kookygranger

[kookygranger]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve x fem!reader exes to lovers

Chapter Four -

Honey, on your knees when you look at me

The consequences of your actions hang heavy around you neck when you wake up, so you go to the shop to tell Steve this is definitely not what he thinks it is.

warnings: 18+ slight angst, confused feelings, semi public smut, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem receiving), body worship, praise kink, unprotected p in v smut, cream pie, fluff.

wc: 10k

authors note: This chapter has been almost two months in the making between life and writers block, I didn’t think I would be here. Thank you to everyone who sent me messages about this story and about him because of you, I never gave up writing this series I was so excited about. beta’d by: @superblysubpar

series masterlist | series playlist

songs from the playlist that inspired this chapter: Unravel Me, If You Think I’m Pretty, Please Don’t Fall In Love With Me, Make Up, Eastside, Holy.

Streams of shining golden yellow make your lids still heavy with sleep flutter, lashes tickling the tops of your puffy cheeks as you surrender to the sun’s wishes to wake you up. The orange shag carpet in Robin’s living room slowly comes into focus, along with the rest of your surroundings as the ends of your palms rub the rest of the night from your eyes. Stretching your legs, they’re met with warmth like the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds still lingering on the cushions next to you. 

¨Shit.¨ 

Your muscles freeze, threatening to cramp in your calf as the night floods back into your memories. How his plush pink lips slotted between yours like they should never be anywhere else, or how they made your back arch, kissing a messy path down your neck, perfect teeth nipping, threatening to bruise your delicate skin that lights up under his touch. 

A shaky breath pushes out of your lungs as you shimmy your body deeper into the couch, fingers finding their way to your chest where you swear you can still feel his smile pressed into your skin, the tips of them hitting something smooth and warm. 

A metal chain.

The weight of it around your neck finally registers through the sleepy fog that lifts from your brain. Looking down the slope of your nose, you nearly go cross-eyed when you’re met with the rich yellow gold that matches the sun, especially because It looks just like the one that belongs to Steve Harrington. 

“No, no, no, no.”

The realization that it is in fact, Steve Harrington’s kicks in just like your feet in a silent fit, the thin throw he must’ve put on top of you before he left falling to the ground. You remember his plea for a date, and it has panic curling deep in your gut, the consequences of your actions arriving first thing in the morning before you’ve even had any coffee. 

There’s a little bit of pride that hides in a small space in your chest that you didn’t just fold and say yes. Something you would have done in high school when he was giving you much less. Still, you didn’t say no. You were just prolonging the inevitable matter of letting him down right? It’s the self-respecting thing, it’s what you told yourself you’d always do. 

Say no.

You twist the metal between your fingers, your eyes finding the dust particles that seem to float between the plastic of Robin’s blinds. There’s an ache in your heart at the fresh reminder of what it feels like to be held in his arms, something he rarely did when you were dating, at least not if it wasn’t the dead of night. The sleepovers at his big empty house were your favorite until you realized how sad it was. All his whispered secrets and deep confessions that he only shared when you were lit by the moonlight - the kind that hid all the stars in the sky and that boy he was trying to hide. The ones that kept you hanging onto hope until the last bit of rope tethering you to him, cut your skin. Those were the nights that really made you have to run. 

You’re not sure if you could survive it again, and the end of August is only a distant friend. Pushing yourself off the couch, your eyes catch the bright bold numbers on the microwave that read 9:45 AM and you try to remember all the reasons you left in the first place. Not the way he looked at you last night in the kitchen making your best friend’s favorite snack. 

Your flip-flops clack loudly against the hot pavement, the determination in your walk up to the shop threatening to set the street ablaze. The spaghetti strap sundress you threw on in a rush trying to be careful not to wake up Robin does very little to help cool you or your mood down when you’re met with the mugginess of the Midwest. 

Steve’s chain bounces against your chest with each step, the gold shimmering against the sunlight in a pretty reminder that you still haven’t taken it off yet. One that you choose to ignore in your huff trying to think of all the mean things he's done and not the way he begged you to make it right.

Reaching the end of the block, you notice Eddie’s van is missing from the parking lot, leaving only Steve’s BMW against the side of the shop. It stops you dead in your tracks because the buffer that would stop you from making the same mistake isn’t there. Your proven lack of self-control only a few weeks into the summer has your confidence waver with nerves that try and get the best of you, but with a deep breath, you force your feet to keep moving.

Steve’s side of the garage is the only one open, the faded green metal door at half-mast to keep some of the sun away. Michael Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel bleeds out of the open space, bouncing and echoing off the cars inside, waking up the butterflies and sending them soaring. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you try not to imagine the way he’s probably singing along, or that curl that won’t stay in place, falling over his forehead as he bobs his head to the beat.

Why is Eddie not here? 

You see his black work boots first, then the legs that were intertwined with yours just a few hours ago, now adorned by blue coveralls. Walking across the grease-stained cement, he comes to an abrupt stop, and for a second you think maybe he sees you, heart thumping wildly in your chest until he shuffles back a few steps before continuing forward. 

He was dancing and you hate the way the corners of your mouth twitch because of it.

The smell of oil is bittersweet hitting your nose as you stop in front of the opening, silently working up the courage to duck under the door. Steve doesn’t notice your sneaky entrance from where he stands at his workbench with his back facing you, completely lost in whatever’s on the paper he’s holding in black-stained hands. It gives you the few minutes you need to get your thoughts together as he bops his head to the music that’s loud enough to hide you a little bit longer. 

Your gaze lands on Eddie’s empty office, successfully diminishing the last bit of hope you clung onto that maybe he just didn’t drive today, before your eyes catch the burnt orange of your car tucked away in the corner. A cherry red Corvette sits parked in front of it, making your face sour at the instant comparison. It outshines the car you scraped up enough money to get after moving to the city, sparking the kind of anger you’d been scrambling to cling onto walking up here. Maybe if your car hadn’t broken down, you wouldn’t have kissed Steve Harrington, and then maybe you wouldn’t be standing here secretly wanting to do it again. 

Clinging to that notion with everything you have, you take a deep breath, straightening your posture before clearing your throat, letting him know he wasn’t by himself anymore.

”The music’s a little loud don’t you think?” 

The pleased grin that spreads wide across your face can’t be stopped when the sound of your voice makes him jump with a ‘Jesus Christ’ so loud you can hear it over the music, crumbling the paper in his hands.

Point one - you.

Your victory is short-lived the moment Steve turns around with his ever changing brown eyes that are somehow warmer in the daylight, reflecting the flecks of green that shine and light up even more at the realization that it’s you and not some random intruder. He runs those long fingers through his hair, trying to tame the mess on top of his head that you made, while his heavy stare fixates on the chain still hanging off your neck. Right where he left it.

Leaning over to turn the volume down on his boombox, he doesn’t break eye contact, giving you that crooked smile that makes your heart skip a beat pushing up the two moles on his cheek. Raising his hands in a silent apology, you try not to think about how big they look or the way they grabbed at your hips last night. It's a fruitless effort, so you try to make up for it with a sassy tongue.

”Wow, I could have easily stolen one of these cars if I had wanted to.” 

Crossing your arms, you suck at your teeth, deciding that standing right where you are is the best move, especially when you see the sweat that glistens, beading off of his tan skin, curling the coarse hairs on his chest that’s hardly hidden by the sheer white of his tank top. At least his coveralls are fully on this time.

“Maybe I should report you to Eddie.”

“Most of the cars in here don’t run,” Steve tuts, dark eyes roaming over your curves hugged tight by the soft cotton of your dress unashamed before meeting your narrowed gaze, “You of all people should know that.”

“Sounds like maybe you’re just bad at your job.” 

You ignore the uncontrollable press of your thighs that only gets worse the more his smile widens with your attitude, reading your body language like his favorite book.

“Did you come here just to pick a fight?” Steve sighs, carding another hand through his hair, threatening to punch the air out of your lungs when he looks up at you through his lashes “Or do you just want another kiss?”

It’s impossible to sound out the word ‘no’ even though it’s just two letters because watching him lick his full bottom lip before tugging it between his perfect teeth makes you wish it was yours instead.  

“Is that it baby?” Steve taunts, pushing himself off the work bench and tossing the crumbled paper aside.

”No,” you finally manage to get out, but the venom you had less than twenty-four hours ago is gone, and it barely stings when you try to deny with a jut of your chin and a quieter than intended, “That’s not why I’m here.”

The little bit of self-control you’ve been hanging onto with an iron grip starts to slip from in between your fingers with each heavy thud of his boots that bring you closer to your demise as he closes the gap.

”Are you sure?” He asks with a glint in the darkening russet of his eyes that land on the gold wrapped around your neck again, close enough now to smell last night's leftover cologne.

“A-absolutely,” you stutter, taking a few steps back, the clack of your flip flops echoing, making you wince with embarrassment as you try to counteract his advances only for your back to hit the cool metal of a pickup truck. 

”Hmmm, I know what it must be then,” he hums, a faint hint of smirk twisting the corners of his full lips, big boots stopping with a scuff on the cement floor right in front of your pink painted toes. 

Reaching up, his bold fingertips trace the smooth edges of his chain, rough calluses tickling your collar bone daring to explore a little more. The quick rising of your chest spurs him on as he tries to hold his composure, teasing the dip of your breasts, he curls his finger around the metal, lifting the chain a little before letting it fall back into place. Mischief twinkles in his stare that matches the same color staining his hands.

“You must be here to tell me when you’ll be ready for our date later tonight, huh baby?”

It takes your brain a second to catch up, the freckles that spread across his cheeks like wildfire in the light distracting you from this close.

“The opposite actually,” clearing your throat, you try to hide the way your tongue dries when he looks at you like this, “I’m here to say that whatever happened last night doesn’t change anything.” 

The corners of his lips twitch, his gaze getting lost in the details of your features like you weren’t denying him, finally giving you the fuel you needed to make your blood simmer, the anger you thought you’d lost forever buzzing under your heated skin.

“So!”  You snap your fingers in his face, interrupting whatever daydream he was getting lost in, getting the glare you were searching for, “You better get that out of your head right now. We’re not going on a date.” 

Your words finally bite with a tone that almost seems final and for a minute it starts to feel like you have a semblance of your self-control back. Holding your head up high, you try to really end whatever started on your best friend's couch last night. 

“We can be friendly for Robin’s sake, but it’s never going to happen again. I’m not your girl, Harrington.”

Steve rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, something you can’t quite put your finger on flashing behind the gold in his eyes. Leaning forward, his hand finds the chipped teal paint of the truck behind you. Caging you in, the spice of his cologne overwhelms you as it mixes with the heat in the garage, and the sweat glistening on his tan skin. The warmth of his breath fans across your cheeks that burn like they’re being licked by a flame, thighs pressing harshly under your dress as you try not to let his gaze swallow you whole. 

“If that’s how you really feel, fine.” He says cooly, seemingly unphased and it makes your blood boil more. “I’ll take my chain back now then.”

 “No.”

“No?” He snorts incredulously at your refusal, watching the way your fingers come up to play with it. Taunting him.

”I don’t even know why you put it on me in the first place,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes, channeling his nonchalance before ducking under his arm, your escape in sight.

You refuse to look back at him making a beeline to the open garage door, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you do your best not to give away the attachment you have to the weight of it around your neck that you really aren’t ready to unpack yet.

”I left it!” Steve yells hot on your heels, the cracks in his confident demeanor starting to show, “I left it so you didn’t think I just disappeared on you this morning because I personally have zero regrets about what happened last night.”

The sarcastic ‘HA!’ you let out is almost comical, picking up your pace with an extra sway to your hips because you know he’s staring.

”How about this, Steve?” You antagonize, turning around and walking backward with a smug grin that mirrors his from before, “I’ll think about it.”

Steve doesn’t take the bait, instead, he side-steps quickly to smash the round red button on the wall with a deadpan face. Letting the rumble of the garage door coming to life do all the talking for him.

”Are you serious?!“ You shriek, watching it close faster than your feet can carry you, even contemplating a tuck and roll when you see the sunlight and any chance you have at not going back on your promise start to disappear behind it.

“It’s simple honey,” he sighs with an irritated edge, “Give me my chain and I’ll open her back up so you can go run back to Robin’s and pretend like last night never happened. Just the way you want, right?”

”This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Let me out asshole!” 

A new level of stubbornness that you never thought you could reach locks you in place, facing him with arms crossed tight over your chest.

”I’m ridiculous?” Steve chuckles darkly, the steel toe of his boots echoing louder now that you’re sealed inside as he walks towards you, “Look at yourself.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap despite the way your teeth gnaw nervously on your bottom lip, greedy eyes roaming his tall frame as your body betrays you for what feels like the hundredth time today when he steps into your space again.

“I know you enjoyed drama club in high school, but you’ve always been a terrible actress.” 

“And you’ve always had way more confidence than you should.” 

Steve’s nostrils flare, his gaze threatening to set you on fire.

”I’m going to get back to work, you’re free to go whenever you give me my necklace back. I’m getting paid to be here all day baby, you aren’t, so just know that I’ve got time.” He holds your stare for a second longer, sucking at his teeth before turning around. Testing you.

“Come take it off me then, Harrington, if you want it so bad.”  

Two can play that game.

He stops in his tracks, shoulders tensing at the implication of your words, turning his head to the side, he gives you a perfect view of his sharp jawline. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns, with a tone sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“I said,” your shoulders square with a defiance that matches your glare, acting as if you aren’t sealing your fate with the next four words, “Come and get it.”

Steve’s long strides close the distance faster than you can comprehend. A big hand grabs at your hip, grease-stained fingers digging into your curves, while the other cups the side of your face, surely leaving a mark. He's getting what he really wants.

Gasping into his mouth, the force of his kiss sends a shudder through the garage door when your back slams against it. Lost in the sensation of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, you barely notice. Your fingers weave through the thick locks of his hair at the nape of his neck as if they were always meant to be there. A harsh tug on the silky strands earns you a groan that's deeper than you remember, and you immediately want to hear it again.

The clash for dominance ignites as your tongues collide clumsily, teeth grazing and noses pressing into each other’s cheeks. His grip tightens on your hip in a warning before his hand trails down to where the bottom hem of your dress rests at the top of your thigh. Pushing up the thin fabric, the blunt tips of his nails skim across your soft skin, goosebumps pebbling despite the heat.

His fingers tease the edge of your panties, tracing the curve where they meet your ass, stealing your whine with a cocky grin that he kisses into your lips. He lingers just long enough to turn you needy before he hooks your knee around his waist, getting the instant roll of your hips and more of your little noises that will haunt his every waking thought after this. 

“Steve,” you breathe, tugging your swollen bottom lip between your teeth while he starts kissing a slow, agonizing path down your jaw, tickling you with the stubble on his cheek.

He hums in between kisses, nipping at the sensitive spot behind your ear, he soothes it with a swipe of his tongue before he starts to suck–hard. Your moan bounces off the metal and concrete that surround you, echoing in your ears while your greedy fingers tug even harder at his roots. His grip on you tightens when you start to squirm as his efforts to mark what’s his intensify, leaving a bruise you’ll have to explain to Robin later.

”Yeah?” He mumbles against your heated skin, the tip of his nose running along your pulse point, a saccharine smile pressing into the curve of your neck where his chain still rests.

“Shut up,” you manage to get out, despite Steve leaving open-mouthed kisses on the swell of your breasts, palming roughly at the dough of your ass, encouraging another rock of your hips.

“You're always so mean to me, honey,” Steve sighs, nipping at the supple skin, before meeting your poor attempt at a glare from under the thick hood of his lashes.

”Yeah? And? What are you gonna do about it?” You bite, but it doesn’t sting the way you want it to, not with the way your chest heaves in anticipation of his next move.

Steve flips you around so quickly that the change in position has you gasping, your palms meeting the warm metal of the garage door that bakes in the sun outside. Heavy work boots push your legs apart, while hot breath that rivals the summer dances across the nape of your neck. He presses himself into you, letting you feel just how hard you really have him, the tip of his nose brushing along the shell of your ear. Butterflies multiply, tickling your rib cage just like your lashes that kiss the tops of your cheeks.

“I think it's pretty obvious what I want to do,” he whispers against your neck, lips ghosting across the freshly formed bruise, “The real question is…”

The backs of his fingers brush along the sides of your breasts, goosebumps pebbling across your skin. His big hands follow the curve of your waist, smoothing down to the tops of your thighs. Taking his time, he curls them under the hem of your dress, pulling it up to rest on top of your hips, still giving you the chance to stop him. One you don’t take.

“Are you gonna let me?” His words are gruff coming out next to your ear, your walls fluttering around nothing because of it.

The humid air doesn’t help your sticky thighs that only get worse as two of his calloused fingers trace agonizingly slow along the waistband of the only fabric separating you now. Peppering soft kisses to all the sensitive spots that make your skin come alive, his teeth nip playfully at your earlobe, fireworks lighting up in the sky behind your eyes when he takes it into the heat of his mouth. The sensation has you mewling, jaw going slack as your toes curl into the foam of your flip flops from a feeling only Steve Harrington can give.

”I could be so nice to you, baby,” he whispers, letting you go with a pop, his fingers daring to go lower than just teasing, smirking against your cheek at the gasp you give when he drags them through your slick folds, wrapping your hands around his wrist for support, your hips chase him for more. “Don’t you want that?”

Your pride has your teeth biting into your bottom lip. Refusing to answer his question loaded with too many double meanings for your head to wrap around right now, but you still spread yourself wider for him, because the last thing you want him to do is stop.

“Gonna make me earn it, huh?” He breathes, biting back his groan at how you start dripping down his hand, “That’s okay. I’ll show you I’m worthy.”

His promise is enough to finally draw out the moan you’ve been fighting, the sound making him kick up in his coveralls, while the movements of his wrist become more pointed. Your head lulls back against his broad shoulder, and his cologne smells even better with the way sweat starts to drip from his pores. Your eyes are needy, meeting the black coffee of his and you know it, especially at the furrow of his brows when he looks at you completely transfixed.

“God, I almost forgot how soft you are. How fucking wet you get for me.” He whispers between gritted teeth, awestruck at the feeling of your silk walls begging him for more, daring him to explore, “Bet you taste even sweeter than I remember too.”

Leaning down, he runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours, the mint that still lingers on his breath tickling your lips. Your hips roll with the rhythm of his wrist, warmth spreading across your cheeks as the sounds of just how wet you are echo in the big space. Too close to falling apart all over his fingers to care, the blunt ends of your nails dig half-crescent moons into his wrist chasing it.

“Baby, are you gonna come already? I’ve barely touched you.” 

His words mock you despite the sugary sweetness they drip with, every swipe against your bundle of nerves becoming unrelenting, determined even. But it’s still enough for you to take the bait and force your eyes open, meeting his hungry stare dead on and say:

”Y- you wish it was that easy.”

Amusement dances across the hard lines of his face, his dark gaze narrowing before something between a laugh and a growl rumbles deep from his chest. The motions of his wrist come to a halt, and it takes everything inside of you not to cry in protest. Pulling his hand from your soaked panties, his wet fingers dig into your hips spinning you around, quick strides pushing you to the corvette that started your spiral. 

“What are you doing?!” You squeal, your butt hitting the cherry-red metal of the hood that sticks to your sweat-slicked skin.

He just grins, the pearly whites of his teeth showing as grease-stained hands spread your knees apart enough for him to step between, leaving raven fingerprints in their wake before grabbing at your chin, he forces you to look at him.

“Need you to keep your eyes on me, honey, and remember what you just said.” He pulls your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb, watching it pop back into place. 

Letting go of your chin, he holds your stare, fingers ghosting across the tops of your thighs as he drops to his knees like someone praying to a god. Hooking his arms under your bent legs, he tugs you to the end of the hood with a squeak. Spread wide for him to see, your calves rest on top of his shoulders that you hate to admit you wish you could see. Leaning forward, the tip of his nose traces the wet path of your covered folds, breathing you in like the sweetest summer breeze.

When his big eyes meet yours from between your thighs, just begging you to get lost in them like you used to, it’s almost enough for you to forget the game you’re both supposed to be playing. There’s a softness that lingers inside melting caramel that manages to shine through the black that overpowers it, and you wonder if he can hear the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. 

His touch is gentle now, long fingers curling around the waistband of your underwear, silently asking you for permission to cross the line that deep down you know there’s no going back from. Nodding your head with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you even help him, lifting your legs when he pulls them from around your ankles.

Steve stuffs the satin in his pocket ignoring the way you tell him that you want them back. His pink tongue that’s seconds away from being your undoing wets his lips, jaw going tight at the sight in front of him. Roses bloom on his tan cheeks, and he can’t help but run a hand through his hair, the reality setting in that he really has you like this. He looks completely wrecked. At least it isn’t just you.

“Fuck.” He breathes, the blunt ends of his nails digging into the dough of your thighs, shuffling himself even closer, his eyes glaze over. 

Goosebumps pebble across your buzzing skin, your velvet walls fluttering around nothing as you lose the witty response you had saved on the tip of your tongue, managing just a quiet, “I thought you were supposed to show me somethin’?” 

His lips twitch so close to where you need him most that you can almost feel the curve of them, your knees bending just a little more, urging him on by his shoulders.

“So impatient,” he tsks, the vibrations of his words only making it worse, “My girl needs me huh? She missed me as much as I missed her didn’t she?”

“Steve - shut uhhhhohmygod!”

His mouth latches onto your cunt like he’s thirsty for everything you’re offering him, collecting your dripping honey that’s sweet on his tongue. Running a broad stripe up your folds, his grip on your thighs tightens when you start to squirm, holding you in place, as he swirls messy circles on your bundle of nerves before sucking it hard enough for your head to fall back against the car. Your fingers bury themselves into the sweaty silk of his hair, pulling harshly at the roots, earning the kind of grunt that has you whimpering, dripping down the stubble on his chin as your hips buck up to meet him.

Letting you go with a loud pop, he huffs out a dark laugh at your whine, hardly giving you time to recover before pulling you even further down the hood of the car, till your ass hangs off the edge. The tip of his nose brushes against your sensitive clit while his tongue begins to tease your entrance that quivers just for him. The new angle has you practically sitting on his face, and before you have a chance to overthink it he slowly starts to work you open with his greedy mouth.

”Holy shit I -“ Your eyelids droop, jaw going slack as he starts to move side to side, licking into you like you’re the sweetest prize. His nose adds just the right amount of pressure while he eats you up like a man starved, “You’re gonna - fuck - Steve!”

His hands move from your thighs to the soft fat of your ass, encouraging your hips more, and if you weren’t so far gone, you’d be scared you’re suffocating him. You dare to look down at the scene between your legs, and it’s almost enough to have you cumming all over his face. His pitch-black eyes gaze up at you enamored, completely lost and still hungry because after all these years it’s still not enough. He moans into your folds when you meet his half-lidded stare, the sensation vibrating in all the right places, making your legs shake.

The feeling of your walls pulsing tight around his tongue, knowing how close you are already has him twitching painfully hard in his coveralls. It’s enough to ignore the discomfort of his knees, doubling down on the movements of his jaw. His name bounces off the metal and concrete, while the roll of your hips gets more and more aggressive because it feels like he’s eating you from the inside out, the tip of his tongue reaching the spot that makes you gasp.

“Right there, shit, right there, right there, I’m gonna, oh my god I’m gonna cum!”

Your scream is silent, body going rigid, giving into him already. The muscles in your legs tense, as your thighs squeeze tight around his head while your pussy tries to push him out but he only doubles down with a completely relentless tongue. He moans loud enough inside you to hear through the ringing in your ears, your fingers curling harshly in his thick locks, back hitting the metal of the hood again.

He ignores the first few pushes against his forehead when his kitten licks become too much before he finally listens. Sticky legs fall open releasing him from a trap he never asked to escape from, his shiny wet lips leaving kisses along your shaking thighs, tickling the supple skin with the stubble on his jaw. You feel his tongue dart out to collect everything he missed, earning the kind of sweet noises he can’t wait to hear all summer long. 

Steve stands up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and you try to be mad at his smug grin but your body can’t help its reaction to the way he struggles against his coveralls. The hard outline of dick reminds you of the stretch that you know will ruin you for anyone else, spent walls fluttering despite yourself. 

”Now what was that you were saying a few minutes ago, pretty girl?” Leaning down, his palms find a new home on either side of your head. 

The whites of his teeth shine at the eyeroll you find enough energy to give him, even with your legs wrapped around his waist. His nose nudges the tip of yours, the playful glint in his eyes changes into something lovesick and it brings the ache in your chest back because you know it’s going to hurt even worse walking away again. 

“Hey, what’s going on up there?” He questions, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as he searches your face for answers.

You don’t give him one, pushing aside the worry for when you lay awake in the middle of the night. Instead, you let your fingers wrap themselves in the cotton of his tank top, pulling him to your lips that silently beg him to help you forget. He meets you with an eager mouth, and a big hand that comes up to rest on your flushed cheek. The pad of his thumb traces the high bone while his tongue asks you for permission for more. 

Your thighs lock tighter around his waist, granting him the access he wants, tasting yourself all over him. Shaking fingers find the zipper of his jumper, tugging down the metal, he helps your shimmy off his sleeves. The freckles that dot his shoulders like the night sky beg you to open your eyes as the top of his coveralls fall to his sides, the rock of his hips making you say his name like it’s the sweetest thing. 

“Want you,” you whisper with a nip at his bottom lip, ankles crossing at the two dips you know are on his lower back.

”Baby,” He groans, dropping his head down, burying it in the crook of your neck as you roll your pussy over the length of him that’s still covered by the navy blue material you can’t seem to get off fast enough.

He lets you do it a few more times before his hands find both your wrists, pinning them above your head, he peppers kisses along your jaw, letting his fingers glide down the length of your body, making sure to catch his chain still hanging off your neck as he stands back up. You finally get a good look at him, and the sight is enough to know the memory of today will be etched into the corners of your mind, just like the rest of them. 

Pink cheeks still kissed by the sun, and dark chestnut hair that matches his eyes twist at its golden ends in an even bigger mess now on the top of his head. The thick thatch of it on his chest curling from the sweat that drips down his neck, leaving translucent patches along the white cotton of his tank top, teasing even more of him to your starving gaze. His uniform hangs low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of the waistband of his boxer briefs, making you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He grabs at the sides of your thighs, his handsome face going kind.

“You came in here ready to tell me to fuck off,” he laughs softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles, “I just need to know this is what you really want.”

His words tighten in your chest, forcing you to make a decision so that when you have no one else to blame but yourself when you lay awake in your apartment with a broken heart in the fall, you can’t hate him anymore. 

“I really want it.” 

The answer stumbles past your lips before you can think too hard about it, pulling the rest of your rucked up dress over your head, leaving you completely exposed for his heavy chocolate eyes to drink in. Despite the muggy heat of the garage, your nipples pebble under it, cheeks going hot because you always feel like the most beautiful girl in the world when Steve Harrington looks at you like this. 

It’s all the encouragement he needs to let you go and do the same with his tank top, tossing it to the side before shoving the rest of his uniform down the tops of his thighs. Thick, long and heavy, your eyes widen as his hard length springs free, smacking against the happy trail at the bottom of his stomach. The pink tip leaks for you, shining with precum, while his big hand wraps around it, tugging a few times and making you drip more on the hood.

“I’ll go slow,” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips in something sweeter than the rest of them. “I know you can take it, honey.”

Nodding your head, you look up at him with glassy eyes, completely giving in, shutting off the part of your brain that’s telling you that you know better. Spreading your legs wider, his eyebrows marry in the middle of his forehead, cursing under his breath at the sight of you like this. He silently thanks whatever gods or girl that got Eddie sick, because this moment shatters any fantasies that have consumed his late nights. 

He runs the length of his cock through your slick, spreading you apart around him, earning the kind of mewl that makes him twitch in his hand. Your back arches off the corvette when he does it again only this time with added pressure to your clit. Locking your legs around his waist, you make sure he doesn’t get away. 

”So fuckin’ beautiful baby, Jesus Christ, look at you.” Steve grunts, lining himself up with your entrance, pushing just the tip into the tightening silk of your walls before both his hands find their way back to your hips, fingers digging into soft flesh. ”Wanna make you feel so good. You gonna let me?”

“Mmhmm,” you whimper a little high pitch and out of breath, letting go of all the control you’ve hung onto for the last five years with a dirty roll of your hips that begs to suck him in.

“Oh fuck, you’re still so - shit.” Steve practically whines, his jaw going hard with eyebrows that pinch together, trying to regain his composure from the way you pulse around him just nudging halfway in, the aftershocks of your first orgasm have you feeling every ridge of his cock, lighting your body up.

The stretch burns, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as flames lick deep in your gut from the feeling you’ll never get enough of. His calloused fingers grab at your chin, demanding your attention. Your lashes tickle the tops of your cheeks as you force them back open, only to find his face is closer now, both his palms landing on either side of your head, black iris’s threatening to drown you, holding your gaze with the kind of intensity that makes your heart palpitate.

”I want to look at you.” He breathes against your lips as one swift thrust has you completely filled up.

”Steve!” 

Gasping into his mouth, it takes all of your strength to keep your eyes open, focusing on the imperfect circles of the chestnut freckles that explode across the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?” He smirks, pressing his forehead against yours, the rough hair on his chest tickling the softness of your breasts, nipples pebbling as your arms wrap around his neck.

“It feels, you feel -“

A loud moan rumbles from the back of your throat when the tip of him hits the spot that makes your toes curl into the fat of his ass, pushing him even deeper, the ends of your nails dig pretty marks all over his shoulders. 

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” He grunts, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, the roll of his hips becoming a slow grind. 

His pelvic bone hits your bundle of nerves just right while the tip of him bullies the spot that has your eyes threatening to close against his wishes, and it has you sounding like ‘Steve’ is the only word you’ve ever known. It’s a hazy mess inside your mind, especially when he looks at you like this. It’s worse than before, and you don’t know how you’re going to find your way back this time, something different inside of his gaze that you know is going to make it impossible.

”Missed you so much, so damn gorgeous angel, think about you all the time. All the fucking time.” Steve babbles, completely drunk off the way you flutter at his words, the angry facade you’ve been putting on crumbling around him as your body lets the truth come out.

The confession makes your chest tighten with all the unresolved feelings you’ve shoved down for so long, the ones you almost forgot were there until a few weeks ago. Fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck you lean up, capturing his lips to shut him up, rocking your hips to meet his thrust. He grunts into your mouth, cock twitching against your walls, eagerly licking into your mouth. 

It’s easier to get lost in him without the reminder of what used to be, teeth scraping together as the kiss gets messier. The metal of the car crunches and bends under your movements, but neither one of you can find it in you to care with noses pressing into each other's cheeks, tongues fighting for the kind of dominance your hips are at war about.

Steve is the one that breaks first, coming up for air, with eyes that seem even darker than before as he pushes himself up to stand. Big hands grab at your hips as a loose strand of hair falls across his forehead. Pulling halfway out, he takes a moment to admire the sheen you coat him, pink tongue darting out to lick his swollen lips before shoving himself all the way back in.

”Oh my god!”  You gasp, throwing your head back against the hood, your hands landing on top of his, fingernails digging into the tops of them.

“I wanna watch you cum again, can you do that for me, baby?” He tugs you closer, your body squeaking across the metal that tries to stick to your skin, the tip of him hitting that spot again.

Nodding your head, every hard thrust of his hips echoes through the garage, the car shaking underneath you as tires threaten to roll. He feels himself getting close, the pad of his thumb finding your clit to rub the kind of messy circles that have you saying his name just how he likes. 

“Come on, let me see how pretty you can get, let me have it.” He coos, finding the perfect combination to make you come undone all over him.

Your walls clench hard enough to try and push him out but he just buries himself deeper, a loud groan rumbling from his chest watching the way your face contorts with pleasure. White dances behind your heavy lids that squeeze shut as your legs start to shake around his waist. You try to shove his hand away, but he refuses, remaining relentless, milking your second orgasm for everything it's worth, making you cum even harder. 

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s iiiiit, so fuckin’ good for me.” He praises, completely lost in the way your body responds to him and it’s enough to send him flying over the edge he’d been teetering on since had you against the garage door.

A string of curse words falls pretty from his lips, twitching hard inside you and with the last bit of strength you have, you squeeze him even tighter, relishing in the way his jaw goes slack because of it. The movements of his thumb finally end its assault so he can grab onto your sides with both hands, fingers digging bruises as one last hard thrust has his warmth filling you up.

The feeling of being so full sends your body buzzing, watching him fall apart on top of you with sweat dripping off the ends of his hair. His head drops between his shoulders, body shaking as his orgasm rakes through him. Red cheeks and skin so warm it rivals the sun, he lets himself collapse on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck totally spent, still chasing his high with a slow circle of his hips.

Your nose finds its way into his damp hair, inhaling deeply because it somehow smells even better than before. You wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you know you should leave and forget this ever happened, but it feels too good to have hands sliding up your curves as he starts to drip out of you and onto the car. 

“God, Eddie’s going to kill me.” He mumbles against your skin, making you squirm because it tickles, and you can feel him smile because of it.

“How’s he gonna find out?” You giggle, the metal of the Corvette popping under your shifting weight.

”Baby.” Steve snorts, leaving a kiss on the curve of your jaw before pushing himself up on his elbows, the endearment falling too easily off his tongue in a casual way, reminding you very quickly of your reality.

It’s harder to meet his eyes that search for yours, but you do anyway. They’re warm again, like a dark sand beach and it's hard not to want to lay out a towel and live inside them. Both of you wince as he pulls himself out, cursing under his breath at your walls staying greedy and trying to pull him back in. 

He doesn’t notice the shift in your demeanor pulling up his coveralls and tying the sleeves around his waist, or if he does he chooses to ignore it, grabbing your dress off the floor before offering you his hand. There’s less grease staining them now and you know it's because it's all over you, completely marked by him nearly head to toe whether you like it or not. 

Sliding your hand in his, you duck your head down as you take it, legs wobbling when your feet hit the ground, not missing the smug grin that pushes up his cheeks clocking it. You go for your dress but Steve just tuts at you pulling it out of reach, ignoring your scoff he shakes it out before lifting it above your head signaling for you to put your arms up. Rolling your eyes with a smile you can’t fight, you pretend not to feel the butterfly wings tickling your ribcage, turning around and doing as he asks, letting him drag the soft cotton down your body. Calloused fingertips tracing the goosebumps they create.

”Let’s go get cleaned up in the bathroom,” he hums softly, grabbing you by the hips, and pressing a kiss into the fresh bruise behind your ear.

You tell yourself you’ll leave after this letting him guide you by the waist and a chin on your shoulder. You think it again when the small space of the bathroom is filled with giggles and bashful smiles as he sits you on the closed toilet seat, wetting paper towels that turn into mache in his hands. You scream at yourself to do it watching him try and fix his hair in the mirror after wiping you down the best he can, pressing kisses on both your kneecaps. 

“I’ve been using this new product, but nothing hits like Farrah. I can’t believe they discontinued it. Dustin swears he can find me some, but who knows if you can even trust it’s the real deal, you know?”

Steve interrupts your inner turmoil with a face that’s far too serious for the words that just left his mouth and the thoughts running through your head. Your mood shifts almost instantly with a laugh loud enough to turn his cheeks the color of your toes, giving you an exaggerated eye roll despite the twitch of his lips.

“I can’t believe you still hang out with a middle schooler.” You tease, getting up on your feet, legs feeling a little less like jello but the reminder between your thighs only seems to intensify.

”I told you he’s like 19 - “

”Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Steve,” you grin, taking the break in the intensity of everything to try and work up the self-control to leave, wincing at the echoing clack of your flip flops that give you away instantly.

”Wait, where are you going?” Steve’s brows furrow in confusion, turning around to face you, he tightens the sleeves wrapped around his waist, biceps flexing while all the playfulness drains from his eyes.

”I should go before Robin -“

”What? No, she’ll be fine, it’s like noon. I’m sure she’s not even awake yet.” 

“Steve.”

”Honey.”

The two of you face off in a silent challenge, stares unwavering, mimicking each other with arms crossover over your chests. 

“Don’t run again.” He pleads with a whisper that’s barely audible against the beating of your heart in your ears, the room feeling smaller.

“I’m not running, I’m walking.” You try to lighten the mood with a joke, the corners of your eyes stinging but you refuse to acknowledge why.

”I’m not letting you walk home.”

“It’s down the road-“

“I don’t care! You’re not walking. Let me close up and then I’ll at least drive you.” 

You don’t argue with the hurt expression on his face, you can’t.

It’s somehow even hotter outside when the two of you sneak out the side door of the garage. A different kind of tension hangs thick in the air putting the humidity to shame, even with the sun shimmering from the highest point in the sky. His skin glows like liquid gold in its rays as he walks in front of you, your eyes following the movements of his freckled shoulders that flex with every swing on his arms. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hate the pit that settles deep in your gut because you don’t want to say goodbye just yet. Another consequence of a choice you made rearing its ugly head.

You aren’t expecting him to open the passenger door for you, the metal creaking loudly breaking a silence that’s filled with a thousand unspoken words just hanging on the tip of both of your tongues waiting to fill up the space. His gaze meets yours from under the thick length of his lashes, the corners of his lips twisting at the way you get bashful from the gesture.

”Thanks,” you whisper, catching a whiff of his cologne as you duck into the passenger seat that’s starting to feel like yours again.

He just hums in response, shutting it quickly and trapping you inside a metal box filled with every smell that reminds you of him. It pulls at your heart, and intensifies the burn between your thighs. Your fingers come up to twist the metal that still dangles from your neck, and you’re not sure you can bring yourself to give it back after this. The already small space of the car shrinks even more when the driver side door opens and he slides in next to you with a huff, keys jingling loudly in his hand closing the door behind him. 

His shoulders brush with yours shoving the keys in the ignition, the seat vibrating underneath you as the beemer quietly roars to life. He keeps his hand on the stick shift, sweat slick skin pressing into yours shifting the car into drive. The radio isn’t as loud as you thought it’d be considering the way he was blasting it in the shop. Meatloaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love spills out of the speakers and you try not to laugh at the irony, scrambling to think of what to say to him as Robin’s apartment complex quickly comes into view. 

But he never stops.

“Steve, what are you doing?” You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest watching the baby blue paneling of her apartments whiz past. 

“This is technically my lunch break, and I’m hungry.” He shrugs, glancing at you with something mischievous in his eyes that you want to smack away because it makes your heart skip a beat, “You’re telling me you’re not starving after that honey?”

Smacking your lips together, you roll your eyes as hard as you can, trying to hide the smile that pushes up your cheeks. 

“Wow, your confidence always just astounds me.” Shaking your head, your sarcastic laugh only makes him grin.

”I think you like it.” 

You can’t bring yourself to deny it, fluttering your lashes at him with an attitude instead.

”But if you really can’t stand the thought of spending like another hour with me, I’ll turn around right now, honey.” You know he means it, feeling his foot slowly press on the brake in anticipation for your answer, “Just say the words.”

‘Say it, say turn around Steve.’

“Take me somewhere with fries.”

When you left Robin’s house this morning, you didn’t think watching Steve juggle two shakes and a large order of fries to the booth you’re sitting at with a heart so full it threatens to crack your chest, was where you’d end up at. His cheeks flush a deep shade red almost losing his footing, lovesick eyes too busy staring at you to watch where his boots land. 

God, this was not a part of the plan.

“I got you strawberry,” his grin is proud, remembering your favorite from high school when he drops your cool treat in front of you, and instead of sliding into the seats across the table, he plops down into the spot right next to you, knees bumping underneath the wood.

“What if I wanted chocolate?” You tease, body turning into a lit match pressing into his side.

“That’s what I got, and maybe, if you ask nicely,” he breathes, leaning in close enough for the tips of your noses to brush, “I’ll share.”

You wonder if he can hear the way you swallow at his tone over that oldies station that plays in the Hawkins Diner. 

“No thanks, you can keep your cooties.” Sighing, you have to fight the twitch of your lips tearing your eyes away from him to focus on the fried potatoes in front of you.

”I think it’s a little late for that baby, I’m afraid you’re completely covered in them.” He doesn’t hesitate to press a sloppy kiss on your cheek that's loud enough to catch the attention of the girls that’d been staring at him since the two of you walked in.

”Steve!” You try to scold, but the smile that spreads across your face gives you up, even if you wipe the kiss away with the back of your hand.

”What?” He smirks, grabbing a few fries and plopping them in his mouth and you try not to focus on the way his tongue darks out to collect the salt left over on his lips.

“I can’t stand you.”

It’s impossible to keep a straight face around him, even avoiding the playful gold that swirls in his gaze that hasn’t stopped showering you with adoration. 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep better at night.” He shrugs, taking a big swig of his shake, subtly scooting closer so your thighs touch.

The two of you eat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head swimming with questions as your morning starts to really sink in. But your nerves make it impossible to focus on just one, especially every time you fingers brush, catching his small smirk from the corner of your eyes.

”So tell me something,” you try, ignoring the slight shake in your voice, “How did Steve Harrington, ‘king of Hawkins’, become a mechanic? I always thought you’d be in some big office with a suit working for your dad.” 

You notice the sour look that contorts the handsome features on his face at the former nickname again and you immediately feel bad for saying it. His thick eyebrows furrow, marrying in the middle as he tries to shake it off with a few harsh blinks grabbing another handful of fries.

”Umm, I did work for my dad’s firm for like six months actually.” He confesses, clearing his throat before tossing them into his mouth. “I think we hate each other even more now.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude that's not why I asked -“

”Honey, you’re fine.” He smiles warmly, a big palm finding the top of our thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it occupy the space permanently. 

”Turns out I’m a terrible office manager. I’d get super overwhelmed, which made me disorganized and we’d lose clients making my dad pissed, then one day I just kinda snapped after he laid into me in his office. Had a panic attack and then never showed my face there again.”

”Steve-“

“I knew he was going to fire me anyway, it’s fine” he laughs, running his free hand through his hair, the other sliding down your thigh so his thumb can rub circles into the soft skin next to your knee cap.

“So I wallowed in self pity for a month before Eddie started needing help at the shop. At first it just gave me something to do, he’d teach me a few things and turns out, I’m actually pretty good at it. It honestly feels really fucking freeing to stop being the person everyone expected me to be.”

He smiles with all his teeth, the kind of pride radiating off of him that makes the hard brick wall you’ve built around yourself start to soften, cracks forming in its foundation.

”Well, it looks good on you Harrington.” You have to look away when you say it, the butterflies becoming unbearable, because you weren’t supposed to feel like this. “I guess.”

He snorts at your stubbornness, bumping shoulders with you before snatching your strawberry shake earning the kind of glare that makes him realize he’s never going to get over you. 

Steve’s one hour lunch turns into two, almost becoming three getting lost in the kind of conversation that barely scratches the surface of everything you’ve missed. It’s all hushed tones, sweet eyes, and linked fingers that threaten to make you fold again, with the only thing saving you is the reminder of the mess you made on top of his client's Corvette, and Steve reluctantly admitting he needed to leave so he didn’t actually lose his job in the morning. 

It didn’t matter though, he got his date. 

And when he pulls up to Robin’s he doesn’t hesitate to steal your breath away, grabbing you by the chin, giving you the kind of kiss over the center console that leaves you dizzy, just like in high school. He doesn’t ask for his chain back, and you don’t offer it, bounding up the stairs to the apartment with it shimmering against your chest.

🌻chapter five

#steve harrrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic

[kookygranger]

Good god, I wish that’s how my night ended instead lol.

The fact that Robin called Steve about her after he gave her one ride home from the diner. She knows! I’m desperate to find out what he has to show her 😩

I’m never letting go! This Steve really makes me feel some way. Thank you Betty! 🥰😘

Betty, betty, betty! I’m just back from a low-key stag do for my uncle-to-be with my da (back in the motherland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 for the special occasion), bit tipsy and thinking of biker!steve. Honestly, I’ve been away from home for 7 weeks now and anytime I need a bit of maladaptive comfort before bed, those fics are where I go 🥰 Right now I’m wondering how biker!steve would react to our new/back-in-town!reader getting drunk and needing a little help home x

Mel the way I am kissing you consensually across the miles right now aalkfdajlkljklj I've been needing a biker!steve fix so bad 😭 I wrote this in a frenzy this morning, so I hope it's not garbage, and I hope you like it.

Also, this is Ring of Fire biker!Steve, an alt universe version of I'm on Fire biker Steve. A fic within a fic, if you will. These Steves are similar but not the same.

biker!Steve x fem!Reader

wc: 1k

18+, alcohol consumption, creeps, violence, yearning, mutual crush

You decided to skip on the old faithful Blue Light Tavern that night and leaned into the peer pressure of meeting up with a friend at a newer bar downtown. The drinks were fancy but weak, and the packed crowd didn't seem to mind paying twice as much for less. Heather, a part time cashier at the gas n' sip, had you doing shots with her before you ever had any food in your stomach, and that was a rookie mistake.

During a clumsy game of darts, you spotted Robin, and it made your blood race to think that Steve might not be far behind. She tipped her chin at you from across the room, and you waved the dart in your hand, losing total concentration on the game until Heather nudged you.

"You know Robin?" Heather asked, buying two more drinks from the passing waitress.

"I've seen her around," you muttered. Steve was nowhere in sight, but that didn't stop you from checking every time the door opened.

Heather's boyfriend showed up unexpectedly and so all of a sudden, there you were---a solid third wheel. While they made out at a table in the corner, you took your wobbly legs over to the only available seat at the end of the bar.

The problem with that stage of intoxication was that you felt really good, like maybe one more would make the experience even better.

Just a beer though, just one light brewski before you headed home on foot.

"Have a shot with me?" The guy next to you said, pushing his shoulder into yours.

You didn't recognize him, but his highlighted hair was a bit too perfect, his teeth way too white; he was a dead ringer for Zack Morris. You'd barely taken a sip of your beverage and already you regretted the decision to stay.

"I'm good, thanks."

He scoffed. "Not even one shot? I saw you drinking with your friend over there, I know you can handle one more."

Sober enough to catch his condescending tone, you glanced back to see that Heather and her boyfriend were no longer at the table. They'd most likely gone somewhere to fornicate, and you'd be fending for yourself for the rest of the night.

The guy bought two shots, anyway, sliding one over to you. You stared at it for a reluctant beat before moving to get off of your stool. Your footing was a bit unsteady, prompting the blonde guy to grab your arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" His booze breath was hot in your face.

"She's with me."

Making you do a double take, Steve stepped between the two of you, staring the guy down. Chewing gum so that the muscles in his jaw bulged, Steve dropped one arm behind him to support your hip and help you keep your balance.

"She doesn't look like she's with anyone," the blonde guy challenged.

Steve realized then that the idiot must've been new in town. Somehow, he'd missed the significance of what wearing a Coffin Kings kutte meant.

Steve could take him out to the alley and put a knife in his gut without a drop of moral conflict.

"Get lost," Steve cocked an eyebrow, never breaking eye contact.

The blonde guy snorted a laugh. "How about you get fucked?"

He jammed a palm into Steve's shoulder, and before another thing could be said, Steve took him by the back of the neck and smashed his face onto the edge of the bar.

You stifled a scream, but the place was so packed, and the music so loud, that no one seemed to notice or care as the blonde slumped to the floor. The people next to him simply shuffled over to take his seat, oblivious.

Steve turned to find you, both of your chests heaving as he leaned in.

"You ready to get out of here?" He whispered it softly, brushing his knuckles down your arm. His eyes were such a throbbing hazel at that moment you swore they were about to explode gold flecks all over you.

A nod was all you could offer at the time, and then his arm was around your waist, helping you out of the crowd. Your head bobbed like it was on a spring, making you realize how tipsy you actually were.

Outside, the cool air in your lungs was a relief, and it suddenly registered that Steve's motorcycle was positioned illegally up on the sidewalk.

Before you could question his parking choice, he mumbled. "I was in a hurry," before snatching the helmet off of the handlebar to pass to you.

"What are you doing here?" you turned to find that your lips were inches from his. Steve held his breath, not wanting to move, but also not ready to find out how deep the taste of you would bury him.

"You're not the only one who likes to have fun," he moved his head back to meet your searching gaze, the flicker of a grin teasing the corner of his mouth.

"No, I mean---" you looked down, swallowing hard. What were you even trying to say?

"Robin told me you were here," he admitted, bucking his chin at the building in question. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be caught dead in a tourist trap like that."

You'd figured as much, but never expected him to fess up to coming there just for you.

"But how did Robin---?" She must've called him from a pay phone or...

"You ask a lot of questions." He took over adjusting the strap under your chin, noting that you were having a hard time with it.

"Where are you taking me?" Your speech was a bit slurred, but at the time you were too buzzed to give a damn.

"What do you mean?" He wanted to take you somewhere and press his aching body against yours; to fall asleep holding your hand.

You hated the way he was making you explain yourself, as your brain scrambled for the right words. "The other day, you said you had something you wanted to show me."

"There are lots of things I want to show you," he kicked his leg over the seat to straddle the beast of a motorcycle and waited for you to follow suit. "But there's plenty of time for that. Let's get you home first."

He held onto your thigh, urging you closer until your heat was flush to his lower back.

"Hold onto me, okay?" He said, revving the engine to life. "Don't let go."

#steve harrrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #biker!steve

[kookygranger]

Being a young adult is so strange. You enter a coffee shop. The 20 year old girl waiting behind you cried all night because she just came to a new city for university and she feels so alone. That 27 year old guy over there works a job he is overqualified for, he lives with his parents and wants to move out but doesn't know what to do about it. That one 24 year old dude already has a car, a house, and a job waiting for him once he graduates thanks to his dad's connections. The 26 year old barista couldn't complete his higher education because he has to work and take care of his family. The 28 year old girl sitting next to you has no friends to go out with so she is texting her mother. That couple (both 25 years old) are married and the girl is pregnant. The 29 year old writing something on her laptop has realized that she chose the wrong major so she is trying to start all over. We are not alone in this, but we are actually so alone. Do you feel me

[kookygranger]

hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈

i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)

You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.

Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.

You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.

“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”

Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t. 

A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”

Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of. 

Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.

You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”

The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”

He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own. 

He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.

“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”

“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”

“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”

You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.

“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”

Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.

He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.

It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.

“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.

You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”

“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.” 

“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”

You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface. 

“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.

“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.

“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”

Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.

It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You. 

But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.

“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. 

Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”

The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.

“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.

Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.

His excitement makes you regret your answer. 

“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”

The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.

You nod once. “Sure.”

He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.

You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.

You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”

His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.

You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”

You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.

He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth. 

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”

“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”

Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.

“Eddie,” he finishes for you.

“…Eddie.”

“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”

You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”

Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look. 

“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”

Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.

“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

[kookygranger]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[2.7K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #3

You didn’t have to wait seven whole days to see Steve again, and when you did, it wasn’t poolside.

This meant that between you both, there were a lot more clothes than normal, but you found out the hard way that that fact didn’t really make a difference to the effect he now had on you. There was a party at some rich kids house on the outskirts of town, someone called Sam that neither you nor Eddie knew all that well but Robin used to work with him at the Shake Shack and well-- if Robin was going somewhere, Steve followed, and if Steve was allowed through the door, that meant Eddie had a ticket in too.

If Eddie was there? High chance you were too.

It’s how you ended up in a neighbourhood that rivalled even Steve’s, each house sprawled out across green manicured lawns and the pools out the back were almost as large as the one you were learning in, a shiny red slide to boot. Three stories, arched windows, a winding driveway to a three door garage and when you entered behind Eddie, the crystal chandelier in the foyer was vibrating to the beat of the music.

Two guys you recognised from the trailer park grabbed Eddie as he pushed his way through the crowd, your fingers hooked in his as he dragged you behind him. They were ready with cash, bills rolled up and an eagerly impatient look in their already glassy eyes, so you waved the boy away and headed to the kitchen, a safe enough sanctuary as you skirted around the makeshift dance floor that had been created in the living room. It seemed that anyone over seventeen and anyone under thirty was at the party, the large space full to the brim with drunken strangers, people moving to the synths of INXS.

The pushed back furniture made it difficult to move around the gyrating bodies, Sam’s parent’s cream coloured carpet already stained and sticky with questionable substances. The lights had been switched off and someone had strung multicoloured Christmas lights around the curtain poles, around the second chandelier above the coffee table. There was a broken disco ball sitting in a wall sconce, pink and green and blue hitting off each mirrored tile, making everything glitter.

You saw Steve before you could make it to the kitchen, rainbows on his cheeks, a stripe of colours across his lips. He was talking to a girl - a pretty redhead who had a drink in one hand and Steve’s bicep in another. The sight of him made you feel as warm as a saturday morning, as if you were walking into water with his naked chest in front of you, his pink cheeks and sleep mussed hair just for your eyes only. It felt almost unfair to see him now, surrounded by others, touched by someone else. He looked just as pretty with a striped shirt on, his hair styled and curling around his ears and neck, one hand shoved into his jeans pocket as the other gripped a beer.

His gaze caught your own, a fleeting thing before recognition clicked at the sight of you and then Steve was moving, the redhead’s fingers catching at his sleeve before he was in front of you, her frown behind him.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” Steve was smiling, eyes drinking in the corners like he was genuinely happy to bump into you. He craned his neck and spotted Eddie, raising his beer in greeting. “You want a drink?”

“Uh, yeah.” You smiled back, heart in your throat because Steve was placing a familiar hand on the small of your back in order to steer you into the kitchen and Eddie was grinning, a full beam that made your cheeks warm. “A drink sounds good.”

You let Steve pour you a vodka and lemonade, and he fumbled an ice tray he found in the back of the freezer, the fizz spilling over the rim of the glass as he handed it to you with a grin. You watched him lick the soda from his fingers, his eyes on yours as he smiled still, his cheeks a little pink and it felt like you were back in middle school and the pretty, popular boy was giving you too much attention.

You weren’t sure why, but you lapped it up happily.

Taking a gulp, you hummed, happy that your drink didn’t burn on the way down and Steve stayed close, his hand gone from the small of your back but his shoulder bumped yours and you could smell his cologne, leftover sunscreen and hairspray.

“You ready for lesson three tomorrow or are you planning on getting black out?” Steve asked with raised brows. “I gotta tell you now, legally, I’m not covered for drownings due to hangovers.”

You rolled your eyes, lips lifting into a smile you tried to suppress because you had absolutely no intention of getting messy drunk in the vicinity of Steve Harrington, with or without the threat of swimming the day after.

“It depends,” you joked anyway, “what does lesson three include?”

Steve smirked, leaning close, hair falling across his forehead and you could see the freckles over his nose, the glint of the chain he wore flashing under the collar of his t-shirt. “M’not sure I should tell you now.” He was all charm, a cheekiness you normally didn’t get to see up close. “You might stand me up.”

You scoffed, a dismissive sound that barely covered your embarrassment because you were sure that your eyes were wide enough to show off how flustered you were. You took another long sip, lemonade and bubbles coating your tongue and you watched Steve stare at the way you licked the vodka from your lips.

“I wouldn’t stand you up,” you murmured, barely heard over the thud of the music.

The boy beamed, ecstatic. “You wouldn’t?”

“Not unless you were planning something drastic, you know, like swimming.”

A laugh burst from Steve’s chest, his eyes shining with an amusement you were proud of producing. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, spreading his feet wide enough that you were able to stand between them. Not too close, not too suggestive, just close enough to each other that girls glared at you and no one tried to interrupt.

“Swimming? In a pool?” Steve cocked his head to the side, one hand nursing his beer, the other reaching out to poke at your side. You squirmed, amazed at how such a friendly touch seemed just as intimate as his hands on your bare back, keeping you afloat. He frowned at you, all faux confusion that made him look unbearably cute. “Who the fuck would think of that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to stop smiling. Come to think of it, your cheeks ached a little, your grin permanently etched onto your lips since you saw Steve, whether it was from being flustered or amused. Your cheeks felt hot, your chest light and you barely noticed anyone else in the room.

It’s why you jumped when two hands caught your shoulders, a diabolical cackle in your ear as you recognised the scent of smoke and old spice a little too late. Eddie smelled like childhood and home but now, standing in a strangers kitchen with Steve Harrington, you couldn’t have been less impressed with your friend’s appearance.

“Hey, there’s a good chance I can shift the last of this green if I hit up this party on Maple Street,” Eddie half yelled over the music, his arm draped over your shoulder in a too familiar way. You wanted to elbow him. “You comin’ with or—?”

He was glancing at Steve over your head, brows raised, suggestive and waiting on an answer from him rather than you. You swallowed hard, noticing how Steve had seemed just as disappointed as you at Eddie’s arrival but he shrugged, nonchalant. “I could walk you home later,” the beer in his hand glinted in the low light, his fingers tightening around it. He smiled, eyes soft, “I don’t mind.”

You wanted to say yes. Fuck, you wanted to say yes so bad and the word was costing your tongue, buzzing and excited, a fizzy candy explosion. But you took too long to look at the boy, tanned skin and messy hair, scruff on his jaw that he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, the freckles on his cheeks and neck that made you want to touch them.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d kissed a boy, never mind one you really liked. And perhaps that wasn’t even on the cards, maybe Steve didn’t like you in that way at all - but the idea of being alone in the darkened room with strangers, people you didn’t know and people who wouldn’t care if you fell into each other - it suddenly seemed a little too much for one night.

“Um, it’s— it’s okay,” you told him regretfully. You hated the way his eyes seemed to lose a little warmth, his lips turning down before he righted himself. “I should probably just go with Eddie.”

“Pussy,” Eddie coughed, barely concealed and Steve stared at the ground, cheeks pink.

You really did elbow your friend then, the sharp point of your arm finding his rims and he kicked at the back of your heel, childlike in the way he scuffled to get you back in a way that really wasn’t subtle.

“Thank you, though,” you smiled at Steve, hopeful that he’d return the gesture. He did, although not as warm as before, not as confident as he’d been as he’d guided you to the kitchen with a wide hand on your back. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, right?”

Steve sank the last of his drink, licking it from his lips before nodding. He was already back out of the kitchen and you tried not to look defeated. “Yeah, ‘course,” he told you. “See you in the morning.”

“Well,” Eddie watched Steve retreat, his hand slapping down on your slumped shoulder. “You fucked that, didn’t you?”

Steve was already in the pool when you arrived the next morning, still sleep mussed and frazzled from the way your alarm had blared too loud. Despite three weeks of early mornings, it was still a struggle to pull yourself from bed. But the promise of a warm day, pink-blue skies and Steve Harrington made it so much easier than you ever thought.

You paused at the loungers for longer than you needed, your toes curling at the thought of stripping off your shorts and shirt because the swimsuit underneath was newer and skimpier and cherry red. Steve was underwater, swimming effortlessly beneath the surface from the shallows to the depths you weren’t brave to venture to yet.

So you took the opportunity to pull off your t-shirt, a ratty old thing that used to be Eddie's and you cursed picking it up from your floor, hoping Steve wouldn’t get the wrong idea despite how many times you’d told him that Eddie was just your friend.

You let it fall to the sun warmed tiles just as Steve broke the surface, pushing his hair back with one hand as he grasped the edge of the pool with the other. He grinned when he saw you, a familiar and friendly thing that made your heart jump but his gaze darted to your chest, just for a second, just for a tiny moment, and you remembered to feel shy.

“New suit?” Steve asked, sounding casual, his brows raised as if it didn’t really matter what the answer was.

You wondered what he’d say if you told him you’d bought it with him in mind, what he’d say if he knew you’d stared at your half naked frame in your bedroom mirror for far too long, inspecting each curve, each bruise, all the old silver scars and stretch marks, stripes along your thighs that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. This suit dipped low in the back, as modest as it still was in the chest. Would he think your boobs were too small? Too big? Too flat? Uneven? Could he tell?

Would it matter?

It was a vibrant colour against your skin, the same red as the cherries you’d scooped in your smoothie before you’d left, a shade off of Steve’s lifeguard shorts. It seemed too bright now, too silly, but you nodded regardless and tried not to make a big deal out of it.

Steve leant on the pool edge, chin resting on his tanned forearms, water dripping from his wet hair, clinging to his too long lashes. He tilted his head, appraising, gaze gentle, never staring. “S’nice. Colour looks good on you.”

His words made it a lot easier for you to unbutton your shorts and slip the denim over your hips. Chin ducked, you couldn’t hold eye contact, not bold enough quite yet. But you let the shorts drop from your thighs, hitting the tiles and you kicked them under the sun lounger as you flicked off your sliders at the same time. The sun was already blazing, rising higher in the sky, turning the tangerine edges into a warm blue and the heat of it slipped over your skin like a blanket.

Feeling a little less naked than before, you walked to the shallows, Steve swimming the length of the pool to meet you. You stopped just shy of the stairs, lips pressed together and brow furrowed, contemplating. Steve stopped too, watchful as you considered your next move the boy positively beamed when you dropped down to sit at the edge of the water.

The surface lapped at Steve waist when he stood, not too deep but certainly not the gentle entrance you’d become accustomed to. You cringed as you slipped both feet into the cool water, hands curling around the edge of the pool until your knuckles burned.

“Yeah?” Steve coaxed, sounding impressed. Proud. “You’ve got it. You can just slide right in, you’ll touch the bottom.”

You knew you would. The logic was in front of you, just like the bottom of the pool was very much visible. Looking down, you could see Steve’s feet on the tiles, rippling into funny shapes and sizes, his bare legs, just as tanned as the rest of him and dusted with coarse hair. He was planted there firmly, no current or waves to knock him over, steady as ever.

He lay his hands on the top of the water, palms up. His gaze met your own, his smile warmer than the morning. “I’m right here.”

It was comforting, his words, his closeness, even if you didn’t take his hands, he kept them there, waiting. It was enough for you to lean forward, bum slipping off of the warm tiled edge and into the cool water. You gasped as always from the shock of the temperature difference, the water rippling around the tops of your ribs and it was enough to make your nipples pebble, glaringly obvious under the new, thinner material of your suit.

If Steve noticed, he didn’t dare look down.

He did take a step forward though, enough for his toes to touch yours and you could count the freckles on the bridge of his nose, could see the chlorine water that still made his lashes cling together in spikes. It was intimate enough to make you wonder if something like this would’ve happened the night before if you’d stayed. If you had let Eddie and the boy shaped comfort blanket that he was go, if you’d hung back with Steve and shared secrets and drinks under the multicoloured lights, if you’d let him walk you home under the glow of street lamps.

If he would’ve kissed you at your front door.

But then the gate clanked noisily against the chain link fence and there was a splash big enough to soak your chest and the side of your face - Steve’s too - both screwed up in shock.

Eddie appeared from the water - the deeper, indigo coloured end - shaking his sopping curls like a wet, disobedient dog, his tattooed chest bare and much paler than Steve’s. He grinned through his curls, oblivious to whatever he’d just interrupted, his arms spread wide.

“What’s up, fuckers?”

#ooh Eddie you spoil sport #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic

[kookygranger]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: News from an old friend had you wondering if Eddie's sour mood had turned downright destructive. (4.9k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, coming out, vandalism, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter seven: offense and defense

Your version of a truce came in the form of wallpaper panels and a bucket of glue. 

You’d placed it on top of the canvas sheets that would protect the floor from any spills, though it wasn’t as if that was presentable, either. Still, you would be grateful for the splash of color rather than the stripped down walls that only highlighted the motel’s defeated aesthetic. 

Like lipstick on a pig, your cynicism taunted, but one that you’ve stuck on a spit to roast. 

Your fingernail picked at a small groove in the desk’s wood as if digging a hole to bury your anxiety. Despite the police sirens blaring in the distance, all you could hear was the sound of the mailbox clanging shut, trapping your acceptance letter and effectively sealing your fate. 

Your breathing sped up and sent your heartbeat into your ears, inching you towards a point of no return where the world became hazy. Suddenly, Eddie’s mood was irrelevant; you just needed a distraction, even if that meant contending with his strangely defensive attitude. 

But when eleven o’clock rolled around, a full hour into your shift. there was still no sign of him. You’d give him another thirty minutes before you knocked on his door; he had a job to finish, after all. 

That was all it was: ensuring he earned his keep, preventing him from becoming the deeply feared charity case.

In the end, there was no need to intrude on him. Eddie shuffled through the lobby not even fifteen minutes later, seemingly without the intention of stopping to greet you. He looked straight ahead as though any eye contact would burn his retinas from the inside out. His tattooed arms were on full display in a black tank top, the holes cut down nearly to the waist. A chain hung off the side of his jeans, gleaming even in the harsh lighting. The whole outfit was a far cry from the sweatpants he’d donned during the wallpaper removal.

“Eddie?”

He stopped but still refused to glance in your direction. There was no use ignoring the confusion in your voice; he didn’t even bother waiting for the formality of a question. “Y-Yeah, I, um…I gotta run some errands.” His teeth dug into the inside of his cheek at his pitiful excuse. 

Errands just before midnight? He certainly wasn’t dressed to make a last-minute dash to the corner bodega, nor would that take all night.

He was lying; that much was obvious. What evaded you was why. Was he embarrassed about his outburst at Eisen’s? Angry at you for freezing him out during the ride home?

“What about the wallpaper?”

“Oh. Right.” He softly chuckled, the kind that someone gives when they’ve been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

He didn’t stick around for further questioning, letting in a cool evening breeze when he barreled out the front door. 

Aggravation clenched your fists. His lackadaisical approach to work was infuriating enough, but the way he’d attempted to sneak past you had you seething. Did he truly believe he could camouflage himself and walk out unnoticed?

The untouched wallpapering materials mocked you, taunted your optimism. Or perhaps it was naivety. You’d all but told him to piss off last night, yet you expected him to flounce into the lobby, eager to work alongside you–and only you–for the next few hours? The thought alone was so pathetic that you were glad no one else had been around to witness it.

You hoisted the panels and glue back to the supply closet, gripping them with palms slick from embarrassment and frustration. Tonight could have been an opportunity to clear the air about the Ben fiasco and resume your usual lighthearted conversations. His brusque laughter didn’t showcase the subtle dimples that pressed from the corners of his mouth into his cheeks, so unlike the genuine smiles that reached his eyes. Those warm eyes like chocolate chips on a summer day, except they melted you with each foray into his past, each glimpse into what made him, him.

Without them, the night was stagnant.

Amy’s Cafe was a favorite among the student population, especially during finals week. The coffee was usually burnt or weak, but it was cheap and conveniently located near campus, so it stayed afloat. Overworked baristas slid filled-to-the-brim mugs and to-go styrofoam cups to the edge of the counter, hissing espresso machines punctuating the pop music that was piped through the sound system. Exactly the kind of music Eddie would hate.

Eddie. He must have had an extensive errand list, because he still hadn’t returned when your shift ended. Your chest ached with a sadness that burned hotter than your curiosity. You no longer cared what he was up to, just that he preferred it to spending time with you.

Ben already sat at a small table when you arrived, the steam from his cup rising up and fogging his wire-rimmed glasses. He offered you a weary smile, one wrought with fatigue and a nervousness you couldn’t quite place. 

It wasn’t until you plopped into the seat across from him, careful not to spill your own coffee, that you noticed the gray crescents below his eyes that weren’t there on Sunday. Stubble coated his cheeks and chin, more five o’clock shadow than beard, and you were hard-pressed to remember a time he’d seemed this disheveled. 

“You look like shit.”

He raised his brows as he blew on his tea, sending tiny ripples through the citrusy-mint blend. “You sure know how to flatter a guy.”

Between the usual end-of-semester stress and whatever issues were simmering between you and Eddie, you lacked the patience to beat around the bush. “Seriously,” you insisted, “what’s wrong?”

Ben’s sigh held immeasurable weight, and you quickly understood why. “Eisen’s was vandalized last night,” he said quietly. 

“What?!” Your blood ran cold. The mental image of the always-pristine shop abruptly destroyed marred your psyche. 

He nodded. “Yeah. We empty the register at night and put the cash in a safe, so they didn’t get any of that,” he explained, a small consolation. “But they smashed the windows and graffitied the place. All of the shelves, our whole inventory…covered in it.” 

“Is everyone…is your family okay?” If the alarm had sounded and Uncle Mo or Aunt Tam came running in…if the intruder was carrying a weapon…

“We’re fine,” Ben assured you. “I mean, we’re all pretty shook up, but no one’s hurt.” His bottom teeth scraped along his upper lip. “I swept up most of the broken glass after the cops left, but it’s gonna take a while to scrub off the spray paint.”

“I can help,” you volunteered without hesitation. “I can swing by on Thursday afternoon.” There were no formal classes this week; you just had to drop off your paper and then you could go to the shop. 

“Thanks.” Ben kept his attention focused on his mug, dunking the bag aimlessly through the hot liquid. “Um, was your, uh, boyfriend with you last night?” When you wrinkled your nose, he elaborated. “That Eddie guy. He’s your boyfriend, right?”

You shook your head and tried to ignore the internal fluttering spurred on by the thought of Eddie being your boyfriend. “No. He just works for us.” Thirty-six hours ago, you would have referred to him as a friend, but you didn’t know if that was still true. 

Ben cocked an eyebrow. “You sure? Because he seemed pretty…” He searched for the right word, “...territorial over you.”

Territorial. As if you belonged to him. The notion was almost humorous, considering his desperation to avoid you at all costs. If you were his property, he must be a very hands-off landlord. 

“It’s not like that. He just gets competitive.” You filled Ben in on the wasp nest saga, even managing to pull a few chuckles out of him. 

“Okay, fine.” Something in Ben’s tone informed you that he didn’t quite believe you, but he pressed on, both of you well-aware that your love life wasn’t the most urgent issue. “But was he around last night? Hanging the wallpaper or something?”

He wasn’t. You wished more than anything that you could offer an alibi, but you didn’t have a clue where he was. 

It’s a big city; there were millions of places he could go besides Eisen’s. And yet you couldn’t name a single one, your throat bone-dry despite just taking a sip of coffee. 

“N-No, but he wouldn’t—”

“I’m not saying he did,” Ben interjected, firmly but not unkindly. “It’s just, I dunno, a little suspicious that this guy comes to our shop for the first time, hates my guts for some reason, and then the place gets destroyed the next day.” 

There was no denying how strange it was, especially coupled with his poorly explained absence. Something inside you insisted that it wasn’t Eddie, and you clung onto that hope. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” Bitterness churned in your stomach and crept up your throat, and you knew it wasn’t from the coffee. Was there anything about the way he’d been dressed that provided insight into his whereabouts? Anything he’d mentioned in passing?

Despite scouring the depths of your brain, you came up empty.

Ben exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut like he was actively trying to forget the memory of the break-in. “Everything was completely smashed. Like someone took a baseball bat to it or something.”

You flashed back to last week when Eddie went after the wasp’s nest with Phyllis’s bat. Did he ask her to borrow it again?

Stop it, you silently scolded yourself. It couldn’t have been Eddie. He might be hotheaded, but that didn’t mean he would destroy Eisen’s. 

Except he had trashed that hotel room because the manager issued a noise complaint. He’d seemed proud of it, laughing as he retold the story, like he’d carried out some meticulously crafted revenge plot. 

Shit. 

“You’re sure there’s nothing going on between you two?” Ben asked again, ripping open another sugar packet and dumping it into his drink. 

“Positive.” Certainly not now when you were barely on speaking terms.You didn’t have time for a relationship; school and work kept you sufficiently busy. 

Not that you wanted anything going on with Eddie. What would you even do together–go on dates at six AM after your shift? Hold hands across the lobby desk? Steal kisses in the supply closet? The two of you making out amongst piles of linens and a rusty toolbox? Your fingers tangled in his hair and your lips pressed to his; his hands gripping your waist and tugging you impossibly close? You couldn’t allow yourself to even consider it a possibility, to allow yourself to want it.

You noticed Ben giving you a wry smile, like he knew something you didn’t, and you snapped back into reality to volley a question back to him. “What about you? Meet any cute girls in dental school?” 

His unexpected cloudiness didn’t match your breezy, teasing tone. “No cute girls.” He paused, mulling over his words for a while before talking again, so softly you could barely hear him over the muzak playing over the café’s sound system. “There were some cute guys, though.”

The admission hung in the air for a moment while you slowly absorbed it. Cute guys, not girls. So Ben was—

A soft throat clearing grabbed your attention; he was anxiously awaiting your response. 

Reaching your hand across the Formica table, you draped your fingers over his and left them there. “How did you…know?” You winced at your own awkwardness. “Sorry, I meant, like, is this something you figured out recently? Or did you know back when we were kids?”

Ben laughed lightly, his shoulders sagging with relief. The worry of rejection left his eyes as he spoke. “Part of me always knew, I think. I just didn’t have a word for it.” He sighed, his breath trembling with residual nerves. “It’s not like we grew up talking about these things.”

He was right; you couldn’t recall a single time that his parents or yours discussed non-heterosexual romantic relationships. A man and a woman get married and have babies. The end. No mention of when two men or two women love one another. 

“Have you told your parents?”

“No.” His voice caught, throat blocked with emotion, and he cleared it again. “I wanted to wait until I finished school and got my own place. Y’know…just in case.”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence. 

“Would they really do that?”

He shrugged, his shoulders once again bearing the weight of the unknown. “I don’t think they’d kick me out,” he admitted, “but they’d definitely be disappointed. Like they did something wrong.”

“You know you can always stay with me if you need,” you said. “I’ll set aside a room for you.” Far away from Eddie’s, you added silently.

Ben’s smile was tight but genuine. “After all of these years, nothing’s changed.” He let out a hoarse laugh. “Does it get exhausting, being the best person ever?”

He was joking, trying his best to shift to a lighter tone, but the accuracy of his question had you temporarily reeling. You weren’t the best person ever, but it was exhausting constantly trying to be. He must have sensed that he grazed a nerve, his eyes softening as he leaned in. “You okay?”

You nodded, your head suddenly acquiring the heft of a boulder. The sound of the mailbox clanging shut and sealing your fate reverberated in your ears. And then Eddie had seen, had cleaned your smudged mascara so warmly that your skin simmered at his touch. Those same fingers might have grasped a can of spray paint or and wielded a bat with the intention of ravaging an innocent business. 

“You always were a terrible liar.” Ben said. He knew you too well, a blessing and a curse. “C’mon—a secret for a secret.”

His permission had your own confession slipping from where it had been tucked away and spilling into the conversation. “I’m majoring in psychology and I’m going to study social work at NYU.” When Ben offered you a confused look, you humbly elaborated. “And, I mean, I know it’s not the same thing as your situation, but I haven’t told my parents about it either.”

The shame burned you, flames nipping at your neck. 

Ben drummed his fingers against the mug’s handle, his nails making a soft cling. “The motel…” he trailed off, mutual understanding replacing the rest of his words. 

Neither of you said anything else for a while, only taking small sips of coffee until you mustered up the energy to speak again. 

“I don’t think they’d kick me out either,” you said, “but that might not matter. Without me to take over, they’d have to sell the place anyway.”

Ben thought for a moment. A teardrop of coffee trickled down the lip to the base, staining the white porcelain with a hazel streak. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.” It was his turn to hold your hand, enveloping it in the comfort that can only come from a lifelong friend. “And if worse comes to worst, you can always bunk with me. As long as Eddie won’t mind,” he added with a mischievous edge. 

You rolled your eyes as the heaviness evaporated. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He raised his brows. “You didn’t see the look on his face when I hugged you. I thought he was gonna knock me into tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” you said evenly, swiftly pivoting the subject to his own romantic endeavors. But the image of Eddie getting upset when Ben hugged you tugged at your mind for the rest of the conversation. You’d initially thought he was irritated about Ben encroaching on his job, but the hug came well before the offer to help. 

Trying to figure out Eddie Munson, you realized, was like jamming a puzzle piece where it didn’t belong. He would remain an enigma until you found the right spot. 

Afternoon bled into night, the overcast skies resulting in a noticeable absence of stars. Rain had been threatening to fall all day, but the humidity still bogged down the clouds when Eddie walked into the lobby at ten-thirty.

“Hey,” he said, raising one hand in an enthusiastic half-wave. His eyes met yours for only a second before pulling away. “I’ll just grab the paper from the supply closet.”

You tossed him the key and he caught it, clenching it in his palm. He smiled, victoriously but fleetingly once he realized it wasn’t being returned. Defeated, he trudged over to the closet. You normally would have followed and helped, but you were held down by what you knew–what you might know, you reminded yourself.

“You, uh, didn’t set up,” he said, shaking out the drop cloth and positioning it against the molding.

“Didn’t know if you had another secret errand to run.” The retort left your lips before you could stop it, and you pinched them together in a belated attempt to quell your anger. 

Eddie bristled, his brush halfway in the vat of glue, but he quickly composed himself and got back to work. You focused your attention on your essay, scanning it for the millionth time in search of misplaced commas or missing words. 

Perfect. It needed to be perfect. 

Silence once again overtook the motel lobby, broken only by the sounds of Eddie slicing the wallpaper at the edges, not bothering to measure before adhering it to the exposed plaster, and the outside traffic. 

You were comfortable with the prolonged quiet, though admittedly less so than before Eddie arrived a few weeks ago, but it must have gnawed at him. He started humming after only fifteen minutes, an unfamiliar tune, smooth in some places and staccato in others. 

“Are you still mad at me or something?”

You loathed the way his voice startled you, your mind too deeply buried in your paper. It caused you to look up and lock eyes with him. His question was wrought with frustration, though you couldn’t tell if it was directed at you or at his own inability to decipher the situation. 

“No.” Yes. 

Eddie sighed and continued working. “Well, if you change your mind, just know that I’m sorry.”

His apology brought back memories of his previous attempt—though ‘attempt’ might be overstating it, and you didn’t want to bite back your response. “It isn’t me you need to apologize to.”

He didn’t bother turning to you when he spoke. “You’re talking about that Bill guy?”

“Ben,” you corrected him, willing yourself to unclench your jaw, “and yes. You were rude to him for no reason.” You pushed aside Ben’s explanation, an improbability in itself. 

“I had a reason.” Venom dripped from each word. “Trust me, I could’ve done worse things than hurt his feelings.” 

And as his grip tightened around the brush, one bluish vein bulging in his forearm, you remembered how gleeful he’d admitted to trashing the hotel. How Ben had said that Eisen’s looked as though someone took a baseball bat to it.

“The store was vandalized last night.” 

All of the oxygen in the room evaporated. Eddie’s unamused chuckle, low in his throat, fissured the silent tension and made it palpable. Real. “And you think I did it.”

“I never said that.” 

But you and he both knew that you didn’t have to; the slight tremor in your voice giving away your true intentions. Even if you weren’t outright accusing him, your tone had too much bite to be conversational.

He threw the brush to the ground and it landed against the cloth with an audible thud. “Whatever.” Another grim laugh, each step towards the desk had your heart sinking further into your chest. “Y’know, I’ve already had a pretty shitty week, and I thought talking to you could turn it around. Should’ve known better.” He wiped his palms on his blue jeans and procured a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, lighting one and taking a long drag. 

You could only imagine the restraint it took for him not to exhale a cloud of smoke directly in your face.

It was a replay of the situation with Izzy’s mother, the assumptions that steeled you against her before you’d ever met and had you painting her as a neglectful parent. Her palpable worry was a slap across your face, and you felt that same sting now with Eddie.

Ruined it. With one stupid comment, you’d obliterated all of the trust built between you. 

“Excuse me, but I have a very busy evening ahead of me,” he said, pointing the cigarette in your direction like an accusation of his own. “I’m supposed to commit arson in fifteen minutes, and if I have time, I might just murder someone.”

No doubt you were at the top of his list.

The realization of your mistake released an anchor of guilt down your stomach. You should have trusted your instincts, should have immediately eschewed any notion that he was the culprit.

You hated yourself for even considering it a possibility, let alone a probability.

“For a sophisticated city girl, you sure remind me of the small-town pricks I grew up with,” Eddie continued, spittle gathering at the corner of his lips. Rage burned in his eyes. “Guess none of those textbooks taught you how to ask questions, huh? Like, ‘Eddie, where were you last night?’ That might’ve been a good start.”

His words were submerged in a poisonous vitriol, purposefully launched with the intent to maim. And yet they weren't inherently aimed at you. Not all of them, anyway. 

In that moment, you were everyone who had ever accused him of a crime he hadn’t committed. You were the security guards who ‘kept an eye’ on him when he went shopping, the middle-aged women who scowled and clutched their pearls at his tattoos, the people in his hometown who wrote him off as a devil-worshiping freak. 

Guilty until proven innocent. 

The fingers on your left hand slotted between the gaps on your right and pressed into your palm, a distraction from the lump forming in your throat. Crying was not an option, it exposed your vulnerability and opened you up to further ridicule. The only thing worse than Eddie using your tears against you was if he took pity on you; there was no way you could handle that level of humiliation. 

“Eddie, I—” 

You’d finally found your footing in the conversation, and it was promptly clipped. “Just assumed that I was off breaking and entering. A little blue collar crime is nothing new for trailer trash like me, right?” He shook his head in faux disbelief. “Is this how you’re gonna treat your clients?”

That final comment was a lit match that ignited a powderkeg within you, and since you refused to shed a single tear, it exploded in the only other way possible.

“You,” you jabbed your finger into his chest, no longer caring about whatever professional boundaries you might be crossing. Those had flown out the window once he’d purposely dredged up your insecurities. “You are the one who bailed on your job with the lamest excuse I’d ever heard and expected me not to get suspicious.” Your heart beat double-time, pumping raw anger in lieu of blood. “And you are the one who bragged about trashing a hotel room when the manager had the audacity to enforce a rule.” 

Eddie took a small step back, your biting reply an arrow to the gut. Perhaps even he felt it, too; the way he’d taken his tirade over the line. Gray flakes fell from his cigarette and onto the desk, the ashy clump having grown too heavy for gravity. 

You weren’t done, despite his apparent surrender. “You’re not my client. And I’m not Nancy Drew, so don’t act like I’m responsible for solving your bullshit mysteries.”

His nostrils flared as he regained his composure. “Asking a question isn’t—” a door creaking open and subsequent irritated footsteps halted his retort. Both of you broke eye contact to watch as Phyllis padded up the hallway and into the lobby. Irritation accentuated her smeared-lipstick frown, and she pulled her robe across her body, tugging on the belt in frustration. 

“I don’t know what this little lovers’ quarrel is about,” she hissed through clenched teeth, dragging an arthritic finger between you and Eddie, “but it’s killing the mood. So if you could wrap it up, we’d greatly appreciate it.”

You nearly choked on your tongue, and pink splotches decorated Eddie’s stubbled cheeks. 

“We’re not—”

“It isn’t—”

But Phyllis had already stalked back to her room, never one to keep a gentleman caller waiting. 

Neither you nor Eddie said a word for a few seconds, the heat of embarrassment still nipping at your bodies. A lovers’ quarrel? Phyllis clearly had a convoluted sense of romance if she thought you and Eddie were lovers. 

Eddie shattered the silence first, mumbling something nearly unintelligible about needing an ashtray. The dam that restrained your snarkiness had apparently buckled and burst, because when he turned to leave, his back to you, you called out, “see how easy it is to tell me where you’re going?”

He stopped, the cigarette between his fingers now ash down to the filter, but he didn’t turn around. His voice was low in his throat, a slight tremor as he spoke. “That’s real rich, coming from the person whose parents think she’s going to school for hospitality.”

That was low, but unlike his comment about accusing your future clients, this one was true. There was nothing you could say in response, no rebuttal would suffice. You hated the way words stilled in your chest, wishing you could fling insult after insult about his failed music career, but you were simply too tired.

You managed to stave off your tears until he had fully rounded the corner, burying your head in your hands to muffle your sobs. Pathetic. That’s what you were: a pathetic mess, bold enough to start an argument but too cowardly to finish it. And so there you stood, elbows digging into the wooden desktop until splinters pierced your skin, the distance between you and Eddie growing with each passing second.

Holding your own with other guests was usually second-nature for you, but other guests weren’t Eddie. They weren’t hanging around the lobby and asking you about your hopes and dreams. They weren’t willingly offering up their most vulnerable selves just to reassure you. They weren’t tagging along on errands and turning ordinary subway rides into small adventures.

They also weren’t sneaking around and making watered-down excuses, then painting you as the bad guy for doubting their intentions.

Half of you ached to apologize; the other half wanted to toss him and his trash bag luggage to the curb and not look back.

Warm tears slid down the slope of your nose until you tasted their salt on your lips. Stopping them seemed an impossible task, your mind hovering above your body like a separate entity altogether. Your breaths were jagged and uneven, an irregular pattern of shallow inhales and strained exhales. 

There was no sense in throwing yourself a pity party, not when you got yourself into this mess. If you were going to wallow in your own misery, you could at least be productive while you cried. 

Eddie had barely started the re-wallpapering, so cleaning up was not a daunting task. You rolled the paper back around the tube, keeping it tightly wound for easier transport. It was clunky; you had to adjust it twice in the short distance to the closet, but you managed to get it there with it unraveling. 

A gentle scrape across the desk made you peek out from behind the closet door, your red-stained, swollen eyes landing on Eddie once again. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lower lip, his fingers clenched around the jet-black lighter you hadn’t noticed he’d left behind.

He saw you, too, his lips forming a tense smile. 

“Forgot this,” he said, holding up the lighter with a little shake. The jaded lines of his face softened when he clocked your tear-streaked cheeks, and that minor show of sympathy had you eager to crawl beneath a rock. 

You waited for him to say something, anything, but he just let his gaze fall to where you were twisting the lid back onto the glue. Tucking the cigarette behind his ear and covering it with a curtain of curls, he hoisted the bucket and brought it back to the supply closet.

“Thanks.” It was safe yet genuine, not an invitation for a conversation nor a dismissal. 

Eddie shrugged. “S’fine,” he lisped, the cigarette placed back between his lips as he lit it. “Needed to clean up anyway.”

Optimism—whatever you could muster up of it—rattled against your ribcage like a prisoner yearning for freedom. If he cared about cleaning up, maybe that meant he was going to finish the job another time. You didn’t dare ask him, only nodding your head in acknowledgment. 

Friends fight, right? Your nagging need for reassurance poised the question on the tip of your tongue, but your fear of looking desperate anchored it there. I didn’t ruin everything, did I?

The flick of the lighter sparked a flame, Eddie’s hand protectively cupped around it. “Well, um, g’night,” he said, giving an awkward half-wave. 

“Good night.” Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. But you didn’t manage that addendum, and Eddie retreated to his room. 

When you slept that morning, you dreamt that he turned back around. 

--

taglist (now closed ♥):

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

[kookygranger]

He’s just a grumpy boy with gooey lovey centre ☺️

Fairytale of Hawkins: Part One

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

A cheesy hallmark Christmas fic inspired by @bettyfrommars's tow truck!Eddie and prompts #1 & #6 from Betty and @allthingsjoeq's Holiday Prompt Party

Summary: You're spending Christmas in your best friend Robin's hometown this year, after spending far too many alone in the city. She can't wait to introduce you to the gang and all the wholesome festive activities they get up to, but you may have already made a not-so-good first (and second) impression on a certain metalhead in the first few days of your visit.

Warnings: mention of car crashing into snowbank (no damage), reader gets drunk (happy holidays!), reader doesn't have family, reader and Eddie are in their late 20s/early 30s, swearing

Word count: 4.4k

Author's note: I've spent far too long agonising over this when it's supposed to be silly and fun and not perfect, so please just have this first part and ignore me screaming into a pillow in the corner.

Part Two

6 Days 'Til Christmas

You really weren’t feeling the holiday spirit this year.

Not that you normally did.

Christmas for you, meant taking advantage of a quiet city, spending the hours alone walking the empty streets and having nothing but smoked salmon and champagne for dinner without feeling guilty. Sometimes (every Christmas), you’d let a corny Hallmark movie play on your TV and cringe and laugh at the predictableness of it all. Maybe, you’d be a bit quieter when the lovesick couple inevitably kissed at the end, maybe you’d pour yourself a little more champagne.

The aesthetic of the holiday season itself, you didn’t mind so much. The pretty twinkling lights, spiced hot drinks, and cookies you could take. But the frenzied crowds, all the talk of “goodwill” and “Christmas cheer”, when all you had to do was spend an hour in a department store to witness the real ugliness of humanity – hard pass. And let’s not forget Christmas day itself, either people would be spending it stuck with family, passive-aggressive comments and secrets coming out after the first few rounds of spiked punch, or they’d be forcefully and painfully reminded of just how lonely they were in this world.

The snow was nice. You secretly enjoyed the quiet and stillness a fresh blanket of snow could bring to the city. But out here in the sticks? Snow was your worst enemy.

Once your heart had settled back to a normal pace, you got out of the car to assess the damage. There was no smoke coming from places it shouldn’t, no visible scratches or dents that you could see – but there was also no way in hell that you were getting this car out of the snowbank you’d crashed into. At least the deer you swerved to avoid was probably off in the trees to your left with its family, living to frolic another day.

“Shit.”

You had no idea where you were. Already lost on the horrible directions your best friend Robin had given you before that damn deer came out of nowhere. The snow was coming down faster than the street plows could keep up with, your hair drenched in a few minutes as another shiver ran through your whole body.

Hawkins was cold. Like, freezing. You always thought winter was winter, but they really took it to another level here in the Midwest.

The day still had a little light left in it, but darkness was fast approaching. You decided the smart thing to do was wait in the car and hope that somebody driving by would be able to help. Or pretend to help before murdering you. Well, you didn’t think walking on a fairly deserted road in the middle of a snowstorm when you had no idea which direction to go would produce better results. So, you waited.

And waited.

Oh god, you were gonna die here all alone. You never should’ve let Robin talk you into coming home with her for Christmas. You could be happily wrapped up in blankets in your climate-controlled apartment with a warm mug of eggnog right now.

Wait! The rum you bought for making eggnog with Robin.

You scramble to reach over the car’s middle console, hands rummaging through the paper bags on the floor in the back until you find the smooth glass neck of a bottle.

The rum burns your throat on the way down with the first swig, but the edge is taken off soon after with a couple more swallows – the familiar warmth settling into your skin once you’ve polished off about a quarter of the bottle. You curl up into your seat, tucking your legs into your coat and holding the bottle of rum close to your chest.

Distracted by the fuzzy feeling seeping into your head and thoughts of which picture of you they’d use to announce your death on the local news, you don’t notice the sound of a truck approaching or its headlights shining across the back of your car.

Maybe Robin will give them a good one of you on vacation together in The Bahamas last year. God, you wish you’d gone somewhere warm instead.

You almost jump out of your skin, letting out an involuntary squeak when someone knocks on your window. Barely making out the shape of a man with wild hair through the condensation that had fogged up the glass.

“You alright in there?”

Please don’t be a murderer, please don’t be a murderer, please don’t be a murderer.

You open the car door and step out on shaky legs, almost stacking it when your feet are swallowed by a much thicker blanket of snow than you were expecting. The man reaches out to steady you, his hands engulfing your forearms as you look up at your rescuer. Or potential downfall. A black beanie covers the top of his head but does little to protect the rest of his wild curls that fall across his shoulders from the still falling snow. You briefly take note of the blue coveralls with a name sewn in red thread across his heart, before you’re sucked in by the worried look in his brown doe eyes.

“Are you alright?”

You nod, stuttering when you try and speak, gesturing to the car behind you and then to the road. “I–the car, there was a–and then, the ice just sort of…”

The stranger straightens up, the warmth from his hands leaving you as he eyes you wearily, “You been drink driving?”

“What? No! God, no…I–I,” you take a deep breath, trying to compose the thoughts that were tumbling too fast out of your mouth. God, he was pretty. “After I realised I wasn’t going anywhere,” you point to the front of the car, barely visible from the snow piled around it, “I may have opened a bottle of rum to keep warm.”

He scoffs a little meanly, “You realise that’s not how it works right? You actually lose heat faster when you’re drunk.”

A tingling warmth crawls up your neck at his scolding and you shrug, “Well, I thought if I was gonna die I might as well do it with a good buzz.”

He squints at you, his stare stony and you can’t tell what you’ve done to warrant this level of offence from a total stranger. Was he helping you or not? “You’re not from around here are you?”

You straighten up reflexively, shoulders going back in defence, “What makes you say that?”

He gestures vaguely to all of you, “Well, apart from the fact that you ooze city girl,” you frown, “it’s a small town. I woulda remembered you if you grew up here.”

He didn’t say it with a smirk or a sly look at your body. You knew it wasn’t meant as a compliment. Not a ‘you’re so pretty I would’ve remembered you’ but a ‘you stand out in all the wrong ways’.

“Okay, um,” you look around and notice his truck parked behind him, disbelief painting your face when you turn back to him and take in the ‘Munson Motors’ patch on the other side of his name. “Would you be able to help me?”

He answers with a frown as if the question itself is offensive. He has a tow truck and you're stranded on the side of the road in below-zero conditions. Of course, he’s going to help you.

Eddie, goes straight to work hooking up your car to the back of his truck, pulling it out of the snowbank and parking off to the side of the road again as you stand out of the way and watch, shivering now that the freezing outside air has begun to sober you up.

When he jumps back out of the truck to check your car is secure, he clears his throat, speaking to you like he's continuing a conversation, “How long you been out here?”

Your breath catches in a cloud of condensation as you exhale. “What’s the time?”

He pulls back the blue fabric of his left sleeve to check his watch, “Quarter past six.”

“Oh, um…a couple of hours I think.” It had been 45 minutes.

He nods as he gives a chain one final tug. “Guess no one’s come past ‘cause it’d be dumb to drive around in these conditions.”

You had to hold back from reflexively rolling your eyes. Here comes the mansplain.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be driving without chains on your tires.”

You huff, “Well, it’s not my car and I was only popping out to the store to get some groceries…an–and I got lost and then a deer just–” You wave your hand across the road stumbling over your words as the stupidly pretty tow truck driver turns to you and raises his eyebrows. “Forget it.” You sighed, “Is the car gonna be alright?”

Eddie licks his bottom lip, his intense gaze starting to heat you up again as he slowly nods. “The car will be fine. I can drop you and it off if you’ve got an address for me in town.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

***

A sigh leaves you as the warmth of the truck cab engulfs you, the smell of tobacco and the black ice magic tree hanging from the rearview mirror, along with something woodsy surrounding you on the inhale.

“Where to?” Eddie plops himself into the driver’s seat, pulling out onto the road as you give him Robin’s parent's address.

The ride there is mostly quiet, aside from the low hum of a Black Sabbath song coming out of the speakers, and you get the feeling Eddie the tow truck guy doesn’t take well to city girls getting themselves into sticky situations on his roads. You’re starting to feel a little silly yourself as the rum buzz well and truly wears off. This was a little too damsel in distress-y for your liking. You were an independent woman for god sake, the best solution you could come up with was getting drunk before an incredibly well-timed, handsome local had to come to your rescue?

As soon as Eddie pulls up to the curb he’s jumping out of the truck, clearly not wanting to spend another minute in awkward silence. You were never really good at small talk.

It isn’t until the passenger side door slams behind you that you notice the yelling.

“Oh my god! I thought you were for sure dead!”

Robin almost knocks you onto the sidewalk when she slams into you.

“Oh, I was so worried! I kept telling my dad, I think I told her the wrong directions. I told you to turn right on Maple when you should have turned left–“Her arms flail about in the air as she rambles in a panic and you just smile at her.

“Rob, I’m fine. I got to the shops okay in the end, it was getting back that was the problem. Then this deer ran out in front of me and I lost control when I swerved.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I almost killed you. You haven’t even been in town a full day!” She squishes your cheeks in between her hands, and you laugh.

Once she’s satisfied that you’re okay, she turns to Eddie as he walks up to the both of you. “Thanks for bringing my girl back alive Munson.” Robin beams and you notice Eddie’s eyes darting between the both of you, things clicking into place before she tackles him with a hug.

“Nice to see ya Buckley.” You hear Eddie mumble something into Robin’s hair and she laughs.

Figures. He was that Eddie. The metalhead with a heart of gold. Fantasy nerd that you were “going to love.” Obviously, your mind hadn’t immediately associated the grumpy tow truck driver Eddie with the one you’d heard hundreds of stories about, the one that was supposed to be warm and quick to welcome outsiders. Maybe it was just you?

“The car’ll be fine. Might just take a little while to warm up next time you go to start it, but if you have any issues just drop it by the shop.” He speaks directly to Robin as if it were her that he’d just rescued from the side of the road.

She thanked him with an affectionate punch to the shoulder and you tried to catch his eye before he turned away.

“Thanks again, for uh–for your help.”

He just nods, eyes briefly making contact with yours before they flit away again and he walks back to his truck.

“Don’t let her get lost again. It’s only gonna get colder over the next week.” He shouts before he slams his door shut behind him.

You turn to Robin who’s cheerily waving him off.

“Cold-er? It gets cold-er?!”

***

5 Days 'Til Christmas

“This is ridiculous.” Condensation forms around your huffs of breath, Jack Frost nipping at the tip of your nose and cheeks as you pull your coat tighter around you, stumbling slightly on the icy ground.

“The only thing ridiculous is your dress sense.” Robin giggles, pausing to let you catch up with her, arm linking with your own as you cross the car park together.

“This is my favourite coat.” You pout.

She shakes her head, “I know it is. And I know how much it cost, but we need to get you something sturdier and some thermals or something.” Her free hand rubs the thin, expensive material on your shoulder.

“Maybe, we should just stop leaving the house.” You grumble, causing Robin to knock her shoulder against yours.

“C’mon! I know we’re meeting everyone in a couple of days, but when Steve told me Jonathan and Nance we’re going to be at the bar tonight as well I thought it’d be the perfect opportunity for you to meet the grown-ups first.”

“Aren’t the kids at college now?”

You’d learnt a lot about Robin’s chosen family over the years. Having met Steve multiple times when he came to visit her in the city and been regaled by countless stories of the trouble they’d all gotten up to in high school.

“Yeah, but they’re not legal drinking age yet and it’ll be much easier meeting everyone else without them around trust me.”

The Hideout definitely wasn’t anything like the bars you frequented in the city, and you couldn’t help thinking about where you were a week ago – an office Christmas party that involved two-hundred-dollar bottles of champagne and coke in the marbled bathrooms – as your weather inappropriate shoes found the sticky floor and your nose wrinkled involuntarily at the smell, eyes wandering over the small crowd of mostly old men hunched over their half-empty drinks.

“Charming,” you murmur, Robin’s arm tightening its hold on you upon seeing her best friend waving at the both of you across the room.

“Hey dingus,” She ruffles Steve’s hair as you approach the group sitting around a small wooden table.

“Hey numbnut.” He was quick to push his hair back, everything but a lonely strand falling back into perfect place. Robin took an empty chair, while Steve captured you in a much-needed embrace, greeting you warmly and without a childish nickname.

He kept an arm around your shoulder as he introduced you to the three other occupants of the table. You shake Nancy and Jonathan’s hand, smiling at the way they held each other, but when you hold out your hand to their friend Argyle he just laughs and gets up to hug you with a “Come here my lil’ city slicker.” The scent of pineapple and pot clinging to you as you take a seat while Steve heads to the bar to get you and Robin a drink.

“Where’s Eddie?”

The pang that jolts you at Robin’s casual mention of her friend’s name is slightly concerning.

“He’s over there with the guys.” You follow Jonathan’s gesture to a group of boys standing next to a makeshift stage at the far end of the bar. A tousle of brown waves in a leather jacket stands with his back to you with three others dressed much the same, all drinking beer and laughing. You couldn’t see his face, but even from here you notice his shoulders look more relaxed than he was during your encounter yesterday.

Maybe you’d get to see the “warm” Eddie now that he wasn’t having to haul your car out of the snow.

Steve returns to your table with drinks and takes the seat next to you, reaching over your shoulders to pinch Robin when she complains about hers not having enough ice before letting his arm relax around you. Steve had seamlessly fit himself into your life when you first met just as he always did in any situation, and you knew that he could sense your nerves about meeting the rest of the group. You just hoped he didn’t pick up on any nerves about the presence of one in particular.

“Nice of you to join us Buckley.”

You tense as Eddie appears at the table and Steve squeezes your shoulder, smirking into his drink.

Never fucking mind.

“Oh my god, you guys I have to tell you all about Eddie’s hero moment yesterday!”

As Robin captures the attention of the group with a dramatic retelling of yesterday’s events, your eyes wander to your reluctant rescuer. He was yet to acknowledge your existence, only rubbing his neck and blushing when praise was thrown his way. His attention is mostly on Robin’s theatrics before it shifts, and you notice his gaze land on something by your shoulder. You look down at Steve’s hand still resting there and when you look back up your eyes catch shining, dark chocolate ones.

You’re the first to break the spell, eyes quickly landing on the table, unable to hold his intense stare.

When Robin finishes her story you excuse yourself to get another drink, having nervously gulped yours down already and you pass Steve on your way back to the table.

“Hey, can you give these to Eddie? He’s just outside. I need to take a leak, thanks.” He walks away quickly, leaving you with a packet of cigarettes in your hand.

***

Eddie stands with his back to you, leaning against the brick of the bar as you exit the swinging door, a blast of arctic air hitting you as you immediately wrap your arms around yourself.

“Hey.”

He spins around at the sound of your voice.

“Uh, Steve said you needed to borrow a smoke?” You hold up the pack.

He stares at you for a second before he lifts an unlit cigarette in between his fingers.

“I’m all good. Bummed one off Gareth.”

You nod and shove the carton in your coat pocket.

“You smoke?”

“God no, I value my lungs. These are Steve’s.” You shake your head and Eddie raises his eyebrows, pausing in his motion to light the cigarette now pursed between his lips, the yellow flame from his scuffed bic lighter flickering in the chilled breeze.

He releases his thumb from the lighter, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and frowning at it.

“So uh, I didn’t expect you and Buckley to show up tonight.”

You grip your coat tighter around you, it’s far too cold to be out here but you’re pleasantly surprised that he’s initiating conversation with you. “Oh yeah, Robin dragged me out of the house to come see some lame band. Personally, I think it’s too cold to do anything other than drink tea under a pile of blankets but–“

“Robin said they were lame?”

“What?”

“The band playing here tonight, she said they were lame?”

“No, she just mentioned that they’re here every Tuesday,” you look up at the neon signage hanging above the door, missing a ‘d’ with a barely flickering ‘o’ and shrug, “I figured–“

“Hey, Ed!” One of the boys Eddie had been standing with earlier pops his head out of the bar door, giving you a curt nod when you turn around. “You ready? We’re on in two.”

“Yeah, just give us a sec.”

The boy disappears back behind the door and you screw your eyes shut. Of course it was his band.

“Shit, Eddie I’m sor–“

“You always just say things without thinking?” His arms are crossed, eyes squinting at you in that offended disbelief that seemed to be reserved just for you and your big mouth.

You sigh, “Only around you apparently.”

You swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch. “Why’s that city girl?”

The nickname could almost pass as a term of endearment, the way it comes out of him in a drawl if it wasn’t for your terrible first and second impressions preceding you.

You shake your head, “Never mind. I’m gonna–“ You point your thumb behind your shoulder, “Yeah,” and walk back inside before you manage to say anything else idiotic, Eddie grinning after your retreating form.

***

You watch Eddie thrash about on stage under the haze of a couple of shots, needing a little liquid courage before you could throw yourself back into socialising – at least you seemed to be getting along with the rest of the group.

His skin was glowing with sweat under the cheap yellow stage lights, leather jacket abandoned so you could now see the tattoos peaking out from under his tattered old band shirt. One that hugged his biceps as they flexed with the ferocity of his guitar playing. Holy shit.

When he jumps off stage and approaches his friends, you can’t take your eyes off the damp hair that sticks to his neck and forehead.

“You guys were amazing.”

He bows his head at your compliment. The two of you now slightly off to the side of the rest of the group as they figure out whose round it is. “Not lame then?”

“No,” you shake your head, “no, I shouldn’t have–that was shitty of me to judge without hearing you. To judge, full stop. I’m not like that normally. I know you think I’m just some city girl who’s completely out of touch but I’m just–I got a bit nervous about meeting you all and making a good impression for Robin. I’m sorry.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “S’nothin’ to apologise for. Not like we’re playing The Garden or anything.”

“That doesn’t matter.” You frown, “You’re great–I mean the band are great–I can tell that you all love playing up there no matter the audience. That’s what’s important.”

“Thanks.” His soft tone and doe eyes threaten to swallow you whole. You look away, burning up under his attention again.

“You’re welcome.”

“We’re playing pool now, I need you on my team c’mon.” Robin wraps her arms around you and drags you away before Eddie gets the chance to keep you talking.

***

“Wait, Steve! You’re not driving?” You cringe at Robin’s slurred volume as she shouts across the small car park, thankful this isn’t a residential area.

“Pfft no! I’ve had way too many. I’m going in Nance’s car.” She glares at her best friend as he follows Jonathan and Argyle, waving her off.

“How are we getting home?!” She raises her arms in exasperation and turns to you as if you’d be able to offer a solution, the creaking of the bar door opening behind you grabbing both of your attention as Eddie steps out. He stops short, car keys coming to a halt mid-swing when he notices eyes on him.

“Eddieeee.” Robin sing-songs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. His eyebrow quirks up. “Fancy dropping off two gorgeous young girls and making sure they get home safe?” She leans her head into yours and you giggle.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yeah whatever, get in.”

Robin turns away abruptly to head towards his van, leaving you to stumble without the support, Eddie’s warm hands brace your arms before you even have time to think.

“You good?”

You nod, “Had a lot to drink.”

He huffs a laugh as you sway, breath stuttering when you look up at him, “Yeah, you did.”

The snow that falls around you two lands softly on your face, melting in your hair and on your eyelashes as you crinkle your nose.

“It’s so cold.”

He licks his bottom lip, “Right, right let’s get you home yeah?”

***

Despite Robin’s clumsy nature she always manages to stay light on her feet when she’s drunk. So, by the time Eddie pulls up to the Buckley residence she’s shooting out of the van, cackling at her own joke while you’re still trying to undo your seatbelt. Eddie tells you to stay still before he jogs to the passenger side and unhooks you, holding onto your arm as you step down onto the ground on wobbly legs.

“Where’s Robin?” You look around, the front yard frosted in snow that’s warmed by yellow fairy lights hanging around the edges of the house, but noticeably void of your charmingly sassy friend.

“She’s already inside. Here, let me get you to the door.”

His hands help steady you, guiding you to safety up the icy path, one stretching over your lower back the other holding your elbow. You hadn’t noticed his rings before now, silver glinting under the lights now directly above you as you walk up to the front porch. These hands adorned in skulls seemed to keep coming to your rescue. But you don’t need some hot tow truck, sexy guitarist guy coming to your rescue. You’re a capable, independent woman.

You feel Eddie’s breath on the back of your neck when he laughs softly.

“You think I’m sexy huh?”

You frown as you stop at the front door, shaking your head “What, why would you think that?”

“’Cause you just said it.”

“Out loud?!”

He snickers as you bury your face in your hands, “I have to stop drinking around you.”

Eddie bites his lip as you slip through the front door mumbling a good night and close it behind you without another glance at his smug face. He’s still smiling as he turns the ignition, the radio on low as Fairytale of New York fills his van with warmth. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head before pulling away from the curb, this fuzzy feeling in his chest not something that’s familiar to him.

“Fuck.”

#reblog reply #fairytale of hawkins

[kookygranger]

Hehe I’m so glad it tickled you. Made me laugh writing it ❤️‍🔥

what is my boyfriend towtruck!Eddie doing on this fine 4/20 weekend?

Haha, I’m the worst person to ask this, @storiesbyrhi can vouch, but I’m so glad you did. If we don’t include our own experiences in our stories then who are we? 

For you and our tow truckin' boy @bettyfrommars ✨

Warnings: 18+ thank you, swearing, mentions of masturbation, drug use

On this rare Saturday with nothing on your to-do list that couldn’t be put off, you’d decided to take advantage of the miserable weather and curl up with a book. 

That’s where you were when your phone rang. Tangled in blankets, a warm mug of tea on your bedside table, your apartment lit in warm lighting from the strategically placed lamps around the place.

Your head was still in the story that had captured you for hours when you answered.

“Heello?”

“Hey, baby.”

“Eddie.” Your voice lifts in soft recognition, but the boy is hardly anymore grounded than you in this moment. “Did you just get off?” You place your book pages down in your little nest and glance at the rain still pelting your windows, hoping Hawkins was a little more dry today.

“Well, uh…that’s kinda what I’m calling about.” 

His tone helps you drift back to reality, back straightening at the hazy slur of his words. 

“…are you high?”

You can practically hear the goofy grin over the line, “Wellll, it is four twenty.”

You glance at the red numbers on your alarm clock, “It’s 6:48.” Shit, you should really get something together for dinner. The breathy laugh that escapes him makes you smile.

“No, baby. I mean like, it’s the 20th of April. Four twenty, get it? I guess I forgot how much you hate holidays.”

“That’s not a thing,” you laugh. 

“It is! Very important holiday to us wasters I’ll have you know.”

There’s a pause as you search through your memories of the boy you’d only known briefly albeit intensely. “Eddie, I don’t know…I’ve never seen you smoke, I had no idea.”

You hear a shuffle on the other end of the line, and you imagine him straightening up in his bed as his voice becomes serious. 

“Oh, well yeah–it’s kinda like what I’m known for. I used to…” he clears his throat, “Well actually I dealt in high school. I guess Robin never told you that. I mean I don’t now! And I barely smoke anymore–well compared to what I used to–I’d never while I was working obviously–“

Your giggles cut off his rambling, “Eddie relax, I don’t care.” His exhale of relief shoots through your ear.

“Shit, sorry I panicked for a second there.” You laugh again. “Guess I’ll just have to bring some stuff up next time I see you sweetheart.”

“Oh, well…”

“Robin I don’t feel good.” Oh god there it is. How is this supposed to be a good feeling? “Oh my god you’re so pale.” “This feels really weird.” Are you sitting up or lying down? Why can’t you feel your shoulders? Have you ever been able to feel your shoulders? Are you sitting up or laying down? “Oh shit, I think you’re greening out.” “I’m gonna throw up.” “I don’t know what to do!”

“I tried it once and I don’t think it’s for me.”

“Bummer,” Eddie mumbles, “I thought it’d be good for your…”

“High functioning anxiety and chronic pain? Yeah me too.”

“Shit, sweetheart.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. I’m content with a cocktail at the end of the day.” 

The playfulness in Eddie’s voice returns and you can just picture the dimples that punctuate his next words, “Well you can have one now and we could uh, talk.” You’re about to ask him what he thinks you’re doing now. “You know I’ve been thinking about two things all day.” His voice drops an octave, sending a tingle down your spine.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Ever since I got in that truck this morning all I could think about was clocking off when I could roll one and talk to you.”

It’s almost cute. Your initial reaction is lovesick, but there’s something in his tone that’s throwing you off. 

“Wait…Eddie are you trying to have phone sex?”

“…no?”

You cackle, “You are! That’s why you called me high off your ass.”

“It’s one joint baby, calm down.” He’s defensive. Bummed that his plan didn’t work.

“All of this ‘cause of a made up stoners holiday?”

“No! I just miss you alright?! Is that such a crime? Wanted to hear your voice instead of just imagining it like always.” You almost don’t catch the last sentence over your laughing.

“Aw, you think about me when you jerk off?”

He scoffs, “Of course I do. Don’t–don’t you?”

You hum, “Yeah like 95 percent of the time.”

“What?!”

“You know how I feel about Christian Slater.”

“Whatever, I’m just gonna hang up and enjoy my time in peace alright.”

“Aw no! Wait, I love you, jerk off to me talking about my day.”

“Fuck you.” 

Your laughter turns into hysterics when the phone rings eight seconds after he hung up. 

“I didn’t mean that.” 

“I know you didn’t. Shall we start again?”

“Yes, please.” 

“Hey Eds. Did you just get off?”

More towtruck!Eddie and city girl here ✨

#towtruck!eddie #reblog reply

[kookygranger]

what is my boyfriend towtruck!Eddie doing on this fine 4/20 weekend?

Haha, I’m the worst person to ask this, @storiesbyrhi can vouch, but I’m so glad you did. If we don’t include our own experiences in our stories then who are we? 

For you and our tow truckin' boy @bettyfrommars ✨

Warnings: 18+ thank you, swearing, mentions of masturbation, drug use

On this rare Saturday with nothing on your to-do list that couldn’t be put off, you’d decided to take advantage of the miserable weather and curl up with a book. 

That’s where you were when your phone rang. Tangled in blankets, a warm mug of tea on your bedside table, your apartment lit in warm lighting from the strategically placed lamps around the place.

Your head was still in the story that had captured you for hours when you answered.

“Heello?”

“Hey, baby.”

“Eddie.” Your voice lifts in soft recognition, but the boy is hardly anymore grounded than you in this moment. “Did you just get off?” You place your book pages down in your little nest and glance at the rain still pelting your windows, hoping Hawkins was a little more dry today.

“Well, uh…that’s kinda what I’m calling about.” 

His tone helps you drift back to reality, back straightening at the hazy slur of his words. 

“…are you high?”

You can practically hear the goofy grin over the line, “Wellll, it is four twenty.”

You glance at the red numbers on your alarm clock, “It’s 6:48.” Shit, you should really get something together for dinner. The breathy laugh that escapes him makes you smile.

“No, baby. I mean like, it’s the 20th of April. Four twenty, get it? I guess I forgot how much you hate holidays.”

“That’s not a thing,” you laugh. 

“It is! Very important holiday to us wasters I’ll have you know.”

There’s a pause as you search through your memories of the boy you’d only known briefly albeit intensely. “Eddie, I don’t know…I’ve never seen you smoke, I had no idea.”

You hear a shuffle on the other end of the line, and you imagine him straightening up in his bed as his voice becomes serious. 

“Oh, well yeah–it’s kinda like what I’m known for. I used to…” he clears his throat, “Well actually I dealt in high school. I guess Robin never told you that. I mean I don’t now! And I barely smoke anymore–well compared to what I used to–I’d never while I was working obviously–“

Your giggles cut off his rambling, “Eddie relax, I don’t care.” His exhale of relief shoots through your ear.

“Shit, sorry I panicked for a second there.” You laugh again. “Guess I’ll just have to bring some stuff up next time I see you sweetheart.”

“Oh, well…”

“Robin I don’t feel good.” Oh god there it is. How is this supposed to be a good feeling? “Oh my god you’re so pale.” “This feels really weird.” Are you sitting up or lying down? Why can’t you feel your shoulders? Have you ever been able to feel your shoulders? Are you sitting up or laying down? “Oh shit, I think you’re greening out.” “I’m gonna throw up.” “I don’t know what to do!”

“I tried it once and I don’t think it’s for me.”

“Bummer,” Eddie mumbles, “I thought it’d be good for your…”

“High functioning anxiety and chronic pain? Yeah me too.”

“Shit, sweetheart.”

You shrug, “It’s okay. I’m content with a cocktail at the end of the day.” 

The playfulness in Eddie’s voice returns and you can just picture the dimples that punctuate his next words, “Well you can have one now and we could uh, talk.” You’re about to ask him what he thinks you’re doing now. “You know I’ve been thinking about two things all day.” His voice drops an octave, sending a tingle down your spine.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Ever since I got in that truck this morning all I could think about was clocking off when I could roll one and talk to you.”

It’s almost cute. Your initial reaction is lovesick, but there’s something in his tone that’s throwing you off. 

“Wait…Eddie are you trying to have phone sex?”

“…no?”

You cackle, “You are! That’s why you called me high off your ass.”

“It’s one joint baby, calm down.” He’s defensive. Bummed that his plan didn’t work.

“All of this ‘cause of a made up stoners holiday?”

“No! I just miss you alright?! Is that such a crime? Wanted to hear your voice instead of just imagining it like always.” You almost don’t catch the last sentence over your laughing.

“Aw, you think about me when you jerk off?”

He scoffs, “Of course I do. Don’t–don’t you?”

You hum, “Yeah like 95 percent of the time.”

“What?!”

“You know how I feel about Christian Slater.”

“Whatever, I’m just gonna hang up and enjoy my time in peace alright.”

“Aw no! Wait, I love you, jerk off to me talking about my day.”

“Fuck you.” 

Your laughter turns into hysterics when the phone rings eight seconds after he hung up. 

“I didn’t mean that.” 

“I know you didn’t. Shall we start again?”

“Yes, please.” 

“Hey Eds. Did you just get off?”

More towtruck!Eddie and city girl here ✨

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #towtruck!eddie #she writes

[kookygranger]

🥹🥹🥹

That’s all I have to say at this time.

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; light smut; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: You are wide awake. 2340 words.

1986

Every day Eddie watched the jar. He watched how the moon water moved, alive and with a viscosity different from regular water. He watched the apple slices dry and the sprigs of lavender go stiff. He thought if he watched closely enough, he’d see the magic working, but he never caught a glimmer of craft.

When it was time, you let him plant the enchanted seed in the new coven neighbourhood. Your home would grow furthest out, close to the shade of the woods. A spell later, you were traveling back to Forest Hills to begin packing the trailer up.

It had been months since you’d moved in, therefore you had accumulated a lot of items.

“Do you need all of these?” Eddie asked, holding up one of five shoeboxes, all packed with feathers you had found. “And is this a normal amount of feathers to find? What is wrong with the birds in Hawkins?”

“Yes and no and a lot. I told you that if you are gonna help, you can’t question every single thing you pick up,”

“I’m doing no such thing,” he rebutted.

“Eddie, you told me to cull my jar collection,”

“I stand by it. There are too many. You can collect more,”

“I use them! Frequently! And I don’t just keep any jar. All the ones I have are, like, uniquely shaped or extra sturdy!” you whined. “Asking a witch to not collect jars is just…” You shook your head, not able to find the words to express the atrocity.

Eddie smiled at you softly. “Perhaps I am not the best helper,” he conceded. “Perhaps my time would be better spent doing something else,”

“Something else like use your vampire speed to clean the bathroom, or something else like turn into a bat and sleep?”

An hour later, Eddie was asleep in one of the boxes containing clothes, and you were wrapping more empty jars in bubble wrap.

…

A monument to witchcraft and love. That’s what Eddie thought when he saw the house. It had the glorious drama of Ev’s Victorian home and the softness of the other witches’ cottages. Expansive stained glass windows. Detailed architraves, the wood so dark it appeared black. Red brick. A single-story structure, but the dome of a conservatory was visible over the roof. It extended back into the woods, settling into the landscape as if it had always been there.

Eddie thought back to all the places he had lived in. The house his father’s rage felt the brunt of as much as he did. The farm he came into adulthood on. The colony caves. The cold and lonely hotel rooms. The trees above Forest Hills. He’d never had a home, apart from your arms, but there it was. Real and in front of him.

The sun was setting over the valley as Eddie stood before the house. You’d seen it early that day, doing your final checks before okaying the move. It was your magic the house grew from, so naturally you were less awestruck by it. The floorplan and aesthetic had been born in your mind. Still, it was a beautiful thing.

“Think it will do?” you asked Eddie, coming to stand beside him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. “It’s…” How many different words were there for ‘home,’ he wondered. What language could fully communicate the depth of emotion?

“Enchanted seeds create homes, not houses,” you told him as you walked towards the front door. “Come and see.”

Eddie followed, almost expecting something to happen as he crossed the front door threshold. Once inside, Eddie clenched his jaw. It was more perfect than he could have anticipated.

The furniture was plush and comfortable, an eclectic mix of antique pieces and modern amenities. Bookshelves stood tall and waiting, ready for the library to arrive. Potted ivy trailed up and around curtain railings and along the walls.

“You never got to see my place in the Catskills. A lot of the furniture comes from there. The rest comes from the seed… It’s the kind of magic that makes me wish we could study it, you know? I want to know the science of it. How does it work?”

“It seems to me that part of the power of magic is in the unknowing,” Eddie replied, as wise as any of the Witches Who Came Before.

“It does appear to be the case,” you agreed.

For a while, you let Eddie wander aimlessly through the house.

He marvelled at the bath, huge and round, like a pond and definitely big enough for two. A huge wardrobe door that opened into a secret library. The conservatory full of thriving plants, flowers, herbs, and other living things Eddie did not have a word for. Every window a different shape but never square. Strange detailing like cat shaped doorknobs and pink quartz basins.

Eventually, Eddie sat on the end of the huge bed, its four posts grand and its linen crisp. He looked over at you and held out his hands.

“Come.”

You walked to him, taking his hands, and standing between his legs. Eddie looked up at you with those sparkling brown eyes, the adoration radiating from him.

“It’s an irrational idea, this fear I have that I’m dreaming. That I am still cursed, haunting this town until the end of time. But a vampire cannot dream. The cursed cannot dream. But still…”

Gently, you let go of Eddie’s hands and leaned into him, snaking your fingers into his hair as he pressed himself into your body, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You are wide awake. Alive… kind of… But definitely here. With me. In our home. Soon-to-be, with our friends. Our family. And just in time for Halloween.”

He purred a happy sound, nodding into you. “A witch’s favourite holiday?” he hazarded a guess.

“Hmm, not all of us. Most of the witches I’ve known tended to find more obscure holidays to worship at the altar of. New Years is a big one, too. Alas, I am but a cliché All Hallows witch,”

“With much respect, I see that,” Eddie said. You laughed, shrugged. He looked up at you again. “You did fall in love with a vampire, after all.”

…

Far away from the rest of the world, you and Eddie spent almost a week settling into the new house. Grimoires were catalogued into one of the three library rooms. Dandelion puffs were jarred and shelved. Every trinket found its home.

Eddie tested the rainbow light that flooded the rooms, discovering that in the magic there was safety. Sunlight that filtered through the windows did not burn him. He could be free and at ease.

You explained to Eddie the importance of representing the elements within the home. Earth in the plants, wooden carpentry, and the grounding crystals. Fire in the candles, ever-burning incense, and roaring fireplaces that only ever emitted the exact level of heat you wanted.  (“In summer, the flames burn cold,” you told Eddie and watched his smile grow.) Water in the mirrors, seashells, and small fountains found in the glasshouse room. Lastly, air in the wind chimes, feathers, and windows that could remain open without upsetting the temperature inside.

During the day, you began work on your garden, creating flower beds in the shape of pentagrams and sewing seeds. Borage for the butterflies and bees, primrose – I can’t live without you; angelica in case you need to break any future hexes; and yarrow, amaryllis, and polypodies.

One evening, just before sunset, you found Eddie rummaging through the apothecary pantry. As you entered the room, his manic smile told you he’d had an idea.

“What’s the story, morning glory?” you asked him, perching on a stool.

Eddie sunk to his knees and shrugged. “The fires are out… The Shire is no longer burning,”

“The Shire being… Hawkins?”

“Yes. And us. We’ve sailed to the Undying Lands,”

“You’re really making Tolkien your whole personality, huh?” you joked.

Eddie smiled up at you. “Until the next book… But what I’m saying is, now that we do not have a battle to prepare for. No conflict upon the horizon. What do we do with all of eternity?”

“Oh… My plan was to eat a lot of Meg’s cinnamon rolls… Try to get Steve Harrington to stop haunting Mel… Maybe work on a spell to make myself teeny tiny so I can ride around on you when you’re a bat…”

“Wait, seriously?”

You gave him a sly smile. “Maybe,”

“Well, I would love that… But, I was thinking a little more introspectively. Back to things we have thought about before. Like, why I am the way that I am… What that means…” He ran a finger along the leaves of the mimosa pudica plant beside him. The leaves felt his touch, curled inwards on themselves. It was one of Eddie’s favourites, the way it reacted to the world around it.

“Any new insights?” you asked softy.

“No… But… If I believe in you and in your magic and the way you make sense of the world… then I… I have to do something,”

“Do something?”

“We get back what we give, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It’s not always obvious or direct. Or timely. Or even equally fair… But, yeah… There is definitely something like the concept of karma at play. And even if there isn’t, living as if there is can only be a good thing,”

“Then I must show more grace… and gratitude… Even if I am a monster, maybe especially because I am… I can give goodness too.”

Without thinking, you slid off the stool and joined Eddie on the floor. “You already do. You don’t owe the world anything.”

Eddie smiled, first a small soft thing, almost sad, but then it twisted into something else. Ear-to-ear and full of teeth. “I owe it more than one life,”

“But if we count all the lives you have saved. Both by killing what plagued this town, and by preventing deaths at the hands of bad people-”

“Morality cannot be simple addition and subtraction. There is no math that can quantify goodness or righteousness. You know that,” Eddie cut in. He watched your face, saw the pensiveness blossom across it. “Don’t worry, my little witch, my plan is not as life-or-death as this all makes it seem… I just want to do something good for your friends,”

“Your friends,” you corrected quickly. “They’ll be your friends too. Your family. You’re part of this coven.”

Eddie reached out to cup your face in his hands. “Your coven is yours. But I will take the friendship. I have years of loneliness to make up for,”

“Then what-”

He cut you off again, this time with a kiss. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, draping your arms around his neck. Eddie pulled you into his lap and you curled into him like the leaves of the mimosa.

His mouth kissed and sucked at your neck between sentence fragments. “I’m-” kiss “going-” kiss “to plant-” lick “them-” kiss “flowers.” His punctuation a kiss that wanted to be a bite.

You were hardly listening to his words. His words and ideas and introspective musings could all wait.

Eddie laid you down on the floor, the smell of the oak still new. You arched your back and pulled him down by his collar.

“Bed,” you mumbled into his mouth.

“Why build a house if we’re not gonna use it,” he answered.

One hand splayed next to your head to keep him up, the other tickling its way under the hem of your skirt and up your thigh.

“Besides,” Eddie said. “Doesn’t feel like you can wait.” He was sliding your underwear off, throwing them across the room. He rested a hand on you, sliding an index finger through your slickness.

“I can’t,” you agreed, breathy and impatient. “Now. I want you now.”

Eddie didn’t have to be asked twice. With his pants still hanging from an ankle, he was fast to set up and slow on approach. You felt the tip of him follow the path made by his hand, gathering wetness, and shooting electricity through your body.

You melted into jelly beneath him, bliss written all over your face. Eddie loved you like this, pliable and prone to tears of ecstasy.

He held himself back, keeping his pace slow and steady. His vampire muscles screamed to go faster, to rail you into next week, but he liked pulling you apart. Liked how you unconsciously uttered strings of words like ‘full’ and ‘please’ and ‘can’t.’ Liked when you clawed at him to come closer, bit down on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he told you, mouth on your ear, tongue licking. “So. Fucking. Much.”

There was a seemingly endless amount of ways Eddie had learned could make you cum. Talking to you was a favourite for you both.

“You’re so perfect, so perfect… You feel so perfect… You’re so warm and soft and I… I want to eat you whole…”

Your response was in the pooling tears and the nodding and the slack jaw. The begging, “Please. Please.”

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” It was all it took. Your orgasm exploded moments before his. Eddie’s thrusting getting harder and faster for the few seconds he took to follow you. He had to grind his teeth together to stop himself from ripping into your neck.

You kept your eyes closed, not aware of your surroundings. When you felt Eddie’s arms slide beneath you, you smiled and hummed. He carried you to your new bed, cleaning your skin with a warm washcloth before curling himself in behind you.

With the last of your day’s energy, you tangled your fingers through his, falling asleep happily.

As Eddie listened to your breathing find its mellow night rhythm, he saw a vision of you in his mind. Hands full of flowers and foliage. A coven of audience. Glorious and beaming. 

End Note: I made a small Pinterest board with inspo for their house - click here to view.

I hope you are all as well as any of us can be at a time like this. I hope this story continues to provide comfort, escapism, and fuel for daydreams. xo Rhi

Fic Taglist:  @paranoidmunson  @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03 @moviefreak1205 @pastel-pillows

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

[kookygranger]

Bestfriend Eddie giving you his favorite ring when you have to go out of town.

It’s only for a couple of weeks, but because the boy is so lovesick, he insists that you have a piece of him whoever you go- “think of it as a good luck charm, babe.”

Your cheeks heat under his warm gaze as he practically towers over you, standing so close. You’d miss him dearly- how could you not, but you’d promised him you’d call every night.

Your knees nearly buckle when he throws you a wink and you relent, accepting his offer. “O-okay, Eds,” you stammer, “although I think you should have something of mine, too.”

You remove one of your favorite earrings and place it into his palm, “you can hold onto this,” you grin, “I know you’ll take care of it.” You smile up at him, proudly sporting the ring he’d given to you.

He carefully cradles the diamond before closing his hand and safely tucking it away, giving you a long, bone-crushing hug and a kiss to your crown. “Of course I will, sweetheart.”

Two weeks later when he’s picking you up from the airport, he throws your bags in the van, and all but runs to pull you into him, when you stop him in his tracks.

A familiar glimmering stud shines brightly from his earlobe.

“Eds…did you go and get your ear pierced while I was away?!” You ask, tucking his hair to the side to get a better look.

“Well sort of… I did it myself. Just wanted to be able to take a piece of you with me everywhere, too.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

[kookygranger]

but I didn’t realize suffering was a competition

[kookygranger]

strangerprompts: turn back time |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: #8 you step into a hole-in-the-wall bar for a drink and suddenly find yourself in a different decade.

from strangerprompts writing challenge made by @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing <3 this was so fun!!! please check it out and consider writing for yourself!

warnings: language. time travel. but nothing crazy.

“It should be illegal.” You huff, nails digging into the leather of your steering wheel. The GPS shouted at you another robotic turn, drumming out the sound of your roommate on the other line. 

“I mean, seriously? Making me travel alone to- to the middle of nowhere. Ro, I’m not even kidding, it looks like the town Deliverance was filmed in. It’s the middle of nowhere.” You scoff, looking at the rundown building passing by you, all crumbling with desperate need of a renovation. 

“No, it can’t be Deliverance. They didn’t have hotels there.” Roslyn snicker floated through your car’s speakers. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.” 

“It is.” You grumbled. “And then they want us to meet at this bar for mingling. I don’t even know if I’m going to the right place!” You threw your hands up, smacking them on the steering wheel dramatically, turning it as the GPS announced you’d arrived. 

The Hideout- or at least, that’s what you could make out from the peeling sign above the building. “Jesus Christ, I’m getting murdered.” You muttered, sending Ro howling in laughter. “I’m not even joking. I’m about to be a topic on a fucking podcast.” 

“Stop.” Roslyn wheezed through laughter. “You’re not gonna get murdered.” 

“I don’t- This place doesn’t even look open.” You exhaled sharply, flicking through your phone, ensuring this was the right place. “Ro, you have to swear to me if I get murdered, you’ll make sure the true crime freaks won’t make Etsy merch about me.” 

“Calm down,” Ro laughed. “You’re not gonna get murdered. It’s just not the hipster ass bars you’re used to.” 

“No,” You muttered, locking your door quickly, clutching your purse to your side. “I really might. Stay on the phone with me.” 

“What?” Roslyn’s voice broke through the static. “I can’t- You’re cutting ou-” 

“Fuck.” You hissed, looking down at your phone as you climbed the stairs. Call Failed flashing back at you, no bars to be found. 

Turn around, get back in your car, and say fuck it. You do not need this job this bad. 

Yes, you actually do. 

A painful reminder of your maxed credit card, student loans, and rent flashed before your eyes, silencing your bitter thoughts. Sliding your phone into your purse, you clung to the strap tightly.

“Just stay fifteen minutes, then say you feel sick.” You muttered to yourself, reaching for the rusted handle. 

The entryway was dark, eerily quiet to be a bar. You almost thought it wasn’t one, if it wasn’t for the bright neon sign shining at the end. Welcome! Glowing in blinding red letters, underneath it in blue, the piercing glow that read: Stay A While. 

“So weird.” You muttered, your arms wrapping around yourself. 

The air turned colder with every step you took, following the bright signs- the only source of light, down the dark hallway. Your heart hammered in your ears, clutching your purse close to you. Just as you were about to panic, chest swelling with fear, veins icy as the air- you heard it. 

A muffled roar of an electric guitar, a tiny sliver of golden light peering beneath the heavy door. You pushed the door open, met with a sudden wave of warmth, the dim lights of the bar blinding you still. 

“Watch it, sweetheart.” A man with a tray of beers muttered, swiveling past you. 

“Sorry,” You squeaked, looking around the crowded dive bar. You scanned the packed tables for anyone from the conference, shimmying in between tables, peering over teased hair for anyone. 

“Fuck me,” You huffed, settling at a sticky bar booth, still littered with half drank beers and peanuts- the only one available. “No way I’m the first one.” 

You plopped your purse on to the seat of the booth, an iron grip still on the strap. You could feel the cutting glances still cast on you from the others, they’d had followed you from the moment you walked in. Judgemental, all accompanied with a lifted brow. 

Should look in the mirror, You thought bitterly, rummaging through your purse. They’re the ones wearing that outdated, ugly shit.

“Where the fuck- I know I put it in here.” You muttered, taking out the wrappers, your wallet, desperately trying to find your phone. 

“‘Scuse me,” You jumped, eyes wide when you looked up, clutching your purse to your chest. 

Dark eyes met yours, a dimpled smile joining them. “Sorry,” The man lifted his hand carefully, the other balancing a black bucket stacked with glasses. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to see if it was ok if I clear this outta the way for you?” 

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” You muttered bashfully. “Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” 

A ringed hand passed in front of you, the light catching in the skull before it grabbed a glass. You moved back to your purse, furiously checking each pocket, chest growing tighter and tighter with fear. 

“You alright?” The busboy asked, swiping another glass, stacking it into the bucket with a soft rattling clank. 

“Yeah- I mean, not really.” You turned, head craning towards the door. “I think I lost my phone in that hallway.” 

“Hallway?” He laughed, his name tag flashing towards you- Eddie, decorated with sharpie drawn bats and devil horns. “Phone’s on the wall over there.” Eddie nodded towards the bar, an old dial up phone mounted there, a sign that the charge is a quarter above it. 

Your brows creased. You didn’t even know those things worked, you always assumed they were decoration for the… edgy aesthetic of the place. 

“No, I mean my cell phone.” You shook your head lightly. “I think I dropped it in that hallway back there.” You pointed towards the swinging door. 

Eddie frowned at you, stilling as his eyes scanned your features. “Are you- Are you feeling ok?” He asked. 

“What?” You snapped defensively. 

“Did someone slip something in your drink or something?” Eddie asked carefully. “Gotta be careful with those old guys. They look harmless but they’re gnarly-” 

“-What? No.” You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I-I haven’t even had a drink. I just got here. I’m supposed to meet some people from a conference, but I can’t find my phone-” 

“-Your phone?” Eddie’s nose crinkled in confusion. 

“Yes. My phone.” You barked in irritation. “My cell phone?” 

Eddie blinked at you. “What is that European?” He shrugged. 

“What? Are you fucking with me-” 

“-No,” Eddie held his hands up. “No, I just- I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He laughed nervously. “And I mean you’re dressed… different. Not that it’s bad!” He added frantically. 

“I just assumed you were European or something. Not from here anyways.” Eddie muttered, leaning against the table. 

You blinked. It felt like you were in a dream, like everything you were saying was mute, confusing, in Wonderland and entirely discombobulated. 

“You… You don’t have cell phones here?” You asked slowly. 

Eddie shook his head, curls bouncing. “Nope. Not here, sweetheart. Hasn’t made its way to Hawkins, Indiana yet, but sounds pretty-” 

“-What?” You hissed, chest booming with a fear filled ache, sure your heart had stopped entirely. “What did you just say?” 

Eddie’s face fell, his flirtatious grin disappearing. “Hawkins? Indiana?” He said slowly, eyes narrowing when your face paled. “Hey, are you ok? Did you take something?” 

“N-No, I-I don’t- I d-didn’t-” 

“-Look,” Eddie slid into the booth beside you. “You’re not gonna scare me off if you did somethin’, alright? I’m not nearly as conservative as these other bogus losers.” 

You couldn’t speak, mouth dry, heart caught in your throat, hammering away so fiercely your ears were ringing. “What’d you take? Blow? K? Pills or somethin’?” His arm brushed yours, head ducking towards you. “It’s fine, whatever it is, I’m- I’m really good with dealing with this sorta thing, if you can believe it.” 

“I-I didn’t take anything.” You droned, nearly automated. “I just- I-I was walking down the hallway, and-” 

“-Hey, I’m just trying to help you.” Eddie said softly, his tone pulling your attention back to meet his gaze. “Did you hit your head?” 

“N-No, I- The hallway-” 

“-That,” Eddie pointed towards the swinging door. “Is a bathroom.” You watched as the door swung open, as if on cue, a girl with blue painted lids and crimped hair piled high stepping out. 

“The closest thing to a hallway here is to the dumpster out back.” Eddie grinned at you softly. It was sweet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to smile back, body trembling with fear. 

Eddie felt it, frowning at you softly. “Do you need me to call an ambulance? Call someone for you?” 

“No,” You swallowed hard. “I-I need to leave. I have-I gotta get out of here.” Panic rose through your chest, trying to push him out of the booth, climb over him, anything. 

“Hey, easy,” Eddie slid out of your way. “Hang on-” You ignored him, pushing past him towards the door. 

Outside, the sun was still just beginning to set, that was the only thing that was the same. 

Your car was gone, in its place a line of cars- old cars, but still shiny? Still new, not rusted with wear or dulled colors from age. The buildings were no longer crumbling, signs still new and displayed proudly. 

“No, no, no, no.” Your chest heaved, fingers threading through your hair. “What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck is going on?” 

“Hey!” Eddie grabbed your shoulder, pulling your attention towards him. “Hey, I-I don’t think you should be driving-” 

“-My car.” You gasped. “Where the fuck is my car? I-It was right here,” You turned, throwing your hands out. “Right here!” 

Eddie looked around, a blush rising to his cheeks at the judgy looks the passersby were giving. “Maybe you should come back inside-” 

“-No.” You barked, shaking your head furiously. “No. I-I’m not-” Through the window, a glimmer of a photo caught your eye. 

Your walk back inside felt nearly trance like, everything underwater, Eddie’s voice droning out with the others. A painting of two cartoonized children waving fistfuls of flowers gleefully- though that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the printed lettering underneath it that made your blood run cold. 

“Hey, why don’t you take a seat, an-and I’ll call someone-” 

“-Is this,” You swallowed, pointing at the wall. “This isn’t right, r-right? Thi-This isn’t- There’s no way.” 

Eddie frowned, looking at the wall. “I mean, yeah, it needs to be changed now. I guess it’s technically May now, Mick just hasn’t gotten around to flipping it-” 

“-No, this-this says…” Your finger traced the numbers, glaring at you in bright red. “1986?” You squeaked. 

Eddie blinked at you. “Yeah,” He nodded slowly. 

Your vision filled with dark splotches, fading in and out of focus on the calendar in front of you. Your knees buckled, purse slipping between your fingers before you fell limply, Eddie’s frantic voice ringing in your ears the last thing you heard before your consciousness slipped. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

[kookygranger]

Knock, knock.

Neighbour!Eddie x Neighbour! Reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ for smut in later parts if you are under 18 you do not belong here, be gone.

AFAB reader. Stress. Strong language. Nightmares. Sleep walking. Horror/creepy vibes. Shit jobs. Mentions of cheating. Let me know if you want any listed that I have missed. See the Masterlist for full list of warnings. 

Authors note: Thank you for all the love on the last part of this fic, it honestly makes me so happy that people are embracing this creepylittle story. This chapter made my brain melt a little but I'm excited to finally release it from its confinement.

As always all my love to @bettyfrommars  @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing for writing the original prompt that birthed this weird world I'm making. You're the best.

6. You move into a new apartment and soon discover that you share a wall with a very noisy neighbor. Loud laughter, talking, and music are a constant companion. When you decide to go over and knock on their door to confront them in person, you find that the apartment is unoccupied and has been for months.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Love you bye.

Part 5 - The gods manual to the frail.

When you were small you longed for lucid dreaming.

The idea that you could control the vivid picture book of your unconscious mind was fantastical, to be able to puppeteer it to make you fly, race faster, fight stronger, it was overwhelming.

You soon learnt though that just because you knew you were asleep, that didn't stop your imagination from being overactive, didn't mean it would always play along.

Just as quickly as your mind could command you to fly it could also tell you to fall.

The bathroom door's wide open.

Your limbs are free, not rigid and wedged at the odd angles that usually come with being in this particular dream.

You're not alone though, you know it without seeing them.

A looming presence in your peripheral that's making your skin crawl.

Unseeing yet watching. No longer trapped in the shadows that writhed behind the bathroom door, they were out, watching you from the corners of your ceiling.

You can't look at them, an overwhelming knowledge overcoming you that to acknowledge them was to lose.

They slip like hot wax as they move, watching as you leave bed, your body's heavy and slow as you move through the dim light feeling your way, trying to escape.

You hear them move through the door frame above you quickly, wet and slick. Too fast.

You're asleep.

The reminder seems to make your body jerk as if your muscles had been released and the creatures chitter above you like cats stalking birds.

Your feet carry you clumsily through the main room as it stretches before you further than it should, the door you're trying to reach always suddenly behind you as soon as you start to make progress.

Panic rises as the creature's chitters get louder

Delighted.

You shouldn't have looked up.

The waxy unseeing faces twitch towards you and you don't know how you know they're smiling.

You start to run, faster and faster towards the door which never gets any closer.

Then the chittering stops.

You turn, watching as the creatures slither and melt into the cracks in the scar leaving you in dead silence.

Then you're falling.

You wake with a scream stuck in your throat, hands pressed against the uneven surface of the wall adjacent to your bedroom.

Your legs give way beneath you and you scramble backwards until your back hits the couch.

Breathings ragged and hands shaking you look up.

The scar sits quietly above you.

“Fuck you.”

So I spoke to this kid I know, well he's not exactly a kid he's 22 but I've known him since high-school…

Your forehead creases as you read your rambling morning letter from Eddie. Toast hanging out your mouth greasy spread sticking against the corner of your lips as you slowly dress into your rigid self appointed uniform.

It had become a routine in the days since you ‘met’, relaying back what you know slowly trying to put the puzzle pieces together of what was happening to you both.

He's going to send a mic over for my stereo. Do you think you can get one for yours? My haunting schedule varies…

You let out a snort as you throw the bottom of your refrigerator surprise lunch into your bag, you're still not entirely sure he's not a ghost, but he no longer takes the bait to heart like he did, which makes it decidedly less fun.

.. It depends on which kids book lessons but they're always between 8 and 5. Bars 10-3 Fridays Saturday. I pick up extras where I can.

Batman Returns. No

Nirvana. Yes

Duran Duran. Unfortunately, yes.

Sepultura

Lost boys.

Donny Darco.

You frown at the last title listed in your ongoing ‘Does this exist 50 questions’, that shouldn't be out yet.

Shoving the last of the toast in your mouth you scribble a note back to him, shaking off the crumbs when you're done and shouldering your rucksack before leaving.

The nightmares hadn't returned but the last one had left you anxious to fall asleep, any sleep you did get was short and light for fear of what you would fall into.

This was the fourth time the shadowy fucks had invaded your subconscious and every time, the images, the feeling remained.

It's still there whenever you close your eyes for too long, like they're carved onto the inside of your skull.

It didn't feel like sleepwalking, all instances before having been more confusing than anything. Told to you by those who witnessed it but you yourself had little to no memory of what happened.

Then there was Eddie even when he was trying to be quiet, the man was a hurricane waking you when you had finally drifted off by rummaging around or having one of his late-night phone calls to whoever Wayne was.

The bus ride over to the office makes your eyelids heavy with its constant rhythm, the grey clouds muting the sun's glare into a comfortable warmth. You could easily just close your eyes, but every time they droop the hiss of a stop startles you upright.

The office is always too bright when you get there, grey walls and plastic plants welcoming you to the sea of desks under the fluorescents.

You tug at your fitted clothes, once your assigned funeral clothes and now your office outfit, it's fitting really, considering the place makes you feel dead inside.

Why you need to be smart casual for sitting at a desk for 8 hours is beyond you.

Shona's there as you sit down, cackling loudly into her headset. Your first day buddy, as they called her, hadn't really helped all that much, told you where to sit then explained the office politics at such breakneck speed it gave you whiplash.

Surprisingly, or maybe less so now you know her, all those she seems to class as undesirables are the only people with decent conversation in this place.

The only saving grace to your tired soul is it's finally payday, due in your bank by closing time.

So you spend your day between calls, browsing microphones, looking up astral projection and Donny Darco.

You knew it came out later than 1993.

IT must think you're a riot.

A murmur goes across the office and Shona grins at you as she excitedly tells you she's going to go out for lunch.

You take out your phone quickly, opening your bank app. You can already smell the takeout, feel the new body wash on your skin, feel the comfort washing over you, you won't have to flinch every time a bill’s due.

Your stomach sinks through your feet and slithers out leaving you hollow.

The amount is low. Sickeningly so.

There must be an issue, a mistake, but as your payslip arrives in your email.

No.

New starter deductions.

Training.

Equipment.

Resources.

They go on, apparently Shona forgot to mention this, it slipped her mind she tells you with a pout before she breezes away.

You think you might hate Shona.

You shouldn't have, the little voice whispers in the back of your head.

You should have been sensible.

The takeout bag rustles from where it hangs from your wrist, it smells too good for you to regret it yet.

Your mood had soured by the minute until it was time for you to clock out and in some self sabotaging monetary cloud you decided for tonight, you were going to pretend that you'd been paid for the actual work you had done.

The apartment’s quiet when you enter and the tension in your shoulders drop a fraction at the sight of it.

Your rucksack falls to the floor, and you're popping the lid on the box of dumplings before you've even taken off your jacket.

The savoury cloud of steam that's released makes your mouth water and you groan at the first bite.

“Hey.”

The voice from above almost makes you choke and you wheeze, hands gripping the counter.

“Jesus Eddie. Why are you sitting in silence like a creep.”

“You're too loud Eddie. You're too quiet, christ.”

Tension floods your body again and misdirected anger makes you scowl at your food as you harshly put the lid back on.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading?” His voice is chipper and it instantly irritates you.

You don't respond, moving to your couch shedding your outer layers and popping the button round your waist before resuming eating.

“You okay?”

“Peachy.” You say around another bite hoping he gets the hint.

He doesn't.

In his defence it's probably hard to read the room when you can't see anyone in it.

“So, I was thinking”

“Dangerous.” you quip smirking to yourself at the disgruntled noise he makes as you pop the lid on your noodles.

You take a bite. God this is good.

“I was thinking. You should investigate apartment 7.”

You pause, noodles mid way to your mouth.

“I should investigate number 7.”

“Yeah I mean nobody lives there where I am-.”

“How do you know anyone lives there where I am?”

“Well, do they?”

“I don't know.”

“That's why you need to investigate.”

“Nobody lives on your side of the apartment yet here we are.”

You're being intentionally obtuse, you'd vaguely spoken about this before but your voice is raising frustration making your voice wobble, you don't want to deal with this right now.

He's quiet and the silence lingers as you lean your head back closing your eyes.

“So how was work?”

You crack an eye and look at the scar.

“I thought you were reading.”

“I was. Until someone disturbed the peace.”

He's such a shit. You don't respond again, trying to breath away the brewing tension headache

“Any plans for the weekend? “

You sigh loudly, sitting up and looking around.

You crack down the centre a little, the sparse room only a reminder of all the things you still need and will have to go without for another 4 weeks.

“No.”

“Want to hang out or something. We could have a movie night.”

A breathless laugh leaves you. Like you could even avoid each other.

“How would that even work?”

You had planned to make cookies as some sort of peace offering before going next door, if people elsewhere in the building had come to you to complain then anyone who was in there definitely heard.

But ingredients are expensive.

As you approach the apartment your door seems so far away, it's odd being on this side and makes you realise just how close together you and Eddie are.

You knock and wait, store bought cookies arranged on a plate and covered in saran wrap in hand.

You hear a scuttle behind the door, like the quick footsteps of a child before it creaks open slowly.

“Oh, hi”

The emerging face is low like you had expected but instead of the smooth face of a child, an elderly woman peers at you from the growing space in the door. Boney fingers wrap round the edges as she reveals herself.

You introduce yourself, cringing at the fact you're using your work voice on a weekend.

She doesn't respond, merely stares at you with light blue eyes, and a smile on her face that shows no teeth but deepens the creases on her thin skin.

“I'm sorry if we've.. I've been loud. ”

Her eyes widen at your mistake but she still doesn't respond, her stare unwavering her thin lipped smile the same.

“ Bea?”

A woman around your age appears in the doorway behind her and gives you a warm grin.

“Hi, can I help?”

Eyes pulling away from the older woman, you work your jaw for a moment as you feel her eyes still on you.

“I brought some cookies, I live next door, I moved in a few weeks ago”you fumble.

“Oh, that's so kind isn't it Bea, why don't you come in”

“Oh no it's okay-”

“No, I insist.” the way she says it is firm and she leaves you holding the plate in the doorway as she gently manoeuvres the old woman away.

Shit.

As you step through the doorway the smell of patchouli hits you so heavily that you feel like it's sinking into your skin.

Closing the door hesitantly behind you, you're hyper aware that you're now sealed off from the hallway which has the same deep red walls as the enormous room you now stand in.

Shelves clink softly as you walk into the middle of the open plan room.

Soulless taxidermy joins the elderly woman in watching you as you make your way over to them.

“We don't get many visitors, do we Bea?” says the younger woman and Bea whispers something back as she helps her into her seat and she gives her a wry smile.

Taking the plate from you she motions for you to sit.

“Always surprising me, she's quicker than she looks. Could obviously smell desert.” she laughs as she turns away.

“Yeah” you trail off, turning to glance at the elderly woman, who's still smiling, still staring, fingers drumming against the linen tablecloth.

“Well I'm Nell, and this is Bea, I live upstairs.”

“Oh, how long have you lived here?” you say fidgeting in the hard seat, trying to ignore the way the woman's stare is boring a hole into you.

She chuckles, “Around 6 years now and Beas been here forever.”

Bea mutters something to Nell you can't catch and she laughs before patting her arm and placing a cookie on a small plate in front of her.

She offers you one and settles herself down, the collection of bangles jingling as she pours sweet tea into faded china cups for you all.

Bea picks up the cookie with trembling hands and breaks it apart before popping them between her lips, still staring.

The more you look around trying to avoid eye contact the more you find other pairs watching you, paintings, preserved animals. Jars.

Nells chatting absentmindedly and you make sounds of agreement while you pretend to listen and try to swallow the dry treat down.

At the far end of the room, the floors raised a little, a double bed flush against the wall with yellow heavy curtains draped over the posts.

Shelves and units surround it built into the wall and filled with multitudes more off-putting belongings.

It's your wall.

Your eyes track back to Bea and she's grinning now teeth on show, and you have the sudden feeling that you need to leave and it makes your heart flutter.

“She likes you,” Nell says with a chuckle and Bea grins wide.

“Marco.” Eddie's voice reverberates down towards you as you slowly walk the line of the scar. Bare feet toe to toe eyes trained up.

In soft clothes and bare faced you'd had two showers since going next door and you still feel like you can smell it on you.

“Polo.”

You listen carefully for where his voice is the loudest.

Walking the same path as you, he does the same so you don't have to yell while you watch Donny Darco.

“It made my skin crawl, they were everywhere and she just sat and stared at me. I don't think I saw her blink.”

“Maybe she's a skin walker or oh maybe-”

“You're far too excited about this.”

“Come on, she's an old lady.”

“You didn't see her Eddie, something was off.”

“Here?” He says voice ringing out clear.

“Sounds good.”

You drop a pile of blankets and pillows against the kitchen counter, thankful for the barrier between you and the back wall.

You get comfortable opening your laptop when you hear the distinct sound of something heavy being dragged.

“What are you doing?”

“Moving the couch and stuff,” he says voice strained and you can't help the smile that slips out at the sound of it.

“Just sit on the floor.”

“I'm not an animal.”

“I'm sitting on the floor.”

“Exactly.”

“Hey.”

His cackle rings out above you.

“You done?”

“Yeah, think so.”

You hear him groan as he settles in and you set up the movie up ready.

It takes a few times to get the start right. Both having to forward it to the same point and you wonder if the movie will have changed over time or whatever this was.

You stretch out and lean back as you hear the echoing sound of the opening scene and for a minute you can pretend that it's not weird or supernatural and you just have a friend.

For all the effort it takes to get them lined up it turns to chaos, fairly quickly as lines change or are delivered wrong by surprisingly, still Jake Gyllenhaal which turns into another whole thing.

Cackling so hard at the contrasting lines at one point you have to leave to use the toilet, with your grin still making your jaw ache, it passes you by that the oppressive walls of the bathroom aren't making your skin crawl like usual, as you listen to him ranting to himself.

The movie ends but you both carry on speaking until your back starts to ache from the odd angle you've fallen into.

“Shit it's late”, you groan as you sit up. “This was fun.”

“It was,” he says his own yawn audible in his voice and you look over the barely lit room wondering where he would be if he was arranged in the space around you.

You get up, abandoning your empty snack bowls and laptop and dragging your makeshift nest to your room, the light from the lamp in your bedroom quickly submerging the shadows.

“Oh shit.” Eddie's voice comes from the darkness of the other room and you turn to stare into it.

“What happened?”

He groans loudly, “Nothing, I'll clean it in the morning.”

You grimace to yourself wondering what terrible choice of snack he'd knocked over.

“Night Eddie.” You say pulling the door closed.

“Night sweetheart.”

The nickname makes you pause just short of closing the door, all movement stops from behind it and you wonder for a moment if he's left before pulling it closed.

The sheets are still warm from where your giggling body had been nestled into them and with the dopamine still lingering, you climb in and drift easily.

“Marco?” The voice is muffled and you groan as you shift.

“Polo?” You groggily say eyes still heavy.

Drip

The sound finds you with its usual bolt of adrenaline and your eyes snap open.

At least there's nothing on the ceiling.

You pad slowly over to the door and lean against it ready to squeeze through, when it opens easily and you stumble forward.

You walk out turning to see the bookshelves moved over to the side no longer blocking the door.

Evidence of your night is floating in the puddle, his tv now fused with the counter and his couch slowly soaking in the black around the bottom. Nuts and popcorn are scattered over the floor by an upturned bowl and are slowly being swallowed.

You lean down watching how the pieces stick out, slowly fading with every drop.

“I wouldn't touch that.”

You almost slip into it, quickly steadying yourself and glowering back at him.

He's got a shit eating grin on his face despite the way he's rubbing his tired eyes.

“I see you dressed for the occasion this time.” you say still a little breathless.

He looks down at himself to the grey sweatpants and an old band shirt where the motifs peeling away so you can't make it out anymore.

“Well I didn't pass out on the couch, so.”

He's more disarming like this with hair sticking out, face a little tired, tattoos sprawling up under his sleeves. He's less stiff, the almost permanent scowl he wore last time gone.

He runs his hands through his hair and looks around eyeing the slowly sinking snacks in the black puddle.

“It's changing, like with what we do in the day.”

You walk over to behind the counter, swallowing at the sight of the floor, only a few inches visible between it and the darkness of the back wall.

“Come on.”

You walk through the wall of light to his side and check for any changes.

But everything is the same, the only changes are the evidence of his life within the space.

You come full circle both coming out the other side to face the abyss again.

“Why is it only my side?” you whine looking at the nightmare factory before you.

“You dont think she's making it, do you?”

“Who?”

“Grandma death.” He says a little chuckle in his voice.

When you don't respond he turns to you, calling your name softly as you recall the shadows slithering on the ceiling in your dreams.

How did you know they were smiling? Her face flashes in your mind's eye.

“Have you had any other weird dreams while you've lived here?”

“Other than this” he laughs but his face falls a little as you look up at him.

“No, well I mean, nothing like this.”

Nodding, head swimming, you walk over to your couch curling into yourself and peering at the darkness of the wall behind it.

“So what do we do now?”

“I don't know. Wait, I guess.”

The couch bounces as he sits down heavily on the other end.

“So. How's the world?”

“How's the world?”

He shrugs and you exhale sharply out your nose.

“Kind of a loaded question, guess it depends who you ask. How's the 90s?”

“Ohhh you know, shit.”

Drip

The laugh you let out is hollow as you stare into the blackness and you can't pinpoint why but your vision mists, tears threatening to spill over.

“Tell me something fun.” your voice is thick around the lump in your throat, if he notices he graciously ignores it.

“About myself?”

“Anything.”

“Okay uh, I'm in a band”

You turn your head a smile tugging at you lips despite your glossy eyes remaining

“That's the least surprising thing you could have told me. ”

He makes a face.

Drip

“Not in a bad way. Okay let me guess.” you squint, assessing him and he sits up a little taller under your gaze.

“Grunge.”

“Metal.”

“Ah, potayto, potahto”

He’s about to rant, you can tell by the flare of his nostrils and your smile turns to a full grin.

He deflates squinting back.

“Your fucking with me.”

“What are you called? I'll have to look you up”

He preens at that “Corroded Coffin.”

“Nice.”

“Thank you. We're actually on hiatus, our bassist knocked his girl up. Band practice doesn't fit with the kids schedule.” he says, tipping his head towards you.

Drip

“How unreasonable.”

“Right.”

“Moved here thinking it would be better for the band.”

“To the place you can't afford.” The words come out quicker than you can think but thankfully he chuckles.

“Uh yeah, it wasn't just me to start, had a housemate. Girlfriend.” He looks away scratching his jaw. “They sort of. Left together.”

“Shit, sorry Eddie, I didn't mean to-” he waves you off.

“What about you?”

Drip

Your stomach curdles.

“What about me?”

“No other people.”

It's your turn to avoid his gaze and you gesture around you.

“No, I mean-”

A sound from the abyss cuts him off, the sheer volume so loud you can feel it in the empty spaces in your chest, it sends you both off the couch and scrambling away.

Nothing changed, as you look up, wincing you cover your ears and slowly move towards it.

“What are you doing?”

You faintly make out Eddie’s yelling but you keep moving, your heart pounds as the liquid on your kitchen floor comes into view, vibrating where it's met the abyss.

The sound stops as quickly as it came, the absence leaving your ears ringing and you jump as Eddie arrives next to you.

He follows your gaze to where the darkness has met.

“That's not good.”

Tag list: @munsonburn3r @winchester-angel @kellsck let me know if you would like to be added <3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #the mystery continues #don’t love the creepy lady

[kookygranger]

silver-blue nightfall | part V of late night feelings | s. h. x f!reader

index | part IV: dawning on me

summary: you struggle to let steve in when life forces you to show your true colours. after a long day of reconsidering things, you must take a difficult decision together, but an unexpected visit to your past might change things, helping you accept some painfully scary truths about your feelings for steve harrington.

steve harrington x fem!reader modern au | no use of y/n | no smut | no mentions of specific race, hair type or body type.

word count: 11k

warnings: reader gets easily overwhelmed and overstimulated. sososo much angst. like really, an insane amount of angst, the most angsty chapter of this au so far with a happy ending, ofc. mentions of family's issues and degenerative illness. no smut. however pls remember other content in my blog is +18.

author’s note: HERE IT IS. told myself i wasn't going to apologise for the delay but well -- sorry !!! also i know i am technically not posting until may but hey what are sundays for if not to work obssesively on adraft that was sitting on my word documents for the last couple of months. i had some time and inspiration today so i decided to finish this part and i have to say i love it. ♡

masterlist | ko-fi

[dividers by @cafekitsune & @animatedglittergraphics-n-more]

I’m here If you need anything.

[typing...]

Anything. Honestly.

[typing...]

Please don’t say that, Steve.

[typing...]

I mean it. I want you in my life.

And I’m so scared to lose you.

I’m always going to be here for you.

You waited for him to delete the last message. You were sure he wanted to; he must have. There was no way that after everything that had happened that day and how you had left, that he really meant it. He’d surely change his mind.

But after a few long seconds looking at the screen, you decided to lock it, taking the phone to your chest, and shutting your eyes hard. The tears you had let out a few minutes ago were already drying, but then it was again: the fear, the pain, the frustration as the tears pooled under your eyelids. The body next to yours in the bed was warm, sleeping soundly, but you felt more alone than ever.

Maybe this was how things were supposed to be from the beginning, but did you have to break Steve Harrington’s heart in the process? It seemed unfair.

So unfair.

The day was bright. In fact, the winter days were starting to turn lighter with the passing of days, and your mood was considerably better because of it. Well, at least it had been the first twenty minutes you spent under the sun painting your toenails in the garden, until Nancy called to inform you that today you’d be trying on your bridesmaid dress.

You took a deep breath, finishing with your left foot, and looking at Olivia laying down under the sun and enjoying the spring day, unaware of the fact you’d have to leave her soon to face a long day of driving around and planning the wedding.

It’s not that you didn’t like spending time with Nancy. In fact, what you seemed love about your friends were those traits that other people would describe as flaws.  You loved Nancy’s perfectionism, her attention to detail attitude, her insistence when it came to have things her way. It was her wedding after all, she was allowed to be as demanding as she wished. And you’d be next to her, doing as she told you like everyone else, just to make this day the most unforgettable day of her life. But there were two little problems that were keeping you from enjoying the process of being your friend’s bridesmaid: The first one being the fact that you had never been to a wedding. The second one being you were secretly seeing the best man.

You wouldn’t call it dating, no. It had been about a month since you and Jamie had broken up and you and Steve had started this – this thing between you two. And you still didn’t know how you felt about it. It was rushed, but he was patient. It was strange, but he was nice. It was terrifying, but he was sweet.

‘C’mon.’ You said to Olivia once you stood up from the chair. She got inside first, and you followed, closing the garden door behind you, and walking up the stairs, lost in your thoughts.

You were about to start getting changed, the sundress you were planning on wearing sitting on your neatly made bed. Later that day you would remember how it had all been alright then. You were okay, really. Until your phone started buzzing.

You had to look twice to double check that what you were seeing was correct. Your first instinct was to drop the device on the bed. How long had it been since the last time they had called? Probably Christmas. Pushing the thought aside, you changed your clothes and repressed the sigh you wished to release to relieve the tension that was setting on your shoulders.

But the buzzing started making you crazy, and well, it could be an emergency, right? Right? But wait. Had they ever answered any of your emergencies?

‘Hey, mom.’ You said nonchalantly as you put your shoes on.

‘Hello, honey.’ She said as if she had made you breakfast this morning. As if she had texted you yesterday. As if she suddenly remembered you existed. ‘I can’t see you.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You said sitting up and grabbing your phone to face the screen. ‘Oh. Hey, Aston. Isn’t it like, four am in London?’

‘Hey, moron.’ He joked. ‘Yeah, had to stay up to finish some work, and jetlag’s also killing me. How’s things?’

‘Things are good.’ You simply said, not sure about where to look at. Your mom had placed her phone on the counter of her kitchen, busy cooking breakfast, you assumed, by the way she seemed to stand in front of the stove. And Aston seemed to be illuminated only by the light of the screen in front of him. ‘How’s everything over there?’

‘Quiet. Cold.’ He said. ‘Spring comes late here in the UK.’

‘Right. Well, it’s just starting to get sunny here.’ You said, repressing the sigh you wanted to release. ‘I’m going to meet a friend today to help her with some wedding errands.’

‘Wedding?’ Your mom interjected.

‘Yeah.’ You said, picking the skin around your nails. ‘I’m a bridesmaid, so it’s kind of my duty to be there today. She’s coming to pick me up soon, actually.’

‘Oh my god!’ She said excitedly, and it was as if things were normal between you two. But they had never been. ‘Have you tried your dress yet?’

This time you were able to release a deep breath. ‘Not yet. We’ll probably do that today.’

‘Oh, send me some pictures, yeah? I want to see what your dress looks like.’

‘Sure, mom.’ You said, knowing you weren’t going to keep that promise.

‘How’s Jamie?’ She asked then.

You stopped then, hesitating about what to say. But you really didn’t want to do this today, you didn’t feel you had the patience or the strength for it. You couldn’t let your guard down just because the conversation was going well.

‘Jamie’s… fine.’ You simply said.

‘Oh, tell him I say hi.’ She said without even noticing your face had turned plain at her question. ‘Listen, sweetheart, I won’t take too much of your time.’ She started, and that’s when you knew. She wasn’t just calling. She needed something. ‘They called Aston yesterday from the nursing home.’

Your heart stopped beating for a second as you felt the fear running to your veins. You had to swallow hard and put on your best face.

‘Did they?’ You simply asked. ‘What did they say, Aston?’

‘They said—’

‘I asked Aston, mom.’

‘Oh, are you really going to start, now?’ Your brother interjected. ‘Why don’t you just let her speak?’

‘Because if they called you then you could’ve just messaged me? Instead of asking mom to bring up the subject for you?’

‘Okay, stop now, you two.’ You heard your mom said as you rolled your eyes. ‘It’s just some admin paperwork we need you to sort out. It’s not a big deal.’

‘Oh. Oh. You need me to sort it out?’ You could feel your hands starting to shake as the anger took over your body.

‘Honey, don’t do this.’ She said looking at you through the camera. ‘I can’t afford flying to Hawkins right now.’

‘Jesus Christ.’ You let out a scoff of disbelief. ‘You can’t afford flying here, but can afford to go to London for easter?’

‘It’s not the same thing.’ Said Aston then. ‘Mom hasn’t seen Ashley since Christmas.’

‘Yeah, and she hasn’t come to see grandma in a year.’ The silence that followed your accusation just made you surrender to the reality of how things were. This was not a fight you were going to win, because they were not even interested in having it. ‘Listen, you two. I need to go. I’ll sort it out. I’m the only one who cares about her, anyways.’

‘That’s not true, sweet—’

‘Of course it’s true, mom.’ A notification on your phone from Nancy caught your eye then. She was outside. You stood up from the bed, grabbing your bag as you walked out of the room. ‘I’m gonna need you to put me as the main emergency contact on her records, Aston.’

‘You didn’t even want to be involved on the first place.’ His accusation only made you more heated as you climbed down the stairs.

‘Oh my god. Are you being serious right now?’ You said grabbing your jacket. ‘You’re so fucking petty, honestly.’

‘You—’

‘I need to leave.’ You simply said, not worrying about even showing your face on the camera anymore. ‘I’ll go to the nursing home today. Bye.’

You took a deep breath right after hanging up, shutting your eyes hard at the stress setting on your shoulders and back. It’d be just a couple of hours with Nancy. Then you’d go to visit your grandmother, then back home to Olivia to have an early night.

You could do it.

Two minutes later, you were locking the front door before putting on your best smile and walking down the steps towards Nancy’s car. You’d put all your efforts into this important day until you’d forget that there were people out there that called themselves your family but didn’t behave as such. If it was necessary, you’d pretend to be okay for the next couple of hours until you felt numb.

You almost believed yourself. Almost, until you lifted your eyes to find Steve on the driver seat and Nancy waving at you next to him. If your semblance changed at the sight, you tried your best to conceal your emotions as you slid into the backseat.

‘Hey.’ You said shyly as you took your denim jacket off, trying to avoid the brown eyes that looked at you from the rear-view mirror.

‘Hey, bridesmaid.’ Said Nancy looking at you from her place in her seat. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m great.’ You said hugging yourself against the seat. ‘The weather’s so nice, isn’t it?’

‘I know!’ She said with excitement. ‘So, I had to change the plans a little. Steve’s going to drive us to this amazing plant nursery and we’re going to pick all the flowers for the bouquet and the decorations. Then we’ll go to try our dresses while we drink champagne and we’re allowed to drink because I’m not driving. Then we’re meeting Jonny and Robin for lunch. How does that sound?’

You swallowed hard as you nodded at Nancy’s words. That was a whole day of errands, not a couple of hours of trying on dresses. But what were you supposed to say?

‘It sounds fun.’ You simply said, looking at the sunny day outside the window.

Nancy talked the whole way to the nursery. You kept your eyes on the landscape, replying with low hums or polite ‘Oh’s whenever she excitedly explained something about the invitations, the decorations, or the music. Every now and then you felt Steve’s eyes on you, and the idea that he was starting to get you know you well enough to suspect that something was going on made you shrunk even deeper into the seat.

The nursery was beautiful and huge, with endless of corridors full of plants and flowers. A nostalgic smell filled your lungs as you climbed out of the car. Rosemary, thyme, mint.

While Steve and Nancy talked enthusiastically to one of the staff members, you stopped to breathe in the familiar smells once again. Your grandma had grown those in the garden when you were a child, the memory came to you, melting your bitter mood.

Your nail scratched a little ceramic pot that held a basil plant as you took a deep breath once again. Your eyes should have watered, you thought, but they didn’t.

So, you tried to enjoy the fresh air around you as you followed the path they had taken before, the sights getting more colourful as the herbs and cacti were progressively replaced by flowers.

Steve took a step aside when you reached them, a silent invitation to take a step forward to join them as Nancy spoke to the same staff member. You tried to follow the conversation, some debate between roses or lilies. Steve suggested tulips or orchids.

‘You said you wanted a lilac theme.’ He argued.

‘Steve.’ She said with a mocking tone. Her change of mood made you lift your eyes, suddenly confused. Nancy repressed a laugh, and he smiled at her in response.

The exchange of gestures was odd, but all you did was smile softly, as you tried to remember what an orchid looked like.

‘Can you excuse us for a second?’

Steve’s voice was overly confident as he spoke to the staff member. You stood in your place, as he turned back to talk to Nancy.

‘Listen, I spent three hours on Pinterest last night, Wheeler.’ You bit your lip as his honest confession, repressing a smile. ‘I went through every single link you sent, and there was not one single lily in any of them.’

‘I know!’ She said loudly, happily. She was so happy to be doing this and you felt completely useless here. ‘But they’re… I don’t know, different. I like them.’

‘We’ll have to redesign the whole bouquet!’ He said passionately. You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes in response, maybe he was enjoying this a little bit too much.

A silly little laugh left your lips then. Even you were surprised at it, taking your index fingers to your mouth in embarrassment. He couldn’t help but look back at you momentarily, brown eyes making the heat rush to your cheeks as they lingered on your lower lip before his hands brushed his hair.

Suddenly the muddy tips of your shoes seemed very interesting.

‘What if I have two bouquets?’ Said Nancy then.

‘What?’ He said looking back at her. You lifted your eyes to find Nancy looking at you with cheeky eyes.

‘One for the bridesmaid and one of the bride.’

‘Oh.’ You said, realising this was the first word you had said in a while. It hurt on your throat; the knot that was there this morning hadn’t quite disappeared. ‘Nancy, I don’t think that’s necessary.’

‘Come on!’ She said entwining your arm with hers. The gesture was so natural, her voice so loud and full of joy, that you couldn’t show how out of guard it had caught you. You didn’t shrink, or freeze. Your hands were sweaty, but you weren’t going to ruin this for her. ‘It’ll look so pretty with your dress. Besides, didn’t you hear Steve? He spent three hours designing the thing.’

He just rolled his eyes, a cocky smile adorning his face before he got to look at you. This time you did shrink, crossing your arms as you bit the smile on your face and turned to Nancy to avoid his eyes.

‘Sounds okay, then.’

‘Awesome!’ She hugged you, and all you could do as you held your breath was let her do it.

Yet Steve could’ve sworn that for a brief second, by the way you smiled at her, that you might wanted her to. That maybe you needed it.

‘Okay, Steve, come on! Show us!’ She insisted.

So, Steve led the way. You walked a bit further away with Nancy by your side, often replying to her observations about the plants, the weather, the cake tasting appointment she had tomorrow, and you had to help her decide what kind of nail design she wanted for the big day.

‘Thank you for being so sweet.’ She said out of sudden.

‘What do you mean?’ You asked sincerely, looking for any trace of sarcasm on her face. You were far, very far from being sweet today, feeling the bitterness in the pit of your stomach.

‘I mean, this whole thing with Steve. You guys are being so decent with each other, and I really appreciate it.’ She squeezed your shoulder fondly, like she had done so many times before, as if she had just realised how long she had been close from you without you rejecting the affection. ‘I’m so excited, but I’m also so nervous. You two always seem to have it all under control, and that makes me feel so safe.’

Her eyes watered then, and you held your breath on your throat, surprised at this new side of Nancy. One she had never shown before. It was a huge compliment, though. To feel you could make her feel that comfortable around you. This was warm, familiar.

‘Oh.’ Was all you could say for a second, before you got the nerve to extend a hand and squeeze hers. You were far from having everything under control that morning, but at least she hadn’t noticed. ‘That’s fine, Nance. I mean, isn’t this what bridesmaids are supposed to do?’

She laughed at your words, full of tender confusion. Yet you still didn’t understand why this had made her so emotional, cleaning her little tears with the back of her sleeves as your hand climbed to rub her shoulder.

‘Yeah, of course.’ She said. ‘I’m just so excited.’

You smiled fondly as you kept walking next to her, trying to repress the sudden blue flame of hope you felt inside. The odd, sweet feeling that you were discovering as you walked through another green path of plants: that maybe you could be excited too.

Steve observed you as you walked back with Nancy, his eyes taking in your body language. Earlier in the car he could’ve sworn you were far from his reach, but now you were brushing your arm with Nancy’s as you nodded at whatever she was saying. You were here.

Your eyes found his when you made it to the sitting area he was on, flowers and stems scattered on the wooden table along with a pair of scissors. Once again you had to supress your smile at how excited he seemed about all of this.

Your eyes lingered on his fingers, stained by the green blood of the plants. It somehow filled you with an odd sense of familiarity, reminding you of your own paint-stained fingers back when you still found time to paint. Something recognisable but at the same time unknown.

‘This is, uh…’

He lowered his eyes as you sat down opposite to him, Nancy taking her place on the other side of him as he arranged an improvised combination of flowers in his hand.

Now you were able to recognise a few of those. Daisies, which your grandma taught you how to draw in the garden, looking at the little white and pink ones that grew next to her fence. Lavender, which she used to leave on your drawers to keep your clothes smelling fresh. And eucalyptus, those she used to leave around the house. Those smelled like home.

‘This is an idea, for her.’ He said to Nancy, but he offered you the bouquet without looking at you. ‘I don’t know what you think.’

You took the flowers hesitantly, fingers subtly touching the exotic lilac flower in the middle. That had to be an orchid.

‘Can you hold on to those?’ Said Nancy as she looked back at you. ‘I want to see what they look like with your dress.’

‘Sure.’ You said wrapping your hands tighter around the small selection of flowers that Steve had arranged so delicately.

He and Nancy proceeded to discuss the arrangement around the lilies. You observed him take out a little notebook from his back pocket, doodling clumsily on the first empty page he found. He rambled in that way that made you feel tender and melted any kind of defensiveness you held inside, but you kept silent as you looked down at the flowers every time you caught yourself too entranced in the way he brushed his fingers through his hair.

You didn’t expect him to have such an understanding of colour theory, you thought as you ran a finger through the petals of a daisy. The flowers’ shades harmonised together perfectly: whites and light purples and a bit of yellow. The soft greyish shade of the eucalyptus that made you feel so relaxed neutralizing everything else.

‘You’re really good at this.’ You said, lifting your eyes.

He stopped talking as soon as you said it, releasing a choky laugh in response before saying a low ‘Thanks.’

Steve couldn’t help but feel the heat rush to his cheeks as you simply smiled in response, and he had to keep going as Nancy looked back at him concentrated in what he had just said. It was the first exchange of words you two had had that day, a bit cold not by the tone behind it, but by the uncertain rules you two had agreed on to keep this all to yourselves.

A sweet secrecy that would be the end of him if he wasn’t careful.

So, he just kept talking and doodling, trying to ignore your eyes from the other side of the table. Trying to pretend he hadn’t spent the morning looking at different restaurants he could take you to on your first date, if he ever got the nerve to actually ask you out. Maybe it was the fact you had been so quiet this week, he thought as he finished his rambling and dropped his pen softly on the table. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t sure you’d say yes.

He stood up then, looking through all the flowers he had mentioned before as Nancy followed and you stayed on the table, quiet. That strange feeling that filled him when you got inside his car a few hours ago came back to him as he absently picked the lilies and a few stems of baby’s breath, and some tiny roses. Nancy said she’d be back. Something about the wedding budget and calling Jonathan. He wondered if your mood had anything to do with him, the thought made him sad, like it did back when you stayed at his house a week ago. Maybe the best thing would be to distance himself, give you some space, let you figure things—

‘Steve?’ Your voice made him lift eyes, you were standing next to him, a bit awkwardly. By now he knew that was just your way to be careful. You held your bouquet in the air, pretty deer eyes confused as you looked up at him. ‘Is this normal?’

He looked down at your flowers, the delicate orchid had now brown edges on its petals. It made you feel guilty, he had chosen a very beautiful one and now it was dying in your hands.

‘You’re not supposed to touch her.’ He said softly as he put the half-made bouquet aside and wrapped his hands around yours to hold the flowers. ‘They’re pretty delicate.’

‘Right.’ You whispered as you looked at the way he discarded the dying flower with the same delicacy he had chosen her, as if he respected her.  Placing it on the dirt of one of the numerous pots that surrounded him, with care of course, because it was Steve. It was as if he was used to beautiful things wilting in his hands.

He felt your eyes on him as he picked a new one and replaced it in the middle of your bouquet. But this time he made sure to grab a piece of cord to keep the flowers together. You took a step towards him instinctively, observing his hands making a clumsy bow before he proceeded to grab some paper to wrap them. All in silence. Just the two of you.

It warmed you inside, that was the truth. You gravitated towards this– this softness of his. This way he had of making it all seem so easy.

When he was done and lifted his eyes to look back at you, he smiled shyly. His fingers found the back of your hands, fingertips brushing your knuckles with the same care he had when he put the orchid on her grave.

‘Hard day?’ He whispered, eyes soft and eyebrows arched, trying to see if for once he could ask a question with sincere worry and you wouldn’t hide inside your cocoon.

And you almost did. He could see it in the way your shy smile died, and your eyes turned sadder. But all you did was nod softly.

‘Well,’ He whispered, this time his thumb stroked your wrist as he placed the small selection of flowers in your hands. Looking at your mouth. Looking at your eyes. Looking at something you kept hidden behind them. ‘I’m here.’

‘I-I know.’ You whispered, hands wrapping too tightly around the bouquet. ‘You know I know.’

He nodded once as he let your hand go, and you realised things were probably more serious and scarier that they had seemed that morning when you thought about him in your garden. He took a step aside, picking up the flowers he had left forgotten when Nancy’s steps announced she had come back from God knows where. And you two were back at pretending that things weren’t different, much more different than they seemed. Pretending that the silence wasn’t killing you. And that those same fingers the leaves had turned green didn’t turn blue every time he touched you, melting for you.

‘Thank you.’ You said to the bridal consultant when she offered you the glass of champagne that you really didn’t want to drink.

You had been extra careful with the flowers after Steve gave them back to you, now placing them on top of the glass table in the big room surrounded by white dresses covered in protective plastic as you and Steve waited for Nancy.

He was sitting on the sofa with his head on the headrest, just as he had done back at your place the first night you slept together. You could feel your hands sweaty when you placed the untouched glass on the table, looking at the bubbles rise and burst inside it. Aside from Nancy’s, it didn’t seem like there were any other appointments today. The wide room full of dresses had a small platform in front of a triptych mirror, as soft classical music played in the background.

He slowly blinked as he observed the way you dried your hands on your dress, leaning back with your arms crossed over your chest. You tried to pretend you didn’t know he was looking at you for a few seconds, until you realised it wasn’t really worth it to pretend here where it was just the two of you again.

When you looked to your side, he was already smiling at you. Softly, as if he were about to fall sleep while his face almost brushed against your shoulder.  It was subtle, as he had learned to be with you, when his face leaned in, and his lips left a soft kiss on your shoulder. A calming, intoxicating gesture that made you melt inside.

‘I hate changing rooms.’ You confessed, looking back at him.

His eyebrows arched softly as you took a deep breath, trying to calm down your nerves. You almost moved to find refuge in his arms, you knew he wouldn’t deny it to you, but your scalp was itchy and your hands shaking a little bit as you hugged your sides. And the bitterness from the call you had this morning was still sitting on your chest. You were painfully trying not to be cold.

It was so embarrassing.

Steve sat up instantly, his hand reached to your knee with so much confidence that you felt your breath stop as he opened his mouth to say something, but before it could land on your skin, Nancy walked out, and you crossed your legs to stay away from him.

‘W-what do you think?’ The soon to be bride said, holding the gown with her fists, looking at you two with hopeful eyes.

A breathy laugh left your lips at the sight of your friend. She did look beautiful, but more than that, she looked happy.

‘You look amazing, Nancy.’ You said with a smile.

Steve observed you from his place, looking at the way you stood up and took the improvised bouquet he had arranged from the table next to yours. You walked towards Nancy and placed the flowers on her hands before arranging the fabric of the long train of the dress.

‘Look at you.’ You said with a smile as she looked at herself in the mirror. The first honest smile he had seen in your face all day. ‘You’re blooming.’

‘Is it not too much?’ Nancy said, biting her lip as she looked her reflection.

‘What?’ Your hand stroked her arm then, a natural instinctive gesture that made Steve’s heart skip a beat. ‘No. Of course, not.’

‘She’s right, Wheeler.’ He said standing up too, and then he smiled at you in that irresistible way of his. You looked back at your friend to ignore the way he was running a hand through his messy brown locks. ‘Why would it be too much?’

‘W-well, my aunts recently pointed out I’ve gained some weight a-and it’s true, but—’

‘Hey. What does that matter?’ You said holding her hand and squeezing once, feeling the same anger your family had sparked in you taking over your body again. ‘You look gorgeous. This is your wedding. Don’t let anyone spoil it for you.’

Nancy took a deep breath before smiling, looking from you to Steve. Her eyes got slightly blurry before she smiled wider.

‘I don’t even know why I’m crying.’ She said laughing before looking at herself back in the mirror.

You and Steve stayed quiet as she looked at the way the dress hugged her figure once again. Steve saw how you looked at your friend with endearing eyes and worry, before you accidentally caught your own reflection. You frowned briefly, taking a step back to give Nancy more space in the mirror. He lowered his eyes, feeling that he shouldn’t have seen that. Wishing he hadn’t.

‘Well, I think I should be trying mine as well.’ You said, crossing your arms again. ‘If you want to.’

‘Of course I want to!’ She said excitedly. ‘Go on, go on.’

Steve saw you swallow hard before smiling at Nancy, but the gesture didn’t reach your eyes. He wanted to ask if he could come with you, if he could help you. He’d remove your dress softly, making sure to stroke your shoulders once the piece of fabric fell on the floor. He’d kiss the back of your neck. He’d do anything, he thought, as you walked down the hallway Nancy had gone through before.

You just wanted to get through with it. You could feel the harsh fabric of that stupid sundress annoying you, the sweat behind your knees. You had washed your hair the day before and it was already greasy.

Maybe you should just go home, you thought as you sat down on the bench inside the changing room in only your underwear. Closing your eyes, you realised how exhausted you already were, you could’ve taken a nap right there. You shouldn’t have come today, you should’ve cancelled. Or maybe you shouldn’t have picked that call on the first place.

A few minutes passed, but not enough to make Steve and Nancy worry. You let your body climatize itself a little bit, now you had goosebumps where there was sweat before. But you could feel yourself slowly regulating, and you took that as a sign to start changing into the lilac dress on the hanger.

You let out a deep breath as you clasped the heels that Nancy had picked for you, and you already hated. The dress did fit you perfectly, and that was the greatest news you had gotten all day, because there was no way you could do this again.

‘All I’m saying is you can have both.’ You heard Steve tell Nancy as you walked out of the changing room. ‘Why would you have to pick Chocolate or Vanilla? It’s your wedding cake. Pick both, Wheeler.’

Nancy couldn’t reply, because her eyes widened with excitement as soon as she saw you.

‘Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.’ She repeated as you stood in front of the big triptych mirror, the champagne glass on her hand already empty. ‘I love it. God, I love you. You’re like a little doll.’

You let out an awkward laugh at her, not really sure about what to do with her odd choice of complementing words.

‘Do you like it?’ She asked you then, suddenly nervous. Your face dropped at the way she was trying to read you. It was as if today you really couldn’t hide your feelings as you usually did. ‘Oh, no. You hate it, don’t you?’

‘Nonono.’ You rushed to say. ‘I—’

You were about to speak when your eyes found Steve’s, he hadn’t said anything from his place in the couch, too busy looking at you with a softness in his eyes that you couldn’t allow yourself to receive today.

‘I— uhm.’ You cleaned your throat, feeling your scalp turning warmer again. ‘I like it. I just think I’d prefer to use my own heels, if you’re okay with that.’

‘Oh, yeah. Of course.’ She said throwing her hands in the air. ‘Can you just turn around so I can see the back of the dress?’

She grabbed your glass of champagne then, taking a sip from it as you nodded. Steve’s eyes lingered in the way you moved your hair to your shoulder so Nancy could approve the dress. He thought about how much he missed stroking the skin of your back that was now so selflessly exposed to him, the way you looked down behind your shoulder, either because you were avoiding the mirror in front of you or maybe because you were just lost in your thoughts.

‘Gorgeous.’ Nancy said then. ‘Simply, gorge—’

‘Miss Wheeler!’ The braid consultant walked in then. ‘Miss Wheeler your— your fiancé is here.’

‘Fuck.’ She said standing up from the couch then. A tipsy mess of white tulle walking around the glass table.  ‘I told him to come in half an hour. Why do men never listen.’

You bit your lip as you tried to repress your amused smile.

‘He’s in the lobby.’ The consultant said as they walked out together down the hallway once again. ‘I just didn’t want him to see the dress—’

‘Of course, he can’t see the dress!’ You heard Nancy complain as she turned towards the changing room. ‘I swear if I don’t marry him, I’ll kill him!’

You laughed softly at her, but once again the joy didn’t reach your eyes as you stood in front of the mirror. Steve didn’t take his eyes off you as he stood up from the couch with the bouquet he had carefully designed in his hands.

Nancy knew he had a thing for orchids and their delicacy, their short-lived beauty. Back when he was a teenager embarrassed by his fascination for plants, he spent a whole summer trying to grow one in his back garden. It was good entertainment for those days where his parents seemed to be absent, walking through the endless corridors of his big house like ghosts. He didn’t succeed. It was frustrating, to say the least. But now he had his own place. Not too small and not too big, full of plants. Living things that required care. Real, palpable things he could watch grow and not fade away. He had this, he thought as he climbed the few steps that took him to the mirror where you stood while you observed him silently. This, he thought as he placed the small bouquet in your hand. The orchid was already starting to die, he noticed as his fingers brushed yours for the second time today, and you wrapped your fingers around the flowers.

‘So, what do you think?’ You asked him sadly as you held the bouquet with both hands over your stomach. This is how you envisioned yourself walking down the isle behind Nancy, or at least this is how you thought bridesmaids did it in the movies.

Something about your tone told Steve maybe you didn’t want him to give you an honest answer. He wanted to tell you the truth, the hard truth that was often so simple: that you were always beautiful. That he had missed you. That he had been thinking about you the whole week.

But he didn’t. He just smiled at you, fondly, sweetly. It was worse than any other mix of cheesy words he could’ve offered you. His fingers hesitated before they found each of your shoulders, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you right there. The thought itself was too much to handle, his soothing fingertips brushing against your skin the same way they had the day of the engagement party in that dim blue hallway where Steve Harrington had first held you in a way that could only make you fall into pieces.

You were about to shrink under his touch, he could tell, before he spoke.

‘Let me help you.’ He said as his hands left your shoulders.

It didn’t last too long, though. He kneeled in front of you and his soft hands brushed your ankles as he started unclasping the uncomfortable heels. You swallowed hard, feeling tears in the back of your throat as you let the silence shared fall on you, as you let him show you what couldn’t be put in words.

You stepped out of the first one as he moved onto your other foot, a bit relieved now that your skin wasn’t feeling weird. His hand stayed on your ankle after you stepped out of the second one and he looked up at you.

‘Thank you, Steve.’ You whispered, looking at his brown eyes and knowing that there was something irreversibly wrong with you. Something that would always stand in between you two, and you had no idea how to fight this defensiveness, this loneliness, this resignation.

 ‘Anytime, sweetheart.’ He said as he looked up at you, knowing now more than ever, that you were going to break his heart.

‘Dad said he was going to turn him into soup!’ Said Nancy, sitting on the table next to Jonathan. ‘It’s just a little bunny, you know.’

‘Parents are so weird about pets nowadays,’ Said Robin then, ‘Like, can’t you see this is the closest thing you’ll have to a grandchild? First thing my mom said when I got Sissy was “the average hamster lives half a year you know?” I was like, excuse me? Woman, that’s your own blood you’re talking about now.’

You laughed softly at Robin from the other side of the table. Not only Steve was looking at you now, but so did everyone else. Maybe it was too obvious that something was going on with you, by the way they all looked at you with fondness. Or maybe you were just overthinking.

‘What did your parents say when you got Olivia?’ Asked Nancy then, before turning to the waiter that had brought the bill to the table. ‘Thank you.’

‘Oh, they don’t— They don’t know about her.’ You said quietly. You lowered your eyes when you saw Steve frown from the corner of your eye, aware of what you were doing once again. Dropping some facts about yourself in a conversation with other people when what you really wished to do was talk to him and only him about this. ‘But they’re not dog people, really. We never had any pets growing up. Olivia’s my first child.’

‘Aww. God, I love her.’ Said a very drunk Nancy then before yawning. Steve reached out for the bill, but Nancy stopped him before he could. ‘We got this. You guys have been so helpful today. So helpful. Like, listen to this, Robin. They didn’t even fight once.’

But you could feel that it was coming when Steve dropped Robin at her place, and you moved to the front seat. The sun was almost set, taking away the blue colours of the sunset as the sky turned a deeper shade of blue.

‘Can you drop me somewhere else?’ You asked him while securing your seatbelt, so you didn’t have to look at him. ‘I’ll put the address in the GPS.’

‘Where?’ He asked then. The car was still parked in front of Robin’s house.

You stood silent for a second, trying to come up with the words to explain yourself but being completely unable to.

‘Don’t worry.’ You simply said. ‘Y-you can drive me home and I’ll take my car.’

‘No, it’s fine.’ He rushed to say as he turned the car on. His eyes stayed on the windshield, avoiding you as much as you avoided him. When had things turned this weird? He wondered silently. ‘Just type the address, I can drive you.’

You did as he said, not daring to insist or protest. The tension was thick all the way to the nursery home, as Steve recalled the night of the party, the next morning at your place. That night when you showed up on his building then. The museum. The park. His terrace. Something inside him told him this was it. He had done exactly what he did every time, getting his hopes up and hitting a wall. He stole a glance at you from the corner of his eye and for the first time today, he accepted that he really didn’t know you, and as much as he wanted to, maybe he never would.

‘Thank you.’ You said when he turned the engine off.

You both stayed silent, only the click of your seatbelt as you unclasped it and then, nothing.

Here it comes, he thought as he sat back on his seat to look back at you.

‘Listen,’ You started. But as soon as your eyes laid on him, you realised he already knew. Maybe he had known all day. ‘I’m sorry—’

‘You don’t have to apologize.’

‘But I am—’

‘Don’t.’ He insisted. ‘I understand.’

‘I just—’ You took a deep breath. It had been so easy with Jamie. Way too easy. Why wasn’t this being as easy? ‘I realised today that you’ve helped me so much, Steve. So much. And I— I need this people in my life. Nancy, Robin, Eddie, Jonathan. You. You guys are the closest thing I have to a family, and I can’t— This, us! If this doesn’t work, I’m going to lose that. I can’t lose that.’

He licked his lips as he looked at you from the driver seat. At your beautiful face, at the way your frown hid much more pain that what you were letting him see. Of course he understood. He had put two plus two together as soon as you started to open up, dropping hints here and there, staying away from any kind of warmth, refusing to let anyone touch you. You were not cold, as you wanted him to believe, not at all. You were the sweetest thing, actually. So sweet that he couldn’t even be mad at you for this.

‘I get it, sweetheart.’ He said, his eyelids had turned heavy for reasons that could only made your eyes sting as his face leaned against the seat, the scene so similar to that night he apologized to you in your couch and all you wanted were his hands on you, his lips on yours.

Now you could feel the heat rush to your cheeks for completely different reasons. The cowardice sat on your chest as you bit your lip, and your eyes stayed dry, and why were they dry if you were about to break the heart of the sweetest guy you had ever met?

‘I— Can we talk about this later?’ You asked, you begged. It was all too much. Your hands sweaty, your shoulder blades tense. Feeling like the biggest asshole in the world. ‘I’m sorry, I came to see my grandma and I need to sort out a few things for her.’

‘S okay.’ He said with a soft smile that didn’t really reach his eyes. You saw him swallow hard before he spoke again. ‘Just one thing.’

You felt your heart beating hard against your chest, a few seconds of uncertainty opening between you two before you got the courage to speak.

‘Tell me.’

‘Don’t push me away?’ His eyebrows arched unintentionally, letting you see what he had probably been hiding since the moment you opened your mouth. Fear. ‘Please?’

You blinked a couple of times before climbing down his car. Running away from him and doing exactly what he was asking you not to do.

You had bought a tea from the little café on the entrance of the nursing home before walking to the reception. The nurses recognised you, you knew what they were thinking, where had you been? It had been weeks since the last time you had come to see her. There were seasons like this, in which you couldn’t do it, where it was too much. Everything was always too much, really. People always needed too much, and you always felt that you had so little to give them.

The paperwork was sorted out in less then ten minutes. It hadn’t been a big deal; Aston could’ve done it through the phone if he hadn’t been feeling like being a fucking idiot today. But you were so tired by then, and worse, so heartbroken, that you didn’t have it in you to message him and tell him he was an absolute waste of space.

‘There she is.’ Said the new nurse you had met today as she let you into the spacious room where other residents sat reading, chatting or watching TV.

‘Thank you, Lena.’ You said as you stood in the entrance of the room.

She was painting. Of course she was, sitting on a table by herself and surrounded by watercolours, paper, and pencils. You took a few steps towards the woman that had taught you how to draw, how to take the bus, how to put a pad on. She looked at you briefly, not even acknowledging you. It happened sometimes; it took her a while. You were used to it.

You stood on the other side of the table for a while, taking careful sips of your hot tea while looking at her drawing. She was painting daffodils, these ones you knew.

‘I wandered lonely as a cloud…’ You said, quoting the poem your grandad used to read to you when you were little.

She smiled to herself as she grabbed a napkin and started cleaning her hands.

‘Funny girl.’ She said without looking at you, lost in the yellow, careful strokes she painted on the paper. ‘What do you want for dinner tonight?’

‘Mom cooked dinner for me earlier.’ You said taking a step closer to her, now that you knew she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable around you. ‘I was thinking we could watch a movie?’

‘Sure thing, sweetie.’ She put her brush on a glass of water before looking at you this time. ‘Why don’t you ask grandad to plug in the DVD for you?’

‘Already did.’ You said smiling. ‘We just need to choose the movie.’

But you never chose to pick a movie. When you walked in together into her room, it was as if time had never passed between you. She was talking about what she remembered she had done that morning; she had gone for a walk with Lena. One of her friends had taught her how to do her eyebrows properly. The doctor said her joints were improving now that she was taking swimming classes daily. And tomorrow she was baking apple pie with Lena because she wanted to teach her.

‘I hope I remember. Honestly, I really want to teach her.’ She said as she sat down on the bed.

‘I’ll remind her before I leave.’ You said, sitting next to her. ‘I brought you something.’

You grandma smiled like an excited child as you looked through your bag, and you didn’t let yourself get too carried away by the grief. It was bitter and ironic, how time had switched your roles. Once, she had explained to you that Santa wasn’t real, that no means no, and that unfortunately, if you mixed all the colours, you wouldn’t get a rainbow shade, but that iridescence was just as beautiful and you could find it in bubbles, and oil, and the back of a CD.

You took out the leftovers of the bouquet Steve had made for you, leaving the dead orchid inside your bag. You didn’t know what you would do with her, but you didn’t want to think about it now.

‘Oh, these are so beautiful, love.’ She said taking the little selection of flowers, still secured by the knot that Steve had tied around them.

You pushed her thigh playfully, so she’d moved further into the bed. You both found a comfortable position, laying down over the blankets while she still observed the flowers, trying to remember all the names and murmuring under her breath: rose, daisies, lavender. You observed her concentration as you looked up at her, your hand under your cheek and your eyes lingering on her grey hair that she still kept tidy and styled, her eyes that were your mother’s and yours. Her hands that had sown the holes of your favourite socks so many times.

‘Where did you find these?’ She asked then.

‘A friend of mine does gardening. He’s really good at arranging flowers.’

‘A friend, huh?’ She said putting the flowers aside. She moved into the bed, laying on her side to look at your face. ‘Is he nice to you?’

You swallowed hard, feeling your eyes sting a little at the memory of what had happened earlier inside Steve’s car.

‘He is.’ You admitted. ‘He’s the sweetest guy I know.’

‘M glad to hear that.’ She said pinching your cheek like when you were little, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

‘How are you feeling, anyways?’ You asked, trying to change the subject before you tortured yourself with his begging Please that was replaying inside your head.

‘I’m okay, love.’ Her hand was now stroking your face, like when you were eight and you used to place your chin on her stomach whenever you wanted to ask for something. ‘I’m great. I’m happy here.’

You smiled then, feeling the tension on your shoulders dissipating a little bit.

‘Are you happy?’ She asked then, looking for an honest answer in your eyes.

You swallowed hard, looking back at her. She knew you. She could forget what year it was, or where her father had been born, or that your grandad had died peacefully in his sleep ten years ago. But she didn’t seem to forget how to read you, knowing that you were irreversibly broken inside.

‘Oh, grandma.’ Your voice broke as you said her name, like a little girl that needed help and was dying to ask for it. ‘I made an awful mistake.’

‘Shhh.’ She hushed you as you started sobbing in her arms.  ‘Oh, my girl. Come here.’

She squeezed you like you needed, stroking your hair and kissing your hairline. And you held onto that moment until she fell asleep a few minutes later, when your sobs turned into shaky breaths, and the breaths into sighs of resignation.

Your phone buzzed once. It was totally dark outside now; you could see from the window. You untangled her arms from you as you sat higher on the bed, the light of the screen almost blinding you when you attempted to check the notification.

It was him. Of course it was him.

I’m here If you need anything.

[typing...]

Anything. Honestly.

[typing...]

Please don’t say that, Steve.

[typing...]

I mean it. I want you in my life.

And I’m so scared to lose you.

I’m always going to be here for you.

Now it was ten minutes after you had read that message. You had let your grandma in her room and went to the desk yourself to ask them kindly to remove your useless brother from her emergency contacts. You decided to request a better oven for your grandma’s apartment. He’d never find out anyways, if he could pay to keep your grandma here and for plane tickets for London so your mom could see his daughter, he could pay for that as well.

By the time you left the building you were feeling exhausted and disgusting. You were about to order an Uber when a particular car caught your eye.

He stepped out of it, looking at you with your puffy eyes and parted lips, staring back at him in disbelief. Maybe angry, maybe annoyed, maybe just too stunned to speak.

‘I hope this is not too intrusive.’ Steve said then as he approached you. ‘M sorry if it is. I just— just wanted to wait for you.’ You seemed to understand his words now at least, nodding softly as he ran his hands through his hair. ‘Just wanted to know that you were okay. Do you— Do you want a ride?’  

You nodded again. The shock still not leaving your face, until you felt suddenly relieved and then like an idiot.

‘Yeah, I— Yeah. That’s fine. Thank you.’

The ride to your place was quiet. You were dozing off next to the window, Steve could tell by your breathing pattern. He knew you had been crying by the way you had to breathe through your mouth sometimes, until you tried to sniff and then changed your position on the passenger seat as you opened your eyes again.

The air was thick with tension, but you were too embarrassed to be proud now. You looked at him from the seat, trying to come up with words, but there was too much you needed to say. So much you wanted to take back.

‘Thank you, Steve.’

‘Listen, it’s fine.’ He said.

‘It’s not fine.’ You admitted out loud. ‘Today’s been a disaster, I— I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

‘Nothing’s wrong with you.’ He leaned in, trying to search for your eyes. And you knew by then that he was dying to touch you, but you had been so stubborn and cold and stupid that now he’d never try to show you affection again. ‘I just want to be the kind of friend you need. What you said before— you’re right. We’re a family. That’s why I waited for you.’

You searched inside you for the names of all the emotions you were experiencing, but ultimately you knew that it all came to one sensation taking over your body: numbness.

‘I can explain it—’

‘You don’t have to explain anything—’

‘I want to, Steve.’ You said firmly, looking back at him. ‘Please.’

How many times could this scene repeat?  You thought as you walked back to the living room with two glasses of water in your hands. Steve was already sitting on the couch, as far from you as possible as if he had exiled himself before you had a chance to.

You two stayed on the couch in silence for a few seconds. Olivia slept on the other side of the room, Steve hadn’t dared to pet her when he walked in, he didn’t know if it would make you uncomfortable. What he didn’t realise was that such a little gesture had broken your heart more than anything else, because it had shown you that this was the consequence of every wrong decision you had taken today.

‘We need something stronger.’ You said standing up then.

‘What?’ He asked confused, from his place on the couch.

‘I need a drink.’ You said. ‘God, I’m so stupid—’

‘Hey.’ He stood up, finally cupping your face as he had been dying to. He could sense the beginning of an anxiety attack on your voice. ‘I’m here, yeah? No drinks. And no stressful conversations now. You need to rest.’

‘No.’ you said taking a step back ‘Jesus, Steve. Why are you like this?’

‘Sweetheart, I’m worried about y—’  

His heart broke deeper inside his chest when you kissed him so unexpectedly in the middle of your sad, blue living room. You kissed him with grief and fear, submerging your fingers in his hair and holding on to this moment as your insisting tongue found his inside his mouth, and he gave in completely, selflessly. Like he always did with you. But he couldn’t let you do this. He knew he shouldn’t. So, he leaned back with a deep gasp, swallowing hard as he looked down at you.

‘You can’t do this to me—’

‘I want you.’ You admitted softly. Deer eyes looking up at him with fearful vulnerability. ‘I was a coward, earlier in the car. And I’m… so sorry.’

He saw the way you looked to his lips to his eyes, almost begging him to kiss you again, in that innocent way only you could.

‘Please forgive me.’ You said in a whispery sob. ‘I know that I pushed you away—’

‘Shhh,’ He whispered as he cupped your face again, as new tears started to fall down. ‘Shhh, baby. ‘M not mad.’

‘You should be mad.’ You were completely melting at the way he lifted your chin with his thumb, brushing your nose with his as he shook his head.

‘No, I shouldn’t.’ He said in the same soft, peaceful tone.

‘You should—’

‘Shhh.’ He pecked your dry mouth softly, making sure that his lips made yours warm again. ‘Shhh.’

His hands found their place on your hips, slowly wrapping around your back to progressively get you closer. Testing if it was okay. You let him hug you, clinging on to him like you never had on anyone, wrapping your hands around his neck as he stroked your hair.

Steve covered you with the blankets before getting in the bed with you. He had removed his shirt while you changed into something more comfortable, yet you could still feel the discomfort inside you, the guilt of it all. You had a sudden need to trace his whole body with your fingers, just in case you might really lose him one day and he decided not to give you another chance.

All this time you had tried to be so careful, and for what? You thought as you played with the hairs of his chest before your fingertips traced his collarbones and the freckles of his neck, the line of his bicep. For what? It was so obvious that from the very first night you had started falling in love with him.

This truth didn’t free you, no. It made you feel more terrified than ever. When you looked up at him and he kissed your nose, still warm by the tears, with so much adoration, you realised that it was devastatingly impressive how little effort it had taken him to earn you. And you didn’t think he was aware of that.

‘When grandma was diagnosed,’ You said still lost on the hairs of his chest, ‘Aston decided to send her to a nursery home. I was away at college, and no one told me.’

He stroked your face as your eyes watered again, the bitterness of your brother’s betrayal sitting on your stomach. He took one of your hands to his mouth as he noticed the subtle shake of your fingers, kissing them softly. Knowing this was a time where all you were asking from him was silence.

‘Of course it was on purpose.’ You said shaking your head. ‘Mom knew I would be against it. You know, I was very young and stubborn so I thought… that I could take care of her. Of course I couldn’t, I was a baby fresh out of high school. And taking care of her is a full-time job.’

He stroked your back as you remembered out loud. Once you had told this same story to Jamie, but that had been a lifetime ago. Some parts you had told him over text, others were casual comments in situations where you had no other choice than to add some context to stories that had nothing to do with this. It was strange, now that you thought about it, how Jamie had never asked any questions.

No one had ever wanted to know you until now.

You cleared your throat as you went on.

‘So, uhm, grandma decided to rearrange her will.’ You said. ‘Grandad had died a couple of years before, and he had left a bit of money to mom and her sister, and of course the rest was for Grandma. All his sentimental belongings were divided between Aston, my cousins and me. So, when gran… Shit, sorry.’

‘C’mere, pretty girl.’ He sat up so you could climb on his lap. Your head found its place on his shoulder and your knees against his chest as you sat on your side. He covered you with the blankets as you let out a deep sigh. ‘Go on.’

‘She let me everything.’ You said, shrugging. ‘The house, grandad’s money, all the stuff she owned and her savings. Everything’s under my name. And of course, nothing can be changed because her illness is so advanced now. Technically it’s all still hers, but it’s kind of a grey area legally speaking.’   

You looked up at him, biting your lip as he removed some rebellious baby hairs off your face.

‘She raised me. So, it makes sense. At least for me, it does. I got shit from everyone, but mom was the one who couldn’t stand it. She and my aunt tried to contact some lawyers and everything. Grandma stopped talking to them as soon as she found out. It was all so tense and… shocking?’

You didn’t expect him to say anything. It wasn’t easy to digest, and did it embarrass you. It was also not even half of the story. So, you just let him hug you against his chest as his lips hovered over your scalp.  

‘And Aston was just… furious. And listen, I kind of get it because my parents were obsessed with the fact that he was a genius weirdo. He didn’t have a proper childhood. But they let him believe he was above everyone else; he was an only child for about twelve years, growing up alone in some boarding school in Boston. And then my parents had me at their forties and they… tried. But looking back I think they already hated each other. When I found out my dad was cheating on my mom, Aston was in Oxford, getting high and wasted. We were never a family.’

You heard him sigh deeply against your scalp at the gravity of what you were confessing while his fingers stroked the skin of your elbows.

‘I mean I had a family. My grandparents made sure I didn’t lack anything because they knew Aston was out of their reach. They hated what my parents did to him, but Aston… I think it has always hurt him, feeling that they gave me something they didn’t give him. And that’s fair. No one protected him.’

‘Hey.’ He cupped your face once when he heard you sniff.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’

‘I just…’ You took a deep breath, looking to your side as he delicately cleaned your tear with his fingertips. ‘I pity them. All of them. I can’t stand it.’

You finally looked up at him, lost in the overflowing softness in his eyes. You had been so silly, hadn’t you? All this time he had been ready for you, waiting for you. And you were tiptoeing around this honest moment of pure comfort. This perfect sense of calm.

‘I think that’s understandable, sweetheart.’

He lifted your hand again, kissing your palm softly before your hand naturally fit against his face and his fingers stroked your wrist, keeping it right there.

‘Thank you for trusting me.’ He kissed your palm once again before leaning towards you. When his nose brushed against your temple, tracing its way down your cheek, you couldn’t help but close your eyes. ‘And for letting me take care of you.’ He whispered as he kissed your skin then, while you let out a deep relaxing breath, his lips softly brushing, barely pecking your jaw as their made their way to your mouth. ‘And for not pushing me away.’

‘I like you too much for that.’ You admitted in a whisper as his mouth brushed against yours. ‘Way too much.’

 ‘Yeah?’ You could feel him smile, even if you couldn’t see him, too overwhelmed by the sweet feeling that was melting your body.

‘Mhmm.’ You nodded softly, humming in that high-pitched tone that sent shivers through his body. Sometimes, he thought, you seemed so small while you turned him into nothing. ‘Too much.’

He laughed softly, feeling his cheeks turning warm and delaying the kiss you searched for as his nose hid on your neck, leaving a quick, wet kiss under your ear.

‘Mmm.’ He hummed against your skin. ‘N I like you too, you’re too fuckin’ sweet not to, baby.’

He saw you search for his mouth with your eyes closed, smiling subtly with eyebrows barely arched. And he wasn’t going to deny you this, or anything really. He couldn’t, he thought, as his mouth found yours and you adorably melted against his body while he kissed you patiently.

He’d never deny you anything. It was too late for him to start worrying about such trivialities, because he had known it for a while already, maybe since the first time you called him baby with that helpless voice of yours back in your living room, that he was falling in love with you. Pathetically in love with you. And you had made it so easy, so effortless for him, really, that he had no other option than to accept the irremediable truth. He was falling.

🏷️: @thytorturedpoet also tagging some cuties that might lose it when they see i just posted this lol @sheisjoeschateau @rebelfell @mangomastani @hollandweather

I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic

[kookygranger]

Summary: Your lab partner, Eddie Munson, might be the most irritating person in your life. But when he unexpectedly comes to your rescue at a party, his chivalry is too hard to resist.

A collaboration with the absurdly talented @corroded-hellfire 🥰

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fem!Reader, enemies-to-lovers, drinking, Billy Hargrove being a douche, fighting, blood, praise, fingering, accidental voyeurism if you squint, unprotected p in v, fluff because Red & I are some corny motherfuckers

Thank you @blueywrites for your idea that upped the spice 🌶️🌶️ Divider credit to @saradika

“Okay, so we need to mix the magnesium with hydrochloric acid,” you start, carefully measuring each substance and pouring them into a test tube, “and then we light the splint and see if it creates a squeaking noise.”

“Right,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “And, uh, why are we doing this, exactly?”

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. Eddie getting under your skin is bad enough, but if he knew how much he annoyed you, he’d likely double down. 

“We’re testing for the presence of oxygen,” you say with as much patience as you can muster. “And you need to wear safety goggles.”

He rolls his eyes and mimics you in a high-pitched and highly unflattering tone. “You need to wear safety goggles.” 

He reaches for the matches, but you pull them away before he can grab them. 

“I’m serious.”

Eddie scoffs. “Please. We’re not even blowing shit up. Besides, I have a gig tonight, and I’m not getting on stage with goggle marks on my face.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the difference between your shitty band getting a record deal or not.”

“Whatever.” But he begrudgingly snaps on the protective gear, and you hand over the matchbox and the splint. 

“So just li—seriously?” You watch, dumbfounded, as Eddie strikes a match and uses it to light the cigarette perched between his lips. Where had he kept it this whole time?

“What?” He asks with a smirk. “There’s, like, a million of these left. I’ll use the next one for the experiment thingy.”

He doesn’t get that far; Ms. O’Donnell marches over and yanks out the cigarette, snuffs it in the tray, and orders him to the principal’s office. 

Leaving you to complete your work alone. Again. 

Last week, it was because he’d kicked his feet up on the table and took a swig of Mountain Dew from a beaker. The week before, he’d blown up a rubber glove like a balloon and popped it right in Jason Carver’s ear, causing him to shatter a test tube on the ground. 

You often felt more like a babysitter than a lab partner. 

What you needed was a night out, so the party Steve Harrington was throwing tonight could not come any sooner. It wasn’t your usual scene, but all of your friends were going, and it certainly beat raiding your parents’ liquor cabinet alone. 

Music blasts from an overpriced stereo system as you pull up to Steve’s house. Barely audible over the reverberating bass is the sound of drunken cheering as someone does a kegstand. You sigh, plaster a smile on your face, and make a beeline for the punch bowl. 

Heather Holloway ladles jungle juice into an already pink-stained cup; you’re grateful for at least one kind face in a sea of Hawkins High students and recent graduates. 

“Heather, hi!” You smile at her, plucking a new cup from the stack and filling it nearly to the brim. “How’s college?”

Heather takes a sip, wrinkling her nose at the vodka’s pungency. “Way better than high school,” she says with a laugh. “I’m taking an intro to biochem, and my lab partner actually shows up.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast. “Maybe you could take mine. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

She laughs. “Can’t be worse than when I was stuck with The Freak last year. He never showed up to class.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm. And Ginny Anderson was his lab partner during his first senior year, and he pulled the same shit.”

Lucky them, you think wryly. Guess he decided to be a star student for his third go-around. 

Frat boy-style cheering echoes from behind you and when you spin around you see Billy Hargrove strutting through the crowd, towards the kitchen. He throws a wink to a few girls and slaps five to one of the guys on the basketball team. If he’s coming into the kitchen, it’s the last place you want to be.

The living room is smoky and loud, but it beats getting stuck next to the booze with a jackass like Hargrove. Every thump of the bass has the little sips of alcohol you’ve taken sloshing around in your stomach. It’s hard to tell where you’re going or even what direction you’re going with so many people, so you just keep wading through groups until finally you come upon some space to breathe. 

Unfortunately, this space brings you right back to where you began: in front of the kitchen. Just in time for Billy to sidle up next to you, the scent of whiskey and tangy cologne wafting off of him in waves. 

“Where have you been all my life?” he asks, as if it’s supposed to be charming instead of nausea-inducing. 

“Was better a second ago,” you mumble, not caring if he hears you or not. But when you move to step away from the blonde, the smarmy look slips from his too-pretty face and is replaced with a mask of set determination. 

Strong fingers curl around your wrist, just tight enough to cause the barest amount of pain. The audacity and possessiveness are what piss you off the most, though. 

A gentle tug of your arm does nothing to free it from his grip, so you try a little harder. Still nothing.

“Let go,” you seethe. The words are biting, but you’re a chihuahua up against a doberman. 

Somehow, above your pulse pounding in your ears and the music thumping throughout the large house, you hear the distinct clang of a metal lunchbox snap shut and heavy boots on polished wood floors headed in your direction. 

You sense Eddie over your shoulder before he appears in your peripheral vision. A moment hangs in the air where he and Billy stare at one another, and you watch them both, unsure of what is about to happen. 

Eddie steels his jaw, unmoving. “Let her go,” he says, a slight rasp in his tone. 

The jock remains unfazed, unthreatened. “Shouldn’t you be worshiping Satan’s asshole, Freak?”

“Shouldn’t you be worshiping Tommy’s? Or does he only worship yours?”

A cacophony of laughter stirs up an anger inside of Billy. He grabs Eddie by the jacket collar and slams him against the counter. “If you don’t fuck off in the next three seconds, I’ll kick you ass so hard that your uncle won’t even be able to identify your body.”

Eddie smirks. “One…two—”

Billy’s fist crashes into Eddie’s cheek with a sickening crack. Eddie returns with a punch to Billy’s abdomen, but not before his face sustains a few more hits. 

Shock loosens its grasp on you and you call out for help, knowing it’s no use getting in the middle of their brawl. Someone—Tommy H, maybe—is chanting “fight!” and it takes all of your willpower not to clock him yourself. 

Billy finally lets up when Eddie falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony. “Maybe next time, you’ll mind your fucking business,” he spits through his split lip—one of the few punches Eddie managed to land. 

His smarminess is enough to provoke a reflexive response in you. As he gloats, you deliver a swift kick square to his crotch. A choked whine slips from Billy’s parted lips as he doubles over. You snort a laugh to yourself thinking about how the dumbbell is probably going to spin this story so he doesn’t seem like any less than the King of Hawkins High in front of his fellow party-goers. He’ll never be able to take away your satisfaction at using a pair of your nicest shoes to crush Billy’s balls though. 

Eddie is still on the ground, wiping blood that’s trickled out of his right nostril onto the back of his sleeve. Turning your back to Billy, you bend down and offer your hand to Eddie. He accepts it with a weak smile and you help him to his feet. 

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eddie says with a shrug and a sad smile that knots your stomach. He’s been hurt worse than this?

Unable to follow that train of thought, you reach out and slip your hand into Eddie’s. You give a small tug and he readily follows you down the hall of the Harrington home, the thumping beat of the bass becoming softer the further you walk. 

In the back corner of the house you manage to find a bathroom that’s not occupied by someone puking the mixture of alcohol they’ve consumed or a couple hooking up, going at it like wild animals. This one looks like it’s been hardly touched all night and you click the lock into place once you and Eddie are inside. 

Eddie takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, his calloused fingers coming up to gently touch the gash right across his chin. He winces at the tenderness of the wound while you crouch down and look in the cabinets underneath the sink for a first aid kit. 

“Ah, here we are,” you announce as you pull out the small white box with the red cross on it. On your knees, you shuffle over towards Eddie and slide the kit along with you. “It’s not so bad,” you tell Eddie as you dab some rubbing alcohol on a small swath of gauze. “The face just bleeds more because—”

“Because the blood vessels in the face are so close to the skin,” Eddie finishes for you. 

“Wow,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “I’m impressed.”

“We are in the same science class, you know,” Eddie teases with a playful smirk. It quickly turns to a grimace though as you begin to dab at his wounds. 

“I thought I recognized you from the seat next to mine,” you joke back. There’s silence for a few moments while you clean off all the excess blood and bandage up the open cuts. “Why are you suddenly interested in science this year? I mean, I was talking to Heather before and she said you never showed up when you were her lab partner. So, what? Renewed attempt to graduate?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. He avoids your eyes and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

“Got the hots for O’Donnell?”

He belly laughs at that thought, grimacing at the pain it causes. “Fuck, no!” He shakes his head. “She looks like a walrus and a naked mole rat had some sort of freaky baby.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”

“You were the one who suggested I’m into her,” Eddie rebutted, and fairly so. 

“I didn’t make you compare her to a—”

A loud crash stops you mid-sentence, followed by someone drunkenly lamenting, “not the punch!”

“We’re probably safer hiding out in here for a bit,” Eddie says softly, “unless you want to volunteer to clean up whatever mess they made.”

“I think cleaning up your mess is more than enough for tonight.” To punctuate your point, you swipe a clean piece of gauze over a small cut you’d previously missed. “Besides, I wanna know what’s suddenly got you showing up to class.”

Eddie’s eyes roam your body far more conspicuously than he’d like, but the attention fills you with a newfound warmth. “You.” He snorts out a little laugh, startling you slightly. “Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought.”

“W-Wait.” You fight off the embarrassment that accompanies your stuttered words. “I’m the reason …?”

He noticed your reaction, mistaking disbelief for discomfort. “Does that make things…does that make you feel weird?” Nerves marr whatever joking tone he was trying to convey. 

All you can do is shake your head. “No. It makes things…good.” Good insufficiently describes your reaction, though part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s a prank, his way of getting back at you for—

A hooked finger in the belt loop of your jeans snags your attention, Eddie gently tugging you closer to him. “And now?”

“Still good. Better, actually.” Resting one hand on his sore chest, you lean in and add, “will it hurt if I kiss you?”

“Don’t care.”

Despite him not caring, you certainly care if you’re going to hurt him or not. Your mouth moves slowly towards his, lips just barely brushing against each other as your breaths co-mingle. It’s not enough for Eddie though, and he presses his lips against yours with more force, stealing the air from your lungs as your body melts against his. The back bathroom at the Harrington household is not something you would’ve considered romantic before, but right now it’s the only place you want to be. Tucked away in the corner with Eddie, trading explorative kisses as your hands roam each other's bodies. 

Your body buzzes when Eddie’s tongue sweeps against yours, heat immediately pooling between your legs. 

Instinctively, gingerly, you press your torso to his, one trembling finger hooking into his belt loop. A moan escapes you, soft but saturated with need. Eddie clocks it immediately. 

“Mhm.” His smile threatens to break the kiss. “That’s it.” 

You feel the button of your jeans unfasten, the sound of unzipping music to your ears. His hand slips between the denim and the newly exposed lace of your panties, grin widening when it reaches the damp patch. 

Eddie’s hardness strains against the confines of his own pants, and you rush to relieve that ache. His exhale when you touch him—over his boxers, but not as gently as he touches you—makes you even wetter. 

“Gotta have you.” He toys with your waistband but doesn’t explore further until he hears your ‘yes,’ pathetic and whimpering but consent nonetheless. “Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver coursing through you. 

The pads of his fingertips find your clit without struggle, rubbing precise circles over it that have you groaning his name. “Every time you say my name from now on,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna think about this.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” It’s part taunt and part truth; only his name is on your mind. Your back arches against the sink, porcelain digging into your skin, but you barely notice. 

One strong hand reaches for the strap of your tank top, pulling it down so harshly that the fabric tears. He mutters a soft swear, tugs the rest of the shirt down until your bra is completely visible. 

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie kisses your chest, groaning when the sensation of his lips causes you to squeeze his throbbing cock. “Careful, or I’ll—”

He’s interrupted by the door swinging wide open, Billy and Heather wrapped around each other in drunken lust. Billy’s eyes widen, their blueness dulled from the liquor, when he sees that the bathroom is currently occupied—and by whom. 

The intrusion startles you as well, but you’re much quicker at recovering than the inebriated asshole gaping at you from the doorway.

“Get the fuck out!” you hiss. 

Heather turns her head to look in your direction, as if she hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the bathroom until you’d spoken up. It’s clear she’s had quite a few more drinks since you’d seen her in the kitchen.

Whether it’s the alcohol, the shock, or his own stupidity, Billy doesn’t make a move towards leaving, let alone tug Heather along with him. The blonde shakes a few curls out of his eyes, causing Heather to reach up and twirl one around her finger.

“Jesus Christ, is this douche even capable of hearing a woman if she isn’t moaning his name?” Eddie mutters to you before rounding on the drunken pair and raising his voice. “The lady said out. Now.” 

Something finally snaps Billy out of his dazed state and he curls his lip, giving the two of you a half-hearted sneer. He pulls Heather out of the doorway so quickly that it looks like she gets whiplash as he slams the door closed behind them. 

Eddie leans over and locks the door, giving the knob a twist for good measure. “Do me a favor, honey?” His voice is a ribbon of silk down your spine. “Turn around so you’re facing the mirror.”

You do as he says, hands planted on the sink ledge. Your shirt is torn, make-up smudged, and you’re out of breath from the impromptu make out session. Ducking your head, you’re determined to avoid your reflection until tobacco-scented words tickle your ear from behind. 

“Be a good girl and look at yourself while I fuck you.” Eddie moves your thong over, exposing your pussy, and exhales with a tremble. His middle finger glides over your folds before pushing into you slowly. “You got wetter when I called you a good girl, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” you manage, stifling a moan as his ring finger joins his middle. 

A teasing pout graces Eddie’s lips. “Such a good girl. And only for me.”

“Only for you,” you echo. 

He taps the head of his cock on your bare ass, leaving drops of pre-cum in his wake. “Gotta be inside you,” he growls. “Gotta fuckin’ feel what a good girl you are.”

The sensation of his cock dragging down along your folds mixed with him knowing just what to say to get you squirming has you dropping your head forward with a soft whimper. A strong, calloused hand quickly finds its way up to your throat though, and presses with just enough pressure to remind you that you’re supposed to be looking at yourself in the mirror. 

When you lift your head, you’re greeted by the sight of a smirking Eddie behind you in the mirror.

“Atta girl,” he praises. 

At a torturously slow pace, Eddie begins to push inside of you. A guttural groan slips past your gritted teeth as he stretches your walls, the pleasure causing you to curl your toes inside your shoes.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out before pulling his hips back. “Pussy’s even tighter than I imagined.”

The mental image of Eddie laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of you is enough to make your knees weak. They can’t buckle too much; Eddie has one hand gripping you tight and the other trailing down to your clit. Each deliberate circle is punctuated by a thrust, pleasure from every angle. 

He kisses your shoulder blade, groaning when you tighten around him. “Look at yourself,” he growls his reminder. “Look how beautiful you are, all fucked out like this.”

You catch another glimpse; this time, you see Eddie’s lust-filled expression along with your own. He’s even further gone than you are, so focused on burying himself within you to care about the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead or the way his teeth dig into his lower lip. 

“Say it.” His voice is half-commanding, half-pleading. 

“S-Say what?” Each word is a struggle, your orgasm building to a peak you’d never before reached. 

“That you’re beautiful.” He tugs you even closer to him, and there’s no mistaking his dominance for anything else. “So—goddamn—beautiful.”

You follow his order without a second thought. “I’m b-beautiful, all fucked out like th-this.” 

Eddie’s hips snap against the plush of your ass at a frenetic pace. “That’s it; that’s my good girl.” Not a good girl, you note. His good girl. 

One hand atop his, desperate for as much contact as possible, you moan: “your good girl.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything is you—you and him together, and it drives him to the edge. “You…you gotta…’m so close,” he rambles. 

“Me, too.” Panting breaths mingle with his groans, your walls tightening around him as you come. It’s so much, so intense, and tears cloud your vision resulting from the overwhelming bliss. “Eddie, oh, Eddie.”

He spills into you with a cry of your name. “H-ohmygod, holy fuckin’ shit.” His thrusts don’t stop until every last drop of his cum is inside you. 

Eddie’s chest presses against your back, but he’s careful not to put all his weight on you. The feeling of him so solid and warm behind lulls you from pure ecstasy to warm contentment, not wanting to move out from beneath him. 

A few silent moments pass before Eddie pulls out of you, both of you disappointed by the loss of contact. But Eddie’s hands refuse to let you go entirely, gently running over your hips and up your sides. The touch is featherlight and sends a comforting tingle throughout your limbs.

“You with me?” Eddie’s worn-out voice asks you.

“Mhmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. “Don’t wanna move.”

Eddie gives a husky chuckle in reply before he stands up, reluctantly taking a step away from you. Your own muscles whine in protest as you stand straight, the tell-tale signs of a good fucking already settling in. 

The two of you begin to clean up, each slipping back into articles of clothing along the way. One question prickles the back of your mind in the quiet room and you know your brain won’t be able to rest until it has an answer.

“Uh, Eddie?” you ask once you’ve cleaned up your smeared lipstick.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still going to come to class? Or, you know, now that you’ve had me you won’t have a reason to anymore?” You try to hide the insecurity in your tone but there was no mistaking the slight edge your words had. 

Eddie pauses mid-buckling his belt and gives you a frown. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says and the nickname alone already has your engine revving for a round two. “I wouldn’t sit through O’Donnell’s class for someone I only wanted to fuck. If I’m gonna listen to that hag drone on and on then there’s a damn good reason I’m sitting my ass in that classroom.” With a sigh, Eddie steps closer to you and after a moment’s hesitation, cups your face in his hands. “Can I take you out? Do things, ya know, the right way?”

A little trill of a giggle bursts out of you, which makes Eddie frown. But you’re quick to let him in on what you found amusing.

“You mean having sex in a bathroom at Steve Harrington’s house isn’t the typical way romances start?”

A grin slowly slides across Eddie’s mouth and you swear it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. All you want to do is keep that smile on his handsome face as much as you possibly can. 

“A romance, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “If I’d known that’s what this was, I would’ve at least fucked you in a guest room.”

You let your fingers brush over the fly of his jeans, feeling a gentle twitch from behind the zipper. “How about for round two?”

Eddie holds your face in his hands as he kisses you deeply, only breaking it to smile and murmur: 

“You read my mind, Beautiful.”

--

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic

[kookygranger]

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.