horny and needy out of your mind for almost two hours. Steve’s snores, is the only sound that fill the room. Usually, his house is empty and you’d be rolling over to face him, waking him up and desperately telling him how wet you are for him, in which he responds with kisses and a smirk, immediately going to work, pulling you in and giving you whatever you need… but tonight you knew you couldn’t do that, you knew you couldn’t risk his parents hearing you guys. And you even told Steve earlier, when he was gripping your hips, whining into you, kissing down your neck that tonight he’ll have to wait :(, then promising that tomorrow, you guys can be as loud as you want in his empty house after his parents have left, but this time you were the one unable to wait, the throbbing between your legs growing stronger and stronger.

After what felt like eternity of you fluffing your pillow, shifting positions, and squeezing your legs shut waiting for that throbbing sensation to go away, you feel Steve’s grip on your waist tighten as he pulls you closer to his chest, your ass instinctively rolling into his hips, causing you to let out a very faint groan.

“baby what’s wrong?” Steve says in a sleepy haze, his breath hot on your neck, his hand moving just blow your belly button, the tips of his fingers resting on the waistline to your panties, toying with the small bow there. He knows exactly what’s wrong.

“mmm nothing” your body stiffens, as your caught off guard Steve woke up.

“why you so worked up? You dreaming about me or something?” he teasingly asks, voice sleepy, his hand slowly slipping into your panties.

You don’t even need to look at him to know a small smirk has formed on his lips as he places a kiss behind your ear, his cock going hard under his boxers.

“Steve” you warn in a whimper

“they won’t hear us” he asserted “you just gotta be real quiet for me, can you do that?” he coos, his fingers sliding down your heat.

You press your lips together, quieting the moans that want to escape, Steve’s finger barley grazing your clit “so wet, you been like this all night?” he questions in a pout, how could he leave you so needy like this :( his thick fingers soaking in your arousal.

“Shoulda told me sooner, cant have you like this and not help” he mumbles into your neck, his lips placing a soft kiss behind your ear again, his fingers moving down your slit, toying with the area, fingers spreading you open.

He brings his fingers to your poor needy clit and begins slow circles, clockwise, counter clockwise, clockwise, counter clockwise, the rhythm causing you to let out a pathetic moan.

He pulls away and you shudder at the absence of him.

“shhhhh baby gotta be quiet remember?”

“mmmm cant, it’s too hard” you protest in a pout

“i know baby doing so good already, you can do it” he praises, shifting so his hard cock presses against you once more, begging for you. “feel what you do to me? you gonna be quiet enough so i can fuck you?” he asks, voice low.

You practically beg, promising him just how quiet you’ll be for him, you need him and you need him now.

With that, he glides his pants down before sliding your underwear down your legs, your hands moving to help. His chest still pressed to your back he props your leg up with his knee allowing his tip to poke at your entrance, earning groans from the both of you as you try your best to stay quiet.

You turn your neck slightly so that your lips met his, letting his tongue explore your mouth, your hand reaching behind to grasp his length, swiping your thumb over his slit that leaks with pre cum causing his mouth to break from the kiss, mouth falling agape, his face burying into your neck.

He shifts his hips, his length running between your dripping folds, coating him perfectly as he rolls through you, a desperate whine escaping your lips when his tip catches your clit.

His large arms move to wrap around you, holding you in place, hips backing up till his tip meets your entrance once again, before moving back up and sinking inside of you. A shaky breath is released from Steve as he sinks in inch by inch, he can feel just how perfectly you clench around him, so wet and warm taking him so good.

He places small kisses on your shoulder as he begins to slowly pump, his hips rocking into you, his grip around you allows him to thrust perfectly inside of you, hitting your g spot. Moans forming like an army, fighting to be released.

You bury your face into his pillow, your eyes squeezing shut, hands griping his muscular arm, the noises of your wetness and his length sliding in out of you fill your ears.

Heavy breaths fall from him, quiet whispered grunts of praises and curses only you can hear fall out in a haze.

You’re so distracted on how good Steve is making you feel you almost forget about the company you have down the hall so you grab a fistful of his blanket, bring it to your mouth and bite down on it to muffle your moans, his thrust are slow but hard as he’s trying not to rock the bed too much, the sensation causing the knot in your stomach to grow, slowly building up.

Before you know it, Steve’s lips meet your shoulder again instead of a kiss, he bites down, not hard enough to hurt you, but hard enough to sting, muffling his moans as his cock twitches inside of you, his body giving in completely, loads of his cum shooting far up inside you his thrust becoming slower, you bite down on the blanket even harder, reaching your orgasm at the same time he did, your chests moving in synch, both of you trying to catch your breath in a quiet manner.

Your whole body flushed in heat, legs shaking, your pussy still pulsing from your orgasm. He slowly begins to slide out of you, a small amount of cum still escaping his tip as he grazes your walls, cum falling out of your hole and down your thigh, warm kisses are placed all over your back/ shoulder and up your neck till he eventually reaches your lips, his arms still holding you tight.

“I think we did pretty good what do you say?” he asks, feeling proud as he pulls away from the kiss, voice still low.

Turning your body towards him you reply “me too, at least we know how quiet we can be when we need too” smiling up at him sweetly, leaning in to place a quick kiss on his cheek before nuzzling into him.

Master list:

#smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #stranger things fluff #Steve harrington #Stranger Things #joe kerry #fluff #angst #steve harrington angst #eddie munson

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andvys · 6 months

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 20

Warnings: angst, kinda mean!Eddie, mentions of an ED, fluff at the end

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Tension arises between you and Eddie when Steve steps back into your life.

Word count: 8k+

A/N: If there's any typos or mistakes, you didn't see them! @hellfire--cult thanks for feeding me ideas, I'm blessed to have you

series masterlist

You can’t explain the awful feeling in your stomach or the suffocating feeling in your chest.

You have trouble understanding why it all feels so wrong when it’s all you have dreamed of for so long. Steve kissed you in a way he had never kissed you before, not even when you had just started dating did he kiss you with so much passion and love the way he did last night.

His touch was gentle, his lips were soft and he was so desperate to feel you against him – you were just as desperate and the kiss just showed how much you still love him, how much you still want him, how much you crave him even after everything that happened between you both. But, not even the passion of the kiss could erase the things he had done to you.

The moment it all caught up to you, the moment something else came to your mind, you pushed him away and you ran, you ran away from him and now you feel guilty for it but you couldn’t stay, you couldn’t stick around any longer.

You found Robin and Chrissy, blabbering out what happened to you before you begged them to take you home.

Now, you are laying in your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You’re glad that you haven’t had much alcohol last night. The sharp pain in your lower stomach is already bad enough, you wouldn’t want to deal with both a headache and the awful cramps.

You don’t know how, but you manage to drag yourself out of the comfort of your bed. When the pain in your stomach gets sharper, you suddenly regret the plans that you had made with your friends for today.

Your heart leaps to your throat when your phone starts ringing. You don’t bother to hurry down the stairs to pick it up. You know who it is but you aren’t ready to talk to him.

Eddie had done nothing wrong, he had never done anything wrong.

But the thought of talking to him or even facing him fills you with an awful feeling, one that you can’t describe. You know you can’t run from it, you had made plans with Robin, Chrissy and Eddie.

You let the phone ring and disappear into the bathroom, you close the door and drown out the voice of the shrill sound.

You hope that a hot shower will help you get rid of that sickening feeling but your mind can’t rest and every time you think back to that kiss, you feel that immense guilt. Why? You wanted it, you wanted it just as much as he did.

Steve is single and so are you, there is not a reason for you to feel guilty about something that you had wanted for so long.

Or, maybe you feel guilty for doing this to yourself… again. Because why are you letting him back in? Why are you giving him the chance to hurt you again?

It doesn’t matter how he feels about you, it doesn’t matter how much he loves you, it doesn’t matter, not anymore.

He hurt you too many times for you to just let him back into your life like this.

You cannot give him the chance to hurt you again.

The clock strikes 2 when the doorbell rings. You furrow your brows when you look at the watch on your vanity, the one you never wear. Eddie is always on time when it comes to you but never when he picks up Robin first, she is always running late. You take one last look at yourself, fluffing out your hair a little more before you drop the lipgloss on the table. You smoothe down your skirt and reach for your little purse, picking out your favorite cardigan on the way out.

The doorbell rings again when you walk down the stairs, “I’m coming!” You sigh.

When you open the door, you don’t expect to see him on the other side. The smile that tugged at your lips instantly falls and tension arises in your body.

“Hi.”

Steve.

Your shoulders slump as you take in the sight of him. The soft and apologetic eyes, the hopeful look in his features. The messy hair.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“C-Can we talk?”

You’d rather not. The fear that he will pull you back in is too big.

“What about?”

You keep holding onto the door, staring at him as you try to calm the feeling in your chest. He had already walked you home last night, even though you tried to protest against it, he could’ve talked to you then but he stayed quiet, you did too.

He licks his lips as he looks down nervously. The atmosphere around you had changed yet again. You were ready to let him back into your life. You smiled at him again, you talked to him again, you wanted to be his friend – he ruined it all with a kiss and he knows it.

“I-I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

As you look into his eyes, you know, you just know, he is genuine about it. There’s remorse lingering in them and fear – fear of losing you again.

“Steve,” you sigh.

“I-I wasn’t – I wasn’t thinking about how much I would hurt you again a-and, I-I just wanted, no, needed to kiss you again. I messed up, I was a selfish prick. And I promise, it won’t happen again if you don’t want it.” He is pleading with his eyes as he looks down at you, “I loved every second of it b-but I shouldn’t have done it. I-I just, please forgive me, dolly.”

Steve had never begged for forgiveness when you were still together, he had done so many awful things, he hurt you so many times but he never begged for forgiveness, he just dismissed them and moved on and acted like he had never done anything wrong.

“I won’t ever do it again,” he says, even though kissing you is all he wants to do. “I just, I don’t want to lose you again.”

You don’t want to lose him again either.

Something about the look in his eyes and the sadness in his voice makes you feel guilty.

You nod.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “just, promise me that you won’t kiss me again.”

“I promise!” He exclaims with wide eyes, “I promise, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I-I know that we’re not exactly friends but I-I’d love for us to be friends again.”

Right now, you don’t see the Steve that hurt you. You see the boy you used to play hide and seek with. The boy who used to pick flowers for you. The boy who used to pick you up in the afternoons to get sundaes at Benny’s. The boy you made a pact with when you were little kids – that you would stay friends, no matter what.

And Steve really needs a friend. He doesn’t have Tommy anymore, he doesn’t have Nancy anymore – who is left?

“Steve?”

“Yes?” He asks, furrowing his brows when you completely dismiss his words.

“Who do you hang out with?”

“No one,” he says without a single moment of hesitation.

It might be his fault but you still feel bad for him. You and Tommy were his only friends and now he has neither one of you left.

He has no one.

No friends and not even his parents to come home to – they are never there.

Maybe it’s the image of him alone or maybe it’s just the look in his eyes that makes you feel heartbroken, sad for the man in front of you, the one who used to be your everything.

Suddenly, you feel the need to keep the promise that you had made as kids.

You open your mouth to speak but the sound of a car – a van pulling up to your driveway makes you freeze in your spot. Your heart leaps to your throat and you swallow harshly.

Eddie.

Oh no. You had been ignoring his calls all day, breaking the promise that you would call after every party – you didn’t, at least not last night. You couldn’t.

He gets out of the van and closes the door. You are so focused on him that you don’t see Chrissy and Robin on the other side of the van. Eddie stares at Steve’s car with a frown on his face and when he looks your way, he freezes.

Steve notices the panicked look in your eyes, the nervousness is written all over your face. He turns around. Eddie stands there with a frown on his face, anger in his features and disappointment.

Robin and Chrissy share a look when they find Steve on your front porch. They are the firsts to walk towards you, glancing at Eddie nervously.

You tear your eyes away from Eddie when Chrissy walks up the stairs, brushing past Steve, completely ignoring his presence.

“Hey!” She smiles but with a questioning look in her eyes. You know what she is thinking; what is he doing here?

“Hey Chris,” you smile and greet her with a hug. She places her hand on your shoulder when she pulls back, eying the skirt you are wearing, her eyes lighten up, “oh my god, is it the one we bought last week together?”

“Yes!”

“I love it, it’s so cute!”

“Don’t you have the same one?” Robin asks, chuckling as she approaches you, eying Steve weirdly.

He rolls his eyes and sighs.

“Yes but it’s not the same color, Robs!”

Robin gives Chrissy a teasing smile before she looks over at you, “hey wild child, are you good after last night?” She tilts her head in his direction, raising her brows at you as though to say ‘what the fuck is he doing here?’

You would’ve laughed at the nickname she just gave you if it wasn’t for the intense look that Eddie is giving you as he walks up the stairs as well. You see his clenched jaw, he is angry – angry that you ignored his calls, angry to see him here. But there is also a hint of sadness in his brown orbs and you can’t take it – you can’t stand to see even a sliver of sadness in his eyes.

He quickly masks it with something else, just the way he always does.

“Thanks for the call, sweetheart,” he says sarcastically, furrowing his brows with a fake smile on his lips, “I mean for thanks for letting me know that you got home safe. Oh and super nice of you to keep ignoring my calls all day too.”

You can’t even look at him so you look down.

Steve’s brows stayed furrowed, the tension and the awkwardness isn’t hard to miss. Eddie looks at him in a way that almost makes him shrink under the weight of his eyes. So he turns back to you. You are blinking, chewing on your bottom lip and breathing heavily. You feel guilty, so guilty that you can’t even look at Eddie. Steve’s heart drops a little. He remembers how he felt when Nancy kissed him, how he couldn’t look into your eyes without feeling like the guilt was eating at him. He felt horrible, even when it wasn’t a kiss he initiated or even let happen, he still felt guilty, just as guilty as you are feeling, right now.

But you and Eddie are just friends, right?

Robin and Chrissy look at each other awkwardly.

“Eddie, I-I’m sorry,” you say softly, “I had the worst headache–”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he mumbles, glancing at Steve.

Steve rolls his eyes at Eddie’s attitude.

“Look, can we just go?” Robin asks, wanting to escape the awkward situation.

“Yes please,” Chrissy mumbles.

You look up, slowly looking between your friends. You already know that Robin and Chrissy are both going to be too busy with each other and Eddie is clearly pissed – you have seen him angry before but the anger was never directed at you and you know very well how he can be when he’s pissed.

Before you can stop the words from spilling, you look up at Steve.

“Steve is coming too.”

All four of them turn to you, looking at you wide eyed – as though you had gone crazy.

Chrissy looks annoyed, Robin looks confused, Eddie looks at you in disbelief and Steve, he stares at you with softened eyes.

“I invited him,” you lie.

Steve shakes his head at you, he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to include him, this is not what he came here for. He just wanted to apologize and make things right.

Robin looks away with a clenched jaw and Chrissy looks down to hide her eye roll.

“Can I talk to you, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” you whisper, nervously.

You walk past Steve and the girls, clutching your cardigan tightly as you step out on the porch. Eddie places his hand on your lower back and leads you down the stairs and towards his van.

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to ignore you–”

“Did something happen?” He asks and finally swallows the anger down. He can hear the trembling in your voice, the shakiness of your hand which might be caused by something else.

He feels the urge to cup your cheeks so he can see your eyes but you keep looking down at the graveled ground.

You simply shake your head.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He asks softly, this time.

“I was really tired and I drank too much, I wasn’t thinking.”

You raise your head a little, daring to look at him.

“You’re lucky Robin called me otherwise I would’ve broke into your house.”

Your lips twitch and you break into a smile, “wouldn’t be the first time.”

He can’t help but smile back at you, his anger melting away.

“I-I’m sorry for inviting him, I know none of you want him around.”

“Then why did you invite him?” He asks, not out of anger but out of curiosity.

You can see the annoyance lingering in his eyes, the same annoyance you saw in Chrissy’s and Robin’s eyes.

You don’t know why you feel the need to explain yourself but when you look at him, you know you have to.

“He is just a friend now, I promise. I-I don’t want him like that – he’s just my friend.”

Eddie’s eyes skip over your face. Your brows are furrowed, eyes pleading and filled with honesty – he just doesn’t understand what the guilt is for.

“I still don’t understand why he has to be included.”

“He’s alone, Eddie.”

His brows knit together and he shakes his head.

“No, he isn’t? He’s with Nancy and bitchy Carol and fucktard Tommy–”

“He broke up with Nancy and he doesn’t have friends. Not anymore.”

Oh.

If there is one thing Eddie knows, it’s loneliness. And he can’t help but pity him. There isn’t much that he knows about Steve except for the things that you told him and his absent parents – it’s something that he unfortunately can relate to. He knows what it’s like to have no one. But fear grows inside of him at the news of Steve being single.

“Fine, don’t expect me to not mess with him though.”

You roll your eyes, snorting at his words.

“You two will be menaces to each other.”

Whenever Eddie felt vulnerable, angry or hurt, he’d put on a mask, he would hide his true feelings by putting on a front. He had never felt that need to do that with you, not until now.

He watches you with a weird feeling in his chest when you walk back to Steve.

Robin gives Eddie a pitiful look but the latter refuses to show how insecure or sad he is. He puts on a fake smile and looks over at Steve.

“I always wanted to take your girl for a ride.”

Steve’s head snaps towards him, halting his movements, he stops jingling with his car keys and gives Eddie a weird look.

“Excuse me?”

Robin and Chrissy look at you before they turn to each other, erupting into a fit of giggles at the double innuendo.

Eddie briefly glances at you before he nudges his chin into the direction of Steve’s BMW.

Steve squints his eyes, “yeah, keep dreaming, Munson.”

Eddie chuckles, “I will.”

“Wait, are we taking your car?” You ask, turning to Steve.

Robin mumbles something under her breath and Chrissy shushes her in response, nudging her shoulder.

“Can we talk, y/n?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, at the movies.”

You know exactly what he wants to talk about. He doesn’t want to intrude and he probably feels awkward to be around your friends.

“Come on.”

Steve sighs, knowing that you won’t take no for an answer, he just gestures for you all to get in his car. He expects you to take the passenger seat but instead, you take Eddie’s hand in yours and lead him to the passenger side.

“You can sit in the front,” you smile at Eddie as he looks down at you in confusion.

“I’ll sit in the back with Chris and Robin.”

“Uh–”

“Let’s go before the movie starts!” You say before anyone else can protest.

Eddie and Steve share a look, not a very excited or happy one, it’s more one of annoyance. Neither of them want to spend time with the other. But they get in the car nonetheless.

Chrissy and Robin get in as well, begrudgingly so.

“Are we still going out for pizza afterwards?” Robin asks, looking between Chrissy, Eddie and you.

Steve looks at you through the rearview mirror, seeing the way you scrunch your face up in disgust.

“Yeah, we can order some when we get back to my place,” you mumble, “I definitely need some McDonald's today though.”

Robin raises her brows in surprise, “what, is that hangover food for you or something?”

Chrissy chuckles beside her.

“Not exactly.”

No. It’s not your hangover food. Steve knows it. You only ever craved McDonald’s once a month.

“Hey Robin, did you tell y/n about your new job yet?” She asks, trying to ease the tension in the car.

Your lips part when you look over at your friend, “wait, what new job? You found something new?”

“Yes!” Robin says, pretending to be excited, “I’m starting next week.”

“Where?”

“Scoops Ahoy!”

Chrissy smiles, nodding in excitement.

Steve turns around, looking at you, surprised. His lips twitch and you almost laugh. Eddie glances between the two of you.

“Oh,” he furrows his brows, “the ice cream shop, huh?”

“Yup.”

Robin doesn’t even acknowledge him properly, just nods into his direction. Oh, this is going to be interesting.

“So, have you met your co-workers yet?” You ask.

She twists the rings on her fingers, shaking her head.

“Nope, I guess, I’ll meet them on monday.”

“You don’t have to,” you giggle.

“Huh?”

The look of confusion amuses even Steve.

You point your finger at Steve, who waves at Robin mockingly.

Her eyes widen, for a moment she looks shocked before she lets out a groan of annoyance, “you gotta be kidding me..”

“Hey there, co-worker,” Steve says, unable to hold back his chuckle.

She slumps back, looking very miserable before her eyes light up and she sits back up, “wait! Does that mean that you have to wear one of those sailor uniforms too?”

At that, Steve groans and looks away.

“Sailor uniforms?”

“Come by on monday and you’ll see Steve in a pair of skimpy sailor shorts,” Robin winks at you.

While you and Chrissy laugh and even Eddie joins in, smirking at Steve, “are you gonna wear some slutty shorts, Harrington?”

“Shut up,” Steve mumbles, closing his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” Robin mumbles, “can you start the car, dingus? We’re gonna miss the movie!”

“Yeah,” he sighs as he starts the car.

The drive to the movies wasn't the most joyful one you’ve been on. Eddie kept pestering Steve about his music choices. Steve kept rolling his eyes at him and Chrissy and Robin kept whispering to you.

‘Why is he here?’

‘Why did you invite him?’

‘Are you with him again?’

‘What about –’

You never got to hear the end of Robin’s question, Chrissy slapped her shoulder before she could finish it.

Walking into the movie theater has always been a nostalgic feeling to you, it always takes you back to your childhood. It’s oddly comforting. The smell of popcorn and butter makes your mouth water and you can’t wait to dig into the sweet treat.

After buying the tickets, Chrissy takes your hand and leads you over to the lounge area while the others go to buy the snacks.

The moment you take a seat, she starts bombing you with questions again. Rambling and throwing one after the other at you, not even giving you the chance to reply.

“Chrissy–”

“No, please don’t tell me that you’re getting back with him,” she says, crinkling your nose. She watched you cry over him more than once, even before the break up.

You shake your head, “no,” you mumble, taking a look at the others as they stand by the counter.

“I just – he’s different now.”

Chrissy scoffs at your words, rolling her eyes.

“Right, they all change when they get dumped.”

“He didn’t get dumped, he broke up with Nancy – and it doesn’t even matter! I don’t want to date him, I-I just, we’re friends now, I guess.”

Chrissy knows that Steve had always been more than just your boyfriend. He was your best friend, long before she became friends with you.

“I just don’t want him to hurt you again, y/n.”

You tilt your head and smile at her, “please, don’t worry about me. I won’t let that happen, not again. We’re friends. That’s all.”

She nods at your words and glances at the others. Steve and Eddie seem to be fighting about something, she can’t help but chuckle in amusement.

Eddie rolls his eyes at Steve, leaning closer to him to mock him about something.

“What’s so funny?”

She tilts her head at you, “well, I guess, Steve tagging along makes things more entertaining.”

With furrowed brows, you take a look at them – Eddie is holding a bag of popcorn in one hand, throwing some at Steve with the other.

“Guys!” You hear Robin’s annoyed voice.

You snort.

Robin is the first to come back, annoyance written all over her face,“they are so immature.”

She hands Chrissy the bag of popcorn and a box of Reese's pieces.

“They’re men, what do you expect?”

“You’re right,” Robin says to Chrissy.

“Sweetheart, tell Steve that you prefer salted popcorn,” Eddie says when he comes back, “he insisted on sweet popcorn.”

Steve rolls his eyes at Eddie, stopping next to him.

“Here we go again,” Robin mumbles under her breath.

Steve already knows your answer so he doesn’t even look at you expectedly. Eddie seems to look like he knows your answer too and he does, but today it isn’t the right one.

“Uh.” You get up and look at your best friend with an apologetic look in your eyes as you reach for the bag in Steve’s hand. “I’m sorry…”

Eddie’s eyes flash with confusion and his face falls. If you didn’t feel so guilty already, you would’ve been amused by the look of betrayal on his face. He is so dramatic. You’d be lying if you said that it’s something you don’t love about him though.

“W-What?” He scoffs as his lips set in a pout, “we always get salted popcorn!”

“Yeah and it’s my favorite but I’m craving something sweet today. I’m sorry, Ed’s.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and looks away from you, “and how did you know that?” He asks Steve.

Steve could have been smug about it, especially, seeing as it makes Eddie mad.

He shrugs, “it’s just something that we always used to get when we came here,” he lies.

Suddenly, you want to run, you want to escape. So you grab your purse and leave the group, pretending to look at the ticket that you were holding all this time. Chrissy gets up to follow you and so does Steve.

Robin and Eddie stay back though, glancing at each other.

It’s not that they hate him. They don’t. But they know what he did to you, they know how much he hurt you, how much you suffered because of him and he had done nothing to earn your trust back. He just weaseled his way back into your life and you let him.

And despite his jealousy and the fear of losing you, Eddie still isn’t as angry as Robin is – because he thinks about your words; ‘He’s alone, Eddie.’

Eddie and Robin follow the three of you, he watches you, he watches how you interact with Steve and Chrissy, laughing at something he said.

“I’m so fucking pissed,” Robin says.

“Why?” He asks but keeps his eyes on you.

“Because he will just hurt her again. I can’t believe she feels bad for him after the shit he did to her.”

“Well, can’t really fight her when she’s this stubborn,” Eddie shrugs.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to be friends with her – I mean, when Billy kissed her he was like all rough and shit, and then Heather – fuck, when Heather told me she kissed Steve, I was fuming!” She says, looking up as she groans in anger.

Eddie feels like someone had dropped a bucket of ice cold water over him. He freezes and halts in his tracks, eyes widening as he feels his heart sinking to his stomach.

“W-What?” Eddie mumbles.

Robin stops walking when she notices that Eddie is no longer beside her. She glances at the three of you before she turns back to him and sees the look of confusion and sadness in his eyes – fuck. She should have known. She should’ve known that you didn’t tell him. That is why you didn’t call him. That is why you didn’t pick up any of his calls.

“S-She kissed Steve a-and Billy?” He asks with widened eyes, “please, tell me you’re joking, Robin.”

Robin’s own eyes widen as well and she starts shaking her head wildly, “no! It was spin the bottle.”

A part of him feels relieved but the other part is still tense. His eyes begin to hurt.

He curses at himself for not being there last night. You wouldn’t have to kiss Billy if he was there, you wouldn’t have to kiss Steve.

“B-But it was just a game, right?”

A guilty feeling overcomes Robin and she already begins to regret that she even mentioned it.

She wants to say ‘yes, it was just a game’ but Robin was never a good liar and even if she tried, he would know that she is not telling the truth.

“It was just a game,” Eddie repeats, “her kissing Steve was just a game, right?”

He doesn’t even care about Billy, the kiss with him was just a game.

“Eddie–”

“Come on, Robin,” he mumbles, shakily.

He knows he has no right to be upset over a kiss. You are not even his to lose. But he always hoped, deep down, he always hoped that there might be a chance for him someday.

“She told me that he kissed her again afterwards – outside.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump, his heart feels heavy in his chest. He feels so stupid to think that you wouldn’t do this. You could only resist him for so long. Steve Harrington still has your heart after all.

“But Eddie, I don’t think that it meant anything to her. She rejected him and then came to find me.”

Her words do nothing to make him feel better.

Robin looks at him, anxiously. She knows how resentful Eddie can be when he’s hurt and by the look on his face, she knows that he is deeply hurt.

“Are you guys coming?” Chrissy asks, interrupting Robin who was just about to say something.

Eddie looks down with a clenched jaw. He doesn’t even want to be here anymore.

“Yeah. Come on, Eddie.”

Eddie follows begrudgingly. He knows that he shouldn’t feel that way. It shouldn’t hurt as much. You are still just friends after all, you are not his girlfriend, you are not his, your heart isn’t his.

You never gave any signs that you wanted him back, not even once.

He shouldn’t be this upset. He shouldn’t feel so jealous.

But it isn’t just the kiss or the kisses.

You have only spent one evening with Steve, kissed him twice and you are already distancing yourself from him. Ignoring him and his calls. He is already losing you.

His mood only gets worse when he finds you sitting next to him, giggling at something he said to you. He rolls his eyes and sits down on the other side of you.

You turn away from Steve and towards him, smiling at him, “hey.”

“Hey,” he grumbles.

He doesn’t even see the creased brows or the saddened look in your eyes, he’s staring at the white screen.

“How was the campaign last night?”

“Good.”

“Okay,” you mumble and lean back again, you frown in confusion. Is he this upset over some salted popcorn?

Steve looks over at Eddie, his jaw is clenched, he blinks faster than usual, he is pissed. He was pissed before but not like this, he seemed to have calmed down on the drive here and even while they were at the counter, buying snacks, he seemed fine and even laughed and teased him, now he just looks angry.

He glances at Robin who sits next to him, she is chewing on her bottom lip and bouncing her knee, completely ignoring Chrissy’s rambling. The room might be dark, but Steve can see the guilt in her eyes.

“Hey Robin,” he whispers.

She rolls her eyes at him, “what?”

“You didn’t tell Eddie about the kiss did you?” He whispers, careful that you aren’t listening.

She freezes a little and that is enough of an answer. Shit. Steve doesn’t really care about Eddie or about what he feels. He understands him but he still doesn’t care.

He cares about you. Back at your house, he saw the way you avoided Eddie’s eyes, the way you looked so scared and guilty, you were scared of his reaction that’s why you avoided him. You didn’t want him to know.

Now he knows and you don’t know that he does.

“Are you not gonna tell me about it?” Steve hears you asking him.

Eddie doesn’t even glance at you, he only leans further away from you.

“I would’ve told you if you picked up the fucking phone last night.”

You’re taken aback by the anger in his words, by the curse words that he never ever directed at you.

Normally, you would have said something but the guilt that you are still feeling makes you unable to talk. Besides, you are too intimidated to say anything back, scared that he will lash out on you because, clearly, he is deeply upset about something.

Steve watches how you turn away from him, you roll your eyes but the sadness gives away how hurt you are by Eddie’s attitude towards you.

Steve glares at Eddie, the urge to whack him across his curly head is strong.

He nudges your shoulder and gives you a soft smile when you look at him, “you okay?”

You hesitate, “...yes.”

Eddie narrows his eyes to look at the two of you and he keeps doing it during the whole movie.

Normally, you would comment on certain scenes, so would he. Normally, you would laugh together and you would lean your head on his shoulder, he would wrap his arm around you.

Today, he leans away from you and after a few attempts to talk to him or make him laugh, you give up when he keeps brushing you off. You lean away from him as well. He doesn’t comment on anything and neither do you anymore. He is still pissed and you are still tense, your mind is filled with thoughts that you don’t want to think about and despite the painkillers you took earlier, your stomach is still cramping. You are hurting today.

Despite the funny moments in the movie, you cannot laugh, in fact, you feel like crying – whether it’s your period making you overly emotional or just Eddie.

Eddie is giving you the cold shoulder and it hurts, it fucking hurts.

He had never done anything like that to you before.

You have been close friends for almost a year now and not once had he said or done anything to hurt you. But now, he is giving you the silent treatment, the cold shoulder and you can’t stand it because it’s something that Steve used to do to you.

Whenever he was upset about something, he wouldn’t talk, he wouldn’t tell you what was going on in his mind, he wouldn’t tell you what you did wrong, he would simply give you the cold shoulder and ignore you for the rest of the day.

And now Eddie is doing the same to you.

Eddie who you thought would never do this.

The moment the credits start rolling, you jump up from the seat and push past Eddie. You rush out of the room after making up some excuse that you have to use the bathroom.

“Is she okay?” Chrissy asks Eddie.

“How would I know?” He snaps at her and gets up as well, leaving the others behind as he makes his way out as well.

Chrissy scrunches her face up and looks at Robin, “what’s gotten into him?”

“Jesus..” Steve runs his fingers through his hair, “what a brat.”

“Who?” Chrissy asks as she takes a proper look at his face for the first time today, “Eddie?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re right,” she mutters under her breath as she gets up, “I can’t believe I’d ever agree with you.”

Steve isn’t offended by her words. He knows that your friends never liked him and he doesn’t blame them. They have always been protective of you and of your feelings, something that he wasn’t when you were dating.

“Let’s just go,” Robin says, “I need the pizza now.”

After some internal pep talk and five minutes of trying to keep yourself from breaking down, you leave the bathroom and step back into the empty hallway – almost empty hallway. You are almost startled by his presence. Out of all your friends, you didn’t expect to see him waiting for you.

You halt in your tracks. He is looking at you the same way he did when he just came to your place.

Eddie looks at your eyes, he notices the glassiness right away, whether you cried or not, he feels awful, despite the jealousy and the anger that he is still feeling.

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning?” You finally snap at him.

If he wasn’t so on edge already, he would’ve laughed and he would’ve loved the cute frown on your face.

If he didn’t have a sleepless night, he maybe wouldn’t have been so pissed but the sleepless night was your fault.

Even through the angry haze, he can see how beautiful you look today – you always look beautiful but something about the way you look today makes his heart race even faster. Maybe it’s the new skirt or maybe it’s the way you did your makeup or the fact that you are wearing his ring – you always wear it but, somehow, it means even more to him that you are wearing it today, even after the kiss with him.

Eddie never gets to answer your question.

Your friends join the two of you and interrupt your little tense moment.

“Let’s go, we’re gonna order some pizza.”

You tear your eyes away from his, sighing as you walk past him.

“Yeah, can we order? I don’t feel like eating there.”

Robin and Chrissy nod. They pull you away from Eddie and Steve.

Both men stay behind for a moment, Eddie looks at the ground, a mixture of guilt and anger still deep in his features.

Steve wants to say something and he opens his mouth but decides against it. Anything that he will say, will only anger the metalhead even further and he doesn’t want to risk making things worse.

So he turns around and walks away.

You are surprised to see Robin and Steve sharing a knowing look when you all get back into his car, they both take a look at Eddie, who is silent, unlike on the drive here.

Chrissy leans closer to you, she cups her hand over her mouth, “did something happen between you and Eddie?” She whispers, giving you a look of concern and confusion.

You shake your head at her and shrug. You are just as confused.

Her eyes soften when she sees the worry and the hurt in your eyes, she gives you a sad smile and takes ahold of your hand, trying to comfort you.

Your lips twitch, you squeeze her hand back before you turn away, looking out the window instead.

The day started off good, the sun was shining and the breeze was warm but, just like your mood, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. The clouds appeared like dark shadows over the pretty blue sky and the breeze turned into a harsh wind. It isn’t raining yet but you know it’s about to start falling any minute.

Somehow, the weather always matches your mood.

“I thought we were getting pizza?”

You were so focused on watching the clouds move, you didn’t pay attention to where you were driving.

Your eyes light up a little when you see the McDonald’s sign.

“Y/n doesn’t want pizza,” Steve says as he pulls into the drive through, “she wanted burgers.”

For a moment, you forget about Eddie’s anger, the pain in your stomach or the guilt. Your eyes widen and a smile tugs at your lips, you have been craving burgers and fries all day.

“Oh! Fries too, please, Stevie!”

You don’t hear Eddie’s scoff over Steve’s chuckle, “I know, dolly.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and clenches his fist.

“Does anyone want anything?”

Eddie mumbles a ‘no’.

Robin simply shakes her head and Chrissy leans closer to Robin to look out the window, reading the menu board.

“Oh, can I have a strawberry milkshake?” Chrissy asks shyly, already reaching for the walled in her purse but you stop her, placing your hand over hers.

“I got it, Chris.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Steve mumbles, looking over his shoulder, he glances at you both, “I’ll pay.”

She raises her brows, forcing a smile as she mumbles a quiet ‘thanks’.

Robin is awfully quiet and you just notice it now when Chrissy leans back and you get to take a look at her. She keeps running her fingers through her hair, looking out the window with tense shoulders, just like Eddie.

What the hell is going on?

Chrissy looks just as clueless as you though.

When Steve hands you the bag and the milkshake, a few minutes later, you almost squeal in excitement. Chrissy laughs at the look on your face and takes the milkshake from your hand.

“Do you wanna share?” She asks, offering you the drink after taking the paper off the straw.

“No thanks, I need the fries now.” You rip open the bag, the smell of greasy food makes your mouth water, “I’m so hungry,” you mumble as you reach for the fries.

“Want some?” You ask Chrissy and Robin, “I’ll share, it’s too much for me anyways.”

Robin shakes her head, “nah, I’ll wait for the pizza.”

Chrissy takes some, “you’re missing out, Robin.”

“Right?” You mumble through a mouthful, “you gotta dip them, Chris.”

“Not in a strawberry milkshake though!” She laughs, “it’s gotta be vanilla.”

Steve glances at you through the rearview mirror. His heart flutters when he sees the smile on your face.

“Do you guys want some?” You ask, offering some to Steve and Eddie.

“It’s all yours, hangry,” Steve chuckles, using an old nickname.

“I’m not hangry!” You slap his shoulder.

“You want some Eddie?” You ask softly.

He shakes his head, continuing to give you the cold shoulder. So he really is mad at you. Eddie never says no to fries, he steals some from your plate every time you go out to eat – or he finishes the ones that are left on your plate when you get too full to finish eating them yourself.

You exhale and slump back in your seat, feeling sad all over again.

You look down at the fries, suddenly, not feeling as hungry as you did before. Still, you continue snacking on the fries, choosing to save the burger for later.

Chrissy looks at you worriedly when you frown and look down at your food, sadly, not as happy as you did a few moments back. She knows that you had been struggling in the past few months, you haven’t been eating as much and whenever you do, you quickly lose your appetite. Whether it’s the past memories that take away your appetite or something else – you have a problem. A problem that Eddie usually tries to help you with.

She doesn’t know what happened but she can’t help but glare at the metalhead.

But Robin is acting off too, so when you finally arrive back at your place and you all walk into your house. Chrissy takes Robin’s hand and pulls her away to the dining room to talk to her.

“We’re gonna order the pizza!” Chrissy shouts as they disappear in the hallway.

“Uh – okay.”

Throwing your cardigan and your purse on the dresser, you walk into the living room.

“Should I get some drinks?” Steve asks you, following you.

“I can do it–”

“No, sit down, I’ll get some,” Steve mumbles, giving you a smile before he walks past you, disappearing in the kitchen.

You reach for the remote to turn on some music on the TV, you always need the background noise, even in a room full of people. From the corner of your eye, you see him. You are surprised that he’s still here, you figured that he’d take his van and leave the moment Steve parked the car in your driveway.

A part of you wants to say something but the other part doesn’t. You don’t want to give him the silent treatment back, you are just scared of his explanation.

On the way home, you kept trying to figure out what made him so angry.

Did he know about the kiss? Did Robin tell him? Is he upset about that?

Even if he knows, he can’t be upset about it – even when you think about what Nancy said to you, it still makes no sense. Why would he be upset? You aren’t together. You are not his girlfriend.

Then again, it doesn’t explain your guilty feeling either. Just like you aren’t his, he isn’t yours. You have no reason to feel so guilty about kissing Steve – you can kiss whoever you want.

Besides, you went on a date with Ray and even kissed him before he turned into a major douchebag – Eddie never got upset about the fact that you wanted to go on a date. So he can’t be upset about this either, right?

It has to be something else.

Is he sick of you?

Did he finally realize that you aren’t worth his time?

Did he have a sudden change of heart just like Steve did when he went from loving boyfriend to awful boyfriend overnight?

Did your radio silence piss him off that much?

He is still standing by the doorway.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him and of course, it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. You still don’t say anything though, too afraid to make things worse.

The tugging in your chest gets even worse, if that is even possible.

“What’s wrong, dolly?”

All appetite is lost the moment you hear the mocking in his voice. You still blame your emotions on your period but deep down, you know that it’s not that.

You feel the coil in your throat, the hollow feeling in your stomach and the sickness in your chest. You don’t know whether you want to throw up or break into tears.

You can’t take this, not from him.

His words weren’t even bad or offending in any way but to hear the tone in his voice, to receive the cold shoulder from someone who you wouldn’t hesitate to give your everything to, makes you feel like you’re taken back to Halloween – where it all fell apart.

“Did you have fun last night?”

His question makes you frown. For the first time, you look at Eddie with a glare.

“I did.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he scoffs and looks away.

What the hell?

Chrissy and Robin walk into the room, both looking a little tense.

“Uh, pizza is ordered,” Chrissy says awkwardly.

She notices your heavy breathing and the way you are blinking quickly. The way you keep glancing at Eddie who refuses to look at you.

Steve comes back into the room with a few cans of coke, he places them on the small table. Steve’s presence seems to anger Eddie even further and Chrissy is starting to get annoyed by the attitude that spawned out of nowhere.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chrissy asks you.

Eddie is not looking at you. He isn’t even glancing at you. He doesn’t care. Why doesn’t he care anymore? What happened?

Your eyes burn. You can’t sit here any longer, you get up and walk away.

“Hey, do you not want to eat your food?” Steve asks, pointing to the takeout on the table.

“Not hungry,” you mumble.

“But, you haven’t eaten all day!”

Suddenly, Eddie feels even worse than he did before. He let his anger control him, all fucking day.

Steve sees your trembling lip and the tears in your eyes when you look back for a split second before you brush past Eddie and disappear into the hallway.

Chrissy calls out for you, jumping up from the couch, she runs after you, bumping into Eddie on purpose with a death glare.

He looks down with a sigh.

Steve has had enough of his behavior. He shakes his head in disbelief before he walks over to him, startling Eddie by grabbing his shoulder roughly, pushing him forward.

“What the fuck, dude?” Eddie snaps at him, trying to push Steve’s hands off of him but the latter has a strong grip on him and he pushes him towards the entrance, ripping the door open, he pushes him out.

For a moment, Eddie thinks that he’s getting kicked out.

Robin jumps up, looking panicked as she watches them both leaving the house. She follows behind, opening the door that Steve just slammed shut.

“What the hell is your problem?” Eddie asks, pushing Steve’s hands off with force.

“What’s my problem?” Steve chuckles in disbelief, pointing to himself.

Eddie scoffs and looks away.

“Get your fucking jealousy in check before you keep hurting her!” Steve yells over the harsh rain that is falling.

“She is not – I-I’m not..”

“Yes, you fucking are. You were fine before the movie, so I’m guessing you –” he points at Robin, who breaks eye contact right away and slumps, “told him something and I have a pretty fucking good idea of what it is!”

Eddie’s shoulders slump, he looks down, his eyes are burning.

“It’s just–” Eddie’s words get cut short because what can he say? How can Eddie tell him he is mad because he can’t compare himself to Steve Harrington? How can he tell him that he isn’t just jealous but also hurting? How can Eddie say anything at all when he has no chance whatsoever?

For a split second, Steve is able to see through Eddie, the look in his eyes gives it all away.

“Eddie,” he sighs, hurting himself with what he is about to say. He could lie to him, he could leave it all like this, be your knight in shining armor and pick you up after today but he won’t use Eddie’s insecurities and your vulnerability to weasel his way back into your heart.

Steve looks up, taking a deep breath.

“She pushed me away when I kissed her and I think we all know why.”

Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Now get your ass up there and fix it,” Steve says angrily.

A million questions run through Eddie’s mind but now is not the time to ask them. Steve won’t take no for an answer. He simply nods before he walks back into the house.

Robin crosses her arms over her chest, she is impressed by Steve. She’s a little surprised, she expected a fight to break out, she didn’t expect this to be cut… so short.

“Good job, Dingus.”

He rolls his eyes at her, “let’s get inside.”

Chrissy is standing in front of the bathroom door, leaning against it as she keeps trying to convince you to come out.

“Please, y/n,” she sighs, softly.

Eddie eyes the cheerleader warily, for someone with such a kind face, she sure gave him the kind of death glare that even intimidated him.

He takes a deep breath.

“Can I try?”

She turns around at the sound of his voice, snapping her head up with a frown. Her brows knit together, her mouth twists and she rolls her eyes but steps away from the door nonetheless.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “don’t mess it up, Munson.”

That is a threat. Yeah, with the look on her face, it definitely is a threat.

He really messed up.

He knocks on the door softly, closing his eyes as he tries to calm his breathing.

“Sweetheart,” he speaks with a much gentler voice than before, “can we talk?”

Silence.

“Please?”

He opens his eyes when the faint click of the lock sounds through the hallway. He grabs the doorknob and twists it, he opens the door and steps inside. You are sitting on the edge of the bathtub, wiping away the tears that keep rolling down your cheeks – because of him.

But why? Why would you cry over him?

You look up at him with glossy eyes and you rise to your feet.

“D-Do you hate me Eddie?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head quickly.

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate, he immediately pulls you into a tight hug. His own heart breaks, not once in his life did he think he would hurt you but, here he was, causing you pain because of his own selfishness.

He can feel you clinging to him, your arms are wrapped tightly around him, your tears are seeping through his shirt but he doesn’t mind.

“No baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was just being stupid,” he sighs, not even noticing the nickname that rolled off his tongue so naturally.

“I don’t want to lose you, Eddie.”

The trembling in your voice and the sadness makes his heart hurt even more.

Not once in his life was anyone ever scared to lose him, yet, here you are, the girl that he loves, scared to lose him. You could have anyone, you could have Steve but you are scared to lose him.

Whether it’s platonically or not – you are scared to lose him and that has to mean something.

“You won’t lose me, I promise, you won’t,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head. “I’m so sorry – fuck,” he blinks his own tears away, hating himself for what he did. “I’m such an asshole.”

You only hug him tighter in response.

“No, you’re not,” you mumble, “just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t.”

“I’m so–”

“Stop apologizing. Just hold me,” you mumble into his chest, “we can talk later.”

“Okay,” he whispers, hugging you even tighter.

This is what you need. To be held and comforted by him.

You lean your chin on his chest and look up at him, “will you stay with me tonight?”

For some reason, your question has him stunned.

You have had sleepovers before, many sleepovers in fact. But, something feels different. He doesn’t know what it is but something has shifted.

Something has shifted between the two of you after last night, he felt it earlier already and he feels it now as well.

His heart thumps wildly in his chest and he’s sure that you can feel it because he can feel yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with you.”

tagging mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @xxhellfirebunnyxx @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @succubusmunson @chrissymjstan @somethingvicked

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #stranger things angst

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

Text

(This is way way way longer than intend. You have been warned.)

Steve cannot stand Eddie Munson. And the feeling is definitely mutual. From their first meeting Eddie had sneered, “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. I never understood why they called him that when I was right there.” He had obnoxiously fluffed his hair as the kids had laughed along.

Okay, yeah. Maybe it wasn’t like the greatest insult of the century, but it was a cheap shot. Robin tells him that that’s the stupidest reason she’s ever heard when it came to an automatic dislike. But it’s not just that!

It’s the loud dramatics that Dustin is always praising and imitating. And the dumb faces Munson pulls that makes his eyes twinkle manically. It’s the constant jabs whenever he sees Steve - calling him “pretty boy” and “King Steve.” He tries not to flinch and give Munson the satisfaction - he hates that damn smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

The kids call them a divorced couple - throwing in “Mom and Dad are fighting again” every so often. He and Munson hate it - but that’s the only thing they’ll ever agree on.

But then the kids come up with an evil plan that isn’t revealed until it’s too late. Dustin invites Steve to a game night with the rest of the Party which… fine, he’ll come to it especially since they’re having it at his house. Sometimes he can��t say no to the kids - specifically when Will gives him those puppy dog eyes, but he’ll never admit to it.

But the dreaded day finally comes, and Steve is in the kitchen pulling a pizza out of the oven when he hears that damn voice. “You didn’t tell me this was Steve Harrington’s house,” Munson spits out Steve’s name as if it’s the most vile thing he’s ever said.

“You promised to join our game night no matter what!” Dustin argues.

That’s when Steve’s eyes land on Munson. He looks entirely out of his element for once and is just wearing that damn Hellfire shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows with ripped black jeans. The lack of the usual leather jacket or flannel or something as a second layer makes Steve feel… weird- no, angry.

Munson snorts, “Comfy enough?”

Steve glances down at his yellow sweater and gives the older boy a confused glare. “Something wrong with what I’m wearing, Munson?” It’s his turn to spit out the boy’s name like it’s an insult.

“I would just prefer if you were wearing less,” Eddie says with a sarcastic smile, knowing the line will make Steve flush red with rage.

Butterflies stir and die in Steve’s stomach at the comment. “And I’d prefer if you were wearing more.”

“Flustered, Harrington?”

“In your dreams.”

Munson winks and comments, “Well you’re there often enough.”

Steve just knows he could win in a fight against him, and severely wants to try in this moment.

“What the fuck guys?” Dustin says. Okay, maybe Steve forgot he was there.

“Language,” Steve warns then continues, “Why did you invite him?”

“Why did he invite you,” Munson fires back at Steve although he wasn’t even talking to him.

Steve gestures around. “It’s my damn house!” Munson’s mouth opens and closes a few times, realizing there’s no good way to make a comeback out of that. Steve revels in the win.

Munson just sighs and stalks out of the kitchen towards where the rest of the group is loudly chatting.

Dustin stays where he was with his hands on his hips which looks like a poor reflection of Steve’s usual stance. “Can you guys behave and get along just for once?”

“Not if he’s going to act like that.”

Dustin sighs and opens his arms dramatically - Steve thinks he got that from Munson - saying, “If you two just gave up on whatever rivalry there is between you, then you’d really get along. Come on for just one night!”

Steve thinks about it for a moment. Not having to constantly be on edge around the other boy for one night. Not constantly being a target to Munson’s jabs and sarcastic flirtatious quips. Not dealing with him constantly getting up in his physical space just to rile him up. He replies to Dustin, “No way.” He can’t let his guard down for one night because… well… because… he just can’t!

Dustin sighs and steals a plate and three slices of pizza. “You’re going to need more pizza,” is all he says before he announces to everyone that thee pizza is ready.

Steve sighs and looks at his timer which is close to going off - meaning the other pizza already in the oven is done. He’s prepared. He warns the kids that the fresh one is hot but doesn’t bother when Eddie comes in. He only feels a little bad when he hears the boy curse under his breath.

And that’s definitely not why he pulls a cold Coke out of the fridge and hands it to him so he can relieve the pain. He just does it because it’s worth seeing the suspicious face Munson pulls at the kind gesture. Never let them know your next move.

Soon everyone is finishing up their pizza in Steve’s living room where Steve sits on the floor as far away from Munson as he can. “Okay, first up charades!” Steve gives Dustin a look after the announcement. “What? El has never played. Everyone partner up in teams of two!”

Teams of two makes no sense when it comes to this large of a group, but when does anything make sense when it comes to the kids? Oh shit. Everyone pairs off into teams of two - Mike and Will, El and Max, and Lucas and Dustin leaving…

“No way,” Munson announces before Steve can beat him to it.

“For this one game, guys,” Dustin pleads with them.

Steve is about to argue, but he catches the extremely judgmental face Max is making and doesn’t want to even hear whatever comment is swirling around in her head. “Fine. This one game.”

Munson gives him the same suspicious look as they get little scraps of paper to fill out with random things to mime during the game. Once a random bowl is filled with the paper, the teams pair off to sit in the chairs and on the couch.

There’s a small available space left on the couch. Steve takes up the entire space expecting Munson to sit on the floor in front of him. Instead, he shrugs and flops right on top of him. Steve just obnoxiously wraps his hands around his waist and pulls him in tighter until he can tuck his chin over his shoulder. “What a sweetheart,” Munson whispers into his ear then has the audacity to kiss his temple.

Steve tries to suppress a full body shiver and is shocked when Munson doesn’t comment on it. Then the game goes on. At one point, Steve starts absentmindedly stroking his thumb up and down Munson’s arm while watching El and Max score six points. But then there’s a hand in his hair, lightly scratching, and he becomes overly aware of everywhere he’s making contact with Eddie.

He wants to kill him. He also wants to melt against him and give into the touch, but that’s exactly what Eddie wants! So, he ups his game, in whatever game they’re playing, and moves his hand to Eddie’s thigh finding the closest rip in his jeans and hooking his thumb under the material to lightly stroke at the skin there. Then he uses his other hand to sneak a hand under the hem of Eddie’s shirt and stroke at the skin at his waist.

Steve can feel the shape intake of breath as Eddie tenses up then relaxes back against him. The hand in his hair then tugs roughly, and Steve bites back a fucking moan.

He freezes as he realizes where they are. And who they’re around. Steve takes a quick glance around but finds everyone too intrigued in the game to notice whatever the fuck is happening between him and Eddie. The other boy must notice the freeze in his antics because his hand quickly comes out of his hair. “Kids,” Steve whispers.

“Right,” Eddie whispers back. Then the round is ending, and Dustin is jumping up to play which clears a space on the couch next to them. Steve takes the moment to gently move Eddie off of him, knees coming up immediately after the other boy is gone, and he finds Eddie snatching a pillow on his lap. What the fuck.

Steve tries to clear his head during the round, but Eddie’s arm is still pressed against him and it’s overwhelmingly distracting. God he can’t stand him.

Sooner than he expects, Dustin and Lucas’s round is over only racking up four answers and a bitter argument. Steve realizes he and Eddie are the last group to go up. Eddie nudges him to get up, pillow still firmly in his lap, and Steve would make a comment if the sight didn’t make his head spin.

He takes a deep breath as Dustin starts the timer for them, and Steve snatches up a piece of paper - train wreck. Yeah, that’s how he feels. He makes an awkward gesture of his hands coming together then blowing up that no one could possibly get.

“Train wreck.”

Steve grabs another paper - ice. He makes a cube shape with his hand and shivers.

“Igloo… No, ice.”

Dracula. Steve tries making fangs.

“Vampire.” Steve gestures for more. “Dracula!”

Lightsaber. Steve pretends to hold one and slice.

“Lightsaber.”

Steve hears Dustin whisper under his breath, “What the fuck?” As he pulls out paper after paper until the timer runs out.

The kids stare at the two in awe and shock as Dustin announces, “Eighteen. You guys got eighteen…”

Steve and Eddie share a look of slight discomfort. That can’t mean anything. Really. It can’t. Maybe Steve is just good at charades. So, Steve just nods at the man and sits on the couch in front of him. Another round in and Eddie is hooking his legs around Steve’s torso, and Steve is shooting him a glare. Insufferable asshole. He lays his head against his knee to mess with him as Eddie plays with his hair.

Soon enough, it’s their turn again, and Steve is grateful because he was about to embarrassingly doze off comfortably because of Eddie Munson. He takes his place on the couch and watches as Eddie prepares to start. This is the moment they prove everyone wrong about being a good team.

Eddie’s hands make a circle. “Ferris wheel.” Eddie shoots him a look and picks up the next paper. Shit.

His hand awkwardly flops in what Steve supposes is meant to be a wave. “A wave.” Eddie gestures for more. “The ocean.” Eddie picks up another paper.

Eddie points up then use the same hand to gesture something coming up. Something rising… “Sunrise.” Eddie picks up another paper.

Their round goes on the same as before, but this time the kids are all laughing as Steve guesses stuff almost immediately after Eddie makes a gesture. The timer goes off, and Dustin announces, “Twenty-five!”

A big grin splits out on Eddie’s face which Steve is sure he mirrors as he runs over to him and gives him a high-five. “That was so metal!” Eddie says, eyes twinkling with glee. Steve wants to stay in this moment forever.

Wait. No. He doesn’t. He fires back, “Just because I’m excellent at guessing, it had nothing to do with you, Munson.” Unfortunately, the name doesn’t quite land as it usually does, it now sounds a bit twisted up in joy.

Nonetheless, Eddie’s smile slightly falters as he punches Steve’s arm and replies, “I’m just great at miming stuff, Harrington.”

Dustin clears his throat, and Steve realizes they have an audience. “Next up we have Pictionary which is just charades but with drawing. Does anyone want to change groups?”

Steve freezes. Shit. This is supposed to be when he and Munson argue that yes, they do, but before they can Dustin says with a little too much excitement, “Looks like no one does, so we’ll keep it the same!” He goes off to wheel in a whiteboard Steve happened to find in his dad’s unused office.

Eddie sits on the arm of the couch this time - which Steve realizes could’ve been an option the whole time - and whispers, “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Because no one wanted to change groups.”

“Well, I didn’t see you raise your hand.”

“I didn’t see you raise your hand either,” Steve fires back but then the reality of what he said hits him. Shit. Eddie shoots him a shit eating grin.

Two rounds in, he’s sliding off the arm of the couch and into Steve’s lap complaining about it being uncomfortable. For some reason, Steve doesn’t tell him to just sit on the floor like he did.

Pictionary goes the same as charades does, with Steve and Eddie somehow on the same wavelength with every single scribble. On their last turn, Eddie’s marker dies out and Steve somehow guesses that the invisible scribbles are the Statue of Liberty.

I think that’s what really does it for everyone. The kids start demanding to know how they’re cheating, and Eddie and Steve actually team up to defend themselves on how they have no idea how they’re so good at the games.

The whole things has everyone switching teams, but it turns out that only Steve and Eddie can guess each other’s gestures and scribbles. At one point Steve yells at Dustin, “How could you not get the Loch Ness Monster from that?!”

And Dustin yells back, “How could you get it from his hand just going up and down?!”

Even when they all agree to do a round of everyone excluding the other half of Steve or Eddie, they find they can only guess around five things from Steve or Eddie on average. They let Steve and Eddie team up one last time and they score above twenty correct guesses on both turns.

It becomes suspicious to the point that Eddie and Steve both start questioning the group on whether they’re faking it. But when Max says, “I don’t think any one of us could’ve guessed that when Eddie’s hand started going up and it wasn’t even past his shoulder that it meant a giraffe - except for you,” Steve cringes and realizes she’s probably right.

He glances at his watch just for something to do when he realizes that they’ve actually been on this argument for a long time. Long enough that Nancy should be there any minute to pick a few of the kids up.

Sure enough, there’s a knock on Steve’s door. “Looks like Nancy is here.”

The teens start to complain about how time has gone too fast, and they'll have to beat Steve and Eddie another time. Dustin finally gets to the door first, then he yells, "Last one to make it to the car is the true loser!" The kids bolt.

Nancy puts her arms up as they pass her. She gives Steve and Eddie a tight smile after she finds all the kids struggling to fit themselves in her car.

"I brought half of them here; I can take them back," Eddie offers kindly. Jeez, Steve wishes he could be like that with him.

"Thank you, but I think they'd kill me if I tried to kick any of them out. You know how they are."

"We definitely do," Steve says and smiles brightly at Nancy. "Tell Robin I said hi."

Nancy's smile turns into a real one as a blush rises on her face. She nods and quickly says her goodbyes. Steve closes the door only to realize Eddie is still there. "Want to help me clean up?" Steve asks, fully expecting a rude response from the man.

"Sure," Eddie says instead, moving to pick up empty soda cans. Steve tries not to let his eyes linger as he bends over to do so. He shakes his head and moves to clean the whiteboard and wheel it back to his father's office.

When he comes back, he finds Eddie has stacked all the cans haphazardly in his arms. "Where's the trash can?" Steve motions for him to follow and pulls out the drawer in his kitchen with his trash can. "Rich people," Eddie mumbles as he drops the cans in.

Steve moves the pizza pans into the sink to wash later as Eddie comes up behind him. "We make a pretty good team, Harrington."

Steve scoffs and turns around, finding Eddie smiling openly at him. He doesn't like it. It feels too... suspicious. "In your dreams, Munson."

Eddie's face falls again. "At least you're nice in my dreams."

Steve laughs. He's got to be kidding. "Why would I be nice to you? You can't stand me, and the feeling is mutual, buddy."

Steve becomes overly aware of how trapped he is with his back digging into the counter. It's worse when Eddie leans forward and puts his hands on the counter at each side. Steve's crossed arms are the only reason Eddie isn't fully pressed up against him. And he does not want to put his arms down and fulfill the want in his traitorous mind.

Eddie breath ghosts over his lips as he says, "Yeah, you invade my space at every given moment with your hands itching to touch me because you can't stand me so much."

Steve cocks his head and leans further into Eddie's space, not afraid of the close proximity. "Yet look who's the one invading mine first."

"And look who's leaning into it."

With that Steve shoves Eddie off of him. He doesn't want to play these fucking mind games with the asshole. What he really wants is to get as far away from his as possible and to take a really cold shower.

Eddie laughs, and Steve just needs him to shut the fuck up for once. And that's the exact moment he storms into Eddie's space and kisses him.

And that's the exact moment he realizes he's fucked up.

(Thank you @henderdads for encouraging me to turn my concept into a ficlet, and since I am unable to stop myself from writing way more than I intend and making everything into a wip... I will be dropping the AO3 Link to this once I continue it. Also, this isn't even the whole first chapter or part to this story ahhhh)

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #another... wip #are you kidding me

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months

Text

written for @steddiemas Day 1: Deck the Halls read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve’s annoyed.

More than annoyed, really.

He’s supposed to be at the Munson’s, sitting between Wayne and Eddie, watching the Hoosiers play. Well, trying to watch the game, at least. Eddie has a habit of dozing off before the first quarter ends, head thunking against Steve’s shoulder so he can’t move for the rest of the game.

But no.

His mom just had to call and demand he set up their stupid Christmas tree before she and his dad get home tonight because the annual Harrington Holiday House party is this weekend, and she doesn’t have time to do it herself. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s trusting him enough to decorate the thing. He can count on one hand how many times he was allowed to hang an ornament on the statement piece in their living room.

He can’t even celebrate the decorating victory, though, because he’s still trying to assemble the goddamn thing. Nine-foot trees really aren’t meant to be set up by one person. At least, that’s what Steve’s learning as he tries to balance the next segment of the tree over his shoulder as he climbs up the ladder.

Focused on not falling, Steve doesn’t hear the front door open or the stomps of boots coming into the room. It isn’t until Eddie tuts does Steve startles, nearly toppling over.

“Woah, there big boy,” Eddie teases, reaching out to steady the ladder. “Don’t fall.”

“Don’t scare me then,” Steve snaps. It takes a moment, but he manages to get the next piece into the slot before carefully climbing down the ladder.

“Christ, someone’s feisty today,” Eddie says, hands up in surrender. “I guess it’s a good thing you bailed on me and Wayne to uh…” He glances at the half-assembled tree in the middle of the room. “What are you doing exactly?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Building a stupid Christmas tree.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Eddie asks, shaking his head. “You can’t build trees. You grow trees.”

Steve snorts. “It’s an artificial tree, Eds. My mom called as I was headed out to your place. Said I needed to get the stupid thing up and fluffed before she got home tonight because she needs a full three days to decorate the damn thing for the annual Harrington Holiday House party.”

“This thing is blasphemous!” Eddie says, circling it like a predator stalking its prey. “I thought rich people love Christmas trees. Don’t you like custom order the biggest one to show off your wealth?”

“Uh, no? My mom says real trees make too much of a mess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie says, abandoning the tree as he stalks towards Steve. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had a real tree before? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You’re being weird,” Steve says, shaking Eddie’s hands off his shoulder.

“I am not being weird. You’re being weird. You’ve never had a Christmas tree! Do you even know what they smell like? Steve, you haven’t lived until you’ve smelt a freshly cut down Christmas tree!”

“Jesus, I didn’t know you were so passionate about this,” Steve snorts.

“You think this is bad. Wait until I tell Wayne. He’s going to flip out!”

“Wayne has never flipped out in his life.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first for everything.” Eddie crosses his arms and then immediately uncrosses them, clapping his hands instead. “That’s it. You’re coming with us this year. Don’t make plans for next Friday! I’m stealing your Christmas tree virginity.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Steve groans, wrinkling his nose. “But fine, I’ll go with you. If you help me with this thing.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair trade-off, Stevie.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really give a shit,” Steve says, bending down for the next segment of the tree. “Now grab an end.”

Steve yelps when he feels a firm hand squeeze his ass. All it takes is one deathly glare over his shoulder for Eddie to stop cackling and get serious.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“I’m going to sue your family,” Eddie whines, collapsing on the couch a few hours later.

“Don’t be a baby,” Steve scolds before dashing off into the living room to grab a couple of beers.

“Excuse me! That thing attacked me! Multiple times! Look at the evidence,” Eddie shouts, yanking up the sleeves of his Hellfire shirt to examine a dozen or so scratch marks up and down his forearms. “And don’t even get me started on my hands! How am I supposed to play guitar, Steven!”

“I told you to wear gloves,” Steve shrugs, returning to the room. He passes Eddie the cold can of beer before sinking into the couch beside him.

“I shouldn’t need gloves because you shouldn’t need to fluff a tree! They already come fluffed because they’re not rotting away in a box all year.”

“You poor thing,” Steve playfully tuts. “Guess I can’t hold your hand now since they’re so beaten up.”

“I never said that,” Eddie squawks as he yanks Steve’s hand into his own.

They sit in silence after that. Nursing their beers as the Christmas tree stands in its makeshift glory in front of them. Steve can tell which side he fluffed and which side Eddie did. The giant gap between the top two layers is obvious, and he knows he’s going to have to climb the ladder and fix it before his mom gets home, but that’s a problem for future Steve. Right now, he wants to sit here with his boyfriend even if his boyfriend is gearing up for another faux Christmas tree rant.

“Don’t tell me your mom is one of those people who only puts those stupid decorative ball things on the tree, too.”

“What do you think?” Steve says, hiding his smile behind the can of beer.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

🎄 🎄 🎄

It takes a bit of convincing and a formal invite from Wayne, but Steve keeps up his end of their deal, joining the Munsons on their quest for the perfect Christmas tree for the trailer.

Eddie has a habit of embellishing when he tells stories, but Merrill’s farm lives up to all the hype. As done, the process of selecting and chopping down the perfect tree. Steve gets stuck being the tie-breaking vote when Wayne and Eddie end up arguing over which tree to bring home. Naturally, Eddie throws a minor fit when Steve sides with Wayne, whining that he likes him better than his own boyfriend, which has Wayne rolling his eyes.

Steve gets to make the first chop but passes the ax off quickly. He doesn’t want to impede on their tradition any more than he has. Besides, axes have never been his thing. He prefers to swing bats instead.

“See, isn’t this much better than building a tree?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulder as they stand off the side while Wayne pays.

“It definitely smells better.” Steve inhales deeply, scents of pine and hints of peppermint flooding his senses. Someone should bottle this stuff up and sell it as a cologne, he thinks. He’d definitely wear it.

“It’s easier, too.”

Steve scoffs. “Speak for yourself! You’re not the one who helped Wayne drag it all the way up here.”

Eddie laughs, eyes sparking mischievously. “Wait until you have to help him load it into the truck. That’s always the worst part.”

Steve eyes his boyfriend through squinted eyes. He ducks out of Eddie’s grasp and settles his hands on his hips. “You set me up! You just brought me here so you wouldn’t have to do manual work!”

“You wound me, Harrington,” Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his heart as he staggers backward. “How can you think so lowly of me.”

“Because I know you, Munson,” Steve teases.

“Alright, alright, fine,” Eddie says, slinking over to Steve. “Maybe I had ulterior motives, but it's only fair after what I suffered helping you with that abomination you call a tree. At least now you’ve experienced a true Christmas tree experience.”

Steve can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as Eddie beams proudly at him.

“Ready to go, boys?” Wayne asks, rejoining them. They both nod, watching as Wayne makes his way over to the heavier side of the tree.

“You don’t have to carry it, Wayne,” Steve says, mischievous flooding his own veins. “Eddie and I will carry it to the car.”

“You bastard!”

“Hey,” Wayne scolds, swatting Eddie’s shoulder. “No swearin’ ‘round kids. I ain’t raise you like that.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he watches Eddie sigh dramatically before carefully shoving Wayne away from the tree. He waits for Eddie to follow his lead, squatting down before he counts them off. On three, they hoist the tree over their shoulders and start heading back out to the car.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks later, passing Steve a mug full of Wayne’s signature hot chocolate. “Is it better than your tree?”

Steve knows the answer immediately, but he takes a moment. Wants to make Eddie squirm as he admires the tree in front of him. It’s not perfect. It’s a little crooked, and there are hundreds of pine needles littering the floor. The lights are bright, though, and the branches are full of homemade and sentimental ornaments that span decades. A homemade star sits on top in lieu of the traditional angel. A star, Eddie tells him, he and his mom made by themselves the year before she got sick.

It’s perfectly imperfect.

His own traditional, straight out of the pages of a Home and Garden magazine doesn’t stand a chance against this one.

“Yeah, Eds. It’s better than my tree.”

“Victory!” Eddie shouts, nearly spilling his hot chocolate all over himself.

🎄 🎄 🎄

A month later, Steve’s belly is full of the Munson Christmas feast, but instead of lazily lounging on the couch enjoying his food baby, he’s carefully taking ornaments off of the dead Christmas tree that nearly caught fire twice since he’s been here.

“I take it back,” Steve says, carefully taking an ornament off of the dead tree. “Artificial trees are better.”

“They are not!” Eddie whines, wrapping the ornaments Steve hands him in tissue paper.

“I don’t know, Eds. I’ve never had to take down a tree on Christmas before!” he grumbles, reaching for another ornament. “This sucks.”

“It’s all your fault. If you chose my tree, it would have lived for another week! I just know it.”

“Sure it would have,” Steve snorts.

“Look on the bright side, at least we have firewood for the New Year's Eve bond fire now. We can’t do that with your stupid tree.”

“Nope, because I get to use my tree again next year, and you have to buy a new one. Think that’s another point for fake trees.”

Eddie screeches, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and tugging him off the ladder and onto the couch. Despite their full stomachs and tired eyes, they wrestle and laugh as Wayne shakes his head from the doorway, a light cigarette perched between his lips.

“Cut it out, you too,” he scolds when things get more heated between them. “Need it out before it really goes up in flames.”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #dani writes

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staygoldwriting · 2 years

Text

Cousin Buckley: Part 4

Summary: Steve and Eddie continue their fluffy battle for your heart! 🖤💜

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: none, all fluff!

Word count: 1112

A/N: I still can’t believe how much love Cousin Buckley is receiving 😱❤️ I looked at your votes, and I will do a mix of 2 and 3! I’ll keep going on this main storyline for some more parts, then I’ll branch it!

Please send me a message if the taglist is continuing not to work!

“Should we watch the next movie or call it a night?”

Robin’s voice woke you, but you hadn’t opened your eyes yet. You were still leaning into Eddie, both of his arms around you, but your head was now resting comfortably on his chest. You realized that your arm was around his stomach, and you suddenly felt embarrassed. Breathing in deeply, you feigned just waking up, lifting yourself from Eddie and opening your eyes. As you did so, Eddie smiled down at you, reaching to gently move some hair out of your face.

“Hey there,” he smiled warmly.

“Hi,” you blushed. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” he moved his hand from your hair to your cheek. “I’m happy to be your pillow. You can stay.”

“I guess I’ll take you up on that offer,” you smiled, hiding your face a bit in his shirt so he didn’t see your face continue to redden.

“How are we feeling about another movie?” Robin asked.

“I’m good,” Eddie replied.

“I’m feeling a little more awake, so I could go for it,” you replied.

“Steve?” Robin looked over. He was looking at you and Eddie, lips pursed.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s getting late.”

“It’s only 9:30,” Robin chuckled.

“Are you okay, Steve?” you leaned forward, a concerned look on your face.

“Um, yeah, I’m alright,” Steve said, softening. “I’m sorry, I think I might just be hungry. I’ll stay,” he smiled.

“Great! Nightmare here we come,” Robin giggled, getting up to put the movie on.

“Eddie,” Steve snapped. “A word?”

“Um, sure, Steve,” Eddie said slowly. “Y/N, do you mind if I get up real quick? I promise I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, no problem!” you replied. You rubbed his arm as he got up, and he gave you a sweet but nervous smile.

“What was that all about you think?” you asked Robin. She sighed and sucked her teeth.

“You,” she smirked.

“What?”

“Yeah, they’ve sort of been obsessed with you since I mentioned you were coming.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “Oh! Oh my gosh, Rob, Steve! He must be so hurt that I fell asleep on Eddie! Why did I do that?” You ran a hand through your hair; you wanted to cry.

“Y/N! It’s not your fault! It’s not like you thought ‘Hey, let’s make Steve totally jealous and fall asleep on Eddie! That’ll show him!’ It was an accident!”

“But I leaned on Eddie,” you said quietly.

“So? You would’ve leaned on Steve if he was on your left, right?”

“Yeah, I guess--”

“No guessing, you know. Y/N, don’t worry about hurting them, they’re big boys and they know you’re not doing anything on purpose. It’s not your job to flirt with both of them and treat them like they’re both your boyfriends. That would be bad, but what you’re doing is just being their friend, getting to know them! However they handle their stored-up feelings is their responsibility, not yours, alright?”

“Alright. Thanks, Rob.”

“You’re welcome. Now, come give me a hug,” Robin stretched her arms out as you joined her on the floor, hugging her tightly.

“And remember, neither of them is an option, too,” she chuckled, making you laugh.

~~~

“What’s going on, man?” Eddie asked, trying to act casual.

“What’s going on? Come on, man!” Steve lightly smacked Eddie’s shoulder.

“What?” Eddie narrowed his eyes.

“You and Y/N! Cuddling like you’re some sort of… couple!”

“She fell asleep on me, man, I couldn’t help it.”

“You could have not let her lean on you!”

Eddie laughed. “Would you have said no to her?”

Steve opened his mouth but shut it. He paced a bit in frustration, then looked back at Eddie, pointing at him.

“Switch seats with me.”

“What?” Eddie laughed.

“Switch seats with me,” Steve insisted.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie raised his hands. “Let’s say I switch seats with you. How is that going to look to Y/N? She’s not a toy we can pass around, you know.”

“I know that,” Steve said, exasperated. “But it’s just not fair that you’re next to her!”

“You sound like a child,” Eddie said, growing entertained. “We’re supposed to not be getting jealous, remember Steve?”

“Like you haven’t been…” Steve muttered.

“You spent the whole day with her, and you don’t see me crying about it!” Eddie was smiling. “You know what I think is going on? I think you’re scared that maybe, just maybe, that the freak has a chance that King Steve doesn’t have.”

Steve didn’t make eye contact, but scoffed a bit. Soon, he regained some confidence and smirked at Eddie.

“Alright, Munson, I’ll accept that you two have a connection that maybe, just maybe, I don’t have with her, but there’s still time. You’ve got a chance, but you’re not the only one.”

Steve clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, then left to go back to the living room. Eddie smiled to himself.

“I’ve got a chance.”

~~~

“Everything alright?” you asked as the boys reentered.

“Yeah, we were just getting some soda,” Steve smiled.

“You’re not holding any,” Robin replied flatly, smirking.

“Wow, where is my head today!” Eddie laughed awkwardly. You and Robin raised your eyebrows. “Can I get you ladies anything while I’m in there?”

“Root beer please, for both of us,” you said, shaking your head.

“Be right back,” Eddie smiled, rushing into the kitchen.

As Eddie was getting the drinks, Steve came over and sat where Eddie was, on your left.

“Why are you sitting there?” Robin asked skeptically.

“Oh, I just thought I’d mix it up,” Steve smiled innocently, but also widened his eyes at Robin. She, of course, did not play along.

“Real subtle there, Harrington,” she rolled her eyes. You looked over at Steve and smiled awkwardly.

“Alright, we’ve got three root beers here--” Eddie stopped when he saw Steve sitting in his spot. He glanced over at Robin, who winked at him, then sat in the armchair beside the couch. He smirked back as he came and sat down at your right, handing you your soda.

“Here you are,” he said to you, then passed the other cup to Robin.

Steve had a sour look on his face. Meanwhile, you and Robin could barely contain your laughter. Eddie looked like he had won the lottery. You felt Steve glance toward you as he regained his composure.

“You know,” he started, “this is a pretty freaky movie. Feel free to hold my hand if you get scared.” He winked and held out his hand for you to take.

“Or mine,” Eddie smiled, also extending his hand.

To be continued!!!

✨

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ashwhowrites · 1 year

Note

hiii could I get 33 and 17 for the angst prompts? with Steve Harrington x hederson!reader if you can it would also be really nice if the ending is fluffy but if you feel like an angsty ending would work better that's okay! If not it's okay but if you could that would be amazing :)

“I hope you’re happy.”

“I can’t believe I was ever stupid enough to think I knew you.”

When Dustin first introduced his sister, Y/N, to Steve he was in awe. She had matching curly hair to Dustin's, and the same sarcastic attitude.

Steve was infatuated with her straight away. He knew Dustin was a great kid, a best friend even. Steve didn't expect anything less for Y/N to be just the same. Only she was different.

Steve couldn't look at her without blushing, without his hands getting sweaty, and saying the most random shit to come out of his mouth. He physically couldn't use his brain around her, it was all mush.

He's been flirting with her for ages, against Dustin's wishes. She flirts back which gives Steve hope. But then he gets confused and lost in what they are. They flirt, go on what he believes are dates, but have yet to put a label on it.

Which is why he thought it was the best idea to find out if Y/N was interested in him, was by seeing if she would get jealous.

"Okay Steve, Dustin wants you at the house by seven so do you want to get some food before your date with my brother?" Y/N asked and laughed as she stroked Steve's hand over the video store's countertop.

Steve went to agree right away,but remembered his plan. He took the answer he had planned on his tongue and swallowed it down.

"I actually have a date tonight, could you tell Henderson I can't make it?" His hand went cold when she snatched away her warmth.

A tight smile placed on her lips.

"You are ditching my brother?" She asked, eyes closing in slits. How dare he make a date when he has plans with her brother.

"Well no on purpose. I forgot I had plans with him when she asked me out." He tried to lie and explain. Her eyes were on fire but he couldn't tell because of jealousy or because she was pissed he was ditching her brother.

"I'll let him know. Good luck making it up to us." She snapped as she walked out the door, slamming behind her.

"and what was that?" Robin asked, questioning Steve's intentions.

"Testing out something." He shrugged. Now feeling like this test has him even more confused.

"it's going to blow up in your face." She said as she went to help a customer.

It's been around two weeks of Steve blowing her and Dustin off. Y/N has no idea what changed or if his feelings were disappearing. But she did know that it fucking hurt. And she wasn't positive if falling for Steve was a good idea anymore.

"Is Steve coming tonight?' Dustin asked, shoulders slumped as he watched the front door.

"I don't know Dusty. I gave up on asking." She said as she pulled pizza out of the freezer.

The movement caused Dustin to look over at her. She was dressed up, hair and makeup done.

"Where are you going?" He asked

"I got asked out on a date. I'm making you pizza for dinner. If Steve doesn't show up and you want me to come home just text me." She ranted as she collected her keys and jacket.

"A DATE? By who?"

"some guy I met at work." She shrugged. Fixing her lipstick in the mirror by the front door.

"what about Steve?"

"what about him dusty? He's clearly not interested anymore so why should I?" She snapped. Taking a deep breath, now feeling guilty for snapping at him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap. I'll be home later." She sighed as she went out the door.

Around an hour after Dustin finished his pizza there was knocking at the door.

Dustin raced to the door, excitement in his veins.

He opened the door to see Steve on the other side.

"HENDERSON!" He screamed as he crushed him into a hug.

Dustin smiled and hugged him back, leading him into the house.

Steve looked around the bottom floor, looking for her.

"She's not here." Dustin said as he stuffed his face with chips.

"I wasn't-," he said as he was about to lie but stopped seeing Dustin's unimpressed look.

"Where is she?" He asked instead.

"On a date apparently." Dustin snapped.

Steve felt like his ears were burning.

"oh she's on a date? That's great." He lied through clenched teeth.

"Cut the shit Steve. What game are you playing with my sister?" Dustin asked as he stepped up to Steve. Trying his best to be chest to chest.

"I'm not doing anything." Steve squeaked out.

"really? So you like my sister, you take her out on dates, get her to like you then you begin to date other people? Sounds like a game to me Steve."

"It's not like that Henderson."

Then the front door opened and Steve felt like he couldn't breathe. She looked gorgeous. A yellow dress that was cut off at her knees, her make up looked flawless, and her curly hair rested on her shoulders.

"Oh Steve, hi." She sent him a small smile as she took off her shoes.

"I heard you went on a date." That wasn't the first thing Steve planned on saying when he saw her.

Dustin quickly left the room, giving them space to talk things out.

"um yeah I did." She said quietly as she walked towards the stairs.

"That's all you are going to say!" Steve barked out. Displeasure clear on his face

"What do you want me to say Steve?" She sighed, turning around on the bottom step facing him.

"Well I don't know but I feel like something more." He threw his hands in the air.

"You know what. I feel like I need something more. Like what the fuck has been going through your head? You make it seem like you are interested in me then you totally ghost me? I can’t believe I was ever stupid enough to think I knew you.”

"I know Y/N. But I just wanted to figure out your feelings for me. I didn't mean to ghost you. I wanted to see if I could make you jealous. And if that meant you liked me too."

"you could have just asked me! I've been open and honest with you the whole time. And you hurt my brother in the process, so I hope you're happy." She said as she made her trip up the stairs, heading for her bedroom.

Steve's loud steps echoed in the hallway as he raced up the stairs.

"Look I'm sorry. And I will apologize to Dustin too. And I know I went about us the wrong way. I didn't mean to make you upset."

"but you did Steve. You wanted to make me jealous, being jealous can easily make someone upset. You could have easily asked me where I stood in this situation that we had going on."

"had going on? " Steve asked quietly. His stomach turning into knots.

"Steve, what?" She asked as she walked to the bathroom, getting ready to wash her face.

"you said had, as in past tense. Are we not in a situation anymore?"

She looked over her shoulder in the mirror at him. He stood behind her, nervous and gittery. Brown eyes watching her closely.

"I don't know Steve. We both apparently feel okay with accepting dates from other people, maybe that's a sign."

"there never was a date, or any dates for that matter." He admitted "I made that all up. I've never looked anywhere else but you. And I know I did a shitty job showing my feelings for you. And I'm sorry for throwing us into this mess. I really fucking like you and I got scared. But you're right. I should have had the balls to ask you."

"so ask me." She said as she turned around.

Steve was confused by the soft tone and smile that lit up her face.

"wait what?" He asked. Is he actually getting a chance to fix this?

"ask me Steve." Her arms wrapped around his neck. He could feel his heart beating faster as he smelled her perfume.

"Will you officially be my girlfriend? And I'll try my hardest not to fuck this up." He smiled as she laughed, throwing her head back.

"of course Steve." She said as she slowly leaned in. Steve got the hint and moved his head closer, inches away from her lips.

"YO I NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM!"

Y/N rolled her eyes at her brothers voice screaming through the door.

"fucking cock block." Steve sighed.

#steve harrington angst #steve stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington angst x reader #steve harrington fluf #steve Harrington fluff x reader #steve Harrington x female reader

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littlemissaddict · 1 year

Text

Santa Costume - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: A Christmas party at Steve’s and he can’t keep his eyes off of her and the feeling is mutual.

Word Count: 707

“Hurry up or we’re going to be late” Steve’s voice called through the closed bedroom door where she was currently getting ready.

“I’ll be out in a minute” She called back with a roll of her eyes. It was hard to be late when the party was at their own damn house not that Steve would agree with her if she told him. Tugging her dress back down as she stood from when it had rode up while she sat at the dresser putting the finishing touches to her make up. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, the red silky dress that was edged with white hugged her body perfectly and she knew Steve would agree which was why she was trying to hide from him for as long as possible because then they would both be late to the party.

It wasn’t until she heard Steve greeting Robin and Nancy that she finally ventured out of their room and down to join the rest of the group, giggling as she heard the wolf whistles from Robin that caused Steve to turn so quickly that she was worried he’d give himself whiplash.

“Easy there dingus” Robin cackled at Steve’s movements as Nancy laughed from beside her while Steve completely ignored their amusement, his eyes fixed on her.

“Please keep it in your pants until after the party, Harrington” Eddie’s voice and laughter could be heard from further down the hall and she could feel the heat rising in her face at his words.

“We’ll uh leave you to it” Nancy added, nudging Robin as they both made their way further in to join the rest of the party.

Taking it as her cue to move she carefully made her way down the stairs and into the hallway, alone with him. She could feel his eyes hungrily roaming over her body as she let her own gaze drift over his own costume, which was more wholesome than her own, consisting of black jeans; a white t-shirt and a red jacket with white trim and she noticed he’d even got a sant hant which was perched on his head in a way so as not to spoil his hair and a very ridiculous fake beard that somehow he managed to pull off.

It had been Steve’s idea for them to dress up as Mr & Mrs Claus despite it only being a little get together of their friends and she could tell that he was torn between it being the best idea he’d ever had but also the worst as he’d have to control himself for the rest of the evening.

“I’m so lucky, Santa could only wish his Mrs Claus looked as good as you do” he smiled, stepping forward to rest his hands on her waist as he placed a kiss to her lips but she pulled away laughing as the fake beard tickled her.

He pouted at her as she calmed her laughter, “You know I’ve never been into older guys but you make Santa look good” she chuckled, reaching a hand up to pull the fake beard down so that she could kiss him properly.

He didn’t need anytime to react as his lips instantly moved against hers as he pulled her closer into his body, groaning at the way the silk like material moved under his touch and it wasn’t long before she felt his hands moving from her waist down her sides and round her back until they rested on her ass, groping slightly. She knew she should pull away before Steve had a problem that couldn’t be fixed just yet but the decision was made for her.

“And they’re making out”

Robin. Her voice echoed through the hall, louder than the Christmas music that was playing which caused the two of them to pull apart. With a groan Steve turned to glare at his best friend for her interruption but she just shrugs in response and turns back to the party.

“I guess we should head in seeing as we’re the hosts” she giggles after Robin’s departure.

“I suppose so but once they’re gone, you’re mine” Steve promises, reluctantly pulling away from her but not before he gets one last kiss.

#littlemissaddicts blurbmass 2022 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fluf #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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abibliophobiaa · 11 months

Text

Beyond - s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Five: Somewhere in the Crowd There’s You

a/n: here’s chapter five of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. we are half way now and things will be heating up in the next few chapters, haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings/tags: (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

“You sent too much money.”

It’s your father’s voice that spills down the other line. Gruff in a way that alerts you your fears aren’t for naught, as he’s likely had many sleepless nights since the last you spoke. You recall days as a child, when your mother had been sick, and your father would stay awake all hours of the night, if only to clean up the house so she didn’t have to. To make sure that her worries were only meant to be on getting better and resting.

“I…have a business and it’s going well,” you explain, chewing on your bottom lip.

Across the room, Steve’s fluffing pillows and putting a champagne bottle on ice. Your guests will be here soon, likely within the next few minutes, though when your father’s name flashed across your screen you knew you needed to answer.

“Only a few clients now, but I’m hopeful I’ll pick up more,” you continue, exhaling deeply. “I want you to have it. I know Caroline mentioned needing new shoes. Please let me do this.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay, okay. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. Clinical year at school, newly married, and now a businesswoman. How is my son-in-law?”

“He’s…”

Steve rushes into the kitchen where you’re standing, hands curling around either of your hips to shift you away from the refrigerator so he can pull out the charcuterie board you had commissioned for the evening’s gathering.

“He’s really great. He’s been busy since we got back from our honeymoon, but he’s doing really well.”

Ever since your moment days ago in the kitchen, after Steve had pushed aside picking you up and opted to send Hopper in his stead, your relationship has taken new form. True to his word, Steve started a new habit of not answering his phone after you're done with your clinicals for the evening. Afternoons now had been spent watching your shows together on nights you didn’t have prior engagements with his coworkers, merely existing in the same room together, becoming…friends.

Literal friends, in the truest sense of the word. And it’s more than you can ask for, though you can’t lie that even the slightest touches leave you a little breathless. There’s also the kisses to the back of your hand at dinner, the way he curls his palm around the top of your thigh while his coworkers regale a particularly interesting story, the lingering press of his mouth against your forehead when he’s feeling especially doting in mixed company.

Progress.

You’re making progress.

“I actually should go and help him. We have company this afternoon. His cousin and wife are visiting us for the first time since the wedding. Still getting used to hosting gatherings as a couple, you know?” There’s a chuckle on the other end, and you know him well enough to imagine the slow shake of his head. “I love you so much and I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

The line clicks, leaving you to witness Steve elbow deep in the sink, washing your coffee mugs from earlier that morning. Your eyes slide to the perfectly operational dishwasher on his right side, though you can’t deny that the sight of your husband, bare arms shifting and moving as he works, is a lovely one. None the wiser of your ogling, you step forward to him, elbow leaning down against the counter.

“You know, the dishwasher is empty,” you point out.

“I am perfectly capable of cleaning a few dishes,” he grouses, rinsing a cup and settling it in the drying rack. “I also need to keep moving. Getting antsy now that they’re running late.”

“Hey, Steve?” You step closer, your front brushing his hip. He shakes his head as you do so, a laugh breaking free from his mouth as you grip his arms and still him in his frantic movements. “Put the sponge down. And the plate. The fork, too.”

The three items plunk down into the sink, a loud clatter in your otherwise silent home. Fingers curl around a hand towel and he reaches over to grasp his wedding ring, pushing it back into place against his knuckle. One thing you’ve found, and you particularly enjoy, is the fact Steve’s never taken off his ring. Not once. Even under the false pretenses of marriage, seeing him wearing a symbol of your union, of the vows you shared some time ago now, erupts dozens of bees into your bloodstream. Humming, buzzing, igniting your every nerve ending with electricity.

“Are you okay,” you ask, hand coming to rest against his back.

It’s the softest brush, and yet he turns his head all the same, hazel eyes meeting yours, and then trailing up the inside of your arm to where you’re touching.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says unconvincingly, shifting to face you now. That arm drops as he does so, but is replaced by his two large hands cupping your biceps. “Just want to get through this afternoon and then I’ll be much happier.”

Your mouth opens to speak, to ask him why the stress over this afternoon, when his phone rings and the doorman lets him know Theobald and Cami have finally arrived. It’s not the first time you’ve met them. The first had been at your wedding, where introductions to most of Steve’s friends and extended family were done so in a rapid fire manner. They’d been kind enough; as much as one can be in a two minute conversation wherein you welcomed them and thanked them for coming to celebrate your “special day” with the love of your life.

But now, seeing them there in the flesh, brought a new wave of nervousness into your belly. Theobald Cletus, with his dark hair that resembles Steve’s, with tan skin and the beginnings of wrinkles that crease his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. And beside him, his stunning wife with silky red curls that fell to her waist in ringlets, delicately freckled cheeks, and impossibly green eyes. Ethereal—she looked ethereal and, by your guessing, quite a bit younger than her husband standing with a hand against the smallest point of her back.

As your mouth opens to speak and welcome them into your home, Cami rushes forward, curling her arms around your shoulders in a frighteningly tight hug that has you wincing and peering over your shoulder to your husband. Steve only shrugs as he steps forward and cups his hand around his cousin’s, only to be tugged forward into a hug of his own.

“Theobald, you’ve met my wife,” Steve finally says once you’ve managed to extract yourself from Cami long enough to sidle back up to him, his arm settling around your waist, palm curling affectionately around your hip. One of the appropriate touches you’ve discussed, and yet it has your head spinning all the same.

Just as it does every time.

“Ah, yes.” His eyes flicker to yours. Darker than your husband’s, corners twitching as his lips curl into a smile. “The new Mrs. Harrington. How could I forget that whirlwind affair?”

Head dipping uncomfortably, you press your palm against Steve’s where it rests against your hip, sliding your fingers between his to lace them tight. “It was pretty crazy, wasn’t it?” Awkwardly laughing, you turn to look to Steve for support. “Should we take this into the living room?”

“Please!” Cami exclaims, flicking her hair over her shoulders. “I would love to hear all about the honeymoon. I want all the details. Should we be expecting any little Harringtons soon?”

Just as you say, “Absolutely not,” Theobald echoes, “My cousin loves kids. Always wanted a brood of them.”

It’s expected, you think. It’s a common question after marriage, no matter how inappropriate. Society says once you’re married you’re to obviously have children next. Frankly, it’s archaic and a ridiculous practice. And even so, Theobald’s words strike a sudden sadness into your chest. This thought that Steve so deeply wants children. A thought you could completely see come to fruition based on his interactions with El and Will alone. They’d been immediately endeared to him. All wide eyes and bright laughter, vibrant conversation, his endless bantering with them.

Steve Harrington would be a good father to his future children one day with his real wife. Not the woman you are to him for the next three years.

However, it’s at this moment you rationalize the error in your plans. A real couple would have had these conversations about future children already.

“Not now, at least,” you giggle airily, curling your arm around Steve’s and tugging him close. His brows furrow as you add, “Right now I’m just enjoying spending time with my husband. I want to be a little selfish for a while yet.”

“Understandable,” Cami agrees, settling down on your living room couch, crossing her legs and revealing a stunning pair of Gucci pumps that likely cost your half of the rent while still living with Robin. “I love our two little gremlins, but they take up all our free time. Constantly running them around to school events, dance classes, sporting events.”

“Sweetheart, the au pair does all of that,” Theobald chuckles, earning a whack in the arm from his wife. “Enough about that. Tell me…how did you two meet? It all happened so fast.”

“As you already pointed out,” Steve warns, hand around yours growing tighter.

Cami moves to open the champagne bottle, easing the tension in the room with the echoing pop. Glasses are poured and passed around the table, glasses coming together in a soft ‘cheers’ before you bring the champagne flute to your lips and take a large swallow. Bubbles burst against your tongue, eyes training on Theobald’s, just as he passes a look your way.

A battle of wills then, you think.

“We met at a party,” you begin, removing your hand from Steve's and gripping the bottom of his chin, shifting him enough that he’s looking at you. “We’d known each other for a bit through our mutual friend, and we’d always kind of danced around one another. In the same spaces always, yet too nervous to make the first move.”

Steve watches you carefully as you weave your tale that isn’t really a tale. It’s mostly the truth, with the romance added in. But it comes naturally. Pours out of you with an unexpected ease that has Cami leaning into her husband’s shoulder, green eyes twinkling as you speak.

“And then one afternoon, Stevie bought me a drink and walked it over to where I was standing by myself. My friend had just left to use the restroom, and here he stood…all tall, dark, and handsome. We started talking that night and just realized how easy it was to be around one another. I’d never talked so much on a first date, and yeah—I considered that our first date. After that we spent nearly every day together. It didn’t take long for us both to realize we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Some might think it was rushed, but there’s that saying, right? When you know, you know. And with my school starting up again, and us wanting so badly to get married, we thought no time like the present. Now here we are.”

For emphasis, you lean forward. Close enough that Steve’s eyes cross, his mouth dropping a hint at the corners, before twitching upward when your lips press against the corner of his mouth. A tentative press of your skin just barely against his. You linger with your forehead against his, trying not to focus on the temperature in the room, or how it feels it’s creeping higher and higher with every passing moment you remain connected to him.

“Here we are,” Steve echoes, breath fanning against your bottom lip.

Were you to even move an inch, your mouths would connect. A thought he must have as well, because he brings his thumb up and taps your bottom lip gently, nuzzling your nose until you hear the excitable clapping of Cami’s hands where she’s sitting on the living room touch. Pushing the hem of your summer dress down back around your knees, you shift and take in the older man sitting across from you. His eyes are narrowed on your face, a twitch not unnoticed in his cheek as he jolts to his feet and suggests Steve and him have a little bit of time as ‘cousins’ on the private patio. Noticing your hesitance at him leaving your side, Steve brushes a gentle kiss against your forehead, pours you another glass of champagne, and promises he’ll be right back.

With the door closed and the men left to their own devices, you look over to Cami. Cami, the picture of beauty. An image of a woman who walks in this world of the elites and has no qualms about it; steps into it and commands it, whereas you’re still walking around on wobbly legs like a baby deer. Even her clothes look like they were made for her. Luxurious fabrics that ebb and flow with her every movement, high neck of her summer dress leading to a gorgeous diamond necklace falling to the hollow of her throat.

Across from her, your dress suddenly feels too tight. Gifted by your mother-in-law who insisted she owned her own fashion line, and therefore absolutely must dress her only daughter. A quick phone call wherein you protested her suggestions ended with a ring from the doorman alerting you a delivery of multiple garments had arrived for you. Various dresses for each occasion, pants, shoes, blouses and anything you could imagine ever needing were added to your closet. All elaborate in design, and becoming for a new wife to the CEO of a major contracting company. The biggest the city touted, if you were completely honest with yourself.

Today you wore an off the shoulder floral patterned dress and the diamond earrings gifted by your mother-in-law as a bridal shower gift. You’d pushed aside the thought of heels for the afternoon; instead opted for a comfy pair of sandals that were maybe in their last season of use, but now they only looked garish in the light beside the Gucci pumps on Cami’s feet.

Comparison, this ugly weed of a thing, grew up within you against your better wishes. Robbed you of what little air fell in and out of your lungs as you sat there, sipping your champagne. You didn’t care for these preconceived ideas of what a Harrington wife should look like, right? You were your own person, had been long before him, and would continue to be so after him. Yet sitting there, watching her gracefully move about the room, and commenting on the pictures you’d added from the wedding, reminds you of how some people were meant for this life. Some people were raised for it.

You were not.

“He looks so in love with you,” Cami trills, fingers running along the silver edge of your photo frame, lifting it nearer to her face for inspection. You know exactly which one it is. Jonathan had told the two of you to look one another in the eyes and press your foreheads together. He’d draped your veil over the both of you, the setting sun basking you both in a golden hour halo. It’s dreamy. A shot so dreamy it’s easy to believe it is of a man deeply in love with his bride. “That new love look. Cherish it. You know how these Harrington men are.”

Actually…you don’t.

You’re not interested in even asking her what she intends by her words, but when she places the photo back down and turns your way, there’s a glimmer of something wet on her lower lashes. Awkwardly, you clear your throat, reaching over and offering to refill her glass. She heartily accepts, fingers combing through long amber locks as she settles back down on the couch across from you, crossing her legs once more. Again, she’s the statuesque image of perfection; cracks visible in her foundation, yet devastatingly beautiful all the same.

“You’ve got the best one,” she sniffles, grasping a piece of cheese and a cracker within her index and pointer. “Stevie is a sweetheart. Always has been. Theobald is hard on him, and I always try to tell him to ease up. The late Mr. Harrington was always so rough on his son as it is without Theo breathing down his neck.”

The late Mr. Harrington.

You knew very little of him. From what you’ve gathered—the very scraps of things here and there, as Steve never really mentioned him—their relationship, while his father had been alive, was a strained one. His parents had him later in life; a quick Google search would show as much. The heir to the company born with a silver platter before him, wanting for naught, pushed into the limelight.

Still, hearing Cami talk about Steve…with pity—grief tightens like a vice around your heart. Envisioning those hazel eyes of your husband, staring up expectantly at a man who never saw his son’s achievements for what they were. And now, at his young age, trying to make his late father proud at the expense of his own self.

Long hours, constant meetings, coaching calls. Pushing, striving, hustling.

With a long sigh, you glance toward the outside patio, where you can see your husband with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. His left hand curls around the stem of his glass, hand gesticulating wildly in the air as he talks with Theobald, hair in disarray. Like he’s been raking his fingers through it. Eyes trail his shoulders next, along the contours of sinewy muscle, then further up where you can visibly see the rigidity in his form.

“Steve is…”

Your voice breaks, eyes tipping downward to your bubbly drink in hand. Cami’s fingers curl around your wrist, a sympathetic frown lining her pristine features, and you know she’s thinking you’re caught up in your emotions. But in reality, it’s because there are so many things he is, all of which swirl like a muddied mess in your hazy mind.

“Steve is a good man. He’s the best man. I’m really lucky to have him.”

When you glance up, there he is, grin gracing his features. It’s plain as day he’s heard you; those stiff shoulders slacken. Tension eases from the curve of his mouth, as well as in the grip of his fingers around his glass. Instead his face morphs into elation, feet carrying him over to where you sit so he can once more slide an arm around your waist and tug you close.

Theobald regards you carefully in the distance, taking in the way you slide into the crook of your husband’s chest, seeking the warmth of him. The comfort of someone in your corner, seated in a room ripe with scrutiny.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers against your ear, just as Cami dives into conversation about her and Theo’s children, revealing photo after photo of their adorable faces on her iPhone screen.

“We’re the Harringtons, aren’t we?”

He chuckles brightly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

Day shifts into evening.

Conversations drift around lighter topics. Talks of your schooling, your plans for the future, the business you’ve started. A fact which, to your unamusement, Theobald finds more than mildly intriguing when he later corners you in the kitchen as Steve and Cami flip through the photos she had taken at the wedding on her phone (despite Steve’s pitying gazes for you to rescue him). Instead, you’d offered to start cleaning up, knowing your husband and you had dinner plans with another couple from the office.

“A dog walking business…” He mutters, elbow dropping down onto the counter. “How quaint.”

“It’s extra money,” you say simply, placing a watery glass into the drying rack. “You’re a businessman, aren’t you? Isn’t it better to make all my money now while I’m younger?”

“That I am. And I would agree,” he murmurs, eyes trailing your profile. “It’s just curious since you know how wealthy your husband is. He’s CEO of the company now, and that’s not even counting the hefty inheritance he got as the sole Harrington son. That kind of money is generational. He could never work another day in his life and be well off.”

“My husband is supportive of my endeavors,” you grumble out, training your eyes on the kitchen backsplash.

“Obviously,” he agrees goodnaturedly. “He loves you. Everyone can see it. All of a sudden our hard working golden child is leaving the office at normal times, running home to his lovely wife. I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Heat flashes like lava in your gut over the revelation that your ruse is working. It’s hindered by Theobald’s latter statement, mind stuttering over his blasé persona. The question as to whether or not Steve knows what he’s doing. Trying to hide your piqued interest, you harden your expression into one of neutrality.

As your mouth opens to speak, Cami cuts you off with a shrill, “Theobald, they have to get ready for their dinner. We’ve overstayed our welcome. But I would absolutely love for us to do this again!”

Uncertain if you’re happy or sad about this latest development because you still needed further clarity over Theo’s words, you place the remaining glasses into the drying rack and slide your rings back into place, pressing yourself into Steve’s side as he approaches. For a dramatic flair, you even press your left hand to his abdomen, rings glinting in the light, head leaning against his chest as you wish them a wonderful rest of their evening.

Theobald gives you one last fleeting look just when his wife nearly strangles you in another bear hug, and claps a hand against his younger cousin’s shoulder. “We will definitely have to do this again. It was nice officially meeting you, Mrs. Harrington.”

The doors slide closed and a sigh spills from your lips. Against you, Steve relaxes, hand rubbing up and down the length of your spine idly, eyes still fixed on the doors across from him. Slipping away from him, you quickly gather the rest of the snacks and glasses from the living room table and drop them down into the sink, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

“Is he always like that?” You wonder out loud, whirling around to face Steve.

His head jerks at your words, mouth pulling southward. The solidness of his right hip rests against the kitchen counter. You try to not dawdle on the way his bicep twitches as it rests on the surface beside him, nor as his fingers sprawl around the base of his jaw, keeping his head propped up.

“He’s usually worse,” he admits. “What did he say to you?”

“Just commented on my business,” you tell him, deciding to ease in with that before asking what his cousin had meant by ‘hoping Steve knows what he’s doing’, moving to place a plate in the drying rack. “He couldn’t seem to fathom how I would resort to the life of a peasant, when I should be rolling around in your endless buckets of money.”

Snorting, he teases, “Someone’s angry.”

“Yeah, and for once not at you, so I’d be thankful.” Your nose wrinkles as he barks out a laugh, head tipping back in his glee. Mirth bubbles up within your belly at the lyrical sound spilling from your husband, the way his cheeks stretch wide on his face, how the corners of his eyes crinkle in his happiness. “I told him I liked what I do. Is that so wrong? I like having my own thing. Just like you have your own thing.”

Without a warning, he turns the water off. Grips your shoulders lightly, turning you to him. “Theo is an entitled idiot, okay? He thinks he runs the company and the world, and anyone who doesn’t live like him is beneath him. Notice how he’s got this constant look on his face of disgust?”

At that, your lips twitch. Steve coaxes it further by shaking you slightly, earning a giggle. “He does kind of look like he hates everyone around him. It’s a wonder he married Cami. She seems sweet.”

“She is sweet. A saint for putting up with him for all these years, honestly,” Steve says, giving you one last shake until you’re wiping your hands off and slouching against his frame. “What?”

“I want a selfish hug,” you grumble against his shirt, face pressing into a sternum.

“A selfish hug?” You can hear the questioning lilt, the probing in his kind voice.

Nodding, you step closer. The tips of your sandals meet his leather shoes, hem of your dress spilling over the dark material. Your head shifts just the slightest, ear resting over the curve of his chest, relishing in the warmth of another body. This. Hugging? It’s not new. You’ve been practicing. As odd as that sounds, and though you don’t want to unpack it, since your argument with Steve he’s come home every day and greeted you with one. You’d say you’re pros at this point.

“And what might a selfish hug be?” He muses, hands coming up to rest against the center of your back.

“I just stand like this,” you begin, dropping your arms to your sides, letting them dangle at your hips. “And you hold me.”

You can feel the vibration of his laugh against your ear, but his arms tighten around you all the same, holding you in place. Melting into him, you rest in the comfort of his embrace. Merely focus on the sound of his breath pouring in and out of his lungs, the gentle beat of his heart beneath your ear, the brush of his thumb against your skin, soothing you.

“You’re too much,” he says, but there’s no weight behind the words. Can feel his mouth curling upward against your ear.

“Thanks, Steve.”

For the evening. For helping you in a time of need. For holding you now. For holding you tomorrow. You’re not really sure you know what you mean. But all you do know for certain is that, when his arms tug you closer, you loop yours around his waist, and your selfish hug becomes a real one.

Lightning streaks the sky. Bright white illuminates your bedroom, then settles into dark once more. A loud boom echoes, rattling the foundations of your home. Jolts your bed, and thus your body out of it. Grasping at your chest, you try to tamper the frantic rise and fall. The rush of breath forcing itself in and out of your screaming lungs, ejected from your dreams into waking so suddenly.

Another flash sparks your room in a moonlit glow. Falls dark a second later as you brace for the crack of sound that pierces your ears after. Groaning, you grasp the edge of a fluffy blanket on the foot of your bed and curl it around your shoulders, padding through your home in search of the living room, sights set on watching Netflix until you fall back asleep from reruns of your favorite shows.

Only upon entering, you find you’re not alone. Already doused in colorful light from the episode of New Girl playing on the screen is none other than your husband. Where you’re standing you can see the frames of the thin glasses he wears, the unkempt bed hair at the top of his head, the hoodie pulled over his body to block out the air conditioned chill in the living room.

“You’re awake…” It comes out hoarse, the rasp of your voice drawing your husband’s attention. “And you’re watching without me?”

The mock gasp has him moving over on the couch to make space for you, your rear dropping down into the couch cushion beside him. There’s another blanket across his lap, impossibly soft and a pretty navy color that pops against the pale fabric of your carpet. Getting comfortable, you unloop yours from around your shoulders and drape it across your bare thighs, sleep shorts doing very little to block out the chill in the air. Once satisfied, you lean back and watch the chaos between Jess and Nick unfolding on the television screen.

“What are you doing awake?” you ask after some time. Wince as another boom of thunder rattles the walls of your home.

“Couldn't sleep,” he says, breaking off into a yawn. “Had a lot on my mind.”

“From dinner or…?”

Dinner itself hadn’t been stressful—at least nothing that occurred would have alluded to as much. You’d met up at an Italian restaurant with a business partner of Steve’s and the business partner’s husband. Two older men in their fifties, with graying hair and a kindness that radiated from them. Most of the conversation had been of things outside of work, so you’re uncertain as to what might be bothering him.

“Not dinner,” he confirms, pausing the show on the TV screen. His head rolls back to rest against the plush cushion, hands coming up to press into his face. Slides his palm down the contours, exhaling deeply. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” you mutter softly, picking at a nonexistent thread on the edge of your blanket. “That’s fine. I just figured—”

“It’s nothing personal toward you. I just don’t want to bother you with it. Why are you up?” He queries, head turning to look in your direction.

“You never bother me.”

Steve levels you with a blank stare and you laugh. “I’m not afraid of thunder…but it definitely woke me,” you admit quietly, sounding more than a forlorn without meaning to. “My room gets really dark at night with the curtains, so when it lit up from the lightning I was a little spooked.”

“Understandably,” he says. “Want me to grab you coffee or tea or something?”

Head perking up, you ask, “Do we still have the camomile? If it’s no trouble, I mean…”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if it was,” he says, but there’s no hint of any condescension there, only his increasingly familiar thoughtfulness.

You lean your chin over the top of the couch to catch the retreating form of Steve’s back swathed in his dark hoodie. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, starting up your warm drink. “Want anything else? We still have those chocolate covered strawberries from dinner.”

“Do you want the chocolate strawberries from dinner?”

His grin turns wry. “Maybe.”

“Bring them over, you grown up baby,” you tease, extending a hand so he can place the covered plate in your awaiting palm.

Peeling back the tinfoil, you rest the tray on the coffee table, hiking your blanket higher around your thighs. Steve’s pouring hot water into a mug that says ‘Future Veterinarian,’ humming a familiar tune as he works.

“You usually do honey and…a bucket load of sugar, right?”

Eyes roll. “I like a spoonful of honey in my camomile and nothing else. The sugar is for my iced coffees, thank you very much. Also thank you for making sure Hopper always has it on standby lately.”

“What’s that thing you said to me when we first talked about us getting married?” He taps his chin mock thoughtfully, his other hand twirling a spoon around the inside of your cup. “Happy wife, happy life starts with always knowing her coffee order.”

It’s true, and you hide your lips behind your palm at the realization he’d been listening as he crosses the space between you and rests the steaming mug in your hand, muttering quickly, “Be careful, it’s really hot.”

“Thank you,” you say as he drops back down into the couch and plucks a chocolate covered strawberry off the tray. “I know you didn’t want to talk about what’s bothering you…but I figure…I don’t know. It’s storming out, we’re both not getting much sleep tonight, we could play a game or something.”

“A game?”

Nodding, you add, “An icebreaker. I know we talk more now, but we could try and get to know each other better. A little look into the person we married.”

Your husband shifts on the couch beside you. Presses his back into the arm rest and stretches out, arching a brow pointedly. Smirking, you do the same. Shift just enough so your back is up against the opposite end, your socked feet just barely brushing Steve’s.

“Okay. Night out or night in?” you ask.

“Before…night out.”

“Before?”

“Well, now you force me to watch Gilmore Girls.”

“I don’t force you! And it’s only been a few days. I’m sure it’s an absolute horror of spending time with the woman you fake married,” you gasp, feigning terror. “Just admit it. You like spending time at home.”

His eyes are set on yours as he says, “I like spending time at home.”

“I’d agree for myself as well. Life is so busy as it is lately, it’s nice having a space to come back to.”

One thing you’re very grateful for on a growing list is the space your new bedroom has given you. Sure, it can get lonely, but it’s an escape from the long days, a haven from stress, a bed to crawl back to when your eyes can hardly stay open any longer after a particularly hard day at clinicals.

“My turn,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his middle. And no, you don’t allow heat to crawl across your chest at the mere sight of his chest and arms flexing from the motion. “Would you rather go forward or backward in time?”

“And what would be my purpose of going forward or backward? Am I rectifying my mistakes? Seeing the future? Looking to see how my life pans out?”

“I…it’s whatever you want it to be.” He blanches.

“I don’t really have a lot of regrets in life. I make a choice and however the cookie crumbles is how it crumbles. Exhibit A,” you say, holding aloft your left hand, where two rings glint in the dim living room. “So I probably would want to go forward. But that’s dangerous, because if you go too far forward, you might see things you don’t like. I definitely wouldn’t want to know how I, uh, you know? Check out of here. What about you?”

Steve pauses for a moment, brows drawn in thought. “Honestly? There are things I’d want to change about the past, sure. But I think I’d want to see the future. See if all I’m doing is worth it, you know?”

“You don’t think what you’re doing right now is worth it?” You wonder if he’s talking about the business. Assume he must be, but don’t press any further.

“I wonder sometimes, yeah,” he admits.

“Well, what would you be doing if it weren’t what you’re doing right now? To see if something else would potentially be worth it.”

He rubs a hand along his neck, shrugging. “I thought about being a teacher once. My dad thought that was a silly idea. But I’ve always been good with children, and I think I could have been good at that.”

“You are good with children,” you tell him, thinking to Will and El. To the friends you’d met at dinner in the past weeks who brought their little ones. “I don’t think that’s a silly idea at all. Not in the slightest, and I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way. Like your interests were inconsequential.”

“Thank you.” Clearing his throat, he asks, “Movie night or date night?”

“Are you asking me on a date?” His eyes grow wide at that. Cheeks darken visibly in the moonlit living room. “I’m teasing you, Harrington. I think there’s a case that those can be one in the same. I would say broader…I love the idea of going out for a date, but I love those inside sort of dates more. They’re more intimate, there’s the comfort of your shared spaces, the fact there aren’t any crowds around you. Only that important quality time with your partner.”

“I don’t have much to contribute there, seeing as I haven’t dated much in the past year. And now I won’t be for another three years.” He chuckles, combing fingers through his hair.

“Okay, this question is super serious.” You fold your hands across your midsection, inhaling deeply, eyes shut. “Would you rather have a third nipple or an extra toe?”

“Seriously!”

“I’m very serious, Steve.”

“Extra toe.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck again, wincing slightly as he presses into a spot between his shoulder blades.

Your lips tug southward. “Are you hurting?”

“Just my office chair, I’m sure,” he grumbles, nonchalant.

“Get on the floor.”

His brows arch. “Huh?”

“On the floor,” you repeat, tapping the space in front of you on the carpet below. “In front of me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, long limbs slip off the edge of the couch and settle down where you’ve asked. You move to tuck his hoodie in as best as you can, fingers moving to spread across the slope of his shoulders. He exhales deeply at the first press of your hands in the muscle wrought with tension. A low sigh spills free, head tipping back to rest on the cushion nearest to your knee. Fingers crave to brush the hair along his scalp, to see if he’ll make that same, soft sigh once more. But instead you continue, pressing slowly into his flesh, listening to his cues, figuring out what works and doesn’t.

“Would you rather have a big family or a small one?” You ask after Steve has gone quiet, thinking back briefly to the moment earlier with Theobald and Cami.

Steve, with his wishes to be a father. Steve, who wants a huge brood of Harrington babies. Steve, who wants a family.

And yet it’s not even that. Not the questions as to what he sees for his future. It’s the tangible worry of slipping up in your facade. Of revealing too many cracks in the foundations of your dynamics. That had been the first, and you know if this relationship is going to hold up for three years, communication is a must. Absolute transparency at all times, so as to not muck it all up and land yourselves both in some hot water.

“Growing up, it was just me. My parents had me a little older in their life. They were already further into their careers by the time I was born. So…it was often just the au pair and myself,” he explains, letting go of another deep breath.

His body slackens against your knee caps. Warm flesh of your husband pliant beneath your fingertips.

“I always had this dream of giving my kids the opposite of what I had. Always knowing love, family outings, doing everything with them. Dance class, football, acting—whatever they wanted. And I’d wanted as many as possible. A silly dream of six of them, running all over the world together as a family.”

“It’s not a silly dream. None of your dreams are ever silly, Steve.”

Warmth pools as Steve slides his hand up and covers yours where it rests against his shoulder. Heart stuttering, you continue, “Your family will be lucky to have you some day. I, for one, haven’t given much thought to that aspect of life. I hope Theo and Cami didn’t find that suspect. I just…”

“Have been busy with school. You’re becoming a doctor, that’s time and hard work. No one can fault you for that.”

“Right. Yeah.”

You resume your kneading, fingers stroking at shoulders, down the sides of his neck, attentive to all the tension. He grows softer beneath your fingertips, head against your knee, his eyes closed. Where you’re sitting you can see the moles on his face, the length of his lashes, the lines of his nose. Pretty. He’s pretty, and it’s always something you’ve known, but being so close—

“Sunrise or sunset,” Steve asks.

“Hmm, sunrise.” You poke at the middle of his forehead, and hazel eyes meet yours. “That one was simple.”

“I could tell you were overthinking,” he says simply. “We’re not going to be perfect at this marriage thing. But no one expects us to be.”

“I still think we need to get our stories straight at the very least. And I sorta messed that one up with the honeymoon baby thing.” You shrug, palms sliding down a bit onto his upper chest. He’s still sitting there, taking you in with his stare, hand around yours. “Kind of why I suggested this game.”

He offers you a gentle smile, saying, “Then let’s keep going.”

The conversation continues until the sun begins to change colors. Until the rain has since stopped, voices carrying above the television playing low in the background. You learn Steve’s a romantic; loves movies like the Titanic and The Notebook. And will also admit to enjoying some of the same romantic comedies you do.

He prefers rainy days, because he enjoys the respite they give from a constantly busy city just outside the walls of your home. He’d rather have happiness than wealth; enjoys chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven for dessert (and you make a note to pick up some stuff to make them on your next planned night together); he’d never had any pets growing up, but he’d love a dog.

And you tell him about yourself. How you love cozy socks and would prefer scrubs over real clothes; how you also never had pets growing up and would love to adopt and foster as many as possible one day; how you enjoyed fantasy over romantic movies; how you’d watched Titanic about a hundred times in your life and you still cried.

How you wanted to watch it with him next, and he agreed, stating it would be the next thing you do when you cook together.

Before long he’s yawning and your eyes are closing. His fingers remain around yours as you knead his muscles, prattling on about your plans for the week, school, your friends. And he talks about his own schedule, his meetings, proposes dinner for the both of you that upcoming Saturday. A cooked meal in, with a movie and some wine. Maybe you tease him a little, because he makes it easy when he blushes that pretty pink, and maybe he grins up at you fondly, eyes hooded in his sleepy daze.

Eventually, you lay on your side and he remains in front of you on the floor. You’re hardly awake as he drapes a blanket over your form and tucks a pillow under your head, whispering to one another as the sun starts to come up over the city.

Eventually, both of you fall silent at last, comforting sleep there to find you.

“I want to make it very clear before we go in there that we are not getting a dog. We are donating all the things we bought earlier, and then we are going home and having dinner together,” Steve reiterates for the umpteenth time that day.

“We are not getting a dog,” you repeat, mock stonily, looking your husband dead in the eyes.

Clearly unamused, he shoves at the arm you have jokingly curled around his forearm, but there’s no malice there. Only a gentle huff of laughter as he opens his car door and rushes around the other side to help you out. You never need him to, but he insists every time. Even offers an arm for you to grab as you hop onto the sidewalk. Once back on solid land, summer dress dancing around your kneecaps, Steve walks around to the back of the car and lifts the box of pet food, blankets and toys you’d picked up while at the pet store. Today, you decided, you wanted to give back to the local shelter in your new town.

And maybe you had an ulterior motive of trying to realize a dream of your husband’s by making him fall in love with a shelter dog in a way where his only option is to bring them home to live with you forever. But he’s been adamant all morning—so certain today’s events will not lead to four legs becoming part of your odd little family.

Inside, you’re greeted by one of the workers. A woman named Chelsea rushes around the counter to collect your donations and asks if you’d like to walk around a bit. Steve’s reluctant at your side, sunglasses peeled off and tucked into the neck of his shirt, but he comes along all the same as you grip his palm within your own and drag him along behind you.

You pass dozens of kittens and cats. Young and old all alike as you go. Some who meow as you pass, and others who linger in dark corners of their confines. It breaks your heart seeing so many, wanting to adopt them all, knowing you’re unable to. Sensing your unease, Steve squeezes your hand tighter and listens for the both of you while Chelsea speaks and your mind wanders.

“Down here are all our adoptable dogs.”

It’s a sight you never get used to. Dogs barking as you pass, bodies brushing against their cages, yearning for attention. You linger by Chelsea as you walk, rubbing noses and ears and backs. Tongues glide over your palm, wet noses brush your skin, dark eyes hold yours through metal bars. Somewhere in the midst of introducing yourself to all your newest furry friends, you find Steve’s hand is no longer in yours. Turning on the heel, you find him crouched low to the ground, fingers curled inside metal bars, softly speaking to the animal hidden within.

“Oh,” Chelsea mutters, shock evident in her tone. Steve looks up to her imploringly, then glances back at the dog inside. “That’s a new arrival. A ten month old male Bernedoodle. He’s a black tricolor puppy. His previous owners got him as a gift, and turned him over when he started getting bigger. They’re a smaller breed, but have a lot of energy and unfortunately you see a lot of this happening. People buy luxury pets and drop them off when they become too much. He’s been very timid since he arrived.”

“He just lost his family,” Steve says to no one, swallowing thickly. The woman at your side doesn’t speak, only watches as your husband continues to gently coax the puppy forward. “Hey buddy. I’m Steve. Wanna come over here? No?”

“Should we…” the woman beside you begins.

“Yeah, let’s give them a moment,” you mutter, a little breathless as you turn around and face the other direction, quiet footsteps carrying you further away.

But you still hear it.

Still hear Steve’s voice in your ears. A sad, “I know what it’s like. Feeling left behind, left alone. Especially from the people you want to love you most. But you don’t need to be afraid of me. I get it.”

There’s an echo of soft paws padding against a tiled floor. And the soft exhale from Steve. “There you go. See, I’m your friend. I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

And when you and the shelter worker turn around, you find Steve with his fingers in the puppy’s fur, that pink tongue of his brushing over the inside of your husband’s wrist. That resolve in Steve’s eyes crumbles, your heart shattering along with it as you press the heel of your palm to your sternum.

He turns to Chelsea and asks, “Can we take him out? Just for a minute?”

Chelsea passes you a knowing look and that minute Steve requests turns into an hour in the yard outside of the shelter. The puppy seems hesitant at first, lingering near Steve’s thighs as you stand nearby. But once Chelsea hands Steve a frisbee and ball, it’s as though the puppy is sparked to life once more. Soon enough he’s frolicking around the field, playful yips streaking the summer silence as he retrieves his toys and rushes back over to Steve, paws pouncing playfully against your husband’s designer jeans.

But he doesn’t care.

No—you haven’t seen him light up like this in the nearly three months you’ve been married. The joy illuminated his features. The crinkle of his eyes at the corners. The belly laughs as the puppy eventually knocks him to the ground and demands belly rubs on the grassy floor below. He falls in love before your eyes. With no warning, impossibly fast, and so suddenly it comes as no shock to either you nor Chelsea when he asks about adoption.

As you sit in the lobby with the puppy on a leash on the floor, you turn to Steve, grinning widely. “You said we weren’t getting a dog.”

Steve pats his new fur son’s head and grins as the dog tips his head back to look longingly into his new father’s eyes. It’s sickeningly sweet, and does things to your insides that makes you feel hot all over. You chalk it up to the shoddy air conditioner system, tugging at the neckline of your dress to let the air chill your slick skin.

“I couldn’t leave him,” he says, brushing fingers along a furry ear.

“He picked you.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Fond. Smitten. He’s so in love it’s ridiculous, and all you feel is affection.

Affection.

Towards your husband.

New. But maybe not so scary.

You lean down to pet the puppy’s neck. He jumps up and scrambles up with his front paws against your lap, licking a broad stripe along your chin. “Steve, we have a puppy.”

Your first pet.

His, too.

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s only staring at you. You swallow. “I guess we do.”

A few questions and references and a small adoption fee later, and you’re both the newest proud parents of your still presently unnamed new puppy who pokes his head in the front seat as you drive to the nearest pet store in search of all the things you’ll need to make his transition as simple as possible.

Steve, ever doting as he is, grabs the leash as soon as he helps the little guy out and greets you as usual on your side of the vehicle. You spend the better half of the afternoon purchasing things for him. A dog bed, food, toys, a new collar with his name and address engraved into it.

Charlie Harrington, you both eventually decide, when the cashier asks how you’d like it engraved.

Charlie Harrington, who the doormen at your apartment building immediately fall in love with as you later walk in, you holding the puppy’s leash this time, and Steve trying his hardest to carry all the things you bought.

Charlie Harrington who bounds happily into your home and immediately starts sniffing around in his new space, excited to simply be around people who love him in such a short span of time and want to play with him like he deserves.

“I’ll get started on dinner, if you want to show your fur child around the house,” you tease, laying out Charlie’s shiny new bowls on the floor, and the basket of toys and bones you got for him in the living room, right by his bed beside it.

“You are a sneaky woman,” he jokes, coming up behind you in the kitchen.

Heat blooms where he rests his hand on your shoulder and presses a kiss to your cheek like it’s something he’s done before in the confines of your home, with no one looking. So casually, and yet stark in contrast to the riot of butterflies that stir to life in your stomach.

“And why might that be?”

“Played that ice breaker game with me, found out I never had a pet, and then brought me to a shelter…where I then got a pet.”

You shrug, turning on the stovetop to let the water boil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you’re welcome. Now go—play with him. I know you’re itching to. You’re like a little kid on Christmas right now. It’s kind of cute, Harrington.”

“Thank you.”

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, his face pink from your compliment, before rushing into the living room where you hear Charlie barking as he’s once again joined by his new best friend. You reach over to tap Steve’s phone, where Spotify is already open from the car ride, and hit ‘play,’ Leon Bridges the background music to your cooking in the kitchen and Steve’s laughter as he crawls on his hands and knees to rub Charlie’s stomach on the floor.

Perfect.

It’s about as perfect as a day could be.

And later, as you sit together in the dining room, with Charlie sitting patiently in the corner, and talk about the evening, you start to think maybe being married to Steve Harrington for three years will be a little more difficult than you imagined it would be.

Because the feelings stirring in your chest are beyond that of friendship.

No—there’s a suddenness to the clarity of your realization that you like your husband. And the sinking reality that this is merely transactional.

In three years you’ll go your separate ways. Just as you both intended months ago at that coffee shop table.

“You’re overthinking again,” Steve points out, reaching over to center your engagement ring on your left hand. His thumb lingers over the diamonds. “I was telling you about the benefit gala in a few weeks.”

“Oh,” you mutter tiredly. “Sorry. Yeah, uhm, I’ll go. Obviously. It’s part of our arrangement.”

“If you don’t want to go with me…”

“No, I’ll go,” you say, taking a sip of your wine glass. “Black tie dinner event, I’m assuming?”

“Buy yourself a new dress kind of event, yeah.”

“Okay, yeah.”

You nod.

It’ll be October.

Approaching four months into your agreement. Time is already flying.

“Our first big event as a couple outside of our wedding,” you state plainly, gathering your things and Steve’s as you rise to your feet. He grabs the wine glasses and follows you down the hall to your kitchen, dumping all your dirty pasta plates inside. “Anyone I should know or be aware of when we’re there?”

“It’s a lot of partners in the company. Some celebrities, actors, musicians, models. Eddie will be there—he’s been invited. It’s a little bit of everyone. This time they’ve organized donations for a shelter for homeless youth in the city.” He hands you your wine glass, peering into your eyes. Noting your lingering hesitance from your overthinking once more, he continues, “I can cancel you as my plus one. Say you’re not feeling well—”

“No,” you place a hand on his sternum. Pause when you realize what you’ve done. He trails his eyes south where you touch. You don’t move away. “I love the purpose of the benefit. I want to be there. I-I want to go with you.”

“Good,” he says, stepping closer. You could reach out and touch the outline of his jaw like this. The lines of his perfect nose. “Because I want you there with me.”

You don’t miss the way his stare lingers on your face, or the timber of his voice. The darkness in the depths of his eyes. How the weight of his chest against your palm as he pushes forward has it stuck as a barrier between the two of you. Mere inches of separation.

It’s confusing, maddening, and terrifying all the same.

Two years and nine months.

You’ve got this.

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x reader #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington modern au #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Friendly Sex - Chapter 1 - The Party

Eddie Munson X AFAB!Reader

Your 6 year long unrequited crush on Steve Harrington is starting to wear thin, and after discovering Eddie Munson feels the same way about Chrissy Cunningham you decide to make a pact. After all, what's the harm in a little casual sex between friends?

A/N: Story opens April 1986. Slight AU, all the events of seasons 1, 2 and 3 happened, except Hopper didn't get transported to Russia, the gate was closed and Joyce, Hopper, Jonathan, Will and Jane all move to California as one big happy family. Jonathan and Nancy break up (necessary for plot, apologies to any shippers). Nancy and Steve are together. Reader is 18 and in final year at Hawkin's High School, alongside Robin and Eddie etc. Reader works at Family Video with Robin & Steve. Vecna storyline is not a thing, strange things will not be happening. This has been festering in my brain and I don't know what to do with it, so, tada!

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT, (MDI) 18+ only, drugs, sex, alcohol, underage drinking, public sex, dirty talk, name calling in sex (consensual), explicit language, adult themes, there will be angst, it will get messy.

More warnings to be added.

Revised edition.

************************************************************************

It was Robin’s idea to go to the party, one of those let’s have a party for the sake of having a party, parties, the all American standard, under-age keg fest.

It was an unwelcome change from your regularly scheduled Saturday night plans of doing nothing.

But argue as you might, Robin had made it clear you were going, even if she had to drag you.

"I'm tired of watching your ass wallow in self-pity." She said in true blunt Robin fashion, pulling outfit after outfit out of your closet, throwing them haphazardly in your general direction.

"I thought you loved watching my ass." You bite back, holding up a rust-coloured corduroy mini skirt to your hips.

"Ha, ha. I'm serious though dude, this whole moping Minnie routine is getting old, you just need to get out there and get yourself laid." She groans, pushing past you, flopping face first onto your bed in frustration.

"The skirt looks good, you should wear it with your tan knee highs." She adds, laying on her front to look at you.

"I'm working on it Rob." You grumble, fishing your boots out from under a pile of clothes. "It's not easy to let go of a 6 year crush you know."

"Well maybe if you had made a move 6 years ago, we wouldn't be in this mess." She huffs in exaggeration.

"Gee, you're right, let me just hop in my time machine, go back and tell my 12-year-old self to man up and ask out Steve Harrington. Huzzah!" You quip dryly, yanking the zipper of your boots up none too gently.

"Honestly Harrington has a lot to answer for, it's like the women of Hawkin's see him and suddenly all rational thought disappears." Robin laughs.

"It's the hair." You agree, fluffing up your own in the mirror. "And only the great Robin Buckley, lesbian superheroine, is immune to its hypnotic powers."

"Then I must use my powers for good!" She declares in a manly tone, hauling herself off the bed to wrap her arms around your shoulders. "My mission, gentle citizen, is to break the spell cast over you." She places a wet kiss on your cheek casting an appraising eye over your finished ensemble. "Very hot."

***

It's not that you disliked parties, after all it was a time honoured tradition to go to some random person's house whilst their parents where out of town and get absolutely wasted, chintzy picture perfect living rooms suddenly overrun with overactive hormones, sweaty bodies and dubious punch bowls, however after the initial buzz wore off you usually found yourself longing for the quiet solitude of your bedroom. Of course, when you express this to Robin, after half an hour of being there, she merely rolls her eyes in disgust, thrusting another cup of mystery alcohol in your hand, ushering you back into the throng of young adults.

"Would you stop?" She implores, holding your left shoulder with her free hand. "Your problem is you think too much. So, give those little grey cells a break by killing some of them off." She lifts her own drink in a mock toast, nodding at you to do the same.

"You are a terrible friend." You relent with a laugh, toasting quickly and taking a gulp, face scrunched up in distaste as the alcohol burns your throat.

"The very worst." She says with an evil grin, which fades somewhat as she focuses on something behind you. You turn towards the source, and despite knowing what you would see, your stomach still swoops uncomfortably at the sight of Steve or more precisely Steve with his arm wrapped around Nancy Wheeler looking incredibly loved up. "Shit." Robin declares.

"Shit." You agree flatly.

You move to go back towards the kitchen, but Robin takes your hand, holding you in place, Steve having already spotted you both, his own hand thrown up in greeting, weaving through the crowd with Nancy in tow.

"Fancy seeing you fine ladies here." Steve grins broadly, leaning in to give each of you a one-armed hug, your skin burning from his touch.

"Fancy that." Robin agrees sheepishly, you get a grim sense of satisfaction at the uncomfortable look on her face.

Nancy, who had been hanging off of Steve's free arm for the majority, leans forward to speak to you over the pounding music. "I love your skirt Y/n." She smiles sweetly; and you feel the rather irrational urge to stick pins in her bright blue eyes.

"Thanks Nancy." You call back, trying to return her smile. "I- uh -I like your bracelet." You say, noticing a golden glimmer on her wrist, plastering on the enthusiasm.

Nancy, being an actual angel, flushes with pleasure at your compliment. "Steve bought it for me." She sighs, toying with the gold bangle,

and you try not to urge as they share a sickening saccharine look.

"Of course he did." You mutter grudgingly to yourself, desperately wanting to escape.

"What did you say Y/n?" Steve asks absent-mindedly, still gazing at Nancy.

"I'm gonna grab another drink." You say in a clearer voice, not that it mattered, because at that moment Steve seemed to find a very interesting spot on Nancy's neck that required the immediate attention of his mouth. Grimacing you slip past them, purposely ignoring Robin's pleading calls for a top up and/or a sick bucket.

Reaching the kitchen, you chug a cup of punch straight off, before refilling it to the brim, whilst you knew alcohol wouldn't solve your problems it could certainly try and soothe the jealous beast currently roaring in your head at the human octopus that was Stancy.

Deciding the garden was the best place to avoid a front row seat to the lovefest, you steer your body around bumping and grinding couples, careful not to spill a drop of your precious emotional medicine. The backyard to your pleasant surprise is empty, the party having not yet spilled out, and the chilly night air was a welcome contrast to the stale humidity inside. You wander out onto the pristine lawn, and find yourself releasing a breath you didn't realize you had been holding, ears ringing slightly as they adjusted to the now muffled thumping bass.

"Well, well, well what brings you out here Sweetheart?"

You groan heavily at the teasing drawl behind you.

"I was trying to get some peace and quiet, but that's not likely to happen with you around, is it Munson?" You sigh, turning to face Eddie Munson who was perched on a swing set to the far right, slightly obscured in semi-darkness, but a Cheshire cat grin clearly plastered on his face.

"Ouch, you wound me." He says, placing a dramatic hand over his heart, still grinning away like an idiot. "Seriously though, I wouldn't have pegged you for this kinda gig." He gestures with his head back towards the party.

"It was Robin's idea." You mutter darkly, glaring towards the shut French doors.

"Well, if looks could kill, I'm guessing you'll have a best friend vacancy by this time tomorrow." He laughs again, which irritates you further.

"What are you doing here?" You deflect back, hiccupping slightly as you drink some more punch. "Place is like jock city in there, hardly your regular stomping ground either."

He nudges a battered black tin lunch-box with his foot, slightly tucked under the swing. "You know me sweetheart, got a business to run, empires to build, horizons to expand." He says with the usual Eddie flair.

"Dealing drugs to inebriated teens, I should've guessed." You say wryly, rolling your eyes.

"You make it sound so dirty." He mocks you, irritating smirk still fixed. "And you've never complained before." He reminds you pointedly.

Whilst far from being a hardcore user, you were a semi- frequent customer of Eddie's when it came to weed, finding him to be discreet, reliable and most importantly for your minimum wage ass, cheap.

"Well maybe I'm in the mood to complain tonight," You mutter suddenly feeling bitter about the way the night had gone downhill so quickly, scuffing your boot into the neatly trimmed grass.

Eddie leans down to extract something from his tin.

"Joint for your thoughts?" He offers, holding out a perfectly rolled spliff, quickly adding. "No charge." You mull it over for all of 2 seconds, concluding your jealous inner demon will not be calmed by alcohol alone.

"'Atta girl!" He calls happily as you stomp over to squeeze beside him, he pats your knee in encouragement, then lights up, graciously passing you the joint for the first drag which you take gratefully.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, offering the smoke back and forth. You could tell straight away that the weed was a much higher quality than you could ever normally afford and therefore hoped its soothing effects would kick in a lot quicker.

"Soooo," Eddie gently ventures after a few more minutes, "you wanna walk about it?"

"What's there to talk about, I'm in love with a guy who is in love with someone else." You shrug on a heavy exhale.

Eddie whistles between his teeth, regarding you carefully as you take another hit.

"Ah, that old cliche huh?" He nudges you lightly, taking the joint back for his turn.

Now Eddie had said it, you couldn't help but laugh in agreement.

"I guess it is pretty clichéd."

"Yup no points for originality this time princess. So, who's Captain Oblivious?" He asks, offering you another hit, shaking your head you opt to take a swig of alcohol, mentally bracing yourself for Eddie's inevitable teasing.

"Steve Harrington." You sigh glumly into your cup.

Eddie let out a muttered "Damn."

"The former King of Hawkin's High himself. I don't envy you there babe."

You snatch the joint back from his ringed fingertips, fed up with his teasing. "Don't take the piss Eddie, I'm not in the mood." You mumble defensively, leaning forward so as not to see the smirk on his face.

"Hey." He says in a surprisingly genuine tone, his hand rubbing your back, making you turn to look at him. "I'm not ragging on you sweetheart. Harrington is a nice enough guy now he's not hanging out with the douchebag brigade. I can see why you'd like him."

You lean back and Eddie slips his arm around your shoulders.

"Well, I'm glad you can see it, he doesn't even know I exist, at least not in the way I want him to." You sigh, resting your head on his arm, seeing off the last of your drink and feeling distinctly sorry for yourself.

You both lapse into silence again, the swing swaying gently beneath you as you burn through more of the joint , somewhere inside the house voices were shouting "Keg! Keg! Keg!"

After a few moments, Eddie shifts slightly, arm wrapping more securely around you.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, sounding nervous.

"I mean I just bared my soul to you, so I guess it's only fair." You murmur, glancing up at him.

He breathes a heavy sigh, right leg jiggling.

"I have been head over heels in love with Chrissy Cunningham since middle school." He confesses with a wince.

You wanted to say something encouraging, maybe even profound, or at the very least offer some words of comfort, so you felt a little guilty when you couldn't suppress the giggle that passed your lips.

"Chrissy Cunningham?!" You exclaim, staring at him wide-eyed "Cheerleader extraordinaire, Chrissy Cunningham?"

He looks at you, lips pressed tight as though he was trying to hold back his own laughter.

"Yep." Letting the 'p' pop. "Ever since she shook her pom-poms in the talent show."

You were barely holding it together, attempting to keep your voice level as you spoke.

"Wait, wait. So not only are we both in love with two very attractive people who are waaaay out of our league, these people are also in long term committed relationships with two other very attractive people."

Your statement hung in the air for a second, both of you then erupting into fits of laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Eddie chuckled throatily around the stub of the joint, almost burnt out. "Oh man, we are pathetic." Shaking his head.

You jam your elbow lightly into his ribs. "Hey, speak for yourself!" You jokingly admonish.

"What, you think you have a chance?" He snorts incredulously.

You pretend to weigh up your options.

"If Nancy Wheeler gets hit by a bus, sure I'll shoot my shot… after an extended mourning period of course." You say.

"Of course." Eddie agrees, both of you collapsing into fits of uncontrollable giggles once more, fuelled on by excessive alcohol and weed.

"So, what do you think you need to do to get over little old Stevie?" Eddie asks you somewhat more seriously, stamping the remainder of the joint out under his sneakers, leaning back against the swing, taking you under his arm again.

You shrug, settling comfortably against him, staring up at the night sky, your own arm wrapping lightly about his waist. "Robin says I just need to get laid." You sigh flatly.

"I mean it's not the worst suggestion in the world." He says reasonably.

"Yeah, but c'mon Munson, guys aren't exactly queued around the block waiting to give me a service." You say, gesturing to the empty garden, Eddie pulling a face at your phrasing.

"Maybe that's because you've spent the past however many years with your Harrington blinkers on." He suggests, and it hits a nerve within you, quite often you wondered if you had missed opportunities with other guys because of your Harrington fixation. Your first and thus far only proper relationship, at 16 ,was doomed to fail from the start as Bobby Cooper just couldn't live up to the standards you had set in your daydreams of Steve.

"Well, what about you and your Chrissy conundrum? Your on-tap supply of groupies not helping to ease the pain?" You bite back, on the defensive.

Rather than get shitty with you, Eddie just gives you the classic Munson smirk.

"You think I’m good enough to have groupies?" He teases, squeezing your side, with a saucy eyebrow raise.

You pinch him back playfully. "I've seen you play Eddie; you know you're good." You admit with a smile.

He heaves a dramatic sigh, hand to his brow like some wretchedly poor southern belle.

"And yet, the tour bus-"

"Your van?" You chip in snidely.

"-my van" He ruefully concedes "is decidedly empty, even with the new air freshener."

"It's a crying shame, Eds." You laugh, patting his cheek.

He places an affectionate kiss on your head, cuddling you closer against the chilly breeze, it feels nice to be held, and even nicer to talk to someone so openly, other than Robin of course.

You lapse into comfortable silence once more, the strains of some Blondie song thumping from inside, the party was kicking up a gear but you found yourself lost in thought.

You had always had a soft spot for Eddie, conversation flowed easily enough, and you appreciated his dry sense of humour, both of you were regular outcasts in comparison to rest of the high school cliques, and you had found yourselves in detention together more times than you cared to count; you had a bad habit of disagreeing with your English teacher. And if you were being honest, he was actually really kind of pretty when you took the time to really look at him, chocolate brown eyes, full lips, awesome hair.

You hadn't realised you had been staring at him until he cleared his throat, you pulled away from his arms sheepishly, cheeks aflame from the embarrassment of being caught out, but feeling sure Eddie had been staring at you for the same amount of time.

"Uh- sweetheart, and by all means please let me know if I have completely misread some signals here, but I think I may have found the solution to both our problems." It surprised you to hear a note of uncertainty in his voice, particularly as Eddie was normally shockingly cavalier to a fault, it made you turn back to face him.

"Go on…" You encouraged him, finding your mouth oddly dry.

He took a deep breath, leaning closer, his arm snaking about your waist, warm fingertips tracing absentmindedly across the inch of exposed skin between your skirt and top, goose pimples erupting that made a shiver run up your spine.

"You need to get laid." He stated. "I need to get laid. We both have stuff we need to get out of our systems. You're a stand-up girl," he gave you a courteous nod. "...and I think I'm correct in saying you find me tolerable at the very least." The uncertainty was back, steeling yourself you placed a hand on his denim clad knee giving him a squeeze.

"More than tolerable Eds." You offer a smile.

"Thanks sweetheart." He mutters blushing. "So, uh anyway, what I'm trying to say here is… in a pretty roundabout way and you can of course say no-"

"Eddie"

"Sorry, rambling, what I'm trying to say is we could… help each other out?" He was staring at you, pleading with you to chime in.

"You mean sex?" You ask slowly, noticing his blush creep up to his ears.

"Uh, y-yeah that thing." He stammers. "If you wanted to, with me, we could have sex as friends every now and then, friendly sex."

You glanced at your wristwatch, 26 minutes ago you came out into the garden of some unknown person seeking a quiet place to drown your Steve induced sorrows, and now you were sitting next to Eddie Munson, seriously considering his offer of 'friendly sex'. Maybe Robin's kiss from earlier really had broken a spell, you laughed aloud at the thought, mirth quickly turning to frantic apologies at the look of horror on Eddie's face, forgetting that he was not privy to your inner monologue.

"Oh my god Eddie, no I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you!' You cried, cringing at your own social ineptitude.

"Hey, it's ok honey, I told you, it's cool if you don't want to-" His tone was calm, patting your side, making to stand and walk away with what little dignity he had left.

"NO! Don't go, I do want to!" You let out a shout, grasping his arm to pull him back down, your face burning in mortification that you essentially just begged Eddie to fuck you.

"Alright sweetheart, calm down I'm not going anywhere, no need to shout." He soothed; devil- may-care smirk back in place, holding you firmly about the waist again. You tried to turn away at his teasing, but Eddie cupped your cheek, the numerous rings on his fingers cool against your prickling skin.

"I'm going to kiss you now." His voice low and surprisingly authoritative. "Ok?" He asks, inching closer to your lips. Unsure if you had the nerve to speak, you merely nod. "Use your words princess, I need you to tell me that it's ok for me to kiss you." He teased; lips just shy of brushing against yours.

"I-it's ok, kiss me, please." You whisper, hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him in to close the final gap.

Eddie surged forward with an urgency that made you gasp, kissing you hard, your teeth clacking together painfully but you didn't care, adrenaline coursing through your veins like rocket fuel. You quickly found the right rhythm for each other kissing back with equal enthusiasm, his grip tightened moving you to straddle his lap, with you kneeling. He kneaded your ass, grinding you down, you gasped feeling the hard outline of his dick, taking full advantage of your open mouth, his tongue slipping in to meet with yours. Releasing his jacket, you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging harder than intended as Eddie nipped at your bottom lip, but he hardly seemed to care judging by the groan that escaped his throat. You smirked, tucking the knowledge away for later use, Eddie also appeared to be mentally cataloguing your reactions, like the way your hips rocked involuntarily as he sucked your neck just below your right ear, and how your breath hitched whilst he felt you up under your shirt, brushing the underside of your breast.

So lost in each other you didn't notice the sudden increase in noise coming from the party, signalling that someone had opened the screen door, it was the violent retching sound of vomiting that had you jumping apart as though you had been electrocuted, scrambling off Eddie's lap. You grimaced in disgust, Chance from the High School basketball team spewing chunks over the once pristine lawn, to the jeers of others inside.

"Hey…" Eddie spoke breathlessly, pulling your attention back to him, his lips kiss bitten, pupils blown wide. "You uh, want to get out of here?"

Grinning you snatched up his hand pulling him none too gently in the direction of the back gate, the sound of Chance's digestive pyrotechnics mercifully fading away, Eddie now pulling you along in the opposite direction to the house.

My van is this way."

Your heels clacked against the concrete, the pair of you moving at a light jog, keen to pick where you left off, both breathless as you came up on Eddie's van.

"Your chariot milady." He gestured proudly to the beat up vehicle like it was Cinderella's magical pumpkin carriage.

"Eddie, calling me milady is a total turn off." You teased, nose wrinkling.

He pulled you to him, spinning you so your back was pressed against the passenger side door,

"Oh well in that case, I best stick to sweetheart, huh sweetheart?" Caging you, his smile almost predatory as he set to work sucking what would no doubt be a prize-winning hickey just above your throat.

You grabbed the scruff of his neck when the skin got too sensitive, pulling his lips back to yours, both of you fighting for dominance in the kiss, thoroughly making out. Eddie palmed your tits, as you reached down trailing a teasing hand along the bulge in his jeans, he broke the kiss huffing out a low "Shit…."

Feeling bold, you flashed him a mischievous grin, unbuckling his belt, your hand slipping inside the tight denim stroking his cock properly, he was fully hard, your thumb swiping a thick bead of pre-cum around the mushroomy head.

"You keep doing that sweetheart and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you right here in the street." Eddie panted against your neck, his words going straight to your cunt.

"Promises, promises." You said with a purr, jerking him slowly.

He laughed breathlessly. "Fucking tease." His hands quickly hitching up your skirt, hips pressing you closer to the van, slipping your panties to the side, you gasped as he trailed a finger through your wetness up to your clit and back down again.

"Jesus baby, you're soaked. All this for me?" He asks incredulously, kissing you deeply again, two fingers moving slowly pumping in and out of your cunt as his thumb plays with your clit. The pair of you working each other, quiet moans slipping past swollen lips

"Eddie." You whined softly, there was a tiny voice in the back of your mind which was terrified about getting caught in such a compromising position, but a much louder voice was screaming, begging to let Eddie have his way with you in the street where anyone could see.

"What is it princess?" He murmured, biting at your lower lip.

"I want -" You hiccupped on a moan, all four of his fingers now working over your swollen clit, spreading the slick from your cunt, you could only hold his cock, brain not functioning enough under his ministrations.

Grinning, taunting you openly he nipped at the sweet spot under your ear, whispering "Use your words baby."

"Oh my god." You whimpered. The screaming in your brain reaching a fever pitch; you wanted him to fuck you, right now, you didn't care if you got caught. "Eddie, do it, fuck me, fuck me right here." You say frantically, his movements stilling in shock.

"You sure sweetheart? I-I can wait, we don't have to do anything you don't wanna-" He cut off, watching as though in a trance, you turned yourself around, pushing your ass out toward him, in the dim streetlight your pussy glistened with wetness all swollen and pretty.

"Ho-ly fuck." He breathed out in awe, fishing hurriedly for a condom in his jacket pocket. You were breathing hard against the passenger window, watching Eddie's reflection, staring, cheeks flushed with excitement and lust as he yanked his jeans and boxers down enough to free his length, panting as he rolled the condom on. Coming up behind you, he crowded you against the van once again, his body covering your back, feeling his cock line up with your entrance; shivering at the slow press and delicious stinging sensation as he worked his way in.

"Christ you're so fucking tight baby." He hissed, balls flush to your ass as he bottomed out, one hand coming up to play with your tits, the other bracing against the van as he started to thrust.

"Eddie…fuck." You choked out, rubbing at your sopping clit, you were already so close, bouncing your hips back against him as he thrust harder.

"Oh my fucking god, you're perfect, so fucking tight and perfect. I can feel you dripping on my balls." He groaned, grabbing your hair, turning your head to capture your lips in a frantic kiss, you keened into his mouth. He was pulling your top up, freeing your breasts, pinching at your puckered nipples, his other arm wrapping tight around your middle, holding you steady, pounding deeper.

It was lewd, it was indecent, it was sinful and you had never felt so alive.

"Eds, Eddie, I'm - fuck I'm fucking close, please." You begged, pleading, hovering over the edge, heat swimming deep in your belly.

"Oh shit, yes, such a good girl." You could hear he was close, the words passing through gritted teeth. "Taking this cock so well. You wanna cum baby?"

"Yes." You whined desperately, the coil within you tightening. "Please, I wanna cum so bad, fuck me harder."

You didn't know where the words were coming from, had never felt this pent up, never craved sex this way before.

Eddie's balls were slapping against you in a faster rhythm, the sound penetrating the otherwise still night air.

"Fucking hell baby, yes take it, so fucking good - shit - that's it fucking cum for me sweetheart. Cum-on-my-cock-you-little-fucking-slut." He punctuated each word with brutal thrusts and at the word slut you felt the dam break, wave after wave of throbbing pleasure seized your body, head thrown back in a wordless cry, spasming around his dick.

"Shit,shit,shit,fuck,fuck." Eddie was chanting in a low whine, hips stilling against you, even with the condom on you could feel the pulse of him cumming.

You both stayed perfectly still for a moment, your shared heavy breathing the only sound now.

"That was… holy fuck that was…" Eddie muttered leaning heavily against your shoulder, you clung onto the side mirror for support, legs feeling like jelly.

"Uh huh." You agreed breathlessly, you felt his hand on your back rubbing soothingly, unable to stop yourself from hissing as he pulled out, gently righting your panties for you and pressing a fleeting kiss to the back of your neck.

It was a remarkably sweet gesture, particularly in stark contrast to your position moments before, you tugged your top down, and skirt back up leaning against the van with a heavy exhale. Eddie had tucked himself away, and was now busy tying the condom off, stepping into the road to drop it unceremoniously down a gap in a drain cover, your face scrunched in distaste at the action.

"Giving the swimmers a new lease of life." He said winking impishly.

"I'm sure the sewer rats will be ever so pleased." You deadpanned.

You were unsure what the plan was now, should you go your separate ways, you back to the party, him to - well wherever Eddie spent Saturday nights?

Returning to the party felt like a hellish idea, not just because you probably looked like you had just had sex, which you had, but you'd also have to face Steve and Nancy and whilst you now seemingly had the option of sex on tap, emotionally your heart still very much belonged to Harrington. Also you had the beginnings of a headache no doubt from the toxic punch.

"Uh- sweetheart you in there?" Eddie asked you, waving his hand in front of you, evidently you had zoned out.

"Huh?"

"I was talking about milkshakes."

'Milkshakes?" You repeatedly blankly.

"Yeah, ya know, you take the milk, you take the shake you take them both and then you have the facts of life." He said moving past you, opening the passenger door.

You just stared vacantly.

"Oh my god I fucked the intelligence out of you." He giggled, ducking to one side as you tried to punch him in the arm, catching your hand he pulled you to him.

"Sweetheart I would very much like it if you would accompany me to a diner where we can have milkshakes and discuss the intimate details of our little arrangement." He clarified, gesturing for you to get into the van.

"Details?" You ask cluelessly, clambering into the seat, maybe he had fucked you dumb.

"Details." Eddie cooed, tapping you on the nose and strapping you in like a child, before handing you his drug box and slamming the door.

You were unsure whether to be amused or concerned at how he skipped to his own driver's side, lighting a cigarette.

"Eddie, what exactly are we doing?" You ask, completely exasperated. He revved the engine, jamming the play button on the car radio, head banging along to Ace of Spades - Motorhead for a few moments.

"EDDIE!" You yell over the music impatiently.

"You and I are making a pact princess" Flashing you a huge grin before peeling down the street.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x afab reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson 18+#strangers things eddie munson #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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munsonsreputation · 10 months

Text

I THINK THERE'S BEEN A GLITCH

CHAPTER ONE - WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE JUST FRIENDS

series masterlist | chapter two ↣

steve harrington x fem!baker + artist

word count: [20.2K]

warnings: no use of y/n, lots of mentions of self deprecation, reader talking about an emotionally exhausting past bf, steve talking shit abt his parents, cursing, steve & reader crushing on each other so mutual pining, lots of sweetness and fluff <3

summary: you make friends with a girl named Robin who politely and hilariously mistakes some red paint on your jeans as blood. Who knew it would lead to you and her becoming friends and her inviting you to meet her other ones? The even bigger mystery is how her best friend, Steve, is starting to become someone you’re falling for.

Steve Harrington’s living room was packed. Not that it was particularly out of the ordinary since his place was the go-to spot for hangouts, but today it had been packed for a different reason and a new arrival. Though it seemed Robin was the only uneasy person even when she was the one who had begged for this to happen.

Trying to cope, she began fluffing up the couch pillows and straightening the books on the coffee table while she rambled.

“She’s cool. I mean, she paints, for one, like totally realistic paintings, but she also really loves baking!”

Mike rolled his eyes, puffing dramatically and deciding to take a flop down on the couch where she just tidied up, “She sounds like my grandma.”

“Piss off!” Robin hissed, smacking his knee as the rest of their friends watched on at the repartee.

Steve was the skeptical one about the whole situation, considering what could happen if Robin’s new friend wasn’t entirely who she was supposed to be. It’s not that he didn’t trust Robin’s whole intuition about people, but you seemed too good to be true. Almost like a fantasy because the person Robin described to all of them for the past few weeks was pure perfection.

Even everyone else was beginning to question if meeting at Steve’s house for the first time was a good idea, realizing that you could be a creep or a murderer, but they were just being a tad bit dramatic. Before he could think too much into it than he already was, the doorbell rang, catching everyone’s attention and eyes that darted towards the front door.

“I’ll get it!”

Robin clapped her hands excitedly, darting to the door and unlocking it with vigor before opening it wide enough so she and everyone else could get a good look at you.

You stood in the doorway with a big smile and your hands full. One balancing a bright yellow ceramic dish on your palm, and your other arm busy holding a covered frame between your body.

You wore a white skirt, decorated with itty bitty eyelets that resembled a daisy cutout and a white top with the same pattern to match. A brown shoulder bag draped across your chest and a pair of strappy sandals on your feet.

Only when you inched forward, meeting cheek to cheek with Robin, in an endearing hello, did they finally get a good glance at what you looked like.

Bright eyes, wispy lashes, and lids covered in the tiniest amount of sheer glitter. A glow from within on your cheeks and high points, like the sun and pretty pink petals were rushing to the surface of your skin. Dewy lips coated in gloss and flickers of sparkles that shined through your smile that you wore throughout the interaction.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” was the first thing that came out of your mouth and the first time they had heard your voice.

Robin shook her head, opening the door wider and prompting you in, “don’t be!”

You looked around in curiosity, taking in the architecture and feel of the home before being greeted with a few smiles and waves from the strangers around the living room.

You returned it, though it never really dared to leave your face to begin with. Softly speaking out a few, “hi’s” and “hello’s” to them before turning towards Robin and holding out a big frame towards her.

“Happy Birthday!” You declared gleefully as she stared at you confused.

The rest of her friends murmuring something about possibly forgetting her birthday, just as puzzled as her.

She stuttered, trying to recall if she might have told you the wrong date or something, “I-It’s not my birthday?”

Your cheek met your shoulder shrewdly, once again pushing the gift towards her, “I know! But I wanted an excuse to give you this.”

You juggled the canvas into your hands, trying your best not to drop the pie pan. Robin reached her hands out, taking the pie from you as you flashed her a thankful smile, pulling the cover off the canvas to present her with a small gift of gratitude.

“Tah-Dah!” You singsonged, turning the canvas towards her and watching the shock and amazement that covered her face before a wide smile appeared followed by the “oh’s” and “ah’s” of her friends that you completely forgot about.

Robin spun her arms to the left of her, hastily handing the pie to Steve who took it and placed it on the coffee table. The front entrance of his home, now the new crowded spot as everyone marveled at the artwork. He quickly joined in, not wanting to miss an ounce of it, finding an open spot between you and Robin.

He took it all in, eyes fixed on the print that was gushing with blossoms of her favorite colors: sage green, mauve, and pale yellow. But it wasn’t an ordinary painting—the petals were formed with dollops of the paint, and it probably took days to dry. It was rare, something that he and the others had never seen before.

His fingers brushed the paint petals, careful not to mess up your handwork,“This is incredible….”

Flickering his gaze to you, he flashed you a toothy smile, letting his hand pull back from the canvas and stick out towards you.

“I’m Steve, by the way.” He extended his arm, making a sweeping gesture to catch your attention.

Tearing your eyes away from Robin’s heartwarming reaction, your sights drifted to the hand, then to the owner of it, instantly captivated by his friendliness and allure. Your stare lingered a bit too long, lost in trying to memorize him, so you shook your head, internally cursing yourself for the trance you fell into.

“Oh, sorry! It’s nice to meet you!” Quickly you handed the entire piece to Robin, adverting your full attention to the new acquaintance whose house you just barged into.

You knew just from the looks of it that he was Steve Harrington, the guy that Robin had described to you as being her insanely attractive yet idiotic best friend.

His hair, like Robin had described, was unquestionably perfect, falling into place as if he didn’t even try. Robin let you in on a secret that he was infamously called “King Steve” throughout high school for being so good with the ladies—now you were sure you knew why.

He chuckled when you grabbed his hand firmly, shaking it with vigor like how a father would but without the cynical look on your face. Instead, you looked genuinely thrilled, twinkling eyes and a broad smile gracing your lips.

“Great to finally meet you. Robin’s been yapping all week about her new friend.”

You laughed quietly, finally letting go of his hand and reaching over to sling your arm across Robin’s shoulder. She leaned into you, nuzzling her head against yours with a content look on her radiant face.

“Well, she’s been raving about all of her friends, so I just knew I had to meet you all.”

Robin smirked, finally giving you a hug and murmuring a curt thank you for the generous gift and turning to all of her friends while keeping you close to her side.

“Everyone, this is my new friend. I met her last week and now we’re attached to the hip!” Robin announced, her voice carrying a mix of affection and playful teasing.

Steve feigned a gasp, holding a hand over his heart, “Replacing me already?”

“Oh shut up, dingus!” Robin reached forward, whacking him with her palm as he yelped and pretended to be offended.

A curly-headed boy sporting a baseball cap stepped forward, “Ignore those two, they’re literal children…I’m Dustin!”

You reached your hand out, shaking his before casually everyone began introducing themselves to you.

Part of you was trying to remember each name connected to a face, but it was also a tad bit overwhelming with so many of them. Making friends was never an easy task for you, but you liked your own solitude, so you didn’t mind. But that also didn’t mean you didn’t long to have friends who you could talk to or hang out with from time to time and share your life with.

So when Robin tapped you on the shoulder at the grocery store to inform you your period had arrived you were visibly horrified but relieved that she offered you her jacket as you two found the restroom. And in the bathroom you let out a ridiculous laugh, covering your mouth as she stared at you in the mirror’s reflection confused.

“Red paint! This is paint! I must have sat on it or something!”

You and Robin hit it off, talking for what seemed like hours inside that grocery store bathroom. The two of you had a habit of over sharing, but it helped you bond and grow closer. After exchanging numbers and spending afternoons on the phone talking and getting to know each other better , she invited you over to a hangout with her friends.

“You guys must have scared her or something.” Robin shook you a bit in her hold to grab you away from a little daydream.

You blinked, looking over at her, then back to her friends watching until you came through, “sorry! sorry! I zone out sometimes…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She does it all the time.” Steve pointed at Robin who stuck her tongue out at him.

Nancy, the brunette who you remembered as one of the kids’ older sister, stepped forward hooking her arm inside yours, “Okaaaay, here, why don’t you come sit?”

She wore a warm smile and guided you further into the living room. Her touch was gentle, and the gesture alone made you feel like she was happy to have you here, easing a bit of your anxiety. When she unhooked her arm from yours, you mouthed a “thank you,” and she shook it off, just smiling and patting the empty seat beside her.

You placed your purse down on your lap, while Robin sat on the other side of you. The rest of the friends finding their own area on the opposite couch or on the floor, making you feel less suffocated and more like an inviting circle.

“Robin tells us that you’re mega cool!” Dustin exclaims followed by a thwack on the head by the red head Max and her boyfriend Lucas who sports the bucket hat.

Timidly, you swung your head low, feeling a mix of bashfulness and gratitude for her words when you weren’t around. You glanced towards Robin, who beamed with pride because she genuinely thought you were the coolest person she had ever met—probably even on the planet.

“I don’t think I’m cool…like at all.” You admitted, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

Robin rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her friends then looking back at you, “She’s too humble, I mean really, she is so super duper cool and I’m shocked she’d even consider being my friend.”

Jokingly, you nudged her, making her laugh, “Don’t sell yourself short, Robin—“

Before you could continue uplifting the spirts of self esteem, the boy with the unruly hair…Mick? Mike!

Mike cuts in, eyes zeroing in on your torso where you begin to follow.

“What’s that on your shirt?” He squinted, pointing at the recent stains on your top.

Peeping your eyes down and looking meticulously, the stain was barely noticeable unless someone was really looking—anyway, the white color was a bit off from the shade of your actual top, and there had been some sort of residue left.

Nancy realized it at first, seeing that the stain couldn’t be seen to the naked eye, unless her brother was being a disgusting little shithead. She swiftly grabbed the decorative pillow behind her, chucking it towards him.

“You’re such a pig, Mike!”

Everyone switched their attention from you, and instead pestered and teased Mike for being so “observant” with you here in a spaghetti strap top.

But you attempted to stifle your laughter, not wanting him to feel so embarrassed despite his sudden interjection. You were hoping he wasn’t being a stereotypical depraved teen who couldn’t focus when your shoulders were out.

Instead, you attempted to swipe at it with your fingertips, but alas it didn’t budge and stubbornly clung to the fabric, “ It’s just paint and apparently…” You tugged the portion closer to your nose, scrunching it up, “Sugar. Powdered sugar.”

The young boy almost looked impressed at your ability to articulate the specific ingredient despite the verbal onslaught he had just faced. “Sick.”

Robin clicked her tongue, jutting her chin out toward Steve who sat across from you in a recliner.

“Steve, give her something to change into,” she told him, prompting him to sit up, looking at you and instantly nodding.

“Yeah, of course, follow me,” He motioned you to follow his lead as he stood up, yet you remained sitting, tipping your head slightly up at him.

You raised one of your brows, “Are you sure? I’m totally ok with it. It’s my fault, anyway.”

“I’m sure…c’mon, it’s the least I could do.” Steve nodded again, waving his arm towards himself, and you got up.

Trailing behind Steve up the stairs, you marveled at the simplicity of the home despite its expanse. The wallpaper was a muted gray with cream accents and walls encasing the space leading up were decorated with a few framed photographs that you assumed were Steve and his family.

From what Robin had told you, his parents weren’t home too often, if at all, which explained why the photos were outdated and mostly from his childhood, having no evidence of recent portraits.

The hallway towards the bedrooms had a running rug across the wooden floors. The fuzzy textile felt worn yet homey against your feet. Steve’s bedroom was located at the end of the hall, and when he opened up the door, you seemed to feel more of his personality shining in that space.

“Ignore the mess.” He apologized, twisting open the door to let you in first.

In contrast to the living room and main quarters of the house, his room felt more like himself.

The wallpaper in his room, plaid with white, green, and black accents and, of course, matching curtains. His bed was somewhat neatly made with the pillows fluffed and gray sheets on the mattress. A few drawers to hold what you assumed were part of his closet and other belongings.

But his desk, which looked to be the most messy yet contained spot of his room, littered with tapes, books, and other papers. The only thing hanging on his wall was a photo of a vintage car that you couldn’t name for the life of you.

You turned your head to look at him, where he stood, watching you taking in the space with a grin,“You’re actually really neat…neater than I am.”

Steve let out a grunt, chuckling to himself as he turned to his accordion wardrobe doors and opened them in search of finding you something without a stain. It didn’t help that he had forgotten to do a fresh load of laundry, but that the rest of his clean shirts were polos and hoodies.

“So are you from Hawkins?” He wondered, sifting through the hangers.

“No, I’m from Roane, actually! I only really come to Hawkins for the art store but last weekend I decided to run my errands here since I was already in town and that’s how I met Robin.”

You explained, your fingers absentmindedly rubbing the fabric of your shirt between the stain still trying to get it out.

Steve plucked a hoodie from the rack, holding it up in front of you, trying to decipher its comfort. The fabric was way too thick, and he was certain that in this Hawkins weather you’d be drowning in not only a puddle of fleece but sweat too.

Shaking his head, he gave you an apologetic glance that you didn’t seem to catch.

“You live alone?” He planted the item back on the hanger and continued to look.

“Yeah, but I actually used to live with my boyfriend…or ex-boyfriend now,” You clarified, giving up on the stubborn stain and sighing, “we were together for a little while but he just decided things weren’t working out and so he left.”

He looked back briefly, eyebrows raised in curiosity, “How many years were you guys together…if you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head, reassuring him that it was alright, “Six years.”

The widening of his eyes made you giggle, but it wasn’t unexpected considering someone your age having a relationship that long wasn’t typically normal.

“Excuse me? Six years! I don’t even think I’ve had a single friend stay in my life for six years.”

“Seems like a lifetime, right?” You joked with a comical lift to your voice and he nodded like it was the obvious answer, which it was.

He knew that you both weren’t too far apart in age, both in your early twenties, but it was just shocking to hear that you were in a six year relationship at your age. The longest relationship he had was a year with Nancy Wheeler and even then that seemed like forever, but you must have really fallen deeply in love with your ex if you lasted that long.

“We kinda just grew out of each other. It’s kinda inevitable after dating all four years of high school then two years after that. We just realized that we wanted different things in life and by different, he wanted me to “finally start taking life seriously,” or whatever the fuck that meant.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, making air quotes with your fingers.

So that explains it, he thought to himself.

“He wanted to move out of Indiana?” Steve questioned, turning his attention back to his closet.

You made a noise, unsure if that fully answered his question. But you moved up beside him, silently asking if it was okay to help him sift through the hangers. Nodding, he shifted over, giving you space to look through the untouched hangers.

You went back to his question, giving him an actual answer, that you hoped would sum up the story that was way too long to tell in whole.

“Not necessarily…but he just didn’t like the fact that art was not only my hobby, but my passion. He always wanted me to get a real job, you know, those boring ones where you sit at a desk all day and think about what you did so wrong in your past life to be doing paperwork for the rest of it.”

His eyes followed as your face contorted with revulsion as if that was one of the most heinous jobs in the world, but for someone like you who thrived off creative free rein, it truly was. Steve threw his head, laughing at your expression, finding it truly amusing because for someone like him, he also realized that even if he was a lost young adult, he’d much rather keep working at a VHS store than walk into work everyday wearing an uncomfortable suit and dozing off in meetings.

His amusement turned your scorned face upside down, abruptly reeling in the fact that he actually found what you said to be funny. And you hoped that he wasn’t being overdramatic just to make you feel better, but you were positive that it wasn’t because it was the type of laughter that had the skin by his eyes creased because of how hard he was laughing—even his arm slinging over his torso, like the laughter was so infectious that it hurt.

The sound of his hilarity, leaping off the walls of his room like music to your ears, wishing you possessed the ability to always make people laugh this freely, just to witness moments like this. Eventually, though, he settled down, snapping his fingers at you and pointing with a still carefree smile on his lips.

“That was a good one! Now I’ve gotta use that when my dad keeps bugging me about getting a real job.” He praised, finally turning back the original spot in his closet and plucking it off the rod.

It was a bright yellow long sleeve, the fabric not too thick or thin, but just about right. You reached for the sleeve of it, feeling the material between your fingers, and Steve’s eyes waited for your approval.

“Feels nice.” You said with a nod, dropping it from your fingertips and letting him slide the garment off the plastic hanger before placing it in your hands.

He glanced back at the bedroom door, then back to you, “I’ll wait outside the door so you can change.” He offered, letting himself out and closing it behind him.

Inside the room, Steve could hear the soft rustling as you moved, wondering if what he gave you was good enough or if you were being too nice and not wanting to offend him by saying the yellow color was awful. Meanwhile, you placed your top on the lid of his hamper, making a mental note to come back here and retrieve it before you headed back home.

His voice came through on the other side of the door, breaking the brief silence.

“Sooo…your ex-boyfriend. I’m sure he was a computer science major, right? Totally douchey with a superiority complex?”

You snorted, pulling the garment over your body and slipping your arms through the sleeves. “You think computer science is douchey?”

He leaned up against the door frame, humming a reply and then finding the words.

“Yeah, totally, I mean nothing screams douchey than a guy who thinks he’s better than someone because he works with computers and not a paintbrush.”

Your movements slowed as you pulled your hair free from the collar and fitted the excess material underneath itself so it wasn’t drowning over you.

There was suddenly that fond pleasant feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach and in the cage of your chest. When Robin had mentioned that Steve was charming, she wasn’t kidding. There was no reason he should have this much of an effect on you so soon. Yet, here he was, effortlessly tearing down your ex-boyfriend and making you feel better about your own endeavors.

After a few seconds of taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you reached for the doorknob, turning it open to see his body supported by the one arm propped against the wooden frame. You bit your lip, watching his gaze fall down your face to his shirt on your body.

“Then I’d say you’re right…you guessed it,” Your arms flared out before coming down to your sides, standing there not knowing what else to say considering he had hit the nail head-on.

For the first time in the last fifteen minutes since he met you, this was the only time you seemed so sheepish. Out in the living room you looked so confident, even when it was obvious that the attention towards you was a little overwhelming, you still could change the subject or revert it somewhere else. Here with your eyes glued to your feet, not meeting him, he felt like you were trapped — that he might have said something that hit a little too close to home and made you uncomfortable.

His eyes softened, clearly full of regret for being so upfront about a situation he only knew surface level stuff about. Just because you had talked to him a little about the horrible stuff your ex said, didn’t mean he understood the whole story. That there clearly was something deeper, possibly trauma that he didn’t know about and here you were forced to endure the awkward silence and flooding memories of what had happened all because he couldn’t shut up.

Your view of your feet against the wooden floor was suddenly interrupted by Steve’s hands reaching forward, accompanied by his voice.

“I—I’m sorry, for bringing it up…I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything! I-It’s just, he sounds like a total dick and you should know that what he told you isn’t true—“

He spoke rapidly, stumbling over his words and making short pauses, making sense because the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uneasy.

You furrowed your brows, snapping your eyes up to his.

“No, no! You’re fine, it’s just that, no one has really said that stuff about him…about him being an asshole. And…I don’t know, it kinda feels nice to hear.”

Underneath your reassuring expression, your lips twitched up and Steve swore you were about to burst into a full on prideful smirk because of the jabs he took at your ex. So his words indeed took you aback, but in a good way.

He validated your feelings about your past relationship and suddenly there was a shift in the mood, and Steve closed his eyes, taking a relieved breath, grateful that he hadn’t scared you away with that conversation.

Meanwhile, you laughed softly to yourself, feeling a rush of giggles bubble up in your chest, seeing him relax under your certainty.

He opened his eyes, looking at you, trying to look stone-faced, “But, seriously, he’s sounds like a huge asshole,” He couldn’t help the cackle that escaped through his lips, breaking his solemn face, followed by you pushing a hand out and pressing his shoulder gingerly.

“The hugest! I’m being so serious!” You added, only making the two of you laugh harder, not caring to contain it in the small space between the bedroom and the hallway.

A simple moment in time was all you needed to know that Steve was genuinely a good guy, not just a pretty face with an idiotic mind attached to him. As the laughter died down, Steve stepped back, holding his hand out and gesturing you into the hallway with him and back down the stairs where you two were met with the noise of your friends chatting in the living room.

Robin slapped a hand over her forehead once the two of you came into view, earning a raised eyebrow from you and Steve, both of whom stopped a few feet into the area. She exaggeratedly dropped her hand to her side, feigning exasperation.

“What’s the matter?” You crossed your arms across your chest, looking genuinely troubled and waiting for an explanation.

All eyes turned to you and Steve now, grunts and smothered laughs coming from everyone, while you guys both stood there, oblivious to their reactions. Dustin, unable to contain himself, started convulsing with laughter and clutching his stomach, even going as far as to throw himself into Mike’s lap before getting shoved off.

Then he stood up in front of both of you, pointing an accusing finger at Steve’s shirt he lent you.

“What did you do to make him hate you so much that he gave you that horrid shirt?”

His face twisted in disgust, and he mockingly gagged, sticking out his tongue and dramatically turning away. Steve should’ve seen this one coming. He swatted Dustin’s hand away from you, shaking his head with a playful scowl. Then placed his hands on his hips, adopting a father-like pose, something else they also teased him for.

He had worn the long sleeve a couple of times before, and each time he did, everyone poked fun at him. Commenting on the revolting color, comparing it to poop or vomit instead of the ground seed condiment he claimed it paralleled, according to the saleswomen at Macy’s who convinced him enough to buy it. And now that’s why he stopped wearing it, growing tired of the kids, but especially Robin and Eddie, calling him ‘Baby Poop Harrington’ in the middle of Star Court and Family Video.

“You guys just don’t get fashion,” Steve argued, raising his eyebrows and forehead toward the others in an unconvincing manner. He fanned his arm, gesturing at you.

“It’s mustard, and it clearly looks good on her.”

The compliment was sudden, causing your eyes to enlarge somewhat and cheeks to blush. You hoped that no one caught it, being too busy to notice you looking downward at the shirt pretending to examine it in order to play it off when in fact you were rubbing your lips together to stop the smile from rising with your cheeks.

The banter continued to go on, which made you relieved, as you were able to get some composure and flicker your sights back up to everyone else arguing with Steve. Eddie huffed out a laugh, stretching his arms behind his head where he lounged on the opposite couch. He pointedly stared at you and the outfit, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Nobody said it doesn’t look good on her. We just said the color isn’t very pretty.”

Nancy tilted her head, observing you and the shirt closely. Her eyes widened in realization, and she nodded in agreement.

“Actually, it does look really good on you. Maybe the styling was the issue.” She glanced at Steve with a grimace before waving it off and marveling at the color.

Steve raised his voice, as if trying to convince them through sheer volume. “I wore it with blue sweatpants!”

“Exactly!” the group chorused, their voices overlapping in mock protest.

You couldn’t help but snort out a short laugh, finding the entire situation amusing. You exchanged glances with Steve, realizing that this was obviously a very passionate but lighthearted topic within the friend group, kinda like their own inside joke.

Steve ignored the rest of the laughter and teasing, falling back into his comfortable recliner as you sat yourself back in between Nancy and Robin.

Lucas, the one seated next to the redhead who was his girlfriend, tapped his fist on the coffee table. “Can we cut into the pie? It smells delicious, and it’s been calling my name for the past thirty minutes.”

You nodded excitedly, rubbing your hands together, “Sure, it’s cherry by the way, so hopefully you all like that!” Your hands fell into your lap, looking over at Steve.

“I just need a knife to cut into it and some plates and forks.”

Steve rose up, giving you a nod, “I’ll go get it,” he said before walking through the archway into what you assumed was the kitchen.

The kids had gathered around the coffee table, smelling the air to get a whiff of the baked good you had spent the whole morning baking, and even Eddie got up from his relaxed state to push the kids aside and get a smell.

You felt a little bad seeing as though Steve had already gone out of his way to open up his home to you and then lend you clothing after a mishap that was entirely your fault, yet you were still sitting here, not helping.

You looked over at Robin, patting her knee smoothly, “I’ll go help Steve.”

Before you could stand up, she grasped onto your wrist, waving the other in the air, signing off that he could handle it alone, “He’s fine, don’t worry about it,”

But of course you insisted with a reassuring laugh, feeling her touch drop your hand, as you got up. “No, it’s fine, I really should!”

Before she could protest or take your spot, you were already striding away, following into the archway that Steve had just gone through. His back was facing you, arms reaching into the cupboard to grab a stack of plates that clinked together.

“Let me help,” you announced your presence with eagerness, walking up beside him.

He looked over at you, relaxing his arms back down,“Hey, no, you're not supposed to be helping!”

Your fingers tugged the bottom of his borrowed long sleeve, the fabric dancing between your fingers as you shot him a mischievous smirk, “Oh, c’mon, it’s the least I could do.”

He smiled at your mocking tone having no choice but to give in, “Fine, but just this once,” pretending to let out an exasperated sigh like you were a nuance, when in fact you weren’t.

He nodded his chin to the set of drawers where the utensils were prompting you to grab the needed amount of forks while he gathered the remainder of the plates.

“Does it ever get lonely living alone?” He asked, voice carrying a hint of interest, while shutting the cupboard and walking to the other side of the kitchen to retrieve a knife.

“Hmmm,” You thought for a second, shrugging as you bumped your hip into the drawer, shutting it gently.

“Sometimes, but I’ve grown pretty used to it. There’s some positives like not feeling so bad when you forget to start the dishwasher.”

He chuckled, grunting an agreement for the simple joys that living along could bring, but he also wondered about the negatives, “And the cons?”

Your heart skipped a beat already knowing the answer right off the top of your head because it was something that ate away at your heart every day. Leaving and coming home to the same space, roaming the halls and rooms—all of yours but only yours, the kind that was lonely.

“Not having someone you can go home to, or at least looking forward to coming to.” You confessed with a frown.

Steve sympathized, knowing that feeling all too well considering the home life he had been living since he was a teenager. Left alone with no parents around to really parent him in the first place, there was a fine line between being a teen and also being the adult to make the house a home.

He’d try to, even when his parents were away on trips, doing a load of dishes and laundry. Cleaning out the overgrown weeds in the yard. Vacuuming and mopping the floors. All of this in hopes that when his parents did come home and see how it had been maintained, that maybe they’d want to stay home and spend time with their son.

But alas, that meant nothing to them. If anything, it proved his parents’ thoughts that Steve was more than capable of being home all by himself. Making the home even emptier that it already was knowing that his parents would purposefully be gone longer now.

“Y’know, it’s nice having this house all to myself, but it gets lonely too. My uh—my parents aren’t really home much, my mom follows my dad on all his work trips…kinda making sure he doesn’t cheat on her or something.”

He let out a dry laugh while you cringed, expecting that it is in fact a joke, but he continues letting you know it isn’t.

“Anyway, ummm, it’s nice and all being able to throw parties and invite people whenever, but sometimes I just wished there was more here.”

Looking around the room, he gestured all around and exhaled, “Like family dinners where we actually talk or even just coming home from work and seeing my parents watching tv on the couch. I swear, I haven’t seen them sit in the living room or turn on the tv since I was like twelve.”

Placing the forks on the stack of plates, you turned apologetically to him, resting a comforting hand on his arm, seeing the way his face fell and his voice wavered on the edge between resentment and misery.

“I’m so sorry, Steve.” You withdrew, apologizing, though none of this was your fault.

Steve cleared his throat with a hoarse cough, swinging his head. Placing the knife down on the plates, as he ran his hand down his face, “No, don’t apologize, it’s stupid. I should be grateful they left me with a house to myself, right?”

He let out a laugh, as if that was going to make you feel any better for the way that he was feeling. Robin only mentioned little about the absence of Steve’s parents, and you knew it wasn’t any of your business, but it made you feel for him. For how lonesome it must be for him to be estranged from the people who gave him life, yet left him under their roof and pretended like he didn’t exist.

You, however, made the choice to live alone. After you graduated high school, you hightailed it out of your parents’ house and got a lease to your now apartment all by yourself. It wasn’t until a few months later that your then boyfriend moved in, but still after the breakup you got to keep the place all to yourself, which was valuable in a lot of ways.

But it was also sad.

You didn’t have many friends that you kept in touch with from high school. If anything, they weren’t really the nicest nor supportive types of friends that you wanted to keep anyways. They agreed with your ex that you had to start taking life seriously and cease pursuing art, but you never listened to them. So maybe it was better off to live alone in your own seclusion rather than just keeping them around for company.

In spite of those not so kind friends of that past, things felt a lot different with the group that you met today. Like you could let your walls down and finally open up the door.

Your finger twiddled against one another, letting out a proposition, “M-Maybe you can come to my place and hangout? All of you…I mean!”

You were crossing your fingers that he didn’t catch the slip up that made it sound like you only wanted him to come over.

His hands stop at his jaw, fanning over the skin there, before turning slightly towards you with a surprised look on his face.

“Really?”

You nodded eagerly, “I haven’t had guests around for a while and I would really love for you—you guys to come and visit.”

There was that slip again, but Steve was too engrossed to catch it.

“I would love—“

“Jesus Christ, what’s taking so long!?”

The holler coming from the living room burst that bubble between you and Steve, ultimately making you giggle when he groaned heavily, muttering an, “I’m so sorry about them,” to you while you shook your head and followed behind him while he grabbed the kitchenware.

“You guys were taking forever!” Mike wailed, making Steve roll his eyes as you gave a gentle laugh at his impatience.

“We were barely gone two minutes.” Steve replied, placing the plates down on the table while you carefully grabbed the knife.

“It’s my fault. I was talking to Steve about having you guys over sometime.” You said, looking up at the boy before making the first cut into the pie.

Robin gasped behind you, clapping her hands ecstatically, “Oh my gosh, please! Steve and I are off on Thursday!”

She turned towards Steve, looking at him dubiously. “We’re off on Thursday, right?”

“Yeah,” He snickered, nodding his head as he slid you a plate to lay the first slice on.

Steve picked up the plate, giving it to El just to spite the impatient Mike who sat beside her and groaned until you finished cutting the next slice which was given to Lucas. So you continued to cut as Steve served everyone.

“Jonathan and I have a half day on Thursday, so we should be able to swing by during the afternoon.” Nancy spoke before digging into her slice.

The last two slices remained as everyone dug into their portion while you plated it up. Passing Steve a plate, “You first.” You said quietly with a smile.

He grinned, thanking you with a nod before taking a seat on the recliner. You got yourself the last plate, scooting back towards your original seat.

“Where do you guys work?” You looked towards Nance and Jonathan.

He swallowed his piece before speaking. “Hawkins Post. I work on photography and she writes.” his fork pointed to her before she nodded and continued.

“Technically, we’re still interning, but we’re hoping to secure a permanent job once our internship is up.” She told you as you nodded your head.

“That’s cool! Roane has a weekly paper, but it’s usually just filled with the same political crap about our Mayor trying to drive out local businesses and replace them with big chain stores.” You said wistfully, shaking your head.

She chewed faster, murmuring out a reply before she was able to respond with actual words.

“Our Mayor, Mayor Kline, is actually doing the same thing! Jonathan and I have been begging to do a story about it to help save the mom-and-pop businesses, but our boss Tom,” she exhaled heavily, shaking her head with annoyance, “he agrees with the Mayor and totally shuts us down every time.”

You pouted, placing down your untouched plate, and placing a warm hand on her shoulders, “God, I bet you they’re such assholes…I wish I could help, but seriously, if at any point you guys do figure out a way to make it happen, I’ll be happy to help any way I can.”

Your voice was somehow sweeter than the pie that Steve was scarfing down as he watched and listened on. Everyone was too busy in their own conversations to care about the one you and Nancy were having, but not him, though he was more so focused on you. He just hoped he didn’t look like a sloppy toddler that was too distracted to realize food was all over his mouth.

Steve was just so enamored by your grace and everything that was new to him.

He noticed the way your eyes would trickle over with all of these different sentiments while Nance confided in you about the struggles at Hawkins Post. But he assumed this was just how you usually were, a part of you, so invest in people and wanting them to know that they could talk to you and you would do your bestest to give your deepest empathy.

Only one thing he couldn’t understand was how anyone, let alone your ex-boyfriend, let go of someone who was as pure and generous as you. Steve Harrington was sure, even after only meeting you today, that you were the sweetest person he had ever had the honor of encountering. That if he really knew you were too good to be true like this, he would’ve begged Robin to invite you sooner.

“Can I have your slice if you’re not going to eat it?” Dustin’s voice broke in, his plate already finished with only crumbs left behind.

Tearing your gaze away from Nancy and switching to the boy who looked on at your untouched plate on the table. You grinned, leaning forward to push the plate closer to him, “Go crazy, I’m not hungry, anyway.”

So not only were you kind, you were also patient—Steve was making a mental list without even realizing it and knowing what for.

Here you were giving up your slice for the little teenage twerp that just insulted the top you were borrowing only a few minutes ago. If Steve were in your shoes, he’d tell the little shit to think about making fun of mustard again before thinking he’d give up a slice of his pie for him, but then again, you weren’t Steve and you definitely weren’t an asshole.

“Dude, let her have her slice!” Eddie chastised with a mouth full of cherries and pie pastry.

Max flicked him on the head with a grunt. “Yeah Dusty, no wonder Suzie broke up with you.”

Dustin glared, pulling your plate to him, “Oh shut up, I told you me and Suzie are perfectly fine and still together!” he hissed, not hesitating to take a bite of his pie.

You shifted yourself to face forward, eyes on the kids who were thoroughly not convinced about Dustin’s so-called girlfriend.

“Suzie?” You spoke curiously, “Does she live in Hawkins?”

They all shook their heads, and Dustin spoke with a full mouth, but still you could hear him clearly. “She lives in Utah! Her family is crazy Mormon though, so I can only call during certain hours to speak to her through my Cerebro.”

Your eyes widened, “Cerebro? Like from X-Men?”

“You know X-Men?” the kids all shouted.

You laughed, nodding your head undoubtedly. “I only have a few, but X-Men #7 is one of my favorites.”

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding when you said she was mega cool.” Dustin’s eyes darted to Robin’s, which made you laugh.

“So tell me more about Cerebro.”

Honestly, it was hard for any of the kids to find other people who understood or got them the way that their older siblings and friends did. It’s mainly the reason why their friend group was so small and tight-knit in the first place and they’d be lying to say they weren’t the first to oppose the idea of bringing in a new person to the group.

But you seemed genuinely engrossed in the kids’ lives, not just instinctively nodding your head and humming so that they could feel like you cared, but you really did. Asking questions about Dustin’s summer camp where he and Suzie met and finding it quite adorable that he would go out of his way to build something to speak to a girl on the other side of the country.

Halfway through your conversation with the kids, Steve got up, heading towards the kitchen in hopes of finding you something to eat, seeing as though Dustin took hostage of your food. It didn’t help that he absolutely sucked at cooking and had nothing in his fridge to offer you other than a coke which definitely wouldn’t make up for your pie loss.

With his back turned to the fridge, he could feel a presence behind him, trying to be quiet, yet failing, and he knew it was you, or at least thought it was because of the earlier instance.

“I thought I told you that you were a guest and you should be enjoying yourself in the—what the fuck Robs!”

She cackled, hunched over laughing to herself once Steve finally turned around and noticed it was, in fact, not you but her.

“Jesus, what’s the matter with you? Sneaking up on me like that!” He crossed his arms over his chest at Robin who was trying to settle down.

“You’re so gullible! Like I wasn’t even trying! I was just trying to see what you were up to and you thought that I was her!” She laughed maniacally, failing to contain herself.

“Yeah, I came in here to try to find something she can eat, seeing as though Dustin lacks consideration and didn’t think to ask if she ate anything before coming here.” He sighed, turning around and opening back up the fridge, like something would magically appear before his eyes.

Robin calmed down, nudging him away from the refrigerator so that she could get a look. Her fingers instantly pulled open one of the drawers where the fresh fruit that were barely touched were.

“This will do.” She grabbed an apple and orange, passing it off to Steve.

He raised his brows, “Don’t you think she wants something else?”

She shook her head. “Nope, she loves fresh fruit! Told me how much she loves them in her salads and how she picks up fresh ones from the market to make sweets and drinks with them.”

“Fine. Just go back in there and I’ll cut these up.”

She held her hands up in defense, slightly mocking in a higher pitched voice as she walked backwards, “Oh okay, Chef Harrington, thank you so much for your service to our pretty guest.”

He closed his eyes shut, shaking his head as he heard a snicker come from Robin before she fully exited and gave him the kitchen all to himself where he cut and peeled the fruit, neatly placing them on a plate for you. Steve wished you would have snuck in just to get another chance to talk to you alone because he wasn’t quite sure if he could hold a conversation with you when everyone was around.

You didn’t intimidate him per se, but he liked speaking to you one-on-one when there were no idiotic teens around to make him feel weird for asking such silly questions. But you didn’t sneak in, still holding the conversation with the teens as he walked out and placed the plate on the coffee table in front of you.

“Here you go,” Steve announced softly, not wanting to break the conversation.

You looked up at him, seeing the plated fruit slices he had arranged in a circle, “Oh, you didn’t have to! But thank you!”

“No problem.” He grinned, heading back to his seat.

“So what about you?” You turned your gaze towards El, the quiet one of the bunch who sat and listened for the most part. “What do you like to do?”

“Poetry.” She said faintly, making you smile as you popped an apple slice in your mouth.

“I used to do a lot of poetry too when I was your age.” You told her, and she looked at you curiously.

“I have a ton of journals from when I was in high school, but ultimately I think my calling has always been art.” You smiled at her, seeing the way she lit up at that.

“What did you write about?”

“Typical teenage stuff. Growing up. Strict parents. Bullies. Boys.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Max cut in.

You took a deep breath, unsure of how to bring this up, “Umm, well, I uh, y-yeah—well, no yeah! I meant no! I don’t have one! But I used to, but we broke up.”

“How long were you together?” Mike asked.

“Stop being invasive, Michael!” Nancy quietly scolded, earning a glare from Mike who paid her no mind and went back to you waiting for an answer.

“Umm, you know, a really long time, but it was so long ago that—“

“Estimate?” Lucas countered.

You swallowed anxiously, not really wanting to talk about this, but feeling you had to answer before it got awkward, “Like six—“

“Jesus, you twerps are nosey. Just let her and El talk about poetry.” Steve surged into the conversation, getting up to retrieve an orange slice from the plate as he ruffled the hair on the teen’s head walking back to his seat in order to play it off.

You took a deep breath through your light-hearted smile, eyes dancing towards him to shoot him a grateful glance for his quick thinking.

The last thing you wanted to talk to the teens about was your tumultuous relationship that came to a world crumbling end. Plus, the teens were in their own relationships. You didn’t want to jeopardize their ideas of their own relationships because of your past one. They were smart and kind, and didn’t need to hear about your ex to know that about themselves.

Steve didn’t quite know what else your ex did to make you freeze up like this in front of everyone, but he wasn’t going to let it happen. It was his fault anyway for bringing it up in the first place and he had to make up for that, to let you know that he had your back, even when it came to his own friends who were just as innocently curious as him.

He got the chance to peel back a layer of your history in private, something that he knew was a privilege to learn about, but he wouldn’t let you be put on the spot like this when you weren’t ready.

There was an ease to the room once Steve made it clear that your love life wasn’t up for discussion right now. Everyone just seemed to forget it was even brought up in the first place. El smoothly shifted topics back to poetry and took the moment to ask you if you still wrote from time to time, which you happily gave her the answer to.

Thankfully, poetry wasn’t the only topic of discussion.

Eddie had told you about his band Corroded Coffin that played every Tuesday and Sunday at the Hideout Bar where he also worked. The kids had been begging to go to a show in order to see him and his friends live, but since the bar had a very obvious and strict age limit, they’d just have to wait until they were 21.

Robin finally told you about her and Steve’s creepy manager Keith who had been smuggling R rated tapes from Family Video, which they then used against him in order to get days off whenever they wanted. Things only got funnier when Steve revealed that Keith had accidentally forgotten to switch the tapes back to the original casing, which led to a very angry mother coming in and demanding to speak to the manager when her son had brought home “Star Whores: Attack of the Silicone.”

At some point, you found yourself excessively laughing with Nancy and Robin while Jonathan reenacted his father, Hopper’s reaction to a stash of weed that he had bought off of Eddie. Hopper actually sounded pretty cool considering he was police chief and didn’t make the boy flush it down the toilet. Instead, just asking for a bit because he wanted to try to make weed brownies.

You definitely needed to meet him one day and hopefully ask him how the baking process was.

Lucas, on the other hand, had vented about the captain of the basketball team, Jason, who was a total asshole and didn’t know how to shoot a three pointer to save his life. Max suggested that one of them attack him from behind and break his leg so that Lucas could be the star player for the season.

But somehow Mike had an even more vicious plan, to poison him and take him out for good—but of course he looked at you, with cautious hands held out, “We’re just kidding by the way!”

To say that you enjoyed yourself this afternoon would be an understatement because, for the first time in forever, it felt as though your social battery wasn’t draining. You would want to spend the rest of the day here in Steve’s living room listening to them talk about their lives and ask you about your mundane one.

But time always went by fast when you were spending it with people who were so fun and carefree, so when you caught the hour on Steve’s clock, you knew you had to get going.

Everyone gave you a hug, thanking you for stopping by and of course bringing the pie, the same one that they were begging you to bring the next time you would come into Hawkins. And you sure did promise you would. Robin, being the sweet friend she was, attempted to convince you to stay a little while longer, but you knew you had to go, and you’d make it up to her another time—hopefully a girls’ night in the coming weeks.

Steve was the only one missing from the living room having excused himself to the kitchen a little while earlier to get the dirty dishes done. He even warned everyone to make sure you stayed in your seat and didn’t come in to help him clean up, knowing you would sneak up and try to offer it. After releasing a very tight and giggly hug from Robin, you stood up, making your way to the kitchen.

“Steve?” You knocked your fist against the archway, catching his attention as he turned to look over his shoulder.

“Hey, need something?” He asked, quickly shutting off the faucet and drying his hands on the kitchen towel hanging near the sink.

You shook your head, gesturing down to your purse slung over your shoulder, “I’m actually heading out now. Gotta get home before rush hour.”

He stooped dramatically, making you laugh as you offered your most sarcastic yet sincerest apologies for the departure of your presence.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you out.” He gestured, leading the way while you waved goodbye to everyone in the living room before following Steve out the front door.

“Thanks again for letting me come over.” You chirped, with your shoulders coming in shyly.

He waved it off, smiling down at you, “It’s no problem, it was really nice meeting you…I can’t wait to come over to your place.”

“I’m looking forward to it too…I just don’t know if I’ll be half the host that you were.”

“Don’t, you’re gonna be fine. Drive safe alright?”

You brushed your hair back behind your ear, nodding as you smiled once more, “I will, see you around Steve.”

Your arms didn’t hesitate to wrap around his neck, hugging him ardently. Even if you were wearing his clothes, smothered in the scent of his detergent and him, his senses were filled with you.

A bright vanilla aroma coming from you, and with your hair blowing in his face, he could help but drown in it, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time he’d get to hug you like this.

But alas, he had to let go, his large hands giving your shoulders a warm one over before finally pulling away and seeing your smiley face.

He stood by the porch, watching as you got into your car, taking note of every little detail of your movements.

Placing your purse in the passengers and checking the contents making sure you didn’t leave anything behind buckling in. You checked your mirrors while twirling the ends of your hair between your fingers, securing the locks against your back and the chair. After a few seconds, he could hear the gear change and watched as you twiddle your fingers upon the steering wheel, waving one last goodbye as you reversed out of his driveway.

“See ya…” He mouthed, with a tight smile, waving before you drove off.

The distance between Hawkins and Roane Country was almost an hour, which gave you a lot of time to think about today and especially wonder about Steve Harrington.

Honest to God, every time you’d catch him in your peripheral, beaming and nodding along at your conversations, you found yourself almost tumbling over your words. He was that distracting, in the best way possible.

There was something endearing about him, perhaps his ability to read your social cues or maybe the fact that he actually showed interest in you and whatever you were talking about. Even if he didn’t get it, you could tell he was listening intently, eyes following you wherever your hands and sights drifted, like a willow bending right to the wind.

You wished you had the guts to strike up a conversation with him in front of everyone else, but you were sure that if you did everyone would take note of how your shyness reached a whole other level with a pretty guy sitting in front of you. Steve was easy to talk to, but you didn’t know if you were easy to react when it came to anything he said.

His words. His smile. His laughter.

All of it trickled with a honey so sweet that it made your stomach ache and blood rush hot. A feeling that was so foreign after all of this time, yet you couldn’t help but want more. To get to talk to him, even if it was just him insulting your ex with low blows because he deserved it.

But his raw emotions. Him letting his guard down. His thoughtfulness.

It exuded the warmth of freshly ground cinnamon, something that had layers to it. Like a punch in the gut that surprised you in a way that was too profound to explain further. He didn’t even hesitate telling you about his parents and how troubling it felt to be given so much from them yet so little at the same time.

It felt like you were throwing a bunch of colors onto a canvas, not knowing where this was headed, maybe off a cliff or down a dead-end street. Or maybe back home with you where everything would be bliss. You could never really tell.

With Steve, it felt different, very complicated.

Perhaps you were getting too far ahead of yourself, after all, his actions weren’t too far fetched from the others who made you feel just as comfortable and made you laugh just as hard. Yet you didn’t feel this way towards Eddie or Robin and definitely not towards Nancy and Jonathan.

But feelings like these oftentimes just over complicated things, like this very moment right now where you shouldn’t be contemplating this in the first place.

It was too soon to ever know and you could bank on it being counterfeit. Something you’d look back on and laugh at because maybe it was better off with you and Steve being friends, just like everyone else. Nothing more, nothing less, just friends.

The afternoon glow cascaded your kitchen, a soft ochre hue bouncing off your window pane and showering your body in the warmth. Stevie Nicks’ voice sang through the space on your radio while you stirred the florals in the boiling water.

A few knocks echoed through your door, accompanied by various voices that grew louder. Looking over at the time on the microwave, it read “3:12p.m.” in bright neon green lights.

They were on time.

“Coming!” you shrieked out, cutting the music and lowering the heat on the stove before you walked over the door, undoing the latch and twisting the lock open.

With a wide grin, you stretched the door open, and their chatter subsided, turning their attention towards you, their eyes glittering with anticipation.

Your apartment wasn’t the biggest or the most lavish, but it was undeniably you. Just from the front door alone, your personality was oozing among the space—plants were displayed on a shelf near the door alongside a handmade pottery bowl for keys and small belongings that rested on a small table.

Straight ahead was your kitchen just as personalized as the entrance. The counters complimented with a delicate flower-patterned backsplash along with wooden cabinets you had stained to wash out the unpleasant color that came with the place originally.

It was so very much you.

“Come in! Come in!” You ushered them with animated welcoming arms.

The teens stepped through first, peering around as they traveled further into your home. Your living room another lively space with an olive green couch and swinging chair you splurged on and surprisingly hung all by yourself. And of course, unfinished and half-painted canvases decked the walls.

You met cheek to cheek with Robin and Nancy, the same fond welcome you had gotten accustomed to giving to your lady friends. Eddie and Jonathan took you in for a side hug, giving you a smile.

Steve was the last one to enter with a vase carrying a blend of lively flowers in one of his hands. He wore a striped polo, one of the many that you saw hanging in his closet, a pair of blue jeans, Nike’s Cortez’ that was totally his style, and of course his world famous smile.

“I’m so glad you made it.” You murmured, opening your arms as he walked into you and wrapped his arms snuggly across your back.

You squeeze your arms around him affectionately, inhaling the subtle aroma of mint and sandalwood that he wore. Something that you became familiar with since your last interaction where he walked you out to your car and said goodbye to you in the same way he was saying hello.

Of course, Steve had made it. There was no way he was going to miss it. Not after you graced his home with your presence. If anything, Steve was the one who rushed everyone into Eddie’s van to get here on time to see you.

He looked down at you, seeing your eyes flutter open as you both released the hug, yet never stepped back to open the proximity.

“Been looking forward to it all week,” he brought the hand holding the vase up, prompting them towards you with a grin, “…and these are for you.”

You let go, wrapping your fingertips around the glass, admiring the blues, pinks, whites, and greens of the arrangements. Summer flowers, the kind that bloom the entire season before spring comes along and cuts their time too short before winter arrives.

You had been busy for the past couple of weeks that you didn’t even realize that you had forgotten to take a trip to your local florist to pick up some of your favorites, nevertheless Steve’s would suffice.

Closing your eyes, you breathed in the citrusy sweet fragrance from the baby pink peonies in the bunch, then you opened them back up, orbs filled with gratitude as you stared at him.

“Steve, these are beautiful. Thank you!”

He shrugged his shoulders lightly, “Unfortunately, none of us are good bakers, so I’m glad you like it.”

Laughing, you gestured him towards the living room where everyone had already gotten themselves comfortable, while you made a quick pit stop towards the kitchen to place the flowers on the windowsill to get some sunshine.

Making your way back to everyone you saw Nancy and Jonathan sat on the couch looking worriedly at the teens, “Guys, don’t break anything!”

They both warned in unison, watching as the youngsters made a beeline to the comics and magazines you had lying around on the coffee table.

“No worries, I break something like every other day in here. Totally klutz!” You assured her with a wave, seeing her take a sigh of relief and Jonathan sending you a gracious nod.

“This place is cooler than you described!” Robin blurted, fidgeting her fingertips against each other as she continued to look around trying to spot some things that she remembered you telling her about over the phone.

Striding towards the cluttered coffee table, you noticed the kids not having much space to flip the books and magazines. You had spent the entire morning doing laundry and touching up a painting for your upcoming gallery that you had skipped cleaning the mess up before they had arrived.

You apologized, moving to pick up some paint bottles you had lying around “Sorry it’s a little messy…I was busy all morning,” placing them back in their designated bin underneath the table, while they waved you off, not bothered by the mess at all.

“Did you paint this today?” Will sought, setting down the comic and shuffling towards the easel where a semi-wet canvas laid.

You nodded, walking over and standing next to the piece, and holding your hands behind your back shyly.

“It’s supposed to look like the sunset from a few days ago.”

The sky filled with purple, orange, and yellow tinges to encapsulate the sundown you caught on the drive back to Roane from Hawkins.

“Did you use a photo as a reference?” Mike inquired, squinting his eyes to really take in the detail of the sky and hues used.

You shook your head, knocking your temple with your finger, “I have a really good photographic memory…once I see something I can usually replicate it when my brush hits the canvas.”

“How fascinating.” Will murmured, allowing himself to walk along the walls, looking at all your other paintings you had hanging up.

You clasped your hands together, a genuine sense of respite washing over you as you noticed everyone appearing at ease.

Robin was completely in her own world, fascinated with your overflowing vinyl collection that littered your tv stand.

Nancy and Jonathan were talking softly amongst themselves, smiling as they pointed and admired parts of your apartment, hoping they could have their own one day.

Eddie had taken a seat on the floor, back resting on the couch cushions as he flipped through a comic he picked up.

Steve looked to be just as comfortable, swinging slightly in the hanging chair admiring everyone else, happy that his friends were comfortable in the new space.

You clapped your hands together faintly, just enough for yourself to hear the celebration, “Just feel free to look around! I have a patio over there, but there’s nothing much out there except plants and a little table.”

They looked up to where your finger pointed at the sliding door on the other side of the living room, a cream meshed curtain pulled back to let in the natural sunlight.

Then, you turned your attention to Eddie, bending down a bit to tap his shoulder and point again at the terrace outside, “Eddie, I put out a small glass dish out there if you wanted to take a smoke, just in case.”

You noticed that he had excused himself to Steve’s backyard in order to take a smoke break, so you figured you get that set up for him just in case.

He flashed you a sincere smile, nodding “Thank you,”

You nodded, patting his shoulder before standing straight and excusing yourself to the kitchen to get things prepared.

Steve didn’t quite know if he was more so appreciating his friends finally opening up to a new place that wasn’t his own or seeing you being so welcoming to people you only met a few days ago. Nevertheless, it felt nice, a little warm feeling inside to know that you were so kind and open to them.

He also didn’t know if it made him a weirdo for wanting to stray wherever you went, getting up to follow you into the kitchen just to get a chance to talk to you without the lingering ears of his friends.

You stood there with one hand on your hip and the other stirring some mixture in the pot before turning off the heat completely.

“What’s this?” his soft voice whispered over your shoulder, producing you to bounce slightly before glancing back.

He had a small apologetic smile on his face, almost like a wince.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Steve said as you shook your head, lips curled into a grin when you turned back to stir the liquid.

“Lavender and mint.” You bubbled, drawing the saucepan off the stove and holding it out, just enough to get a sniff of the aroma.

His hand cupped together in the air, wafting the sweet steam towards him, “And it’s tea?”

“Yeah!…Or you could refrigerate it and make it into lemonade, though I should’ve done this hours ago so that I could…you don’t think it’s too hot for tea do you?”

Your forehead scrunched up in woe, setting the pot back down and reaching to slide the window in front of you open. Sticking your hand out, you flipped it back and forth, trying to feel the air and its warmth.

It was totally warm out, but Steve wouldn’t let you know that. He just shook his head, following your actions and sticking his hand out to feel the air, “No, it’s like the perfect weather…I could go for some tea.”

You looked toward him, giving him a sickly sweet smile as you turned to the opposite side of the kitchen, heading into one of the cupboards to grab mugs.

“Let me help you.” Steve offered, taking the ones from your hand with ease and placing them onto the counter.

He didn’t allow you to grab the other seven remaining mugs, as he did it himself, lining them up perfectly so it would be easier to pour and serve.

“Do you like milk in your tea?” You questioned, padding over to the fridge and seizing every bottle of milk you had.

He thought for a second, eyebrows scrunched together, trying to recall a memory, but he was sure that the last time he had milk and tea was when he attended one of his father's boring business conferences when he was a child.

“I’ve never tried it, is it any good?” Steve asked, leaning against the counter’s edge to watch you clutch the mason jars against your chest.

You smiled with a nod, fingers holding up one of the glass jars you had labeled, “almond” before placing them all right next to the mugs.

“You make your own milk?” He looked surprised, picking up the jar and inspecting the liquids that looked store-bought.

“It’s super easy and because it doesn’t take my time I just make a new glass every week.” You told him as you waltzed over to the boiler, picking up the pot before cautiously pouring a serving into each mug.

He watched you closely, noting how you bit your lip in concentration, making sure each mug got the same amount of tea, not wanting anyone to have less or too much than they wanted. You smiled to yourself, eventually letting go of your bottom lip when the last mug was filled perfectly, spinning around in your sock covered feet to place the remaining liquid back on the stove.

He did his best to hide his smile, endeared with your behavior for something as simple as pouring some tea. You rubbed your hands together, finally turning back to him and nodding your chin at the mugs.

“You should get the first taste!”

“You sure?” He asked, already reaching for the ridiculously adorable strawberry mug that you usually always drank out of.

You giggled, bowing your head as he finally took a sip. His lips smacked against each other to search the flavor profile in an attempt to impress you with the enhanced taste buds that he clearly didn’t possess, but somehow he was still able to make you laugh, which was enough.

“It’s sweet but still a little minty—what milk do you usually go for?” He sat his cup down, fingers brushing over the jars, looking over the different milks you had.

Oat. Almond. Cashew.

“Oat, it’s the most neutral out of all of them and doesn’t disturb the flavor, in my opinion.” You responded, letting your elbow rest onto the counter to place your chin in your palm.

You watched him crack open the jar, pouring a tiny bit into his cup before looking at you, silently asking if it was enough. The jutting of your chin and smile prompted him to pour a little more, just until you squeaked and you both laughed before he sealed the jar shut.

The two of you watched the milk flow over the once sheer lilac brew as if it was going to stir itself. Only remembering now, you gasped dramatically, moving up to pull open the drawers on the opposite side of the kitchen in order to grab a handful of spoons.

“Sorry, I totally forgot!” You apologized, handing one to Steve as he snickered, shaking his head while he stirred his drink.

“Don’t have to apologize. You’re too nice of a host already.” He encouraged you, taking another sip of the tea and giving you wide eyes when it rushed down his larynx.

“Holy shit…this is good!” He said surprisingly, as you smirked, moving towards him to make yourself a cup.

Your fingers grabbed onto the vintage basketball mug before pouring in your own splash of oat milk. “Oh! I forgot to mention, I like to add honey sometimes. Do you wanna try?”

You tiptoed, attempting to grab the bear shaped bottle of honey, and Steve had easily raised his arm up, clutching it for you.

“Thank you.” You whispered softly, taking it from him.

Steve was just happy to help, beaming warmly and watching you squeeze a tiny bit of honey into your cup and he happily did the same when you passed him the bottle.

You both took a sip at the same time, smiling tightly as you watched each other before swallowing. It was silly. So the two of you chuckled. Shaking your head at how silly it was.

“I didn’t mean to stare at you while you…sorry, that was weird of me.” You palmed your forehead dumbly, closing your eyes with a slight smile as Steve chuckled and hummed something that sounded like a “no” as he took another sip of the sweetness.

He shook his head, waving your worries away as he kept his hand on the handle of the mug when the other came down to rest on his hip, “I didn’t mean to stare either…I just didn’t want to look away from your tea-drinking skills.”

You cocked your head to the side, letting both sets of hands wrap around your warm mug as you rose a brow at him.

“My tea drinking skills?”

He smirked, nodding confidently, “Yeah, you know it’s a real art to not spill all over yourself. People do it all the time.”

There was a playful look coating your features, your eyes squinting shut as the smile took over before your laugh, shaking your head ridiculously at him.

“You’re impressed way too easily, Steve.”

Maybe it was the fact that you both were sipping tea in the middle of summer or perhaps the airflow in your kitchen was poor, but either way it didn’t take much for you both to notice the fervor that developed. You two were only inches apart. The space could be closed just by one sway towards each other’s bodies.

The lump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed, watching you take another sip as you tore your eyes away with the heat rushing to the apples of your cheeks. You looked pretty like this; he was sure you always did, but something about you here in your own kitchen surrounded by everything that was you felt just about right.

“I can’t help it…” You snapped your eyes back up at him, seeing him lift his shoulder with a placid grin on his face as he spoke.

“I’m always going to be impressed when it comes to you. Even when it’s just tea and a pretty—”

“What’s this!?”

The two of you jerked your eyes to Robin, leading the rest of the pact behind her into your kitchen. You swore he was just about to call you a pretty girl, certain even, but there were a million things he could’ve said.

Pretty mug.

Pretty kitchen.

Pretty apartment.

Pretty girl.

Pretty you.

No! He wasn’t. There was no way.

You quickly leaned off the counter, gesturing to them as Steve scooted over to make way for everyone else. They all picked up a mug, conversing amongst each other as they began drinking and popping open the milk and honey, serving themselves.

“It’s Lavender mint tea! I also have homemade oak, almond, and cashew milk so hopefully none of you are allergic…but if you want, I could run to the store and pick up some whole milk, it’s only down the road anyway so it won’t be long—“

Steve could sense the anxiety in your ramble, unsure if it was because of him and the line he had casted out towards you, or maybe because of the sudden intrusion of his friends that made it feel like you two had been caught when in actuality you both weren’t doing anything wrong.

Steve halted the jabber, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder as everyone helped themselves to the tea, not aware of what you had been saying.

“None of them are allergic, so you’re fine…don’t need to go all out for some kids from Hawkins,” he looked around at his friends who were too busy to care, “everything you’re doing is perfect.”

You clutched the mug in your hands, taking a sip again feeling your heart thump at his words. You didn’t understand what sorcery was going on, but you did know that Steve Harrington had a way with words and every sweet thing that left his lips made you feel like you were floating.

Steve swore that he could see a pink blush creeping onto your face, but the mug you had tilted closer to your face hid it. It was cute; he didn’t know why you took so weirdly to compliments. It was something that he noticed right off the bat when you two first met. The way that if anyone said something nice about you, you felt the need to downplay it or not respond at all.

But Steve would keep complimenting you because you truly were someone that deserved to know their worth. So he smiled, continuing to watch the way you tried to hide your blush, while he sipped on his tea.

Robin wasn’t clueless to the two of you, sure she didn’t have the best timing, but she could read the both of you. The way you and he would stare at each other for too long and even how you’d both stray to each other if the other ran off somewhere else.

She knew where this was going.

Coughing lightly to clear her throat, she tapped you on the shoulder.

“Do you mind showing me the bathroom?”

You nodded, a tight smile on your face as you brushed past Steve, but not without your arms grazing before you led her out of the kitchen and into the opposite hallway where your bedroom and the bathroom was.

“It’s in here,” reaching forward and twisting the door open to reveal the bathroom.

Robin smirked wickedly, seizing one of your arms and pulling you into the restroom before shutting the door.

You shrieked and snorted all in one, startled at her action and trying to steady the mug in your hand so you didn’t spill any.

“Robs!”

She pressed her back against the door, a woozy smile on her face as she widened her eyes at you, “What the hell was that in there?!”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head frantically, “Oh my god, shush, he could hear you! It was nothing!”

Robin laughed, as you tugged her a ways bit from the door, hoping that no one, and especially Steve, didn't hear the conversation that was happening inside here. She opted to close the toilet lid, sitting on top of it while you leaned against the counter, still sipping on your tea to avoid talking about this, but Robin seemed to have no plans to stop.

“It didn’t look like nothing! You guys were like milliliters apart, and his eyes were all dreamy and full of stars when he was staring at you!”

Her hands twiddled around in the air, trying to show you what she meant, and you knew exactly what she meant because you saw his orbs in the same light. Like an ocean of stars and glitter every time he had his eyes on you long enough for you to catch it—to make a wish on them.

“His eyes are always dreamy.” You countered out loud, instantly regretting that statement as Robin clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her squeal.

You bit back a smile, turning your head the other way so she couldn’t see the way you were absolutely blushing out of your mind.

“I knew it! I could feel the tension in that kitchen and I just knew it! And the other day? You two just couldn’t stop looking at each other. You guys are totally crushing and are gonna fall in love!”

God, you couldn’t even remember when’s the last time you actually had a crush on someone attainable. All the guys you liked were fictional, from books, tv shows, and movies, because at least those guys were mesmerizing and actually respectable people. But Steve felt like that too, that one out of a million that you could actually see and have the privilege of being around let alone talking to.

He was so out of your league, there was no possible way he could’ve meant what he was going to say as a genuine romantic compliment. He was just being friendly. Just being the same Steve that Robin described to you before you had even met him. The same Steve who graciously covered for you when you didn’t want to talk about your asshole ex boyfriend.

The Steve that had you thinking about him on your drive back home wishing you were watching the sunset with him—

You heard the snap of her fingers, before feeling her stand up and make her way in front of you where she stood and clutched your shoulders, causing you to look at her. Shaking your head, you sighed heavily, finally prompting her a response after those grueling composing seconds.

“He’s just nice, Robin, and I’m sure he’s being kind because we just met. I barely know him! You said it yourself, remember? Steve’s a nice guy.” You said seriously, setting down your mug on the open counter space as she pouted and shook her head.

“No, I mean yeah, Steve is nice, but he’s being abnormally kind to you. The kind of kindness where it’s all sappy and lovey. It kinda makes me want to throw up, but also makes me want to kick my legs like an idiot because seeing him this way after all this time is actually nice.”

She explained with a complicated look that quickly turned into smiles and fondness, realizing that Steve was actually putting himself out there and you just were too foreign to it all. She watched as you took another deep breath, letting your shoulders stoop against her hold as you held your head in your hands.

“I stood there like an idiot Robs. He said something really nice to me and I…I just stood there! Gosh, he probably thinks I'm totally dumbass or something.”

She scoffed, shaking her head, giving your skin an encouraging squeeze when you finally looked up at her.

“Trust me, Steve doesn’t think you’re an idiot or a dumbass, or anything bad. He's genuinely so enthralled by you. And this is the same guy whose attention span is shorter than mine, so that’s saying quite a lot if, after the first hangout he’s already asking more about you.”

Your eyebrows curled into a frown before raising curiously, silently asking Robin to tell you what she meant before she licked her lips, eyes darting around the bathroom trying to pick one out of the many scenarios where Steve had asked about you.

“Umm, okay, this one!” She decided confidently, nodding her head and furrowing her brows roughly to mimic Steve earlier this morning at the florist.

“Which flowers do you think she likes best? She’s like super into florals, right? Is she allergic to anything? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to show up with flowers that she’s allergic to. That’s like fucking embarrassing Robs. Okay, you know what, I’m just gonna pick the prettiest flowers and hope she doesn’t end up sneezing or anything.”

You snickered at her impression of Steve’s voice and mannerisms, feeling your heart swarm as you thought it was pretty sweet that he was taking the time to ask about you, let alone think about putting in so much effort into those flowers he had brought for you.

“That’s actually really adorable,” you admitted, while Robin smiled and tilted her head, watching you thoughtfully.

She removed her grip for your shoulders, hands softly clapped while she shrieked while you rolled your eyes playfully at her delight. “See! I’m like cupid or something! Just yennooo…try throwing out a compliment and if it feels weird or wrong, then you’ll know. But I think we both know how it’s gonna go!”

“Sure cupid,” You rolled your eyes lovingly before going deep again, “I just don’t want to mess things up, alright? If somehow we’re both reading this wrong, I don’t want to lose him as a friend. It’s gonna put me in an awkward position if he doesn’t feel the same, so just for my sake, let’s just keep this conversation between us?”

You held out your pinky finger towards her, where she immediately crossed her fingers over her heart and proceeded to hook her pinky with yours.

“Promise!” she vowed, kissing her thumb as you giggled and did the same to yours.

When you two unhooked fingers, she crossed her arms and looked back at the toilet then at you, “I still really gotta pee, so…”

You tsked, chuckling lightly as you picked up your mug and gave her a thumbs up before exiting the bathroom to give her some privacy. When you walked down the hallway back into your living room, everyone looked relaxed, sitting on the couch or just hanging around the floor enjoying their cups of homemade tea while they talked amongst themselves.

Steve was in his previous seat, rocking back and forth in the hanging chair still nursing his lavender mint tea. When you came into view, he flashed you a smile, almost a questioning one, asking if everything was alright considering you were just in the bathroom with his best friend for quite some time. You assured him a nod and a small curl of your lips, ushering him to nod back.

That god he didn’t seem phased by the previous kitchen interaction.

“What’s that?” You requested, settling on the carpeted floor where Will and the rest of the teenagers were sitting near the coffee table flipping through a book.

Will glanced over with a shrug, sliding the book towards you, giving you a chance to see the art that covered the pages. You were amazed, setting down your mug and pulling the book closer as you looked into each stroke of the pencil and all the shading.

“Will, these are beautiful.” You nudged him casually with your elbow, making him smile, while he watched you flip through the next few pages where more illustrations filled the sheet.

One of the pages that caught your eye was a figure, one dressed in a cloak with a pointy wizard hat, and it looked a bit like Will. Maybe a self-portrait of some kind for that fantasy game he and the boys played.

“They’re not as good as yours, but I wanted to bring it so I could show you what I’ve been working on.” He told you, while you frowned and reached to rest your hand onto his, giving it a squeeze.

“No, these are amazing. I mean, this is just incredible…when I was your age all I could draw were stick figures.”

The laugh that Will let out made you smile and so did the reinforcing words coming from his friends, egging him on and telling him how awesome all of his sketches were. You knew that art was subjective, and even when you yourself were hard on the work that you made, you also had to find it within yourself to be kind.

And you wanted Will to feel the same way, because he truly had a talent for art and you wished you had someone when you were younger who encouraged you to pursue it sooner.

“I actually have a bunch of spare paints and brushes, and other supplies that you can take home.” You told him.

Shifting to your knees as you began reaching under the coffee table where some storage bins were located, filled with some paints you hadn’t yet used. You began pulling them out one by one, setting them on the coffee table and talking to Will about each of the brands and colors.

From Steve’s place, he could see more of you than Will whose back was facing him. He saw the way your nose crinkled distastefully as you expressed your dislike of certain paint brands because of the opacity and smell. Then how quickly the look of disgust was replaced by a bark of hilarity as Will told you something about his mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee to battle the horrible smell of some of the paints he used.

Steve hoped it didn’t make him a creep for always watching you, but it was out of admiration than it was out of flirtation. He preferred watching you because there was a way about you—an ease, almost one that even yourself didn’t quite notice, but he did.

To him, the best way to describe the feeling he got around you was almost like a secret garden.

One filled with every kind of flower blooming under the radiating sun. Trees growing so tall with birds settling on the stretching branches. The air the perfect kind of cool where bees and butterflies pass through as they soar through the sky. A calm waterfall trickling into a pond that calls out to everyone to jump in freely.

For Steve, it’s like jumping in and getting lost in you…exactly as he’s doing right now.

In simpler terms, people gravitated towards you, not solely for your sweetness or kindness, but for how genuine you actually were.

Even in Steve’s own experiences, he knew he was guilty of just nodding along and pretending to understand what any of the teens were talking to him about.

Video games. Computers. Poetry. Skateboarding. Dungeons and Dragons. Painting. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. Crushes. Whatever it was; just going in one ear and out the other while they kept talking and talking and talking.

But not you.

If anything, you immersed yourself into their world even when it wasn’t something that you could fully wrap your head around like that fantasy game. Yet you never failed to ask questions in order to learn more about it, but it was mostly because you loved to see their faced light up when talking about something that they enjoyed without needing to worry about sounding nerdy.

He wished he could talk to you about anything, and he knew he could, but just not right now. Not with everyone sitting here when all he wanted to do was tell you how down to earth you were and how it was even impossible for you to be real.

But indeed real you were meeting his eyes for only a split second before you turned it all back to Will as he spoke.

“Do you think I could try to paint something?” Will asked you timidly, almost anxious of being a nuance, but you bubbled out an excited yelp, scrambling to your feet as you rushed to your bedroom in order to grab a blank canvas that you were sure you weren’t going to use.

“Where is it?” You puffed, hauling open your closet door in hopes of you finding it in some bin that you stored all your excess supplies in.

A knock sounded on the doorway wall, prompting you to call out a reply instead of actually looking at who it was, just assuming that it was Will or one of the other kids.

“Need any help?”

Steve’s voice had you ceasing all movements, encouraging you to take a deep breath and realize that the whole kitchen thing was over. Right now, you needed to get it together and not make things weird. You exhaled softly, peeping back from behind your closet to see him leaning against your door frame with a small smile before you nodded.

“It’s so bare in here.”

He joked, looking around the room where the only piece of artwork hanging was one above your bed. A total lunar eclipse with its blood-red moon shining bright against a dark sky with tiny stars scatters around it.

You gasped subsequently, finding the smaller canvas and standing up from the ground, “I like that my bedroom is sorta away from all the chaos out there.”

Your hands motioned to the outside of the door, making circles and rolling your eyes, as if the living room was such a chaotic mess, when it really wasn’t. He chuckled, shaking his head before raising his brow at you.

“Anything else we need?”

Yeah, some fucking composure, Steve, because now I’m thinking of a compliment to spit out so we can get a feel of whatever the fuck we have going on.

You nodded, dropping the canvas on your bed and strolling over to the bottom drawers of your dresser where more supplies were stored.

“Yeah, some new brushes and a paint pallet for him.”

He watched you, totally oblivious of your nerves and instead in awe of how considerate you were being, by lending Will new items rather than just letting him borrow what you already had.

“You’re going to spoil the kid rotten.” He quipped, seeing as you couldn’t pick between two different shades of blue paint tubes and instead, just threw both of them into the pile you were amassing for Will.

You looked up, looking as innocent as ever and shaking your head, more than happy to spoil the kid.

“These have just been sitting here waiting to be used and Will will probably use it more than I ever will.”

He chuckled, coming down beside you, kneeling on the floor to help gather the paint tubes in his hands knowing you wouldn’t be able to carry it all by yourself. Your fingers brushed each other as you both grabbed a few, eyes flickering up to each other with a quiet laugh, continuing on before he spoke just as delicately.

“You’re really too sweet.”

Now’s the opening…just be smooth and throw it out there.

“I’d like to think I am,” you replied, snickering to yourself, when on the inside you were screaming.

He looked to you, seeing as though you tried to brush it off, “No, really, I mean it, you’re probably the nicest person I’ve ever met…no one has ever put this much thought into a hang out before.”

You looked almost smitten under his gaze, tucking your cheek into your shoulder and trying to play it off as a shrug despite the smile he could see seeping upon your face. He found it cute. Though he didn’t know why you tried to hide it, he wanted to make you smile and make you feel good about yourself.

“You really think so?” You asked unabashedly, following his head nod with a grin.

“I’d go as far as saying you’re the sweetest girl I think I’ll ever meet.”

Play it cool.

“You must not have met many girls then?” You stood up, hearing his chuckle as he followed your lead.

“Don’t really want to meet any other ones anymore.” He countered.

Strike and get a feel of it.

You grabbed the canvas off your bed as you swooped by. “Robin wasn’t kidding when she said you were charming.”

“She said that?” He said comically, and you giggled nodding and walking out of your bedroom with him trailing behind you.

Throw it out there.

“Yeah, which isn’t totally surprising, considering the fact that you’re pretty sweet yourself.”

There was a glint of teasing to your voice, not that it was too different from the sweetness that dripped from it regularly, but he could tell there was something more there. He didn’t want to think too hard about it, not wanting to ruin the moment with his never-ending questions, so instead he clung to it, hoping he’d get the chance to hear something like that coming from only you ever again.

“Here you go, Will,” you crooned cheerfully, entering the living room with Steve trailing behind you with the paints.

Will’s eyes lit up with excitement, sitting up on his knees as you two placed the items on the coffee table. You sat beside him while Steve went back to the chair, watching in on you explaining to Will each of the pigments and their properties.

This time he wasn’t doing a lot of listening, his mind still caught up in your words and if it meant what he thought it did. He was going to call you a pretty girl back in the kitchen, that is before Robin and the rest of the gang had stumbled in to stop him.

Was that compliment supposed to be a response to his?

Was what you said even a compliment?

Of course it was…hell you could’ve you said he reminded you of a golden retriever and he’d take it with pride and brag to everyone that a pretty girl compared him to a cuddly animal.

But was he just maybe reading into it too much?

You were always dishing out compliments to everyone, saying how great and talented they were, but not with the undertone you had spoken to him with. Perhaps he had misheard you and now he was doing all of this overthinking just to end off at the same place you both started, which was friends.

Just friends.

“Steve, could you come with me and Eddie to the kitchen, please?”

Robin and Eddie both stood, looking at him sharply as they shuffled into the kitchen, signaling for Steve to follow their lead.

He furrowed his brows, standing up quickly and heading for the kitchen, “What’s up?”

“You’re being fucking weird!” Eddie's whisper shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Steve looked taken aback, looking at his two friends puzzled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t think I can’t tell when you’re thinking too hard. What’s the matter?” Robin softly prodded, crossing her arms across her chest.

“W-what? No, I’m fine…I’m just thinking…” He said, avoiding Robin’s knowing eyes as he looked at Eddie instead.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “You keep following her everywhere, yet you’re not making a move. Everyone in that damn living room can feel the tension between you guys.”

“There is no tension!” Steve claimed quietly, peering back and making sure you still were laser focused on the painting.

He looked back at his two friends, resting his hands on his hips, “I’m being friendly alright. I want to make her feel comfortable and help out the same way she did. That’s all.”

Robin threw an unconvinced look his way, before gesturing towards Eddie, “When you met Eddie, you made fun of him for nicknaming his guitar sweetheart, it’s not the same.”

“Because Eddie isn’t a girl!” Steve argued, only causing Eddie to raise a brow, holding a hand over his heart pretending he had just been wounded.

“Are you saying I’m ugly, Harrington?”

“Oh my god,” Steve grumbled, rubbing his fingers over his temples.

Robin reached forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to look at her, “Dude…stop thinking so hard about it. If you like her, just be cool about it. Ask her out if you want. I don’t know…j-just do anything besides what you were doing out there because you looked like you were in pain and it was just weird.”

Did he really looked pained?

Steve blinked, trying to process debating if he wanted to ask Robin if he really looked that bad or for some fucking advice to man up and ask you out already. He didn’t know what he was avoiding, knowing that usually if he liked a girl, he’d just go in and take the shot to ask, but with you, he just couldn’t.

There was too much to lose if something went south.

His thinking was cut short by Eddie who began snapping his fingers, pointing victoriously like he and Robin cracked some sort of secret Russian code or something.

“We were right!” He started poking at Robin’s cheek as she grumbled yet bit back a smile.

Eddie pointed towards Steve again, not bothering to hide the smirk on his face, “What’d I tell you? Harrington is usually so quick to slide on in and ask a girl out and now suddenly he meets a gorgeous down-to-earth-painter-baker-girl and now he’s whipped!”

He drummed his fingers on Robin’s shoulder, making her laugh before turning to her best friend, suddenly bright pink in the cheeks.

“You must really really like her if you’re not using those god awful pickup lines to make her fall for you.” She said half jokingly.

Steve shrugged, moving away from the two and instead reached for his tea mug and taking a sip of the now semi-warm liquid. “Maybe…I—I dunno…I just don’t want to rush things because she knows about King Steve and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

Robin tilted her head, looking apologetic, “She told you I told her about that?”

He shook his head, looking at her dully, “No, but she did say you said I was charming, which pretty much gives it away…also you’re such a terrible liar.”

“Am not!” She gasped, lightly punching him in the arm.

Steve didn’t look so convinced, arguing back without hitting her, “Yeah you are!”

“Fuckin’ kill me,” Eddie sighed, rocking his head at the two.

“Is everything ok?” Your cool speech came ringing in the small kitchen, making the three of them stutter, trying to not look so suspicious.

“Y-yeah, fine! Umm, they were just wondering if you had more tea!” Steve lied, turning his eyes back to Robin and widening them, signaling for her to let go of his shoulders, which she did.

He made his way over to the stove, peeking into the pot that had only a bit of tea left.

“Oh, I can make some more if you’d like?” You responded, moving further into the kitchen to meet Steve at the stove.

With your back turned to Robin and Eddie, they both motioned their way out of the space to give him more time with you, but not before shooting him a suggestive wink.

“Uh, no, no need for that. I’ll just take what’s left…Eddie and Robin have ummm, small bladders! I don’t want them complaining the whole way home later.”

He closed his eyes shut, shaking his head to himself while you attempted to stifle a laugh reaching for his mug and pouring the rest of the tea into his cup.

“Here you go,” you said, turning to him with his mug filled.

He flashed you an apologetic smile, saying a quiet “thank you” while you shake it off.

“Need anything else? A snack?”

His ears heard you loud and clear, but his eyes were stuck on the living room where Eddie and Robin were wildly gesturing their hands in the air, mouthing, “Just do it!”

For my friends to stop being dumbasses is what he wanted to say, but he shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the two friends and giving his sights back to you.

“No, this is all. Thanks again.” He reassured you, earning a smile as you both walked out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

Taking your place between Max and Will who were painting, you were able to get a glimpse of the work they had completed for the short time you were gone. Max had wanted to join in after getting tired of the comic she was reading.

“Oh, this is amazing—shoot, I’m so sorry!”

You weren’t quite sure why you were here apologizing at the fact that Max had accidentally turned towards you with a paintbrush in her hand, smearing gold all over the front of your shirt, but here you were.

“Shit, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry.” The red head said, clutching a hand over her mouth as you shook your head.

“No, it’s my fault! I shouldn’t have snuck up like that. It’s okay, the paint comes off easily in the wash, I’ll go get changed!” You yelped, getting up and jogging down the hallway into your room.

Max turned to Steve, glaring at him.

“Really? Eddie and Robin have small bladders? That’s the best excuse you came up with?”

He scratched the back of his neck, leaning forward, “W-what?”

“Max just bought us some time to tell you how weird you’re being.” Lucas smirked, glancing at Max who looked proud of her quick idea.

Dustin snorted in agreement, finally tearing his eyes away from his comic, “If you’re gonna keep staring at her and following her around like a minion you might as well as her out!”

“I’m not asking her out on a date with all of you here!” Steve countered, staring at all of his friends like they were insane.

Robin rolled her eyes, looking at Nancy, then him, “You asked Nancy to have six kids that time we went road tripping a few years ago. What difference does that make now?”

Mike groaned, covering his face in discomfort remembering overhearing that conversation. “I didn’t have to be reminded of my sister hypothetically having six babies with Steve.”

Jonathan snapped his eyes to Nancy who widened her eyes at Robin, “When was this?” He asked.

Nancy shook her head, brushing him off, “A long time ago, so it doesn’t matter. And they’re right, you and her obviously have chemistry, so why not just stop wasting time and get it over with?”

“No, we don’t,” Steve shook his head, not sounding as convincing as he’d like.

Nance tilted her head, giving him those doubtful eyes, “Really? Do you actually believe that for one second?”

“You keep following her around like a lovesick puppy.” Jonathan admitted, forgetting about the stupid six children thing and saving it for another day, seeing as though Steve really expected that they all couldn’t see right through you and him.

“Every time I look over at her to see if I’m doing something right, you’re in my peripheral ogling at her like a piece of art.” Will responded, tearing his eyes away from his canvas.

“It’s kinda cute.” El said with a giddy smile.

“She’s always smiling at you for some reason.” Max continued.

“Which is funny considering that you’re not that pretty to look at,” Eddie quipped, earning a scowl from Harrington.

Robin rolled her eyes at the men’s consistent banter, knowing she had to work fast before you came back out.

“What we’re trying to say is that she clearly likes you and you like her. You can try denying how you feel, but we know how you get when you start crushing on a girl, so don’t think your lying is going to fool any of us.”

She told him, which would've been reassuring, but asking a girl out in front of a crowd of people wasn’t something that sounded like a good time for him or you. It was just going to put you in that sticky spot with all the attention and most likely to say yes to save him the embarrassment.

He couldn’t do that to you.

“Well, I’m still not asking her out with you guys down my throat. Her and I are just friends. I need to get to know her first. Hell, I don’t even know what her favorite color is or if she likes sports? These are things I should know before I ask a girl out!”

Who was Steve kidding and when did he start caring about frivolous shit like that? You and him could have nothing in common and still he would fawn over you and snowball this crush into something more. Even going as far to turn himself into Picasso's reincarnation if that would make you like him better.

“I’m back!” You grinned, sauntering down the corridor sporting none other than a cropped Red Sox t-shirt.

Steve’s favorite team, of course.

Eddie grunted, already on the tip of making a subtle note, just to see if he was right.

“Nice shirt, but didn’t they lose—“

“Oh, don’t even get me started! The game was totally rigged and if Buckner didn’t mess up that inning, Boston would’ve taken that championship home.” You said intensely, taking your seat between Max and Will once again.

Everyone’s eyes turned to Steve’s, watching them muddle with even more affection than before. You were his total dream girl. He knew it, and so did everyone else.

“Everything alright?” You chuckled after the short seconds of silence.

Grunts and hums came from everybody attempting to not fixate their gaze solely between you and Steve, but it was a bit tough considering the stare that Steve had locked on you.

“Peachy, just trying to remember that date because it was so memorable, and I wished that someone here would make a move and remember it.”

Robin emphasized her words sharply, snapping her fingers to get Steve’s attention in order for him to stop staring at you before you caught him.

Eddie joined in, coughing loudly to “clear” his throat only stopping when Steve finally snapped his eyes away from you.

“Yeah, you know what’s so funny about dates is that they mark something special and really help solidly the—“

You lifted your eyes from Will’s painting just in time as Steve shook it off the stare.

“October 27th 1986 but the series went from October 18th through the 27th if we want to get specific.”

Holy fuck. Holy shit. Holy Mother Of God.

“I—I gotta go to the bathroom!” Steve spat out speedily, resting his mug on the cramped coffee table and shooting up.

You creased your brows together, watching him trudge down the hallway, clumsily, “The first door on your right—“

“Right! Yep! Got it!” He called out, reaching for the handle and nearly propelling himself through the door and slamming it shut.

You tilted your head, letting out a grunt before turning your eyes to Robin, “I—Is he okay?”

She nodded with a broad smile, sitting up from the couch and knocking Eddie’s arm with her elbow, “He’s actually the one with a small bladder so…yenno, when nature calls am I right?”

“He and the toilet are gonna be awhile, a date if you will,” Eddie snorted, making you choke on a laugh before giving them a slow head nod and turning your attention back to Will and Max.

This was by the far the longest time Steve had ever spent staring at himself in the mirror for something not related to his looks. This time around, he was staring for another reason, trying to find the Steve within him that would actually pull the trigger and ask you out already. It was clear as day that he liked you. He didn’t need anymore confirmation of it, he knew his feelings.

But he also knew you were worth more than this and more than the old Steve.

The old Steve could easily swoon you with a pickup line and flirty eyes: the King Steve that you had heard about from Robin. But that wasn’t who Steve was anymore and it sure as hell wasn’t the version of himself he wanted to be when he was with you.

He wanted to be better, to show you that you actually did deserve someone with character within them. Even after all this improvement and trying to actually search for a relationship that consisted of love rather than just sex, he didn’t know if he was good enough for you. If you’d even want to go on a date with him.

He wouldn’t know if he didn’t take a chance.

But what if all you wanted was to be friends?

Would that ruin your friendship with Robin?

Could you possibly imagine yourself ever being friends with her again after her best friend made a pass at you?

He liked you, but he loved Robin and knew this friendship meant a lot to her. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize it because of a crush even if Robin was fully in support of it.

Maybe you and him were supposed to be just friends.

“Steve! Dude, c’mon we gotta go.” Dustin’s voice came from the outside of the door, knocking firmly against the wood.

He furrowed his brows, unlocking the door and pulling it open, “Go? Go where? We just got here.”

Dustin sighed, gesturing back to the living room where you were helping the others clean up, “Nance called home and Mrs. Wheeler said that Holly had an allergic reaction. We gotta get home ASAP!”

“So why can’t Nancy and Mike go home and we stay?” Steve hissed more harshly than intended.

The boy shook his head in incredulity, crossing his arms over his chest, “Need I remind you we drove here in Eddie’s van? We all need to leave together or else you’re stranded in Roane, but by the sound of it, you wouldn’t mind at all.”

Dustin wore a knowing sneer while Steve bit down on his tongue, not really wanting to lash out on the kid who was pointing out the very obvious feelings that he did a horrible job at hiding.

“C’mon lover boy, we got a hive covered six-year-old who needs the hospital and we gotta house sit for a few hours.” Dustin said, finally patting Steve on the arm before turning on his heel and heading back to the living room.

He followed closely behind, seeing everyone begin the file out the door where you hugged each of them.

“I hope everything is ok with your sister! Please, just don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do to help!”

You tightly wrapped your arms around Nance, closing your eyes as you rubbed her back affectionately and heard her murmur a “thank you so much,” before pulling away.

“Bye! Thanks for having us, again!” Dustin saluted with a toothy grin before you giggled and hugged him.

Steve was the last one left in the doorway with you, keeping his hands to his side not knowing if he should open up to hug you first or not.

“Oh! Hold on, don’t go anywhere. I gotta give you something!” You pointed your finger at him and jogged through your apartment into your room, coming out a few seconds later with his yellow pullover folded neatly in your hands.

You held it out to him, wearing a smile on your face. “I washed it and ironed out the wrinkles. Sorry if it smells like honeysuckle, it’s just the detergent I use!”

His heart ached even more knowing this thing would smell like you until the next time it’d be washed. Only fueling the crush he had and taking every ounce in his body not to jump at the opportunity to tell you how down to earth you were and how much he’d like to take you out on a date if you’d let him. But instead, he could only muster out a few sentences.

“T-thanks! I won’t mind at all…and thanks for having us over, even if it was only for a little.” He laughed, watching you shake your head.

“No, it was really fun having your guys over, and umm, I invited everyone to come to my art gallery this weekend, and it would really mean a lot if you could make it, if you’re free.” You said tenderly, rubbing your hand over your opposite arm watching a smile break on his face.

He nodded, “I’m free this weekend so I’ll definitely be there.”

“Thanks! Robin has the directions and whatnot.” You spoke, nodding your head as you both stood there for a second totally forgetting that he had to go until Eddie beeped his horn.

You snapped out of your stance, instantly apologizing, “Shit, sorry! Okay, I’ll see you!’

Steve wasn’t at all prepared for your arms to wrap around his neck, hugging him closely, feeling your breath fan again his skin as he hurriedly draped his arms across your back, squeezing you tight, “Y-yeah! See you then…”

Pulling away from Steve felt difficult just as hard as it would be knowing that you wouldn’t be able to see him for a while. It didn’t help that you and him didn’t get to speak as much as you’d like because you really wanted to get to know him more. To ask him about life in Hawkins and how he liked Roane so far.

It just didn’t help that you felt like you crossed a line after telling Steve that he was “pretty sweet himself.”

Was that too forward of you?

Maybe it was too corny?

Did it throw him off?

It probably did throw him off. It had to have been that. After you replied with that sad excuse of what was supposed to be a compliment, Steve started acting weird. Strolling off to the kitchen with Robin and Eddie, probably telling them all about how you sucked at flirting. Even excusing himself to the bathroom in a haste when he clearly didn’t have to use it.

For a minute, you thought that you really did blow your chances with him, but it all drifted away when you caught the smile and wave that he threw at you from the passenger seat of Eddie’s van.

He looked happy, yet sad to be taking off, kinda like how you looked after needing to leave the Harrington house. You just didn’t want to get your hopes up living for something that had a small probable chance of ever coming to life. There was no telling what mood you and Steve would be feeling the next time you saw each other, and you didn’t want to jinx it before it was too late.

You just closed the door, pressing your back against the wood knowing that everything in your system was dying for the moment you and Steve would see each other next.

For now, you’d have to pad across your apartment thinking about him wherever you strayed, wishing he was following close behind like he always was. But he wasn’t.

The only trace he left behind was his scent lingering in the air and the strawberry cup that was yours, but you didn’t mind if it belonged to him now.

Truly, you were screwed, living for the hope of it all.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated 💌

a/n: chapter one is here!!! ive been working on this for a while and was actually supposed to make this series only 3 parts but i love it so much (and tumblr is laggy lately) that i wanted to split them up into more parts and ill also be opening my inbox to blurbs for what im coining "glitch universe" very soon!!! i hope you all love this chapter and stick around for the rest!! a big thanks to effie again for helping me proof-read and hyping me up through all this!!!! happy reading to all!!!!! 🍰🍓🧸

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

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blueywrites · 1 year

Text

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, smut, oral (f & m receiving), fingering (v), dirty talk, praise kink

chapter three: my curse (14k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. songs for this chapter include #6-#14 and are all mentioned by name.

There is love

Burning to find you

Will you wait for me?

My Curse— Killswitch Engage

All day Friday, powdery-sweet Chrissy is on your mind as you labor through the shift from perdition. It's like the cosmos had overheard her question about crazy patient stories and generously decided to provide new conversation topics. You've been screamed at, berated, exasperated, and drawn so thin you spend the car ride decompressing in rare silence without your typical Spotify playlist. When you'd finally arrived home, the draw of sweatpants and nostalgia had proven too much to resist. You'd promptly cocooned on the loveseat in thick socks and a knitted blanket, retreating into Breath of the Wild for the umpteenth time. The buzz of your phone on the armrest runs up your elbow, but you're too absorbed to answer until the buzzing starts again, too insistent to ignore.

You glance to see it's Steve calling; you swipe and put him on speaker without pausing your game. "Hey," you answer, voice fond but somewhat distracted.

"Hey, babe." Steve sounds like he's in a wind tunnel. He must be driving. "What are you doin'?"

"Nothing," you answer absently, eyes still trained on the soft pastels of Kakariko Village until he says,

"Well, I'll be home in forty, so start getting ready."

You frown in confusion, glancing at the contact picture on your phone screen: you and Steve at an NBA game, his anniversary present to you last year. "Ready for what?"

The smile in Steve's voice is audible. "Chrissy called. We're going to Insa tonight."

You instantly straighten from your comfortable slouch, Switch abandoned beside you as you fumble up the phone. "Really?!"

"Yup." You can hear the happiness in his laugh as you squeal, tearing the blanket from your body and bolting for the bedroom. "She got us a private room for an hour."

You make another little joyful sound, hand already tugging at the shower knob, words spilling like a rush. "Yay! Okay, I'm getting ready, bye!"

"Love you," you hear Steve say.

"Love you!" You drop the phone onto the counter, hips wiggling as you wait for the water to warm. This is even more appealing than spending a night in with your favorite comfort game. You love music and singing, but traditional karaoke bars make you nervous— all those strangers staring at you on stage under the glare of the lights makes you instantly freeze. But Insa is a Korean karaoke bar, and since Chrissy has booked you a private room, it means it'll just be you and Steve, your two friends, and all the soju or sake you can drink. Here you were, thinking about Chrissy all day, and now it feels like you'd unintentionally manifested her invitation. Maybe the cosmos is trying to make amends.

You decide that must be so as you choose your clothes: slouchy cardigan over tank top, tight black skirt almost obscenely short, sheer black tights to make up for it, white socks peeking just above Chelsea boots. You're still working on makeup when you hear a creak of the door and the jangle of keys to signal Steve's arrival.

"I'm almost ready," you call, swiping mascara onto your top lashes.

You hear him call back in acknowledgment, finishing the rest of your makeup with haste before fluffing out your hair and joining him near the door.

He's still wearing his winter coat, unzipped to reveal dark jeans and an untucked button-up, his go-to for casual Fridays at the bank. His brown waves are a little windswept as he turns to you, and it matches the roguish sparkle in his eye as he takes you in. "Hey," Steve says, voice low and tinged with heat as you approach him.

"Hi," you answer happily, letting him pull you in for a kiss before you reach for your puffer jacket.

Steve's hand snakes back to your ass, drawing you against him as you tug one arm of your jacket on; you chuckle against his lips, protesting lightly, "Steve, we're gonna be late!"

"Just wanna steal a minute to kiss my girl," Steve murmurs, and you can’t resist melting as he kisses you again, surrounding you in that familiar citrus cologne. You sneak your other arm underneath his coat to hug him, jacket half hanging off like you're trying to wear his and yours at once. The brush of Steve's tongue against the seam of your lips complements the heat— heat where the jackets drape around your body, heat where his palm grabs your ass, heat in the pit of your belly as his tongue meets yours.

Even without the radiator or your knitted blanket, Steve makes sure you're thoroughly and wonderfully warm before you venture out together into the cold night.

Luckily, on-time subway transfers and two powerwalked blocks later have you arriving at Insa with minutes to spare despite your short dalliance. You wander around clumps of people outside until Steve spots your friends near the wooden arch above the building's entrance. Seeing Chrissy's blonde ponytail fills you with effusive eagerness, and when her blue eyes meet yours, your broad smile is echoed on her lips.

"Hi!" you greet her, arms opening for her tight embrace. "Thanks for inviting us!"

"Of course!" Chrissy squeezes you affectionately tighter before she releases you to hug Steve.

Leather creaks as Eddie moves closer, and you can feel his jacket seep cold even through your puffer jacket when you hug him, though his neck is warm as you graze it with your cheek. "Don't you have a better jacket than this?" you ask, running your fingers against the leather at his elbow.

You drop your hand, looking up into dark and twinkling eyes as Eddie replies, "Worried about me, sweetheart?" He smirks, a little crooked thing, and those full pink lips— their sudden phantom press against your own— make color prickle your cheeks. "Don't need one. My blood runs extra-hot."

You hope your doubtful expression speaks for you and your sudden flush looks like it's from the cold. Judging by the glint in Eddie’s eyes, he’s not buying it.

"Come on, I'm freezing my balls off out here," Steve says, slinging an arm around your shoulders and hastening the four of you inside.

"Certainly don't want that," you joke, pleased when Steve slants a grin at you as you're ushered to your room.

Inside is one long modular u-shaped couch against the back wall, a small coffee table, and two televisions: one against the front wall and one behind the couch so you can face your companions. Insa is one of the more technologically advanced karaoke restaurants: there’s an iPad for ordering drinks and a dedicated kiosk near the television to select songs. Coupled with its superior aesthetics— rich purple and turquoise mood lighting that avoids the tackiness of other bars— Insa boasts some of the largest crowds in the city, which makes it all the more exciting that Chrissy has surprised you and Steve with this outing tonight.

You shed your coats and watch Chrissy flounce over to the kiosk eagerly before the rest of you have even sat down. She's wearing a babydoll dress— one of those nearly shapeless ones that seem effortlessly chic on the right kind of person. With your curves, you think you'd probably look like you're wearing a potato sack if you attempted it, but you admire how it hangs beautifully on Chrissy. She looks like a cute little sugar-plum fairy as she scrolls through the offerings.

"I guess Chris is going first," Eddie jokes, sprawling out in one corner of the couch with his dark legs spread, arm thrown against the back like he owns the place. He's in a long-sleeved muscle shirt in charcoal gray, accented by his signature flashes of silver— rings, wallet chain, and earrings that gleam in the neon light. Does he ever wear anything in color? Your eyes sweep him over as you sit, close but not quite sandwiched between him and Steve. Probably not, you think wryly, darting a quick glance at his profile as he grins cheekily at Chrissy when she glares at him.

"Not all of us get to be on stage every week, Mr. Rockstar," she reminds him sassily, plucking a microphone from the lower shelf on the kiosk and planting her feet in the middle of the open floor, hands on her hips. You can clearly see the cheerleading influence in her stance and expression, which is set in a confident mask of gleaming teeth and arched brows. A raucous female laugh begins her song choice, and Chrissy snaps the mic to her mouth to sing the first words: "Yeah, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want—"

Chrissy owns Wannabe by The Spice Girls as she struts around, flicking her fingers and swinging her wavy ponytail as she exudes attitude. "I won't be hasty; I'll give you a try," she sings, cocking a shoulder as she smolders, "If you really bug me, then I'll say goodbye—" Her voice is a little pitchy, but what she lacks in technique she certainly makes up for in confidence. Chrissy pivots around to face backward for the final chorus, swaying her hips until she hits the last line where she shoots you all a foxy look over her shoulder, cocking the mic to sing, "If you wanna be my lover."

As soon as the music fades, you're clapping wildly, cheering as she spins to face the couch with a broad, sparkling smile. "You did so good! You're, like, a natural," you say, looking up at her as she prances over, skirt billowing.

"Thanks, y/n! I guess I still got it, huh?" she adds, looking to the men for confirmation.

"I'd say so," Steve answers. "I remember, when I was a senior on the basketball team, Chrissy was one of the best flyers on the squad. It was crazy how much air she'd get!"

You watch Chrissy's eyes sparkle as he acknowledges her skill. Eddie reaches out, pinching the edge of her dress and tugging playfully as he adds, "And she was head of the squad her senior year. Lead them to regionals with her own routine and everything."

You smile up at her again, though it shifts with surprise as she pulls you to your feet with startling strength for such a slight person. "You should go next," she says, squeezing your fingers, expression earnest. "Come on, you can do it! It doesn't matter how you sound; it's all about having fun!"

From someone else, the statement may have felt like a veiled insult. But Chrissy doesn't seem to have a mean bone in her body, so you realize she's just trying to be encouraging. "Okay," you say, a little shy with the exuberance of her glee. You swap places and take the mic, lips pursing as you peruse the options at the kiosk.

Behind you, you hear Steve say, "She's actually a really good singer." You feel a flattered smile bloom at the praise as you choose one of your favorites to sing during karaoke: If I Ain't Got You by Alicia Keys.

As you drift toward the middle of the space and the piano introduction begins, you see Chrissy squeeze Steve's arm, thin brows crinkled up sentimentally. "Aw, that's so sweet of you, Steve!"

For a moment, Steve looks perplexed at the comment, and you think maybe Chrissy believes he's just saying that to be nice. But you're not worried about it; you're not thinking about much of anything other than what you're about to sing. Still, you’re always most nervous for the first song of the night, so as you face your audience of three, their expectant stares threaten to make that familiar anxiety begin to frost in your chest. Thankfully, you know what to do in this situation: you simply close your eyes, letting the music wash over you before you begin to sing.

"Some people live for the fortune. Some people live just for the fame."

Your voice is pitched naturally lower than Chrissy's and has a bit of rasp, but it's smooth and practiced from years of singing in chorale in school. Yet it isn't a performance, not really, because it's not about that. You stand still, aside from a subtle instinctual sway, unconcerned about moving around for your audience. You're only interested in borrowing Alicia's words, letting them bloom out of you as if they're your own in a way your words sometimes can't when you try to speak. Once you hit the chorus, a smile kisses the corners of your lips as you feel the emotion in the song, channeling the sentiment: "Some people want it all, but I don't want nothing at all if it ain't you, baby; if I ain't got you, baby—"

Alicia is an incredible vocalist; you don't try to imitate her. You simplify the vocal runs later in the song, letting yourself improvise what feels good instead. And throughout it all, you keep your eyes closed, singing with a peaceful smile until that tinkling piano returns at the end to signal the song's conclusion.

There's a brief silence where you hang suspended in the moment, eyes still closed. And then it's broken by a swirl of spoken smoke.

"Shit." The exclamation isn't loud, but it cuts through the room nonetheless as you open your eyes and smile shyly. Your face flushes as Steve whistles with his fingers; beside him, Chrissy's eyes are wide, dainty fingers clasped as she pops up.

Chrissy wraps her arm around yours and squeezes you close. "Wow! Steve, you really weren't kidding!" You're hit with a puff of expensive perfume as she clings to you, and her billowing skirt brushes against your tights while she sways you back and forth. "Let's do couples next," she suggests, pulling back to meet your eyes. "Is it okay if Eddie and I go first?"

"Sure," you reply easily, sitting between Steve and Eddie again as she heads to the kiosk. Immediately, Steve leans in, lightly knocking your shoulder with his.

"That's my girl," Steve says, hazel eyes shining with affection, broad palm landing on your knee and squeezing lightly. Appreciative, you kiss him on the cheek, stubble like fine sandpaper against your lips. His smile widens as he pats your knee, saying more briskly, "I'm gonna need to get at least one drink in me before I join you on the next song, babe."

You watch him scroll through the menu on the iPad for a moment until a light brush against the small of your back has you turning to meet wide brown eyes.

Eddie is no longer slouched in the corner of the couch; instead, he's curved forward, left elbow braced on his knee as if poised to get up, though he seems to have no intention to do so as he leans toward you. "You are really good," he says sincerely. "I was pleasantly surprised."

Your nose wrinkles faintly, somewhat amused and at the edge of offense. "Pleasantly surprised?" A hint of a challenge tinges your voice as you add, "What, did you think I would be bad?"

Eddie's face falls as he stumbles. "I—" His eyes dart away, reminding you of the day you'd met— when, at the ice cream shop, you'd seen that pink on his typical black and white. The idea that it may happen again excites you, and you aren't quite sure why.

But Eddie doesn't turn pink; instead, he huffs a chuckle, slanting a glance back at you as his eyes glitter. "Well, I wouldn't say that."

It's obvious that he's teasing you, so you feign annoyance. "Well, you'd better look out because I might take your place and become frontwoman of Corroded Coffin if you keep talking smack."

You try valiantly to maintain your pretend annoyance, but it's really quite hard when Eddie grins so manically, brown eyes eager as they flick you over. "I'd like to see that, sweetheart," he replies, and it's not sarcastic at all— in fact, he sounds eager, as if the idea excites him. And you realize, as his fingers twitch against your cardigan, that Eddie hasn't yet taken his hand off the small of your back.

That pink that you'd been hoping for on Eddie's face colors your cheeks instead as he stares at you intently, and his manic smile tightens to a smirk when he notices. A flutter of wings trembles low when his gaze dips to your lips, and your tongue darts out to wet them just as Chrissy calls across the room,

"Okay, Eddie, get up here! I picked the song."

The drag of his fingers against your back leaves you with a shiver when Eddie rises, stuffing his hands in his back pockets as he lopes over to Chrissy. As he surveys her choice, the door opens to reveal a server with a green bottle and four shot glasses.

As she sets the tray on the coffee table, Steve immediately reaches for it, calling to the others; Eddie turns, swaying wild curls haloed by neon light. "C'mon, Chris," he says, nodding over. "I'm gonna need a fuckin' drink for this one."

The sardonic tinge to Eddie's voice intrigues you, and you wonder what song Chrissy has chosen as Steve passes you a glass of soju. You all drink together, and the alcohol is ice cold as it slides down your throat, settling into a comfortable burn in your belly. It lingers sweet on your teeth as Chrissy grabs Eddie's hand to pull him into their performance.

Eddie shifts his weight as he cracks his neck to the side, saying dryly, "Just warning you, I haven't warmed up my falsetto, so—"

Chrissy scoffs fondly. "Oh, come on, Eddie. You always sound good."

"All right," he concedes, a little self-deprecating grin spreading as the music begins— jaunty bass and a jazzy piano that you'd recognize anywhere. Chrissy has chosen You're The One That I Want from Grease.

Despite his reticence, Eddie gamely gives the song his all. Though at first, his falsetto makes you want to giggle, you hold back, not wanting him to think you're laughing at him when he'd already seemed unsure about it. You soon find yourself smiling widely as they play off each other for the second bridge: "I'd better shape up cause you need a man—" Eddie begins, dark eyes locked on Chrissy as she takes over, drawing her hand down his chest. "I need a man who can keep me satisfied."

Steve nudges another shot of soju into your hand. "Cheers, babe," he murmurs, warm breath ghosting your face before you both take your second shots. It slides down cold and burns in your belly again, but when it's followed by the quick, eager press of Steve's lips against yours, the burn is accompanied by a slight tingle.

You break away to applaud as the song ends, watching as Eddie leans close to kiss Chrissy. Her hand finds his cheek when he begins to draw back, and when she presses forward for another kiss, you hear Steve whistle again, though this time it's a teasing, flirty two-tone that makes Chrissy break from the kiss to giggle. Eddie hugs Chrissy from behind, walking with her as they come over to the couch, and you see it again— the gentleness in those brown eyes, the softness in the way his pink lips tilt in a small smile when she sing-songs, "Your turn!"

Steve’s hand finds yours, guiding you to the kiosk. "What do you wanna sing?"

You don't really care what song you and Steve sing right now— you're just content to be here with him and Eddie and Chrissy, surrounded by affection and music. "Whatever you want, babe."

His smile widens at your reply, and he lazily drags his finger across the screen. "How about this one?"

Fondness fills you as you see his suggestion is from Dirty Dancing. It's a sentimental movie for you both— you'd watched it the first time you'd spent the night at Steve's old apartment instead of going out. And while eating Chinese food on Steve's couch and cuddling in your lounge clothes seems so commonplace, that was what you'd valued about it: that it was casual, that it felt normal. That it seemed like the beginning of an intimate closeness that didn't require dressing up or fancy restaurants or showy gestures.

"Yeah," you agree softly. "I love that song."

You nearly forget you have an audience as you sing The Time of My Life with Steve, giggling at his characteristically loud, brassy voice. Steve never holds back at karaoke, though he is— by far— the worst singer of you four. But you couldn't care less as he sings to you, "I've been waiting for so long, now I finally found someone to stand by me." And you know Steve doesn't care how he sounds either, eyes locked on you while you sing to him, "With my body and soul, I want you more than you'll ever know." When the instrumental breakdown occurs, Steve grabs your hand, spinning you, strong arms lowering you into a dip that makes you squeal and laugh with delight before he brings you back up.

When it’s time for the final chorus, you give it your all, hopping as you throw your arm wide and sing with abandon. When the song fades out, Stever snatches you up as you laugh, lifting you briefly from your feet to kiss you before setting you quickly back down.

"You guys are just so cute!" Chrissy beams at you, sweet and powdery soft as she leans against Eddie's side. You hold out a hand to them, eyes sparkling.

"Get up here, you two," you say, excitement dancing like sparks across your skin. "We have forty minutes left, and I don't wanna waste a second."

You sing several songs as a group, all crowded around the kiosk to decide on your selections. You each have wildly different tastes in music, so there's quite a bit of friendly bickering as you negotiate what to sing together. Still, with the shots flowing and the joy of shared experience, you delight in even that aspect of the process. After a number of group selections, Steve and Eddie shoo you girls off to the couch so that they can, as they say, 'serenade you.'

"Oh, God," you mutter good-naturedly, leaning comfortably against Chrissy as the guys huddle close to conspire. "What are we in for now?"

Apparently something entirely unexpected as the guys stand side-by-side, stone-faced while a guitar plucks along. Their faces remain serious even as Eddie croons, "Yeah…" in the most exaggeratedly whiny boy-band voice you've ever heard. You can't stifle an incredulous snort as you and Chrissy exchange glances, eyes wide as your lips twitch. Your eyes snap to your boyfriend as Steve sings loudly, "You are my fire, the one desire…."

You manage to hold your composure until Eddie whines, tossing his long curls dramatically, "But we—"

You're cackling before he can even hit the next line, and for a split second, his composure wavers, a chuckle breaking through as he continues, "...are two worlds apart… can't reach to your heart—"

The sight of Steve— the straight-laced banker in a collared button-up, all citrus and sea salt— and Eddie— the hardcore musician in combat boots and chains, all smoke and ink— singing I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys as a pretend-earnest duet is too much for you and Chrissy to take. As soon as the chorus starts, you both flush bright red with laughter, clinging to each other in utter hysterics. Once the song ends, all you can do is curl over into Chrissy's lap, burying your face in gauzy fabric as she collapses onto your back. Your reactions urge each other on until you're hysterical for long enough that Steve exclaims, "Jesus Christ, was it really that funny?"

You hear Eddie snipe, "You both are real fuckin' rude, you know." Your head pops up to see him swaggering around, gesturing widely and theatrically as he grouses, "Here we are, trying to sing about our undying love for you, and you have the gall—" he pauses dramatically, "the audacity— to laugh at us." He turns to Steve, arms crossed, head shaking like a scolding parent. "These girls don't deserve us, Harrington."

"You're right, Munson. Maybe we should find us a new pair of girls who appreciate real culture."

You and Chrissy straighten, exchanging looks of deep indignance as your boyfriends smirk at you. "We'll show you culture," she sniffs, shoulder brushing Eddie's as she pushes by him with you in tow. He and Steve chuckle to themselves, falling back onto the couch as you and Chrissy lean close to assess your options. You find yourself relishing this dynamic— allied with Chrissy against the two guys, conspiring to choose the best song to annoy them. You're giddy with feminine closeness as Chrissy whispers in your ear, though as you notice one particular song, you grab Chrissy's fingers to halt her scrolling.

"That one!" you say, voice hushed but urgent. You turn to her, eyes bright. "That's the one."

She purses her lips, brow crinkling. "Really?"

"Yes," you say firmly. Whereas usually, you would defer to her preference, your desire to provoke the guys has lit you inside, made you bold.

Chrissy must see your determination because she concedes quickly with a little shrug. "Okay."

You grin widely, victory and sweet revenge buzzing in your blood as you grab your microphone; Steve and Eddie’s conversation wanes as they see you standing before them. When you feel Chrissy's dress brush against your thigh, you tip your chin, smirking as you murmur with false sincerity, "We've chosen this song specifically for the country music fans in the audience."

In your peripheral, you see Steve's face crease in confusion, but your eyes are locked on black and white. You buzz with pleasure as Eddie cocks a brow at you, spreading his dark legs to settle into the couch corner, hint of a smirk growing on his lips. Those brown eyes are wide and dark as they hold yours, glittering with approval at the challenge in your stare.

Your voice is pitched as close to sultry as you ever get as you finish your introduction: "We hope you thoroughly enjoy this."

You never perform when you sing, not really, but now, suddenly, you are. "Right now, he's probably slow-dancing with a bleach-blonde tramp, and she's probably gettin' frisky," you rasp, channeling the drama of Carrie Underwood's delivery. Chrissy sings the next line, high voice also loaded with attitude, and you alternate the verses and sing the choruses together. You play up the growl in your voice as you smolder, any self-consciousness forgotten, "Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats."

As you sing for Steve and Eddie, you suddenly understand the appeal of performance and why Chrissy's face became so luminous after she'd sung Wannabe . Their attention wraps around you, coiling into your blood, coaxing you to rock your hips and shoulders as you sing to them. It's intoxicating, the heat of their stares as you and Chrissy sway together, bodies brushing as they watch you; there's power in it, power that you've just barely tasted.

And you know, as your gaze flits back and forth between both men, that you want more.

When the song ends, their approval is instant, pretend contentiousness forgotten now. After lavishing you in whistles and applause with Eddie, Steve notes, "We've got enough time for a couple more songs."

"All right," Eddie says decisively, slapping his thighs as he stands. "I'm going."

A flutter of moth's wings begins low at the idea of hearing his smoky voice again— not him singing a song from Grease or the Backstreet Boys, but something that echoes his performance the first time you'd heard him on stage. When, before you'd even known him, his voice had reached inside you, tugging at something that has only just begun to take root in newfound light.

You nestle snug between Chrissy and Steve as you wait for Eddie's song, knee nearly bouncing with anticipation. Impulsively, you take a cheeky swig from the soju bottle, shrugging as Steve shoots you an amused look. The soju isn't as pleasantly cold anymore, but the burn still spreads from your belly, coaxing out a little hazy smile as Eddie returns to the center of the room. You wonder what song he's chosen, thighs pressing together as you imagine harsh guitars or driving drums, as you remember the black and white of his torso on stage at the bar, ink now sadly hidden behind charcoal long sleeves.

You should have known by the mischievous twinkle in those dark eyes what was coming. But when a smooth R&B beat begins, you blink, clouded mind instantly befuddled. Eddie's voice is still that smoky husk, though it's intentionally exaggerated as he drags out the word, "Baby…" You remain perplexed until he sings the next line: "I'm hot, just like an oven. I need some lovin'..."

Eddie's rendition of Sexual Healing seems to hover somewhere between his real performance at the bar and his joke performance of I Want It That Way. But when he starts slowly thrusting his hips, running one hand sensually across his chest and up his neck, it becomes abundantly clear that he's fucking around.

Chrissy wrinkles her nose at his exaggerated movements— body rolling, hips twitching with little jerks as his lips curl with amusement. "Ugh, Eddie," she whines, "this is so cringy!"

And you know what she means— it is cringy, and everyone knows it. But you can't help but utterly delight in the two sides of Eddie Munson that seem to alternate in little glimpses: confident, self-possessed, sharp, and wolfish, but also awkward, goofy, unafraid to be exactly how he wants to be even in the face of others' judgment. And you know Chrissy isn't judging him, not really, but you think even if she was, he wouldn't care at all.

As you watch Eddie gyrate, eyes wide and grin manic, you feel something start to build inside you— a desire to join in his revelry, in this uninhibited display of enjoyment that disregards the opinions of others.

And with your eyes on Eddie's black and white, you act on that desire.

You pop up from the couch just in time for the music to swell; he holds the mic out toward you when he sees you coming so you can both sing, "Whenever blue teardrops are fallin'…."

Together you turn to face Chrissy and Steve, smiles wide as you sway, arms wrapping comfortably around each other's waists. You extend your hand toward the others, coaxing them with wagging brows and little shimmies of your shoulders to try to get them to join you. "The love you give to me will free me," you and Eddie sing, sides pressed together, hips bumping as you move out of rhythm. Steve eyes you skeptically as you urge him with your extended hand, but he can't keep the curve off his lips for long as you stage-whisper, "Get up, get up, get up, get up," like it's a message directed to him. Steve sighs heavily, smile springing free as he joins on your other side, wrapping his arm around your back atop Eddies. You barely stave off your giggle as you all start to sway back and forth.

You do laugh when Steve and Eddie squish you between them to try to both reach the mic. Steve attempts to convince Chrissy to join you, who's still watching you all reluctantly, though you can tell by the look in those blue eyes that she's close to cracking.

"Come on, Chris," Steve wheedles, and finally, she relents, smile spreading on her bow lips as she skirts around the coffee table, huddling close to sing, " Come take control, just grab ahold of my body and mind—"

Uninhibited joy floods you entirely as the four of you sing together, all pressed close, faces shining with bright smiles and laughs as Chrissy finally gives in, committing to the cheesiness of this song. When it ends, Steve and Eddie wrap their arms around you both, squishing you together as you and she shriek and giggle. Still pressed tight, you all shuffle dizzily toward the kiosk to choose your final song.

You lean closer, dragging them all with you as you see Mamma Mia on the list. "Steve loves ABBA!"

"You would love ABBA, dude," Eddie teases, and Steve reaches around you to shove him playfully.

"Shut up," he grouses, though you predict trouble as his lips go tight against a smirk. "I could tell them about your guilty pleasure music, Munson—"

Intrigue blooms as Eddie looks instantly horrified. "ABBA it is," he relents quickly, jabbing the selection to start the music and, you suspect, to avoid any follow-up questions.

Mamma Mia turns out to be the perfect song to end with as even Eddie, who'd implied his disdain by teasing Steve, seems to enjoy it. "Yes, I've been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted," you all belt together, and when you glance at Eddie to see him smiling widely with dimpled cheeks and little scrunched lines at the edges of his warm brown eyes, it strikes you, for the first time, just how downright pretty he is. When those brown eyes catch yours, you don't look away from him, drawn in as the song concludes:

"Mamma mia, now I really know— my my, I could never let you go!"

And with that, your time at Insa comes to a close— but the night is far from over.

Inviting Eddie and Chrissy back to the apartment is inevitable, and you smile as Eddie opens the back passenger door of his van for you. "Comfy?" He grins, pulling the seatbelt down to press into your hand. "Buckle up," he says, voice warm and teasing as you giggle.

"You may think he's kidding," Chrissy says, sweet voice floating back to you from the front seat as Eddie closes your door. "But Eddie is probably the worst driver I've ever met, so… I'd make sure you heed his advice."

When Eddie practically throws himself into the driver's seat, hand jerking the gearshift into reverse as he peeks back over his shoulder, the wicked mischievousness in those brown eyes has you scrambling for Steve's hand to hold tight. "I'm not the worst driver," Eddie says lightly, eyes glinting as he adds, "but I am the craziest."

Despite Eddie's ominous teasing, you make it back to your apartment happy and in one piece. In fact, you're practically effusive from the alcohol and leftover merriment despite how you stumble trying to toe off your boots on the welcome mat. Your loveseat is still littered with the remains of your planned night in— fuzzy socks and knitted blanket strewn across the cushions, Switch balanced on the arm. You gather your items as your boyfriend and guests shed their coats and shoes. Once the socks have been tossed in your hamper and the Switch returned to its ottoman, you reenter the living room with your folded blanket to see Steve and Eddie seated together on the big couch.

Chrissy pulls the knit from your hands, draping it over the loveseat with impatience.

"What?" you say, perplexed as she pulls you along with purpose, but all becomes clear as she releases your hand to run her fingers lightly down your cardigan instead, smiling coquettishly.

"Let's give the boys a little show again," Chrissy suggests, hand trailing up your sheer black tights, fingertips skimming your thigh as you glance at the couch. And you see that heated look again in brown and hazel— the one they'd worn as you and Chrissy performed Before He Cheats . Heat that coils into you, that echoes the comfortable fuzz in your head from the soju; heat that reminds you of the power you'd discovered, the taste you'd wanted more of.

You palm Chrissy's waist, crinkling the shapeless fabric against her lithe body as you slant an alluring glance at Steve and Eddie. "Yes," you murmur, "let's." Your smile stretches as you watch them shift against the couch— legs widening, palms rubbing on knees, heads falling back to observe the show.

Caught in the hypnotic power of their masculine gazes, you and Chrissy undress each other, peeking glances at your men as you reveal skin little by little. She slides your cardigan from your shoulders, air cold against your bare arms as you lift her dress to tease a glimpse of her panties before letting it fall again, giggling with her as the men huff their impatience.

Gradually, Chrissy sheds each article of clothing from your body: your tank top to reveal your midnight blue bra, your tight black skirt— which nearly gets stuck on your ass, which would have been embarrassing if you hadn't noticed how both Eddie and Steve's eyes were wide and rapt as it finally bounced free— and your white socks. Finally, she peels your sheer black tights down your legs, revealing a matching set of cheeky midnight blue panties cut high on your hips. You run your hands along her clothed waist again as Chrissy smiles at you with pink bow lips, eyes meeting. You know what her expression means because you're feeling it too: the heady desire practically palpable in the air as it rolls off your boyfriends. The sensual feminine control you have over them in this moment, made more potent together.

Chrissy is wearing much less clothing than you, so you gently lift her dress over her head last, revealing a set of aggressively strappy black lingerie. She runs her hand over your bare waist to settle on the small of your back, and your hand settles on her hip, fingers resting against the thin strap of her thong. Together, you turn to face the couch, bodies on display for devouring gazes.

And devour they do— they no longer lean back against the couch, feigning nonchalance. No, Steve and Eddie are so clearly wound tight by your mutual display, eyes dark and gleaming as you both draw closer.

You and Chrissy have a choice now: begin the night by approaching your own boyfriends, comfortable and safe; or, perhaps, decide to approach the other man on the couch, whose touch is still unfamiliar and thus tempting. As you glance between them— first at the roguish swoop of Steve's bangs over hungry hazel, the look on his face one you've seen many times before, and then to the wildness of Eddie's long disheveled curls, brown eyes darkened like ink, the look on his face one that makes you flutter with nerves— you realize that your emerging boldness isn't yet enough to steer you away from the comfort of Steve's arms.

You gently pull from Chrissy, eyes fixed on the buttons of Steve's shirt. As soon as you get close enough, his hands attach to your hips, warm and broad and not at all timid as he pulls you onto his lap. You settle, humming as he kneads the flesh of your ass. As his lips find the sensitive spot underneath your jaw, your eyes slip closed to work the buttons of his shirt open by feel. The couch dips to your right as Chrissy mirrors you on Eddie's lap, and you sneak a tiny peek at what they're doing. You see Eddie's thumb drag her bottom lip down as her hands dip to the hem of his muscle shirt. "Mmm," you hum again, breathy and quiet, as Steve sucks lightly on your neck, fingers moving faster to pop his buttons so you can feel the press of his skin against yours.

As soon as you get the last button free, you pull away from Steve's mouth, dragging the fabric down his shoulders, revealing a dense cloud of hair on his chest. It's soft like fur under your fingers as you stroke him— your favorite thing to do when Steve's shirt is first removed— and you get just a glimpse of hazel nearly swallowed by black pupils before Steve's mouth claims yours.

Your fingers continue to drag through the hair on his chest as Steve cradles you close with solid arms, tongue dipping wet and insistent into your mouth. It's a novel experience to be making out on the couch next to another half-naked couple like this. You find with the doubled sounds blending together— the soft smack of lips, the subtleness of deepened breaths, the masculine rumble of low groans, the high, breathy moans to compliment them— that when the throb starts within you, it intensifies quickly, burning in your belly, building insistent need that demands to be sated.

Steve pulls you closer by your ass, the motion dragging your panties against his jeans, catching your clit just right to throw kindling on the burn. When his hands palm your breasts over your bra, your fingers find the buckle of his belt, tugging at it until it jangles loose and you can pull down his zipper. Steve leaves your mouth to press blistering kisses along your jaw; you lift your hips, and he dips lower on your neck to reach his pants, shimmying them down his legs until he can kick them off into a haphazard pile.

You sigh as Steve mouths at your neck, tangling your fingers in the thick waves of his brown hair when he starts to suck a mark, the sting adding to your kindling. And as you tilt your head back to give him more access, you hear it— quiet murmuring, a delicate voice pitched thick and sultry beside you.

"Am I your bad girl, Eddie?"

Your eyes pop open as surprise rushes, and you can't help but dart a quick glance at the couple beside you: sweet Chrissy with her powdery-soft eyes and saccharine smiles, face flushed as Eddie's plush lips drag against her throat when he murmurs back, "You know you are, baby."

Chrissy hums in pleasure, and you suck in a quick breath as you see Eddie's pink tongue dart out to lick at her skin, the sight conjuring the phantom brush against your own throat— wet and warm opposite Steve's sucking lips. You stifle a whimper as you burn hotter between your legs, hips shifting against Steve's lap as he sucks your neck more aggressively. And then Chrissy talks again, still quiet, but yet more shocking:

"I'm just a dirty little slut for you—"

Steve's lips suddenly pop from your neck, and you sway as his nose abruptly drags against your throat when he turns to look. "Damn, Chrissy," he rasps, sounding almost as surprised as you feel. "You've really got a mouth on you, huh?"

Chrissy's blue eyes widen, her gaze darting from you to Steve as she shrinks slightly in Eddie's arms, suddenly bashful. "No, no," Steve assures her, "it's a good thing. It's hot." He pulls one arm away from your back to clasp her forearm, rubbing his thumb soothingly against her skin. When your boyfriend smiles at her, you watch Chrissy's expression soften, a tiny relieved smile curling in return. "No need to be shy," he murmurs, soft and kind, and as you look at his profile— alkaline nose, stubble dusting his jaw, thick dark brows tugged up in an earnest expression of reassurance— you feel a sudden rush of fond affection for Steve Harrington.

You glance at Chrissy again, smiling encouragingly when she meets your eyes before looking back at Steve. And you notice that Steve hasn't drawn his hand from Chrissy's arm, and Chrissy's gaze is running over Steve's face, and if they're looking at each other, then, well, that leaves you free to search for that pair of beautiful brown eyes.

And you find them— your heart thumps as you look at Eddie to see him already staring back at you, intent on your face. You feel that flutter of wings kick up as your gaze roves over him, heart beating faster at the sight of that dark body armor exposed again, so stark on the pale quartz of his arms and chest.

Instantly, you need the press of Eddie's inked skin against yours.

You don't know if Eddie can see the desire in your eyes or if maybe he's just thinking the same thing as you— either way, it brings both relief and unbelievable tension when he murmurs, voice huskier than usual, "Do we wanna mix things up a bit?"

The implication is clear, and as Steve's palm drags lightly up your back, lips pressing against your temple, you look to Chrissy.

Her face is flushed, blue eyes hazy with want as she watches Steve nuzzle against your skin; when her gaze catches yours, agreement flows between you.

You each slip from your boyfriends' laps, exchanging soft smiles as you brush by one another to switch places. There's so much of Eddie's pale skin on display, so many dark trails of ink that weave across his chest and down his arms. Your gaze drags along them until it travels lower over his abdomen, over his soft stomach, over the trail of dark hair that leads down below checkered boxers, loose fabric obscuring what's beneath. You're willing— more than willing— but looking down into Eddie's dark eyes causes those wings to stir up, to flutter wildly with a potent mixture of anticipation, nervousness, and desire.

Slowly, Eddie leans forward, gaze locked on your wide eyes, assessing your reaction as he draws closer. He touches you carefully; his fingertips drag lightly over your thigh, feather-light, traveling up, up, up until they brush against the lace of your panties at your hip. And when just the tip of his index finger sneaks beneath it, the touch coaxes you closer, drawing you to his ink and smoke.

When you settle on his lap, the drag of Eddie's warm arms as they close around your back makes you shiver despite their heat, lips parting as you near those brown eyes, that soft nose, that strong jaw, those full pink lips. Eddie tilts his chin up for you, an invitation, and his warm breath puffs against your lips before they finally meet again.

Kissing Eddie is just like kissing Steve, but also nothing like it at all. His arms are firm like Steve's, and his lips are full like Steve's, and he holds you close like Steve does. But Eddie's curls brush against your neck, teasing your skin; Eddie's scent is muskier, less crisp than Steve's; and Eddie doesn't dive into your mouth like Steve does after three long years of dating. He's more polite— not quite hesitant, but careful as his lips press to yours, not deep or thorough enough to sate the want that's throbbing between your legs. And you appreciate his consideration, but you need more.

You tilt your head, fingers finding his jaw as you press closer, urging him silently to take more of you. Your arousal flutters when you pull that breathy groan again from his throat at your eagerness, and Eddie's arms tighten, pressing your breasts to his chest as he leans into you with his kiss. Your blood sings as he kisses you deeper for a while until he pulls from your mouth to duck to your neck. Eddie licks a path up your throat, slick and hot, and you tip your head to give him room, arms draping over his shoulders, fingers finally tucking into those wild curls you've been admiring from afar.

Eddie groans quietly against your skin as his hands run over your back, calloused and rough, dragging over your shoulders and spine with a tantalizing rasp. You notice that his fingers begin to linger near the band of your bra, and you anticipate his question before it rumbles against your throat. "Can I take this off?"

Though you'd been prepared for it, as it's voiced, the question makes those wings flutter again, mixing nerves with arousal. A quick breath, the press of your fingers into curls to ground you, and then you answer. "Yes," you whisper, breathing deep as you feel him work at the clasp.

A high moan next to you has your eyes darting to the left for the first time since you'd crawled into Eddie's lap. Steve is sucking at the thin column of Chrissy's throat. You wonder briefly if it's invasive to watch them, but the thought melts as you notice Chrissy's bra is already off, and your boyfriend's broad hand is gripping her breast, fingers rolling her nipple.

Chrissy's breasts are just as delicate as the rest of her: small and perky, with little pink nipples nearly engulfed by Steve's broad fingers. So different from your breasts, different enough to make a sudden flash of insecurity prickle as they fall free from your bra, bottom-heavy.

You turn away from Chrissy, nerves sharpening when you see Eddie's gaze roving over your breasts. The instinctual desire to hide is strong, but Eddie speaks before you can. "Look at you," he hums, practically a purr as he looks up at you, eyes glittering with approval. His voice startles you, and you feel your cheeks flush as he presses you gently closer with his palm against your spine. When Eddie kisses the base of your throat, plush lips soft and warm, your nerves settle; when he nips downward, the flutters take over as you stretch your spine, angling your chest up for him.

As Eddie's lips draw closer to your nipple, you shift your hips unconsciously, body seeking to ease the ache between your legs. When he hums, hands wrapping around your hips, you realize that Eddie is very vocal— you can hear each time he responds to something you've done, and you find you enjoy having that knowledge, that confirmation. When he lifts your hips slightly so he can adjust beneath you, the groan he muffles against your skin when his hardening length presses against your pussy echoes the relief you feel inside but don't voice. He's hot through those loose boxers, firm as he drags against your heat when you shift your hips experimentally again, quietly exploring how he feels. But when his lips close around your nipple, sucking at the same time you use him to drag friction against your clit, you can't prevent the tiny whimper that escapes your lips.

Eddie switches to the other breast, presses his face closer, sucks harder, and you're pleased that he seems to have enjoyed your sound. Calloused hands meet at the small of your back, silently urging you forward; encouraged, you rock against him again. With each shift of your hips on his lap and each hot lave of his tongue against your nipples, you stoke each other's fires, clear in how you throb harder and he hardens further beneath you.

You hear Chrissy murmur again, coquettish and smooth: ""You know, Steve, I can be your little slut, too."

You don't look, eyes closed while Eddie lavishes your breasts, but you hear your boyfriend chuckle breathlessly, husky and eager. "Yeah?" Chrissy hums, and their lips smack, soft groans and moans falling from them, washing over you. The heat in their voices— the evidence of their pleasure— adds to your own pleasure, and you move your hips more boldly against Eddie's lap as you hear it. You're enjoying how he's sucking your nipples, each brush of his tongue zinging to your pussy, but your desire suddenly shifts. You use the fingers buried in his hair to tug him lightly from you, pussy pulsing as he startles a slight groan, brown eyes snapping to yours as his pupils dilate.

It only confirms what you'd just realized: Eddie's reactions feed you, and you're hungry for more.

You tilt his head back, ducking to kiss and suck at the edge of his jaw, mouthing at the pale quartz of his throat. You wonder what Eddie would do if you worked a bruise into his skin— would he suck in a delicious gasp of air? Would he moan, chest rumbling against your breasts? Would his hips twitch beneath you, pressing himself up into your heat?

To experiment, you kiss him sweetly beneath his ear, stimulating the skin before taking it between your teeth, nipping gently. You feel his breath catch in his chest; his hands take firm hold of your hips for the first time, dragging you against his hard cock.

And oh, is it so utterly satisfying when Eddie's hips press up into you, wanting you closer as you suck and nip at his throat. When he starts a slow, steady grind, pushing you down against his cock as he drags friction along your clit, both of your breaths deepen, quicken, murmuring small sounds of pleasure into each other's skin and hair. Arousal begins to tighten low in your belly, kindling finally catching fire, pussy now slick and heated.

"I need your mouth on my cunt, Steve."

You flush hotter as you hear Chrissy's words and feel Eddie's fingers tighten against your hips. The idea sits loaded between you as Steve murmurs something to Chrissy, presumably about her proposition, but you can't be bothered to listen as you feel Eddie swallow under your lips, chest pressing to your breasts with his deep breath.

Eddie's fingers find your jaw then, gently guiding you up to look into his eyes: brown burnished to warm amber, lit from within by feverish desire. Desire for you. It makes you pulse again, knees squeezing lightly against the outside of his hips.

After looking at you for a moment, Eddie draws closer, soft nose brushing your ear. "You wanna?" he husks, lips feather-light against the skin of your throat. Tantalizing smoke flows, inflating your lungs as he asks, "You want me to go down on you?"

You bite your lip as a thrill pulses through you, and you nod, frizzy curls brushing your cheek. He kisses you again underneath your ear, firmer now, seeming eager at your answer. His eagerness settles into you, and your excitement rises as Eddie kisses a path back to your lips. You cup his jaw as he reaches your mouth, opening your lips for him, tasting his tongue for the first time.

Eddie's tongue is sweet like soju and spicy like cinnamon gum, but it mostly tastes like nothing you've tasted before— his flavor, you suppose. His tongue is firm and wet as it dips into your mouth, and you press yourself to his chest as you taste him, wanting every inch of his skin against your own, as much as you can touch.

Beside you, Chrissy squeals as the couch suddenly shifts, and you part from Eddie's mouth in surprise at the sudden movement. You see Steve carrying her to the loveseat; lithe, pale arms wrap around his broad shoulders, ankles meeting at the waistline of his tight black boxer briefs.

You don't want to, but you start to think about how easy it was for Steve to lift Chrissy, how he never picks you up like that—

Eddie's thumb brushes against your clothed slit, and the thought promptly sieves from your conscious mind.

You find brown eyes by instinct, a little plaintive crease forming in your brow as you look at him. Eddie's lips curl in a smile when, as he brushes you again, you gasp, and your eyes dart down to watch his hand— ruddy knuckles, gleaming silver rings that look aggressive against the dainty lace of your blue panties. You squirm slightly as he palms your thighs, fingers kneading flesh, and you see it at the same time you feel it— the overwhelming wetness of your pussy, the saturation of your panties. The wet spot on the front of his boxers, which you wish was from him but know is from you.

A hot rush of embarrassment pours down your spine as you realize you've soaked through your underwear onto his, but Eddie seems not to share your sentiment. His smile grows, eyes half-lidded and heated as he draws closer to your face. "So wet for me," Eddie praises you, breath ghosting against your lips, inky eyes glittering with approval. When his thumb brushes you again, you shift into his touch, hips pressing it more firmly against your slick heat, seeking more pressure.

A glint of teeth as his smile turns to a smirk. "Mmm," Eddie hums, voice low, husked against your lips. "Good girl."

Your breath catches, pussy clenching as he calls you that— feeling bursts low in your belly, fluttering, blooming up to your chest as you whimper for him. "Oh," Eddie murmurs, voice still quiet but curious now, as if he's discovered something. "You like that, don't you?"

Your face flushes hot, lips twisting as you shrink from a response, but Eddie takes pity on you. "Lie down on the couch for me," he says, releasing you from having to answer.

You rearrange until you're stretched out flat on the big couch, looking beyond your breasts to the valley of your soft stomach, the curve of your thighs, watching as Eddie's fingers seek blue lace. He pauses before he removes them, on his knees and hovering above you, wild curls like a dark stormcloud around his head, patient as he waits for your permission.

Your chest heaves with a shaky breath, and then you nod.

The air is cold against your newly-revealed skin as Eddie drags your panties from you, and you bite your lip as you feel them graze your calves. You look up at the white ceiling as his hands softly press your thighs apart, heart thumping as his curls brush your skin, pussy throbbing with the anticipation of his mouth on you—

As Eddie licks a thick stripe up your pussy, your quiet moan expresses your blissful relief.

His tongue is slick fire against your heat, wet and firm on your swollen flesh. Again, it strikes you, just like when you'd first sat on his lap, how he feels different from Steve. The thought fills you with a naughty thrill, the knowledge that you're letting another man lick your pussy while your boyfriend is sprawled out on the loveseat nearby, having given his full permission. You're allowed to enjoy this, to relish the way Eddie's broad tongue parts your folds, the way he drags that slick fire from your entrance to your clit before teasing it with little light brushes of his tongue-tip, little flicks that make your hips shift as he stokes the burn in your belly.

That burn only increases as Eddie starts to explore you— thumbs pulling your folds apart, tongue dipping into your entrance, lips sucking lightly on your clit, tongue swirling in different patterns as if he's trying to learn you, to seek out your strongest reactions. And when he finds something that makes your thighs twitch, or your breath hitch, or your lips part with a moan or whimper, he does it again and again, a little firmer or lighter, a little faster or slower, curious like he'd been when he'd discovered you liked the way he spoke to you.

It begins to build— the tension inside you, encouraged by Eddie's eager seeking. But it's not the only thing that builds— you're suddenly reminded of what your boyfriend is doing sprawled out on the loveseat nearby when their sounds hit you like someone has turned up the dial and stripped away any filters.

You hear Chrissy first: loud feminine moaning, interrupted as she mewls, "Fuck, yeah— oh, that feels so good, Steve."

Steve groans, the sound muffled as if against flesh. "Your pussy tastes so fuckin' amazing."

Another moan, higher. "Oh yeah, shit, Steve— finger-fuck me hard, baby—"

More groaning, loud and deep. "Oh, fuck—"

Though Eddie's tongue is lavishing you with pleasure, once you hear them, you can't stop the spiral of your thoughts. You're suddenly conscious that you've been mostly silent this whole time. Should I be making more noise? You remember how Chrissy had called herself a bad girl for Eddie, how he'd seemed to like it. Should I be saying things like that? You can feel it: the freeze that begins to creep, to spread along your ribs. And as Eddie keeps licking you, Steve's voice echoes in your head: 'Your pussy tastes so fucking amazing,' he'd told Chrissy. Steve has never said you taste bad or anything— he's never really said anything about your taste before. What if I don't taste as good as her? What if Eddie doesn't like the way I taste but is too nice to say anything? What if—?

When the wet heat of Eddie's tongue leaves you, it almost seems like confirmation of your spiraling thoughts— the freeze travels up your throat, brow twitching with distress until you feel the couch shift underneath his weight. And then he's there: fingers brushing back the hair at your temple, brown eyes staring calmly into your own, warm skin covering you as your thighs part to accommodate his hips.

Eddie's voice is a soft murmur. "You're all tangled up in your head, aren't you?"

Your eyes dart between each of his as you look up at him shyly, swallowing thick against the freeze. But his warm gaze is melting it; the heat of his chest is sinking into your ribcage. You nod for him.

"Focus on me," he says, ducking his head to press his lips to yours.

And as you breathe slowly through your nose, lips parting to allow him access, Steve and Chrissy recede. You let them fade as Eddie coaxes you back to him, tongue slick against yours, fingers stroking your cheeks and jaw and neck until you make a breathy sound against his lips and your hips shift up into his, seeking, wanting. "There she is," Eddie murmurs, approval clear in that rasp of smoke he breathes into your mouth. He pulls back, curls brushing your collarbone as he strokes your hair again. "I wanna make you feel good," he says. "Will you let me make you feel good?"

"Yes," you whisper.

Eddie hovers nearby, waiting patiently as you look into his eyes, that warm brown burnished to amber. And then you stretch your neck to kiss him.

As soon as your mouth meets his, he leans in, lips pillow-soft and plush, sticking slightly as you pull away. You're rewarded with a crook of a smile and a smoky purr. "That's it, sweet girl."

It's like 'sweetheart,' like 'good girl,' except it's so much fucking better. Your pussy pulses, hips pressing up into him as feeling blooms in your body, sweet like a rush of rain. You kiss Eddie again, more passionately this time, hands cupping his jaw to keep him close. He groans against your mouth, hips pressing his cock to your pussy, only the thin fabric of his boxers separating your hot skin. Mouths open, wet, sloppier than before, tasting of alcohol and cinnamon and musk— the flavor of your pussy on his tongue.

And when Eddie, now satisfied that he will sustain your attention, travels down your body— dropping kisses over the peaks of your breasts, the slope of your soft stomach, the wide curve of your hip— you aren't thinking about anything except his mouth on you: where it is now, and where it's going to be as it travels lower, lower, lower.

As his broad tongue parts you again, your hips twitch up into him, less inhibited now. Eddie groans against your heat, vibrating deliciously, and you feel that fire burn hot in your belly as he noses your clit, tongue dipping into your entrance. He moves back up, lips sucking on your clit, and your sigh turns to a moan as you feel his finger press inside, stretching you slowly. You reach down for him, soft fingers weaving with callused where his hand rests against your hip.

And it's so strange. His tongue is working your clit, and his finger is stretching you open. But it's when Eddie squeezes your hand, fingers holding tightly to yours, that something shifts inside: creeping, extending into peat, quivering down into soil at the bottom of you.

Distantly, you register that Chrissy's moaning and mewling have begun to intensify, to crest in a wave of feminine satisfaction. But you don't think about that. You're thinking about the sound Eddie makes as you tangle the fingers of your other hand in his hair, the way he moans against your swollen flesh, voice pitched higher than before. Discovering that reaction makes you wonder how else you might make him react. You imagine that pale quartz skin flushed as you take him into your mouth; you imagine that strong jaw tensing as you lower onto him, engulfing him in your wet warmth. You imagine those plush lips spilling groans as you rock on his length; you imagine his brow contorting in pleasure as he empties inside you.

And with these imaginings, you're nearly shocked to feel that tightening in your lower belly, the tingling burn that signals your approaching orgasm. You're shocked because this never happens— not from being eaten out. Not from being fingered. And your breath quickens, fingers grasping desperately onto Eddie's as your muscles tense in anticipation, head tilting back as you begin to moan louder, for once unconcerned about the noise you're making—

The creak of the coffee table is abrupt and utterly startling, and your eyes pop open as adrenaline spikes in your chest, gaze darting toward the sound.

It's Steve, sitting on the table, hard cock trapped behind tight boxers, hazel eyes darting intently between your face and your spread legs.

And it's Chrissy, standing beside him, letting Steve guide her onto his lap as her blue eyes rove over your naked body.

Instantly, your muscles tense for a different reason, your arousal withering under the weight of their stares, feeling like you're a bug under a microscope.

You realize, with startling clarity, that the brush of Eddie's tongue and the press of his finger is no longer stimulating you, that your orgasm has been chased away by your audience. Eddie hasn't noticed yet that things have changed for you, and you desperately want to keep it that way. And it's not the first time you've faked an orgasm for Steve. It's not that it doesn't feel good, that Steve isn't good at it— clearly, he must be since he made Chrissy cum. It's because you can never fully relax enough to let yourself go.

So you do what you always do: you make your chest heave with deepened breaths, tense your legs against Eddie's ears, but not too hard; and then, when you deem you've gone long enough, you throw back your head, drag your moans out as you twitch your hips up into Eddie's face, writhing against the couch.

"That's it, baby," Steve murmurs, and you know you've been convincing.

You open your eyes when the couch dips beside your shoulder, registering Steve's face just before he kisses you. You open your lips automatically, though you balk slightly at the unfamiliar musky taste on his tongue, realizing it's Chrissy in his mouth. You withdraw your fingers from Eddie then, releasing his hair and hand, and your thighs are cold without the tickle of his curls against them as he withdraws from you. You keep kissing Steve as you feel Eddie pull up your panties, lifting your hips for him. And as the kindness of the gesture strikes you, you pull from Steve's lips then, glancing up at the man still kneeling between your legs.

Eddie's arm is wrapped around Chrissy's waist as she clings to his side, pink bow lips happily pressing kisses to his cheek. You watch him wipe his mouth on the back of his wrist, but when your eyes dart up to his, the ink of his stare— its intensity— makes you suddenly want to squirm.

Unnerved, you avoid Eddie's gaze, pecking Steve one last time on the mouth as you brush back a rogue lock of hair that's fallen over his eye. You aren't sure what Eddie's stare means— if he's expecting you to thank him, or if he wants to tell you something, or if, God forbid, he'd found the experience of eating you out less than pleasant.

As vague nervousness pings in your chest, you know you need to do something to distract yourself from this train of thought, and the question of what to do is thankfully answered by Chrissy:

"All right, Mr. Harrington." She smiles foxily. "Now it's your turn."

Eddie's arm slides from Chrissy's waist as she and Steve move close; when she settles on her knees before him, you sit up, eyes locked with purpose on the front of Eddie's loose boxers, now tented. While part of you wants a distraction from your nervousness, another part conjures the flush of Eddie's face as you again imagine going down on him, and you feel your pussy pulse despite the lingering nerves.

You choose to let that decide for you.

"I'm happy to return the favor, you know. Since you got me off." You sound more confident than you feel.

Your gaze darts to his, diverting quickly as that strange intensity remains in his eyes. But when you kneel beside Chrissy, looking up at him, Eddie rises from the couch to stand next to Steve, pale hands hanging loosely at his sides.

It seems whatever he's thinking isn't pressing enough to distract from the promise of your mouth on him.

You draw your fingers lightly up his legs, sparse hair tickling as you reach up, up, up to the waistband of his boxers, dipping your fingertips underneath as you lift on your knees to press a kiss beside his navel. When you look at Eddie again, that intensity in his face has shifted, heated, turned desirous once more as he watches you slowly pull down his boxers.

He pops free from the fabric, stiff and thick, not as long as Steve but flushed a deep, mouthwatering pink at the tip, standing proud from a snatch of dark curls. You suck in a quick breath as you see him, as he steps from his boxers and his length bobs near your cheek with the movement. Beside you, Chrissy is already working Steve, tongue swirling around his head, delicate fingers lightly gripping the base of his cock— but you don't want to watch her, mesmerizing though her technique may be.

You want to watch the man standing before you.

Your tongue darts out to taste him, dragging slowly along the underside of his head, and you watch Eddie's adam's apple jump with a thick swallow, eyes locked on yours as you take him into your mouth. His precum is briny on your tongue, and you bob lightly on his tip until he's breathing more heavily. You explore him the way he'd explored you, trying to learn what he likes— licking a fat stripe up the underside, flicking your tongue against his frenulum, taking him further into your mouth, jaw clicking as you stretch to accommodate him. And that flush you'd imagined on his cheeks— you're watching it spread now, relishing the sound of his moans as you suck and lick him, lavishing all your attention on his cock.

Eddie's flush and his sounds spur you on, making you bold. And maybe it's the way Chrissy is so expertly bobbing and swirling on Steve's cock beside you. Or maybe it's your hunger for more of Eddie's reactions. Whatever it is, you're possessed to do something you've never thought to do before: as your lips pop from the head of Eddie's cock, you work his length with your hand, ducking your head and gently sucking one of his balls into your mouth.

His reaction is immediate and utterly breathtaking.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, hand fisting against his thigh, ruddy knuckles turning pale white above his chunky silver rings. Your pussy throbs, and you hum; he thrusts into your fist, smoky groans slipping from his lips as you lick and suck on his balls until you feel his warm palm clasp the back of your head, fingers tightening in your hair. You release him then, taking his length into your mouth again, sucking him as you work the underside of his cock with your tongue.

You may not be as good as Chrissy at giving head, but damned if you haven't had plenty of practice these last three years.

The tell-tale sound of Steve's release— a ragged breath, groans stifled in his throat— is unmistakable beside you, and you keep bobbing on Eddie's cock as you glance to see Steve painting Chrissy's perky breasts with his cum. She squishes them together with her hands, sucking his tip as he gasps and moans, and you're distracted until you feel Eddie's fingers tighten in your hair again. You look up at him then, watching his eyes dart briefly to the side before returning to you, remaining there as you take him a little deeper into your mouth. Eddie's fingers in your hair loosen, but not to let go; instead, he drags his palm further down to cup the back of your skull, voice a husky murmur as he tells you, "I'm close."

You hum a moan around his length, and Eddie takes a sharp breath, jaw tightening, brow tensing, dark eyes intent as he watches you suck his cock. You can feel him starting to twitch in your mouth, and you prepare to pull off and swap to your hand to bring him to completion.

And then Eddie strokes your hair as he husks, "You want my cum, sweetheart?"

The answer, before he'd asked, was no, not particularly. Sure, you'd wanted him to orgasm because that was your aim in giving him a blowjob. But did you want his cum? You wouldn't say so. Yet the way Eddie's face looks— framed by those beautifully wild curls, brown eyes hazy and inky-black with his want for you, brow pinched, cheeks flushed— and the way his voice sounds, that smoky timbre that won't stop reaching, tugging, pulling deep inside you….

Suddenly, you do. You want Eddie's cum.

"Mmhmm," you confirm, humming around his cock, taking him deeper yet, eyes locked on his face as those full lips fall open with a deep moan, and Eddie gives you what you want.

He's briny and musky but not unpleasant as he floods your mouth, cock twitching on your tongue. You pull off until just his tip is inside, swallowing him down as best you can. But there's a lot of cum, and you're not used to swallowing, so it's not surprising that a little leaks from your lips as you try to keep up.

Your eyes open as you feel a brush against your face, and you only realize then that you'd closed them. You blink, realizing that Eddie's hand is on your cheek and his thumb is wiping a bit of cum from the corner of your lips. And that gentleness you see sometimes— it's there now, pouring out in amber brown as he looks at you, eyes deep and framed by long, dark lashes.

A flutter of wings accompanies the brush of Eddie's thumb against your skin, and you find yourself running your palm softly up his calf, wanting to somehow communicate the blooming you feel inside at the tenderness of his touch.

"Damn, Munson," Steve says, and your spine straightens at the loudness. "How'd you get her to do that?" He chuckles, hazel eyes teasing as your gaze darts to meet them. "Gotta give me pointers," Steve jokes, and you pull your head back, suddenly realizing that your lips are still wrapped around Eddie's cock.

Eddie huffs a chuckle, glancing at his friend as his hand drops from the back of your head. "Well, maybe if you tasted better," he ribs lightly, cocking a brow. "I eat my weight in Twizzlers."

Steve scoffs, shoving his shoulder. "Fuck off."

You'd felt on the edge of embarrassment, but it recedes as their attention leaves you, focused on each other instead. You look at Chrissy to your side, gaze meeting powdery-soft blue and a kind smile.

A sudden surge of fondness for Chrissy fills you as you kneel side-by-side while the men argue familiarly. Strangely, there isn't any strangeness between you after having blown each other's boyfriends, but you welcome that lack as she rolls her eyes at their antics, fluttering her eyelashes to imply exasperation.

You giggle, jerking your chin toward the bedroom. "Come on," you say, smiling at her. "Let's get cleaned up and dressed. Forget the bickering dummies."

When you emerge from the bedroom, you find the guys have resolved their petty argument and are sitting at the dining room table, presumably waiting for you both. You've redressed in your black skirt, tank top, and cardigan out of solidarity with Chrissy since she didn't have anything but her dress to wear, though you'd pretended it was just for convenience, so she didn't feel bad. You somewhat regret that when Chrissy wants to talk to Steve about her class again— it turns out that wasn't merely a ploy to get you and Eddie to spend together that first time you'd met— and Eddie says he has something for you in his van.

The air is cold against your bare legs as you stand near the back doors, hugging yourself tight, cardigan not nearly enough to ward off the chill. It’s forgotten, though, when Eddie emerges with a swath of black fabric, smiling manically, brown eyes wide as he brandishes his find.

It's a t-shirt with white graphics: an open coffin and swathe of bats that flow across the jagged name ‘Corroded Coffin.’ "If you're gonna take my place," he says, dark eyes dancing, "you gotta rep the merch."

You laugh as you take it from him, holding it up to your torso. It's at least three sizes too big for you, but you don't care; you bunch it in your hands as Eddie explains, "Sorry it's so big— we only have these leftover 'til we order more."

Unconcerned, you pop the shirt over your head. You giggle as you realize it covers your skirt and fits easily, even over your cardigan, arms spreading wide to show it off.

You thank him genuinely, then follow up with a tease. "When's my first show? I'm free next week."

Eddie laughs, the sound scratchy and thick, and it flutters low in your belly— the knowledge that you'd amused him. "Hold on, now," he says. "You haven't even auditioned yet."

"True," you reply, smiling as his eyes crinkle at you. You don't know what possesses you— it's a total non sequitur, and it makes no sense to ask right now, but you really want to know. "Was it good?" you ask, voice hesitant and quiet. "The, um…" you work to clarify as his head tilts in confusion. "The blowjob?"

Eddie's brow jerks, but his answer is quick and sure. "Yeah," he replies, a corner of his lips curling in a small smile. "Yeah, it was good."

And had you known what would come next, you never would have asked. But you didn't know Eddie would follow up with a question of his own.

You didn't know he'd noticed.

His head tilts again as he asks plainly, "Why did you fake your orgasm?"

The words strike like a physical blow, and the liquid rush of hot mortification is so overwhelming that your knees nearly buckle with it. Your cheeks heat, blushing bright in the shine of the streetlight, horror flooding your face as you stare at him. The shame of it— of Eddie not only knowing you'd pretended to cum, but voicing it like this— pricks at your eyes, stinging as they water.

Instantly, Eddie looks utterly stricken, eyes darting helplessly over your face. "Shit, I— I'm sorry—" He takes a step forward, brow crumpling, arms extending, fingers flexing as if he wants to grab onto something— you, the van door, his hair. Something. Anything. "Fuck— Look, just forget I said anything—"

The sight of Eddie's distress just makes your own distress more acute; you stumble to explain. "No, I'm just…" your chin trembles as you attempt to tell the truth. "I'm just embarrassed."

He looks even more horrified. "Was it…." He trails off and swallows, voice hoarse. "D-Did I do something wrong—?"

Your eyes widen. "No, no! You were great. I… I just felt, like…." You force the words out, hating how his face looks enough to voice them. "When they came over to, like, watch…." Admitting this is embarrassing, but you're already mortified, so the benefit of truth outweighs the sting. "I just felt kind of pressured, and it took me out of the moment."

Eddie blinks, frowning less fiercely now, but he doesn't look entirely convinced. But you know by now that he’s kind, so you let that strengthen you. You admit, "I… I've never actually gotten there before from… from someone going down on me. So, it's not you."

You want to make him feel better, but Eddie Munson is too perceptive; he searches your expression, reading something there. "I swear," he says slowly, cautiously, "I'm not trying to be a dick, but.. has he ever made you…?" He trails off, dark eyes free of judgment, sympathy in the tilt of his brow.

You blush deeply, averting your eyes. Eddie isn't being a dick, but the question is too intimate. Your truthful answer is too revealing.

"Please," you whisper instead, voice trembling. "Just… please don't tell Steve about this."

You can feel Eddie move closer, though your gaze is stuck to the giant t-shirt hanging from your frame, concealing your clothes beneath a swath of black and white. When he stops in front of you, body close but not touching, you take a bracing breath and finally drag your eyes to his face.

Those bright brown eyes are so big, and Eddie's touch is careful as he pulls you in, folding you in the cradle of his arms. The chill of the outdoors is soothed; hot embarrassment fades as you breathe in smoke and apples. You let him hold you, burying your nose in his collar, chasing that scent until he speaks relief.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Not long after Eddie and Chrissy have left, your phone vibrates.

You're brushing your teeth, swathed in flannel pajamas, squinting in the bathroom light as you hear it, and when you swipe to unlock it, peering down at the text, you smile through foamy toothpaste.

'If you want to take over as frontwoman of Corroded Coffin, you're gonna need to nail your audition song.' Eddie has followed the text with a Spotify link.

You spit, rinsing it down as you plunk your toothbrush into its holder. "I'm taking out the trash real quick," you tell Steve, carrying your phone past the bed where he's reclining, scrolling on his own phone.

The apartment stairwell echoes with My Curse by Killswitch Engage; it trails after you all the way to the trash room. This is better than Lacuna Coil— it's driving but somehow still melodic, and that first howl is so guttural that it quivers behind your ribs. On the way back up, you pause at the third story landing as you open up your text messages and record the voice note, typing, 'You can send in your two weeks now.'

At first, you feel silly. But when you listen back, your voice sounds full, echoing off the stairwell walls. And you haven't gone overboard; you've only sung about fifteen seconds, your favorite part of the song, enamored by the strength of the singer's baritone, the emotion in his vibrato: 'There is love burning to find you; will you wait for me?'

Before you can let the rising nervousness freeze you, you hit send.

By floor five, he's answered. 'Holy shit, sweetheart. If you can scream, I'll clear out my desk right now.'

You flush and giggle at the choice of words, the sound echoing loudly in the emptiness. At the threshold of your floor, you type back, 'I'll leave that to the professional, I think.' With that, you slip your phone into your pocket, pushing open the door.

When you return to the comfort of your bedroom, soft light illuminates Steve's hazel eyes as he glances up, a broad smile spreading on his lips. "Hey," he says softly, lips crooking higher as you slide under soft covers beside him.

"Hi!" You smile at him before plugging in your phone beside your bed.

"So," he begins, running a palm through his bangs, mussing them against his forehead. You straighten them fondly as he talks. "I was wondering. Was there anything Eddie did today that you really liked? Something that you'd like me to do?"

Steve's gaze is warm as he waits for your reply. You feel appreciation rise at his consideration, grateful that he'd be willing to change or adapt based on today's discoveries, the things you'd appreciated.

But as you think about the things you'd appreciated most— Eddie's calloused hand squeezing yours, the rasp of his thumb against your lip, his murmured words: 'I won't tell anyone. I promise—'

You realize that you can't really explain it. That it's amorphous; that when you try to grasp it, it slips through your fingers, visible but not yet palpable.

Like smoke.

"No," you answer, "Nothing really." When Steve continues to gaze at you, you realize he may want you to reciprocate, so you oblige, face open and receptive. "Was there anything you liked that you might want me to do?"

Steve's brows raise optimistically. "Yeah, actually," he replies. "I kind of liked the dirty talk. I was thinking maybe we could do that more."

'Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, Steve, lick my cunt, finger-fuck me so fucking hard, shit —'

Chrissy's mewling voice echoes in your head, words she'd said mashing together until they loom large. Self-consciousness prickles as you imagine trying to imitate her, but Steve's kind face stares back at you, hopeful and encouraging. "Yeah," you say, lips tugging into a small smile. "Yeah, I can try that."

Soft, broad fingers weave through yours, and Steve lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back, hazel eyes gleaming. "Thanks, baby," he says. "I love you."

Your smile softens. "I love you, too."

That night, you dream of smoke and ink. Roots creep, deep and aching, burrowing further down into you.

#tkym #blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson smut

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