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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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The First Day Of Christmas

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.3K]

“Babe,” Steve’s voice was soft, coaxing. “C’mon, can we just pick one? It’s freezing.”

It was sweet, the way Steve called you ‘babe,’ the way he tried not to grumble too much, the way he pressed his hand to the small of your back.

‘Cause you weren’t exactly together, weren’t really dating — not yet anyway. It was that in-between stage, slightly awkward at times, always flirty, way too touchy, that butterfly stage, that flushed cheeks, bright eyes, soft smiles kinda stage.

More than best friends, just missing the official title, the first date, the first kiss. And you were okay with waiting, ‘cause you’d realised early on that despite Steve’s willingness to flirt and smirk and crack bad jokes, the more you got to know him, the more scared he was to completely give in to falling in love again.

Besides, Robin once told you that a group of Sports Illustrated models could walk in mid shift and Steve would still be staring longingly at the phone, wondering when you’d call.

So yeah, you were okay with waiting… and being called sweet names and being touched all softly.

“It’s not that cold, Steve,” you lied. You sniffed and blinked, eyes a little watery and nose numb from the chill but you needled your arm through the boy’s and led him through the makeshift forest. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

So Steve followed, mainly because you were so close and he could feel you brush up against his side, even through the thick layer of his sweater and coat. Plus you looked too cute, far too adorable to ever say no to. Bobble hat wiggling when you moved, your scarf - his scarf - trailing too long down your front, a wine red colour and knitted by El and Joyce.

The parking lot of the town hall had been made into a Christmas market for the holidays, a collection of tiny huts and stalls that sold hot cider and chocolate, too big pretzels and warm doughnuts, covered with sticky sugar. The candles that Mrs Peterson was selling made everything smell like cinnamon and clove, candied apples and mulled wine.

Then there was the tree farm, off to the side, a small jungle of evergreens that added to the cacophony of scents, the air all spruce, fir and pine. They were stacked by size, some as small as three feet, others stretching up to twelve.

You’d looked at those first, the huge, bushy pine trees that had scattered needles at their bases and Steve had snorted and shook his head as he dragged you away.

“That’s not fitting in your house, sweetheart, never mind on the top of my car.”

So you’d spent the last forty minutes pursuing each tree that was left, eyes bright as you inspected their branches, their trunks for stability and even going as far as to shake them a little too energetically, turning to Steve with a solemn expression to explain:

“Hopper says you gotta check for rogue squirrels.”

But now it was late, the sun setting too quick in December and nighttime started at four o’clock. The dark sky brought stars and the moon and a new kind of chill in the air that made your breath linger, your ears numb, your feet sore.

It was the kind of night where Steve wanted to be at home, as empty as it was, with the fire roaring and some kind of hot drink in his hand, definitely wearing some soft sweatpants rather than his Levi’s which were stiff with the cold.

And maybe, just maybe, after he dropped off your chosen tree in your garage, he could tempt you back to his for a movie and some popcorn. A date that wasn’t really a date, only because he was still too scared to call it as such. Steve liked you, really, really liked you and it was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. ‘Cause you turned to him with flushed cheeks and wide, bright eyes, glittering with excitement.

“What about this one?” You were holding the branch of a short, fat fir tree — it was the perfect green but the circumference of the thing was impossibly wide.

Steve grimaced, head tilting this way and that as he examined your choice. The salesman was lingering, edging in closer like he could smell the dollar signs amongst the chestnuts and candy canes. Steve glared at him.

“I don’t know, it’s a little… stumpy, no?” Steve tried not to grin when you huffed, offended for the tree. “I don’t think it’ll fit, babe, you won’t be able to move around the damn thing.”

And then it began again, tugging Steve by his cold hand around the lines of trees, expressing interest in all the ones that were too big and too tall and too expensive. So when the edges of the sidewalks started to crystallise, icing over with silver glass, Steve stood too close behind you and hooked his chin on your shoulder.

His cheeks were rosy, nose a little pink and it was freezing when he nudged it to your cheek. You squeaked but didn’t try to hide from it, welcoming every part of his closeness, cold skin be damned.

“How much longer?” He pouted. Steve really hated being cold. “What do I have to do to make you pick the next tree you see, huh?”

You smiled, body warming despite the cold ‘cause Steve made it sound so much more salacious than the words needed to be.

You turned, cheek pressed to his until you could see his lashes out of the corner of your eye, the pink of his lips, until his aftershave stayed on your coat for the rest of evening.

“Depends what you’re offering, Harrington,” you replied.

It was too easy to flirt, especially when Steve was as pretty as he was. It wasn’t new, the teasing tones, the scandalous words, the way you both looked at each other, yearning, wanting. But what Steve said next? That was very, very new.

“I’ll give you a kiss,” it was whispered, sweet words pressed to the apple of your cheek, like a secret, like a promise. And then, even softer, a little less sure sounding, “if you want.”

You turned, eyes wide, searching Steve’s. You looked for the humour there, the joke you expected to see but the boy was looking nervous and serious, lips bitten and parted, cheeks pink from more than the cold.

“Yeah?” You asked and it sounded like ‘it’s time?’

“Yeah,” Steve answered and it sounded like ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’

You picked the next tree you saw, rounding the corner to see a sad looking pine, too skinny, a little lopsided but you grinned and paid the man the twenty dollars he asked for, ignoring his strange look, ‘cause all you could see was the way Steve was grinning, lighting up the night brighter than summer itself.

You almost forgot about the tree. Walking away without it, laughing a little too loudly when Steve ran back for it and starting dragging the poor thing across the parking lot. And when he finally wrestled it onto the roof of his car, ropes strapping it down a little haphazardly, he turned to you and couldn’t help but grin.

You didn’t speak, neither did he. But you moved like it was choreographed, like you knew what to do, like you could read each other perfectly after waiting for so long. You leaned in, pushed up on your toes and Steve ducked down, hands clasping your cold cheeks, his colder fingers pushed to your jaw and you heard his little sigh before his lips met yours — the softest sound, relief, anticipation, happiness.

He tasted like peppermint hot chocolate, candy canes and Christmas, and his lips were so much warmer than the rest of him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington blurb #UDWS12D

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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The Seventh Day Of Christmas

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [1.5K]

Working overtime at the diner during the lead up to Christmas had you somewhat frazzled. Your feet hurt from standing all day, you were too tired to do much after a double shift and you were severely behind on your Christmas shopping.

In fact, you’d completely forgot about the get-together everyone was having that night until you bumped into Robin outside of the grocery store, cereal bar and lukewarm coffee in hand.

Hawkins was covered in a thin layer of frost, the air cold enough to see, the trees covered in string lights rather than leaves. The girl had reminded you of the movie night in the Wheeler’s basement, the secret Santa that had been arranged almost three week ago and how you were on snack duty.

And despite the way you’d nodded your head and tried to smile, promising you’d be there, Robin had grinned and seen right through your panic. ‘Cause with another twelve hour shift ahead of you, when were you supposed to buy your secret Santa present?

Who’s name had you even picked out of the hat?

You found the strip of crumpled paper at the bottom of your purse, just as you were finishing for the night. Your apron had too many stains on it, your feet ached, Mr Loretti had let you take home a couple of boxes of pizza and your boyfriend's name stared up at you in Nancy’s neat print.

Steve Harrington.

You’d decided on what to do before you even got home, rushing from your car into the house with a brand new burst of energy. If you were quick about it, you could pull it off before you needed to be at Nancy’s with the food, ready to watch bad Christmas movies with the rest of your friends.

You showered the grease and the smells of the diner from your hair, your skin, closing your eyes just briefly as the hot water washed over you, a smile on your lips as you thought about the boy.

It had been a few days since you’d properly spent time with Steve, both of you busy with work and the holiday rush, making do with whispered phone calls between dinner and bed, voices tired and words spoken a little longingly. Every night he told you he missed you and every night a new need and want clawed at the back of your throat.

It was too late to go to the mall, to find one of the fancier lingerie stores that sold the kind of outfit you had in mind. One that was all red velvet and white trim, short skirts and a dirtier version of what you’d find at the little grotto that was set up in the middle of the food court.

So you decimated your underwear drawer instead, reaching into its depths to pull out lace and silk, hunting until you found that set you were always a little too scared to wear — delicate and ruby red, lacy and with more pieces to it than your normal choices.

But you thought of Steve and the way he’d look at you, boyish smile turning into a full on grin, eyes lighting up with an excitement you hadn’t had a chance to see in a while. So you slipped on the bra, the matching underwear, the soft stockings and suspenders that made your legs look longer than normal.

You hid it all under a too big sweater and some old jeans, grabbing the pizza boxes and your car keys as you set off earlier than you needed to, only stopping to pause in your hallway, eyes cast over the Santa hat that was hanging from the bannister — a Christmas carolling prop that no one seemed to use anymore.

You grabbed it, grinning, and set off for your boyfriends.

Steve’s car was the only one in the drive when you reached the Harrington’s, his parents between deals before the year finished up for the holidays, both of them somewhere between Illinois and Kansas. The front door was unlocked, the fire in the living room barely still crackling and you could hear the dim of running water from above.

Steve’s en-suite door was cracked, a little light and a lot of steam coming from inside, the soft sound of the boy’s singing barely heard from under the roar of the shower but it made you smile all the same. You called out to him as you toed your shoes off, sweater catching in your hair as you struggled to get yourself undressed.

“Hey, babe,” you tried to sound casual, nonchalant, as you stripped off your jeans, the denim catching at your ankles. “S’just me.”

You heard the rustle of the shower curtain, the silence as Steve stopped singing and god, you could even hear the smile in his voice when he answered.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he sounded so happy. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you before movie night, Loretti let you out early?”

You made a noise of agreement, stumbling a little as you opened up the rucksack you’d thrown over your shoulder, pulling out the heels you’d stolen from your mom’s wardrobe, the Santa hat that you tried to sit prettily on your head.

“Yeah, he can be nice sometimes!” You called back, trying to keep your breath even as you bent to check your hair in Steve’s mirror, fluffing your hair and untwisting the bra straps that wouldn’t quite coordinate.

Was red lipstick too much?

“S’not like you’ve worked sixty odd hours for him this week,” Steve commented mildly. The shower shut off, the water dripping as the pipes squeaked. “I’ll be out in a sec, babe.”

Fuck it, it was Christmas — you swiped on a layer of red across your lips, pressing them together as you tried to keep an eye on the bathroom door.

“Take your time.” Did you sound out of breath? Did you sound nervous? You felt nervous.

“Take my time?” You heard Steve huff, humour lacing his voice. “You kiddin’? Been dying for a kiss for da— oh, fucking hell.”

You panicked at the sound of Steve approaching, the bathroom door swinging open and letting more steam and light spill out. Steve stood in front of you, skin still damp and jeans unbuttoned, showing off the band of his boxers, the little trail of hair that led into them. He was clutching a towel to the back of his head, stopping mid scrub as he dried his hair, staring at you instead.

You’d perched yourself on the edge of his desk last minute, stocking covered legs crossed as daintily as you could, the Santa hat a little askew on the top of your head. But you’d painted your lips crimson to match all the lace, smiled shyly and waved when Steve still hadn’t said anything else.

“Surprise,” you managed to whisper, your voice undeniably shaky with nerves? Adrenaline? Anticipation? God, you’d fucking missed him. “From your secret Santa.”

“Jesus Christ, babe,” Steve breathed out, towel dropping by his bare feet as he leaned back, pressing himself against the door frame. His eyes were everywhere, roaming over you, one hand clutched dramatically to his bare chest. “Baby. Fuck, fuck, you look insane.”

You preened at that, eyes glittering in the low light that came from the bathroom vanity. You watched the boy move forward, eyes on him, gaze heavy and heated. “Yeah?”

Steve nodded, close enough to smooth his hands over your thighs, calluses catching at the lace hems of your stockings, thumbs tucking themselves under the straps of your suspenders.

“I’m about to lose it just looking at you,” he breathed, words hitching into a gasp and a groan at the end as you hooked your fingers into the band of his boxers, tugging him forward. “The things I wanna do to you—”

You grinned, heart racing for all the right reasons under all that red lace. “I heard something about a kiss,” you reminded him sweetly.

Steve’s hands went wandering, one warm palm smoothing into the inside of your thigh, gently coaxing your legs apart so he could step between them. His pupils were blown wide as he gazed down at you, lips parted, breath coming a little heavy.

His fingers pressed themselves to the seam of your cunt, sliding up enough to find your clit, the pressure just right to get you gasping.

“Yeah, honey?” Steve whispered, all sticky sweet and wrecked sounding. Your lashes fluttered when he leaned in, nose pressed to your cheek and he kept talking all low for you. “You want a kiss?”

You nodded, head tilted back, hands reaching up to curl into the mess of his still damp hair, holding on for dear life. His thumb pressed down again, pushing lace against you so he could feel how wet you were already.

His lips ghosted over your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth.

“A kiss where?” He asked.

You both missed the first hour of the movie, the pizza forgotten on Steve’s kitchen counter as he turned up at the Wheeler’s front door with his hand in yours and red lipstick marks on his neck.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington smut #udws12d

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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The Eighth Day Of Christmas

Steve Harrington x WednesdayAddams!reader [1.2K]

“Steven?”

Steve’s lips twitched even though you couldn’t see them, face half hidden by a magazine Eddie had loaned him, the cover of it filled with the image of a man in heavy makeup and holding a bright red guitar.

“Hmm?”

You were standing by his open closet, expression mournful, socked toes dragging against the carpet as you pulled at the sleeves of shirts and sweaters. You couldn’t find what you wanted.

“Where’s your hoodie? The black one?” You turned to him, your scowl sad enough to almost be a pout. ‘My one,’ you’d wanted to say.

Steve turned a page and let his gaze drag up to you, his smile widening when he saw your petulant state. You were in all black — high socks pulled to your knees, your skirt matching your t-shirt, haphazardly tucked in. With your downturned lips and furrowed brow, Steve couldn’t help himself.

“You look cute,” he said it offhandedly, softly, as if he didn’t know the reaction he’d get.

You squirmed, tried not to scowl nor smile, the latter becoming more and more difficult when Steve Harrington was the one showering you in sweet words.

“Stop it,” you whispered, turning back to the closet to dig amongst the clothes that smelled like the boy. ‘Thank you,’ he knew you meant. “Where’s the sweater? M’cold.”

“Uh, I think Robin has it,” he told you casually, already putting his nose back to the magazine, eyes widening as he read about Ozzy Osbourne and an incident with a bat.

“Robin?” You repeated. You had absolutely no issue with the girl. In fact, you’d even go as far to call her a companion — a friend. She was sarcastic and witty, although sometimes too loud and she spoke too fast, but she was the only other person allowed to make fun of Steve. “She has my hoodie?”

“Your hoodie?” Steve grinned, finally ditching the magazine to give you his full attention. “I could’ve sworn it was mine, you’re getting awfully possessive, sweetheart.”

You ignored him, coming over to stand by the edge of the bed, arms crossed and expression flat.

“I’ll fight her,” you told him.

Steve huffed out a laugh — he was almost positive you were joking. “No you won’t,” he said but god, he didn’t sound so sure.

“That was my favourite one,” you told him and Steve melted because you looked absolutely miserable at the news.

Steve shuffled across the bed until he was able to swing his legs over the side, hands reaching out to cup at the backs of your thighs, just at the spot where your skirt and socks left a stripe of bare skin for him to touch. He pulled you into the space between his knees and grinned despite your saddened expression.

“Just ‘cause it’s black?” He looked like he wanted to laugh.

“No,” you frowned even as you leaned into the boy, letting him press his chin to your chest as he gazed up at your through messy hair, your hands finding purchase on broad shoulders. “It’s comfy and it’s soft and it smells like you.”

“Honey,” Steve’s voice was sticky sweet, thick with affection at the sound of it made you feel too warm. “Everything in my closet smells like me.”

He was grinning again, almost smug and you poked at his cheek, not unkindly, just accusatory. You knew he was enjoying this too much, your admission, your want for something of his, your petulance at not getting it.

You shrugged, sullen and it only made Steve smile wider.

“What about my yellow one?” The boy was so sure that one day you’d give in. “That’s even softer.”

“It’s the colour of the sun,” you told him with disdain, but it didn’t stop you from winding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, your touch so much softer than your words.

Steve huffed out a laugh he tried to repress, blinking prettily at you. “Everyone likes the sun, babe.”

“Not me,” you lied.

You lied and lied and lied, because the boy in front of you was summer personified and he had the sun living inside of him, warm and bright and you saw it every day in his smile, his eyes, the way he looked at you and you felt it in his touch.

“You need the sun,” Steve quipped back, smiling too fondly for it to be taken as an argument. “Everyone needs the sun, you can’t not like it.”

You sniffed, unaccepting of his rebuttal. You shrugged, “that’s not necessarily true. I’d do fine without it.”

Steve laughed and pulled you closer, warm hands smoothing upupup until they found the edge of your underwear. You jumped a little, cheeks warming and pulling a little on his hair in response.

“You don’t need the sun?” He asked and you shook your head in sheer stubbornness. “You’re impossible,” Steve declared, but my god, he was looking at you like you were anything but.

“You like me anyway,” you whispered, looking at the floor because it still seemed hard to believe it, hard to admit it, to say out loud.

“Too much,” Steve agreed with a smile and he whispered it too, soft and sweet and for just you to hear. “Go pick another sweater, babe.”

You let yourself go slack against the boy instead, catching his laughter with your lips, an unexpected kiss placed on his as you fell onto his knee. Steve accepted it all, your kiss, your touch, your body pressed against his and he hummed happily against your mouth.

“They’re all too colourful,” you told him once you pulled away, just enough to touch your nose to his. “You have awful taste.”

The boy snorted, not at all offended at your blunt confession ‘cause how could he take fashion advice from someone who only wore shades of grey? Besides, he was far too smitten with you.

“Says the girl who looks like a film from the nineteen thirties.”

You grinned.

Steve leaned back in, soft and slow. “Go pick one,” he coaxed, pressing a kiss to your cheek to keep you sweet, “and keep warm.” Another kiss, this time to your forehead, “and we can go throw snowballs at Robin,” one more, on the tip of your nose. “So we can get your sweater back.”

You beamed, a once in a million sight and it made Steve warm to look at. He squeezed you a little tighter, hiding his laugh in your neck, because of course you’d smile like that at the thought of violence.

“Thought you said I wasn’t allowed to fight her,” you whispered, eyes glittering.

Steve just shrugged, smile all dopey and soft as he looked at you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He’d buy you a goddamn army if you kept looking at him like that.

That’s how he found himself standing on the sidewalk by Robin’s house, getting pelted by snowballs that his friend scraped from her window ledge, despite the fact you were the one to start the war.

But you were wearing his yellow sweater, looking like a little speck of sunshine on a cloudy day, his red scarf wound around your neck too. You were the most colourful he’d ever seen you, eyes shining and that pretty, pretty smirk on your lips as you watched Robin throw piles of snow at him.

Steve would say it was worth it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #UDWS12D

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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The Second Day Of Christmas

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [1.2K]

“This is a bad idea,” you huffed, lips twisted into a worried pout.

“Sweetheart, you worry too much,” Eddie grinned from beside you, not nearly as wrapped up as you were, barely feeling the chill that was nipping its way over your skin. “What could go wrong?”

He was in a sweater, a deep forest green knit that made his eyes look darker and he’d had the common sense to tuck his jeans into the tops of his boots. Even if they were untied.

“So much,” you stated bluntly, staring over the precipice of the hill. The snow made it seem taller than usual, an endless expanse of white that was already way too steep. “So, so much.”

You crossed your arms, curling into yourself, holding your coat tighter to your body, as if Eddie’s borrowed hoodie underneath wasn’t enough warmth for you. It was, it was edging on too big and the sleeves were too long but it smelled like him, like cologne and smoke and something vanilla.

But no one else seemed to heed your warnings, or your worries, and you sighed unhappily when the kids all lined up at the edge of the slope, giddy with excitement, noses red and cheeks pink with the cold.

An unanticipated snow day had everyone acting like ten year olds, old sledges pulled from the messy depths of garages, makeshift toboggans conjured from cardboard sheets and trash bags.

You watched as Dustin and Mike piled together on a cherry red sledge, plastic and flimsy looking. Your eyes were squinting with worry and you didn’t even want to argue with Max as she sat on nothing more than an old breakfast tray, fingers curled around the sides with her knees tucked under her chin.

“Someone’s going to end up in the hospital,” you told everyone morosely. “And I’m gonna have to be the one driving.”

“Nah, you won’t,” Steve seemed to assure you. He wasn’t even looking at you as he busied himself with Will, kneeling in the wet snow to tie a scarf around the younger boy's waist, strapping him onto the decades old sledge that had a crack in the middle. “We’d call an ambulance, you don’t drive all that fast, y’know.”

You grumbled, shoulders dropping in despair because, oh my god, someone was going to die.

But Eddie was crowding you, smiling that smile you swore was just for you, knuckles tucking under your chin to lift your face to him. You were pouting still and it only made the boy grin, eyeing that soft crinkle between your brows that he seemed to kiss away on a daily basis.

“You’re such a worry guts,” he said fondly, lowering his voice so the kids wouldn’t hear, so Steve wouldn’t poke fun. “It’s fine, sweetheart, the kids have handled worse than a face full of snow.”

“S’not the point, what if there’s a rock underneath? Or, or, they get ice in their ey—”

Eddie cut you off with a kiss, a smooth move, you couldn’t deny, his lips slanting over your own and they were warm, so warm. Your cold nose pushed at his cheek and you squeaked at the feel of him, flushing at such a public display. But you felt him smile against you, one large hand curling around the edges of your scarf to keep you close.

Not that you were planning on going anywhere. Instead, you pushed up onto your toes, boots sinking into the slush as you chased his kiss, bottom lip trapped between his. It was sweet and adoring and Eddie tasted like coffee and peppermint candy canes.

He barely pulled away to whisper to you, nose brushing once, twice, three times over your own and his lips brushed yours as he spoke.

“Now—”

You hardly registered the scuff of the sledges pouring over the edge, the shrieks and yells of the kids on their descent.

“—what does a boy like me gotta do, to get a pretty girl like you—”

Will flew down next, chased by Steve, all whoops and shouts as they raced to the bottom.

“—to sit on my lap and take a ride?”

You burned at the words, the implications, the dirty grin on Eddie’s face. He seemed to understand though, noticed the way your eyes got softer, a little droopy and cherry balm stained lips parting in anticipation.

He huffed out a laugh, quiet and pretty, one hand warm and cupping one side of your face, long fingers splayed over your jaw and cheek. He thumbed over the soft skin, pulling a little at the bottom curve of your lip, playful and teasing.

“Eddie,” you warned but there was no heat there and it came out like a soft whine instead.

“C’mon, pretty thing, it’ll be fun,” he promised you, “I’ll hold you real tight.”

He winked, salacious and all flirt and charm, and god, Eddie Munson had been your boyfriend for almost two years now, but it had only taken a few days of knowing him to realise you could almost never, ever say no.

“Teddy,” you tried again, softer and with puckered brows. This wasn’t your idea of fun. The cold, the wet, the imminent threat of being thrown off a piece of fast moving plastic….

But Eddie was already pulling away from you to sit on the sledge, one that was comically small for him, his knees bent up and spread. He looked up at you, all soft curls dotted with wet, tiny spots of melted ice that glittered. He was unfairly pretty and then he pouted, brown eyes doe like as he held out his hand, silver rings enticing you.

“For me?” He asked sweetly.

Well, fuck.

You sighed, let your head drop back as you groaned, all amatuer dramatics and it made Eddie grin. But he waited, knowing this was you giving in and he laughed brightly when your smaller hand curled into his own.

“Atta’ girl,” he praised and he held you steady as you stepped between his legs, slotting yourself between his thighs. You were frowning, undeniably adorable and Eddie loved it. “So brave,” he half joked.

“Shut up,” you told him weakly, feeling marginally better when he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you like he promised. You grabbed at his knees, fingers cold and vice like as he scooted you both towards the edge of the hill.

Hawkins was all white from this viewpoint, glittering in the daylight, the sky as fluffy looking as the ground, cloud covered and heavy, threatening more snow.

And from the bottom of the hill, the kids were standing with Steve, looking up and cheering as they saw you ready to fly down. Even from here, you could see Steve’s smirk.

“Ready?” The boy asked, a soft whisper by your ear, lips over the shell of it.

“Don’t let me go, Munson,” you warned him, eyes wide as the huge drop came into view. God, it really was steep. “You owe me a hot chocolate after this.”

“With extra marshmallows,” Eddie promised solemnly.

“And I get to pick the movie tonight,” you added on quickly, pushing yourself further into the boy, his chin resting on your head. You felt rather than heard him laugh.

“Whatever my girl wants,” Eddie assured you.

“Even if it’s Pretty In Pi— waitwaitwait, no! EDDIE—”

You didn’t get to finish your bartering but after Eddie had to pick you up from a particularly deep and wet hump of snow, brushing ice from your lashes, from the inside of your collar, you were pretty certain he’d say yes to anything you asked for.

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #UDWS12D

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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The Twelfth Day Of Christmas

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K]

We Tried The World Christmas edition

The traffic on the I-69 was at a complete standstill.

Unfortunate, considering you and Steve were both supposed to be at the Byer’s house almost two hours ago. The two hour drive had turned into something much, much longer, the BMW crawling along with traffic as the snow got heavier and heavier as Steve tried to get you both to Hawkins before nightfall, hopefully with all your carefully wrapped presents still in one piece in the trunk.

With Bruce in the back, whining lowly out of impatience and probably needing to pee, the air in the car was beginning to get more and more tense. The golden retriever grumbled again and you cooed, reaching behind the seat to stroke a hand over his ear, coming your fingers through his tufts of fur.

“S’okay, baby, we’re not far now,” you whispered and it wasn’t a lie, not really. The highway signs told you that you were only about twenty miles out from Indianapolis and from there, Hawkins was only really another thirty minute drive.

That’s if the snow had blocked off the roads.

The cars in front slowed to a stop once more and the boy beside you swore, frowning in the low light. He was lit up in red, brake lights turning him scarlet and even though it was only five o’clock, the weather was making the day turn to night much quicker than normal. The sky was heavy and tinted a rosy pink, thick clouds blocking out the last of the setting sun as snow fell heavily to the ground.

You knew Joyce would be worried, hoping she’d seen enough of the news channels to realise that you were both caught up in what was turning out to be a pretty bad snowstorm. You just hoped she didn’t send Hopper out on it to look for you both.

“Hey,” you murmured softly, taking your hand from Bruce to Steve’s knee, squeezing gently before running your palm up his thigh. “You wanna swap seats?”

The constant stopping and starting was making Steve far too grumpy, and understandably so, you’d thought. You knew you wouldn’t get much further than he could but you offered anyway, smile sweet and kind as you gazed at him.

You watched him soften as he caught your eye, his hard stare leaving the road to look back at you. His frown smoothed out, his lips lifted and he sighed, tired. His hand found yours, fingers tangling and he shook his head as he brought your fingers to his lips, kissing each one.

It felt a little like an apology for his bad mood.

“Nah, I’m alright, babe,” Steve mumbled, “just gotta wait it out.”

You knew he didn’t want you driving in the snow, could see the worry etched in the crinkle of his eyes, could hear it in his voice when the snow started to blanket the roads in front of you when you passed the signs for Greenwood - the boy slowing down and making sure your seatbelt was on, checking his mirrors to tell Bruce to lie down and be a good dog.

“You look tired,” you said instead of arguing, lips pushed into a sympathetic pout, taking your hand from his only to card your fingers through his hair instead.

He needed a haircut, the ends curling at his ears and at the nape of his neck. You traced the shell of his ear, grinning when he moaned dramatically and let his lashes flutter shut.

“Eyes on the road, Harrington,” you chastised.

“We’re not moving,” he retorted but he opened them anyway, turned to kiss your palm and nipped at your fingers when you pressed one to his cheek. “This is awful.”

The sounds of horns started blaring from the cars up in front, the line too long and the brake lights too bright for either of you to see what was causing the holdup. An overturned truck? A stuck car?

Behind you both, Bruce huffed, his big head appearing between the two seats and he pushed his muzzle to Steve’s ear, grumbling softly.

“I know, buddy,” Steve soothed, smacking a kiss to the side of the dog's head. “We’ll pull over when we can, both of us can take a leak, yeah?”

“Cute,” you deadpanned before rolling your eyes.

“Don’t be jealous,” Steve retorted and he lit up momentarily as the cars moved a foot or two, wheels slipping on the snow before everyone hit their brakes and the traffic came to a stand still once again. “For fuck sake.”

“You’d think we’d never managed a two thousand mile round trip across the country,” you quipped, smiling fondly at his impatience.

“More like three thousand after you got us lost in Yosemite,” Steve grinned back, laughing when you pushed at his shoulder, mouth agape in faux offence.

“You were the one that wanted to go!”

“You were the one with the map!” He was still laughing and at the sound of it, Bruce wagged his tail, a comforting thumpthumpthump against the back seat. “Besides, that trip was different.”

“Well yeah,” you snorted, “this one is a lot shorter—”

“It’s supposed to be,” Steve huffed, “could’ve made it to Chicago by now.”

“—and the last one was definitely sunnier.”

“Lucky for me, I got to sit next to this super pretty girl both times,” Steve was all charm, head leaning back against his seat, eyes bright as he looked at you through messy hair.

You preened, more than happy to accept his flirting, his attention. “Oh, yeah?” You asked.

“Oh yeah,” Steve nodded, making a show of letting his gaze roam over your body, each feature of your face, lingering at your lips. “Total smoke show. Wore a lot less clothes last time, though.”

You laughed, “you’re a perv, Harrington.”

The boy gasped, feigning shock and offence. “Y’can’t say that, it’s Christmas.”

You were momentarily interrupted from retorting as the traffic moved again, an inch, another, maybe a whole twenty feet before the cars stopped again and everyone groaned, Bruce included.

“You know,” Steve started, looking up at the falling snow before gazing over at you, his eyes warm with an affection you’d grown so familiar with. “We should do that again.”

“Do what?” You were smiling, always smiling with Steve, knowing what he was going to say but wanting to hear it anyway.

“Get in the car and just go,” he was looking at you like you were his whole world and it made your chest hurt. “Pack some bags, take Bruce, go somewhere new. A vacation.”

“Yeah?” You asked and your voice sounded dreamy. “Where to this time?”

Steve shrugged, smiling all soft. “Wherever you went, pretty girl. Canada? Or we could go south this time, see New York, somewhere big.”

You were beaming.

“Or, I could take some extra shifts, save up a little and we could get on a plane, ask Dustin if he’d look after Bruce and fly to—”

“You know I’d be happy in a motel in Indianapolis as long as I’m with you, right?”

Steve shrugged and tried to hide smile, to stop himself going pink around his cheeks but it was no use, you’d already seen and you knew him too well. Two years together and it was still one of your favourite sights.

“Besides,” you continued, “I kinda like the idea of being stuck in this car with you again. And this time ‘round, I don’t have to pretend I don’t wanna kiss you for five states.”

Steve grinned, all too pleased with your admission despite the fact that he had to have known — especially after you were the one to throw yourself at him mid-thunderstorm in Colorado.

“A whole five states, huh?” The boy smirked, entirely smug. “Wow, babe, didn’t know you’d wanted me for that long.”

“Shut up,” you retorted, your words held no heat. “If your ego gets any bigger, Eddie’s gonna yell at me for not keeping it in check.”

“I’ll fight him for you,” Steve promised but he was quick to return to your original words. “Five states… that totally means you wanted me before we even left Indiana.”

“Steve, you were the one to kiss me at that party—”

“You were just dyin’ to jump my bones at that first diner, huh?” Steve was gloating, lips curled into a pretty smirk, eyes dancing with mischief and flirt in the red lights. “A coffee, some pancakes and a side of di—”

“The traffic is moving, Romeo,” you interrupted, doing your best to not let him make you laugh but your cheeks were sore from smiling and there was a bubble of happiness in your chest that felt warmer than anything else you’d ever felt.

Sure enough, the line was moving more consistently now and Steve let out a whoop as he stepped on the gas and made the car kick up snow. He grinned when he finally got to turn off of the interstate, gaze flickering to you only to wink, making you shake your head fondly and grin.

The roads to Hawkins were much quieter and much more peaceful, Steve taking it slow as the snow fell steadily, coating everything in white. Bruce had jumped out at a lay-by with Steve, both of your boys taking a bathroom break in the same bush as you shouted stupid shit at Steve from the window, doing your best to make him laugh as he yelled back at you about messing up his aim.

It didn’t feel like returning home as you passed the sign welcoming you back to the small town but it felt like family and it felt like friends, familiar and more comforting than it had ever been, especially when Steve took one hand off of the steering wheel to squeeze at your thigh.

The lights strung up around porches and roofs twinkled in the night, the sky fully black now as you arrived more than three hours late. But it didn’t really matter, ‘cause nothing was a rush, nothing could be a stress when the world was so pretty and quiet.

Everything glittered, the ground, the rooftops, the light line tree branches, the frozen over pond at the edges of the park. And Steve’s eyes did too when he turned the corner on Maple Street and asked you:

“Hey, d’you wanna tell me a secret?”

“Really now?” You murmured back, your smile warm and bright. His words made your chest ache for memories you kept for yourself — long drives, breaking into pools, kisses between canyons, sunflower fields and sun soaked boys who belonged to summer and you. “You not got enough of my secrets, Harrington?”

Steve grinned and shrugged, thumb drawing circles onto your knee. “One more for Christmas?”

So you hummed and pretended to think, cheek pushed to the headrest of the car seat as you kept your eyes on Steve, the profile of his pretty face.

“I’d go anywhere in the world with you,” you told him and your voice was quiet but sure.

“Yeah?” The boy asked and you could tell he couldn’t say much more, his voice a little thick with affection. The car rolled to pause at a stop sign and he took the chance to look at you properly, brown eyes filled with so much adoration it made your breath catch in your throat.

“Oh, yeah,” you assured him, nodding and whispering like you were telling him something scandalous, “don’t you know? I’d jump in a car and let you steal me away.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Steve gasped.

“Stupidly so,” you agreed but the air between you both was sticky with fondness. “Where’s my Christmas secret?”

Steve smiled and pulled into the Byer’s driveway, parking behind Nancy’s car, Eddie’s van and Hoppers cruiser, wondering how long he had left with you alone before one of the kids spotted you both through the window.

Bruce was awake and whining, recognising the house and hearing the noise from inside, the low music from the stereo, the yells of conversation between too many people at once.

“I love you,” Steve said simply, “like, way more than anyone else in the entire world.”

“The entire world, huh?” you said instead of crying, melting into the seat as Steve leaned over the console to you, lips meeting yours for a kiss that made your heart rate pick up. “That’s a lot of people to rule out.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve hummed against your lips, pressing tiny kisses anywhere he could. “We tried the world… or at least seven states in it —”

You snorted out a huff of laughter as Steve grinned, hiding your face in his shoulder as he kept up his kisses between words.

“— and I’m pretty fuckin’ sure you’re my favourite.”

You pressed a kiss to the boy's neck and sighed, too happy to wanna move. “Yeah?” Your voice was quiet and soft, and you didn’t need the reassurance, but it was lovely to have it anyway.

“Yeah,” Steve responded, pushing a kiss to the apple of your cheek before Bruce tried to squeeze his face between you both. “Just don’t tell Dustin.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #udws12d

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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The Fifth Day Of Christmas

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [0.7K]

“D’you trust me?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Steve beamed, a heart warm, chest aching, mind melting kind of smile. You felt gooey, hotter than you should’ve been despite the way the ground around you was covered in frost and leftover snow.

“Take my hand,” he told you, fingers cold and wiggling at you as seven year old Jenny Jameson spun past him.

The ice rink was full, the floor glittering with the reflection of the lights that has been strung over the trees that surrounded it. It was makeshift at best, old wooden pallets acting as safety barriers and you had a high chance of getting some serious splinters if you crashed into them.

But Hopper had shrugged and took a drag of his coffee when the town committee had complained, telling them all that it was a damn sight safer than hoping Lovers Lake was thick enough to not crack under the weight of a few hundred skaters.

But Steve had started the date night with hot chocolate from the bakery, a too big cinnamon twist shared between you, fingers as sticky with sugar as your lips were but it only made each kiss sweeter than normal. And then the boy led you into town and light up at the sight of the rink, he only had to flash a smile at you - that smile - and before you knew it, you were lacing up old skates that weren’t yours.

Steve was already on the ice, balanced perfectly on the edge of his blades, a dark green beanie making his hair messier than normal, fairy lights reflecting off of the glasses he wore. He was smiling - maybe smirking - but all of his attention was on you, so you didn’t mind either way. He was still holding out his hand, waiting for you to step onto the ice with him.

The problem was, your balance was off at the best of times, no slippery surfaces required. Steve was athletic to the point of annoying, always able to pick up a skill easier than should’ve been allowed. So it wasn’t a surprise to watch him glide effortlessly onto the ice, grinning and shrugging casually when you scoffed from the sidelines, offended at his confidence.

But then he was leaning over the wooden pallet barrier and hooking his fingers into the collar of your sweater, barely visible from the hill of your coat and scarf. He found it all the same, pulled you in by it until your nose was bumping him and you pushed up onto your toes out of habit, chasing his touch.

It was easy to forget you were balancing on the edge of a blade when Steve was close. So you wobbled, eyes wide and your hands gripped the boy’s side in a panic as he huffed out a laugh.

You glared at him and he apologised with a kiss, one that still tasted like cinnamon and cocoa, one that was bordering on too scandalous for the middle of town. It made you squish your nose to his cheek, hands diving to fist his coat in your hands the same way he did to yours and you weren’t really sure if you were pulling the boy closer or making sure he didn’t pull away sooner than you wanted him to.

Either way, Steve stayed close, cheeks flushed, eyes heavy, butterfly kisses scattered over your jaw, your chin, the corners of your mouth. He grinned when you sighed, a heavy sound, one that sounded a lot like giving in.

He held his hand out to you again, all cold fingers and bright smiles, laughing when you accepted it.

“Atta’ girl,” he told you and god, it made your insides feel warmer, it made your stomach jump and your heart tick upwards.

You took a step onto the ice, one foot, then the other. You were quick to slip and falter, caught by Steve with another bright laugh, a sound you could never be mad at. But you pouted anyway and clung to him, two hands tight in his and your eyes were wide as you stared at him.

“Don’t let me go,” you said and it wasn’t a question.

“Me?” Steve huffed, all faux surprise. “Let you go? Never.”

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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The Third Day Of Christmas

Steve Harrington x WednesdayAddams!reader [0.7K]

When someone knocked on the front of Steve’s door, he was busy balancing two pizzas, trying to open the oven door with his foot.

“Hey, babe?” He called to you in the living room, already tucked into the blanket he’d given you when you arrived, tv remote in hand. “Could you get that for me, please?”

You did without complaint, socked feet sliding over Mrs Harrington’s hallway floorboards, ‘cause you’d developed an awful habit in which you’d do anything Steve asked you to.

You’re were disgustingly fond of him, not that you liked to vocalise it all that much. But the boy knew, he could see it in the way you looked at him, when your stoney faced expression melted into something softer at the sight of him, when you took his hand under the table, when you pressed your face to his chest when you grew a little tired.

And Robin and Eddie were quick to poke fun, to make soft noises at you both, ‘aww-ing’ in jest. And you’d be even quicker to tell them to shut up, glaring but you never moved away from Steve.

But it didn’t matter how much you liked Steve, you weren’t willing to stand at his front door and humour the carol singers on his porch.

There was a gaggle of them, all colourful scarves and pom-pom hats, lyric sheets clutched in their hands as they cooed at you, clearing their throats before launching into an off key version of Jingle Bells. It was cheery, too loud, too smiley.

You slammed the door, expression flat, with a hint of horror flashing in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve was suppressing a grin as he appeared behind you, reaching an arm over your shoulder to open the door again, just in time for the first chorus. “Babe, baby. Be nice.”

It wasn’t even really an admonishment, not the way Steve said it with such sticky fondness, his arms catching around your shoulders before you could scamper away. He didn’t need to be facing you to know you were frowning, expression sullen and eyes heavy with annoyance as you stared at the carol singers outside.

But Steve wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest as he rested his chin on your head. You could’ve pulled away, he would’ve let you. But you felt the way his chest moved as he laughed quietly, far too pleased at how you shrank back into him, one pom-pom hat away from outright hissing at the holiday cheer, the colour and fluffy ear muffs.

“What are they doing?” You asked Steve, voice laced with disdain. Your eyes were wide, staring at Mr Peterson as he grinned and waved some jazz hands at you.

“Singing,” Steve snorted, Steve nudged his nose to your temple, smiled and raised an awkward hand to Mrs Jenkins when she winked at him. “Maybe not all that well… but they’re singing.”

“Why?” You demanded to know, blunt and sharp.

You felt Steve shrug rather than saw it, a lazy heave of his body against yours and he hummed, good natured and full of humour. “S’neighbourly. Apparently.” Steve grinned wide, pressed a kiss to the spot below your ear and made out that he didn’t see your haunted expression.

“You don’t like it?” He asked sweetly.

“Steven.”

The boy grinned.

Your reply was short and clipped but your hands reached up to curl around his forearms rested across your chest, so Steve only beamed wider. Eventually, the song ended and the group stopped singing. You breathed out a sigh of relief, rolled your eyes when Steve cheered, all faux and obnoxious, just for you.

And then:

“Rudolph the red nose reindeer—!”

“No.”

You slammed the door as Steve snorted, slapping his hand on his knees as you swept past him in a flurry of black clothes and he reached out to catch you just in time, arms wrapped around your waist as he lifted you into the air, making you squeak.

“Steve,” you were soft about it, tucking your knees up and into him, letting him manhandle you without any real complaint, the corners of your lips lifting.

“What?” The boy asked, letting you slip down the front of him, smiling prettily, leaning down to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. “You don’t wanna go carolling? I could get us matching scarves.”

You frowned at him.

“Pink?”

You glared and Steve grinned.

“Like, neon green, maybe? Highlighter yellow?”

“You’re insufferable,” you told him plainly before you walked back into the kitchen, hiding your smile by leaning down to check the oven.

“You love me!” He called back.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #UDWS12D

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

The Sixth Day Of Christmas

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [1K]

It was hard to stay awake when the bed was so warm and outside was so bleak. Hawkins in December could be cruel, grey and wet without snow, with nothing pretty about it. It was all harsh winds and temperatures that plummeted into the low teens, grey skies and permanent puddles on the ground that shone with ice.

Eddie knew you’d be there soon, eager to greet him after both of you had a long day at work - both bone cold and tired. He told you that morning he’d wait around after his shift, pick you up and bring you home with him but you’d scrunched your nose in that way he loved and politely declined.

Well, it had been polite at first. ‘Cause Eddie was a gentleman through and through and he hadn’t taken your rejection lightly.

“The bus?” He’d gasped over his cornflakes. “Babe, it’s like, thirteen outside and that weird guy from Elwood likes to sit at the back of it at night.”

But despite Eddie finishing an hour before you, he started two hours earlier in the morning, way before the sun rose and when he was finally done and the garage was locked up, he was always covered in grease stains and oil, his overalls soaked through with standing outside by the cars, frozen and unhappy.

So he gave in when you gave him an extra kiss goodbye, pouting until you pressed a third to his lips, another to his jaw until he grinned and turned a little pink for you.

It’s why he was already in bed, chauffeur duties not required, doing his damn best to stay awake for you coming to him. And it clearly didn’t work, because an hour and a half later, he was stirred from sleep by the soft click of the trailer door closing, even softer footsteps padding down the narrow hall towards him.

Eddie turned amongst the sheets and stretched, threadbare t-shirt riding up his stomach. You were lit up by the kitchen light, bent over in the midst of his messy room, jeans kicked into the piles of clothes that were a mix of his and yours.

The boy smiled at the sight, played pretend and grumbled when you slipped in beside him, as if you taking up more space than required was a bad thing. He let you sprawl out on top of him, hissing when your cold nose and even colder hands and toes pressed into his bed warmed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ freezin’, sweetheart,” Eddie told you mournfully, caught between wanting to warm you up and shy away from your numb fingertips. “Knew I should’ve waited on you.”

But you just shushed him, face buried into the crook of his neck, smelling oil and smoke and your apple shampoo and Eddie. So he just rolled his eyes and wrapped a warm, rough palm around the dough of your thigh when you hitched it across his hips, holding you to him.

“Keep me warm, please?” You asked sweetly and your words were laced with the heaviness of sleep, a thick, sticky need catching at your throat.

Eddie hummed, pulled you even closer and nosed at your cheek, turning into you so you were tucked under his chin. “Only ‘cause y’asked so nicely.”

It was a lie. You both knew Eddie would’ve done anything you asked, nicely or not. But you smiled anyway, skimming kisses across his collarbones as his hands went roaming, wandering across the bits of cold, bare skin that he could find.

A hand, guitar string calloused, running up the length of your leg, across your shin, your knee, your thigh. Fingertips that skated up the sides of your ribs, a thumb that was pressed to the dip between your hip bone, a soft scratch of blunt nail over the roll of your stomach.

A nose, as warm as the rest of him, sliding across your jaw, warmer lips that followed. And then you sighed, melting and lazy against him, another hand that cupped the curve of your ass, fingers searching under the elastic edge of your underwear. Eddie squeezed a little rough and you felt his grin against your neck when you squeaked.

“Eddie.” It was hardly an admonishment, not with the way your voice dropped a little lower, a little breathier.

Not with the way you rolled your hips into him.

“Mmm?” He sounded as sleepy as before, eyes half shut, messy curls falling into his face. “Jus’ keepin’ you warm, like you asked.”

“Teddy,” you whispered it, even less of an admonishment than before ‘cause you were curling into him, pushing him gently until he played pretend and let you roll him onto his back, acting like there was nothing he could’ve done to stop you.

“Baby,” Eddie replied just as sweet, grinning as you crawled over him, legs settled on either side of his hips as you pushed his curls back from his forehead.

He was soft with sleep, tiredness keeping him lazy against the pillows, his hair mussed and his cheeks flushed with the warmth he could only find in his bed and you. But he was greedy to touch, hands still wandering over your legs, the stretch of skin on the inside of your thighs.

“Hungry?” You asked and Eddie wasn’t sure if you meant for dinner or for you ‘cause you’d dropped your face to his, noses touching, lips skimming over his.

So he hummed in agreement anyway, just as eager for food as he was you and he’d happily take either. So he was more than pleased when you leaned in for a kiss, a proper one that made your lips slip between his, melting into him with a sigh that made him shiver.

His hand found the curve of your ass again, your skin so much warmer now you’d spent some time pressed against him. He nipped at your lip, soothed the sting with his tongue and groaned when you rolled your hips down into him.

“Dinner later?” He asked you, already too far gone to stop. His lashes fluttered when you kissed his cheek, his chin.

“Dinner later,” you agreed. “You still need to warm me up.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #UDWS12D

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

The Tenth Day Of Christmas

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [0.9K]

The world was a little brighter when you woke up that morning. That white hazy light that made you think you were still dreaming or maybe you’d slept in way too long.

Eddie’s bedroom was blue shadows and cold air, the strip of light coming in from the gap in the curtain harsh and blinding. You grumbled as you shifted, the chill outside the covers making you shiver when you reached an arm out. So you sunk back into the depths of the duvet instead, pressed yourself into the warm, solid body that still slept beside you and used your foot to push back the curtains.

White, that's all you saw.

White on the ground, on the roofs, on the bare trees, on the cars, in the air. Snow was still falling onto the piles that were covering the ground, a good few feet of it creeping up the sides of the neighbouring houses, the ledge of the window sill.

You groaned, eyes squinting, nose scrunched. The curtain fell back into place as you rolled over, bathing the room back in that hazy, soft light. It was earlier than you’d first thought, Eddie’s alarm blinking only half past seven. So you curled into the boy, all arms and legs as you wrapped yourself around him, nose pushed into his sleep mussed curls until he came to life and hummed.

Eddie in the morning was all hair and soft edges, pillow crease lines cutting across warm, rosy skin and tattoo ink. He let you drape over him, leg hitched over his back and hip as you practically lay across his frame. The boy smiled into the pillow, eyes still closed as he moaned when you kissed a path over one bare shoulder, bit down a little roughly at the crook of his neck.

“S’unfair to maul a man when he’s still half ‘sleep,” Eddie mumbled but his voice held too much affection to be a complaint.

“It’s snowing,” you said instead of defending yourself. “Like, really snowing.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie came to a little more, peering at you from over his shoulder, eyes half open under his messy bangs. “Think I’ll get the van out?”

You hummed and shook your head, hardly sad about it, knowing that you were well and truly snowed in the small trailer with Eddie. And that meant a day to be selfish and lazy, to have the boy all to yourself, shared clothes, late breakfasts, long movies and duvets in the living room.

“Nope,” you said and Eddie grinned at how happy you sounded. “You’re in here with me, all day,” you drawled.

The boy finally turned, flipping underneath you fast enough to make you squeak and you let him manhandle you, pulling and squeezing at your legs and hips until he had you where he wanted you, his shirt pushed up on your thighs and your bare legs on either side of his waist.

“Oh no,” he deadpanned, “whatever shall I do?” His grin was wicked, far too filthy for someone who had just woken up but the soft, morning light made him look pretty, far more prettier than usual.

“Me, hopefully,” you murmured, smiling more shyly than you felt. Eddie was looking up at you with the most sinful eyes, big and dark and impossibly bright for such an early morning hour.

His hands wandered to your ass, palms rough and bed warm, squeezing playful as he made you rock down against him once, twice, his lips parting as yours did, a little huff of a moan slipping from your throat.

But then, too quick for you to realise, Eddie was sitting up and taking you with him, making you squeal and cling to his shoulders, legs wrapped around his trim waist. He held you tight, warm and all hard muscle and softer lines underneath.

“Breakfast first,” the boy explained warmly, padding out barefoot to the kitchen, carrying you to the countertop and making you yelp when he dropped you down on the cold surface.

He kissed away your complaint, a quick kiss that was only the first of many that day and he hummed when you grumbled as he pulled away too quickly, greedy hands tucking themselves into the waistband of his sweats, pulling him back to you.

“Proper kiss,” you told him, voice too soft to sound all that demanding and Eddie would’ve given you whatever you wanted regardless.

“Not even brushed my teeth, babe,” he told you but he was moving back into, nose brushing against your own.

“Don’t care,” you told him, ‘cause the trailer was cold with the snow that lay around it, the frost that painted the window panes. “Kiss, please.”

“A kiss,” Eddie bargained, “then pancakes, yeah?”

You nodded, lashes fluttering as you waited for what you wanted. “Mhmm, with strawberries. Then back to bed.”

His lips found your cheek, your jaw, your chin and you could feel his smile on your skin, as warm as he was. “Then back to bed,” he agreed. “Sounds perfect.”

It did and it was. You ate breakfast on the sofa, your legs over Eddie’s as you shared a bowl of berries, pancakes drowned in syrup before you both fell back into the pillows and sheets that smelled like smoke and Eddie and your perfume.

You stayed there all day, tangled in Eddie as the snow outside made everything soft and white and quiet.

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #udws12d

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

The Eleventh Day Of Christmas

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [1.2K]

Honestly? You were pretty sure you wouldn’t have found Eddie if you hadn't managed to catch Wayne before he left the trailer.

You’d pulled up outside the Munson residence just before ten o’clock, the night dark and icy, the kind that made your bones ache with the chill in the air. Wayne was locking up the dark trailer, his truck already running in a half hearted bid to warm it up before he drove to another night shift.

But Eddie’s van was sitting beside it, the windows frosted over - which made no sense when the trailer looked so vacant.

You half ran to the older man as you left your car door open, the crunch of ice under your feet as you walked across the grass. “Hi! Mr Munson?”

Wayne looked surprised to see you, eyebrows lifting in confusion before he walked down the steps and greeted you with a warm smile. “Hey, kid, what’re you doing here?”

“Is Eddie around?” You asked, already feeling like you knew the answer. There was no sound to be heard from the trailer, no TV, no stereo, no faint guitar.

Wayne looked sympathetic, keys twirling in his hand as he sighed. “Uh, I haven’t seen him for an hour or two, but he’ll turn up.” The older man moved to his truck, his hand on the door. “It’s rough this time of year, y’know? The boy - Eddie - he gets, he gets a little down. Misses people who aren’t around anymore.”

Wayne was squinting at you, shoulders tense and his smile was sad, as if he understood Eddie because he felt the same, both mourning a woman who wasn’t there to share the holidays with them anymore.

So you nodded and tried to swallow the lump in your throat, smiling back at the man a little watery. And just before Wayne left for work, he rolled down his truck window and gave you another world weary sigh.

“If you wanna take a walk down that way,” he pointed towards the back of the trailer park. “You can usually find him lurking somewhere he shouldn’t be.”

A glimmer of hope warmed your chest and you took a breath and held it, as if you were scared to let that feeling go. But you turned to Wayne and smiled, nodding. “Thank you, Mr Munson.”

He rolled his eyes before he drove off, engine groaning in protest as the truck started to move. “It’s Wayne,” he scolded you, “I’ve told you plenty times. And hey! Merry Christmas, kid, look after my boy for me.”

You found Eddie in the direction Wayne had pointed you in, his lean frame sprawled out on the roof of an empty trailer. He was bathed in the coloured lights of its neighbour, tiny jewel toned bulbs that were strung around the window frames, the trees in the yard.

You took the same route up that Eddie must’ve, following his footprints in the frost as you clambered onto the deck railing, ready to haul yourself onto the flat roof.

A hand appeared before you could embarrass yourself, a pretty face to match as Eddie’s crinkled brow and concerned eyes peered over the edge at you.

“Sweetheart, what the hell?” Eddie asked but he helped you up all the same, practically lifting you himself so you didn’t have to put your hands onto the icy metal. “What’re you doing here?”

“S’Christmas Eve, Teddy.”

You huffed as you stood a little shakily, the flat roof much higher than it seemed from the ground. So you kept your hand in the boy’s and squeezed it a little tighter, moving into him and away from the edge.

“I know, babe,” Eddie replied softly, tugging you into him. “So why aren’t you with your family, huh?”

You looked up at him with sad eyes and a furrowed brow, wanting to ask him the same. You knew money was tight in the Munson household, both men working as many jobs as they could, whenever they could to keep themselves going. You knew Wayne needed the overtime, you didn’t judge him for that. It just hurt a little to think that Eddie thought the older man was the only family he had.

“I wanted to see you,” you told him and god, he couldn’t be mad at that, could he? Not when you were looking at him with pretty, pretty eyes and an even prettier smile - shy and soft and lifted a little higher on the right side. “That’s okay, right?”

Eddie let out a huff of breath, smiling and turning a little pink around his cheeks. Maybe it was the cold you thought, stinging at his skin. Or maybe, maybe, it was you.

“‘Course it is, babe.”

You followed when Eddie took a step back, his hand still holding yours and he coaxed you back to where you’d first seen him lying, his leather jacket the only thing protecting him from the cold metal roof. He motioned for you to lie on it, his own sweater not doing much to protect him from the ice but he waved away your arguments before you could even open your mouth.

“It’s cold, Eddie, you must be freezing,” you admonished softly, but you lay down anyway, side by side and curling into him. He was all smoke and pine, sugar and warm spice. “It is freezing.”

“S’pretty though, right?” Eddie grinned in response. He pointed up, “see?”

And it was pretty, the stars laid out in the dark sky like another set of Christmas lights, white dots in the inky black. You followed his finger, the like of specks that made up the big dipper, another constellation that Eddie said he didn’t know the name of but liked all the same.

“You do this every Christmas Eve?” You asked quietly, scared to break the bubble of quiet. Your breath froze in the air, a huff of glitter out of your mouth. “Alone?”

Eddie shrugged, still looking up even though you were looking at him. If he blinked, maybe a tear would’ve escaped, a hot trail on cold cheeks.

“Sometimes,” he smiled but it was still a little sad. “S’nice, y’know? Quiet, pretty. I get to say hello to some people I don’t get to talk to all the time. Jus’ a little Christmas tradition.”

You turned onto your side to needle your arm through Eddie’s, chin tucked onto his shoulder, nose pressed to his neck. You breathed him in, lips on his skin and you felt him relax.

“It is pretty,” you agreed, ‘cause the stars in the sky and the lights around the park made everything glow and Eddie Munson had never looked lovelier than under the Milky Way. “But maybe next year, you can come and get me first?”

Eddie could hear the uncertainty in your voice, quiet and too soft, almost going unheard over the rush of a sudden chilly breeze. But he turned to you and smiled, wide, warm palm finding your leg and squeezing.

He nodded, tilting his chin down to brush his lips over your hairline, a reassurance to you as much as it was to him.

“I’d like that,” he whispered.

“I could bring hot chocolate,” you told him, pushing yourself into his touch, his warmth even more. “And a blanket, ‘cause this isn’t very well planned out, Teddy.”

He snorted at your chiding, but he rolled until he hovered over you, elbows pressed to the roof on either side of your head. He looked much happier than before, eyes brighter, smile more genuine. And he nodded, nose bumping yours as he moved.

“Okay,” he agreed, “smart girl, we can do that. Next year.”

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #udws12d

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

The Ninth Day Of Christmas

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [0.7K]

When you found out that Eddie didn’t put up a tree for the holiday season, you were borderline aghast. Upset, you’d even say. Mainly because of Eddie’s reasoning, his sad, slow shrug when he’d looked at you with those big, brown eyes and said, “there’s never a lot of us around to appreciate it, babe.”

So you’d looked at him with a heavy fondness that still made him ache with how nice it was, how lovely you looked when you gazed at him. He knew what was coming, saw how the cogs were turning in your head, so he wasn’t all surprised when you draped yourself into his lap, curling into him all soft and sweet.

“You don’t wanna get a tree this year?”

“Babe—” Eddie started, cut off when you leaned in for a kiss and Christ, he’d never say no to that. “—it’s only Wayne and I, and Wayne’s taking extra shifts this year.”

You tried not to pout, tried not to look too sad at his words so you picked up a curl that lay over his cheek instead, twirled it around your finger and watched it spring back.

You looked at him, smiling warmly, shyly, eyes hopeful. “You’ve got me this year too.”

And well, fuck. Eddie couldn’t help the way his lips parted, the way your words knocked the wind from his lungs, the way his heart goddamn throbbed at the way you were looking at him. How was he supposed to say no to that?

So he looked over at Wayne who was sitting on the armchair, pulling on his work boots and trying to hide his smile, because he definitely wasn’t eavesdropping. Not at all.

But the older man looked up at his nephew, tired eyes kind and soft, crinkling at the edges when he looked at you too. He shrugged, standing to leave for work, but not before slapping a twenty dollar bill on the kitchen counter and telling Eddie:

“You heard the boss, get a tree, son.”

When you walked into the trailer the next day, there was a stocky, green tree sitting by the living room window, a little shorter than Eddie and you beamed.

The boy was tangled in lights, hair pulled back in one of your hair ties and his expression was rather disgruntled. The tiny bulbs made him glow, white and warm and turning his skin a rosy pink, eyes shining, stray curls trapped and twisted in the wire.

You’d laughed and the boy had griped, quietening his complaints when you tugged him down for a kiss hello, grinning against him when he huffed when you pulled away earlier than he wanted you too.

But you helped free Eddie from the fairy lights, let him sprawl on the sofa as you laced them around the branches with an expert touch. There weren't many decorations to hang, some were yours that you’d taken from your own attic, happy to see them in a house that you called a home too.

And Eddie had bought some baubles at the store along with the lights, gaudy plastic things that were jewel toned and entirely mismatched but you loved them. You loved the way Eddie let his tongue peek out between his lips as he hung each one, how he did his best to follow your lead and spread them out evenly, trying so hard to make it look pretty.

When the baubles ran out, Eddie found his old guitar picks, threaded them with some twine and hung them on too, grinning when you laughed bright and sharp, running into his room only to return with a box of battered and bruised figurines. Each character came from old D&D games, unused and forgotten about, but Eddie’s heart was bursting as he watched you do the same, stringing them with twine to hang on the tree branches.

The room smelled like pine, glowed warm and pretty, baubles and picks and tiny, silver three headed dragons catching the light.

When Wayne came home, the room was still sparkling, pine needles on the floor, a broken bauble sitting on the coffee table beside two empty beer bottles, one still unopened and waiting for him. Dinner was in the microwave for him, cooked by you, the girl that was tangled in his nephews arms, both of you crashed out on the couch and twisted in tinsel

#Eddie munson #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #udws12d

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

The Fourth Day Of Christmas

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [0.7K]

It started innocently enough, with a small sprig of mistletoe, hung by Nancy over the basement door. The kids all squealed at it, shrieked and ducked underneath it so they could trample down the stairs to where the movies and popcorn sat waiting.

Jonathan gave Nancy a short, sweet kiss before he let her walk down first, blankets and extra pillows balanced between them. Even Robin allowed Steve to fall into the festive tradition, rolling her eyes fondly as she stood under the doorway. Steve grinned and smacked a noisy kiss to his friend’s cheek, poked her in the ribs when she huffed but both of them were grinning when they disappeared into the basement too.

That just left you and a boy you had an awful crush on, the kind that made you feel like a kid again, too warm and too nervous,that stomach tumbling, fingers twisted in the front of your shirt, heart hammering under your bones kinda crush. The Christmas lights that were tangled around the bannister lit the place up in jewel tones, the tiny bulbs flickering on and off to a beat no one else heard and they made Eddie Munson look prettier than ever.

He was staring at you, not rudely, just in that way that he did. Big, brown eyes wide and frozen, unblinking as he tried to process what he was supposed to do next.

Maybe it was the fact you’d been left alone with him for once, maybe it was the pretty lights, turning Eddie into shades of blue, green and fuschia. Maybe it was the mulled wine from the market that still warmed your cheeks and tummy.

Maybe it was ‘cause it was Christmas. Maybe you were just growing tired of waiting.

You moved into Eddie with a little shyness, the majority of it hidden underneath the wine and impatience, anticipation and adrenaline. You clutched at his shoulders and pushed yourself on your toes to allow yourself to reach him, face close to his, his curls brushing your cheeks.

He was smoke and spice, cinnamon and sugar from the market churros, leftover cologne washed away with the nip of the cold air. He was a little tense under your touch.

But you moved a little slower, kissed him soft and sweet with your lips pressed to his cheek, just barely catching the corner of his mouth. You felt his hitch of breath, his sigh, tasted it, all sticky sugar and hopeful.

When you pulled back, your feet back on the ground, Eddie’s eyes were a little droopy, all pretty and jaw slack with surprise. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone when he took your hand and tugged, didn’t tell anyone you were leaving - but the back door to the Wheeler’s house slammed behind you both and neither of you made it further than the back of Eddie’s van.

It was easy to get lost in him, everything touch and kiss new and full of surprises. Everything was soft like the boy, achingly tender with a hint of desperation, each slide of his calloused palms telling you ‘I’ve been waiting for this,’ each gasping press of his lips to yours a ‘why haven’t we been doing this?’

For someone who had been so shy for so long, giving you nothing but longing looks and yearning, Eddie was more than happy to drag you onto his lap, his back pressed to the cold wall of the van. But everywhere else was warm, where you were against him, small hands sneaking below the collar of his old, maroon sweater.

Your fingers traced the inked lines you couldn’t see but knew were there, moaning softly when Eddie’s tongue licked over your bottom lip, asking for permission for more. You gave him it, whining high when he groaned and bucked his hips up into you.

He tasted like wine and spices, smoke and something really sweet, like candy, sugary and addicting.

And if you both stopped panting for long enough, if you both stopped shifting and grabbing at the other for long enough, you would’ve heard the start of the movie from the basement window, the hoots and hollers about how mistletoe is better than cheap beer and some Marvin Gaye.

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x y/n #Eddie Munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson blurb #udws12d #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic

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