love-granger

[love-granger]

𖥔 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𖥔

summary ; your valentine’s day takes a turn when what you think is just a surprise from peter turns out to be a lot more than you bargained for.

pairing ; mcu!peter parker x fem!reader

notes ; fluff, some mentions of anxiety, but mostly just peter being an oblivious lil himbo baby! this is a repost from my old acc x

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

with valentine’s day just around the corner, it was easy to find yourself paranoid about the entire holiday and what exactly it meant for you and peter. 

while for most people, it was a celebration of love and being able to embrace that, for you, it had become an anxiety-induced menace of a day that had you second-guessing everything.

the worst part of all was that you and peter technically weren’t together. 

yet, as the days grew closer and you continued to get your hopes up, it was hard not to feel disheartened when he hadn’t uttered a single word about it. leading you to wonder if he had even given it any thought or if you were simply just getting in over your head about the whole thing. 

to any stranger passing you by on the street and witnessing just how affectionate you were with each other, you looked like a couple. heck, you had even shared the occasional kiss, sometimes a little more, and on days when you would go to his apartment to study, it was never long before you’d find yourself snuggling in his bed while he tried to do homework over the top of you.

you never really cared to put a label on your situationship until now, and mostly because you didn’t think you had to. 

but when the day finally arrives and peter was yet to exhibit any efforts in the name of romance, you were devastated. 

“so, he really hasn’t said anything?” mj asks as you head to your locker, having just finished your last class of the day. 

“nope. not a word,” you shake your head.

with her brows furrowing into a scowl, mj exhales, “man, i really thought he would have. i mean… it’s peter. the dude is literally the biggest softie i have ever met.”

despite the sadness you were feeling, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at your best friend’s words. she was the only one that knew how strongly you felt for peter. 

after all, she was the one to point it out.

“i don’t know, maybe i’m just looking too much into it?” you lift your shoulders into a shrug at the same time you reach your locker. 

“well, speak of the devil,” mj gestures towards the end of the hallway where peter and ned had just rounded the corner. 

it only takes them a moment to catch sight of you, and when they do, peter beams with a smile and waves before heading in your direction. even as they passed by multiple girls carrying flowers and the various heart-shaped decorations scattered all over the halls, peter still hadn’t noticed.

“hey! ned and i were talking about going back to mine to study for that test we have coming up, and maybe watch a movie. you guys in?” he asks, tugging on the straps of his bag, completely ignorant to his surroundings. 

it was like he had forgotten about the holiday’s existence altogether, or he was actively trying to avoid it. but why?

“i can’t. i, uh, i actually have a date tonight,” mj says, tucking her hair behind her ear as all eyes turn in her direction. 

“wait, what? with who?” you ask, this being the first you were hearing about it. honestly, you were surprised she had even told you at all. 

shaking her head, she looks down at her feet and shrugs, “just this guy. it doesn’t matter. but, uh, y/n is free tonight so… there’s that.”

the second the words leave her lips, peter’s attention returns to you. and you weren’t entirely sure, but it almost looked like he was relieved that you had no plans. 

a small smile dangled on the corner of his mouth, and his deep brown eyes softened as they met yours. “oh, okay. well, uh, do you want to join us?” he sort of fumbles over his words. 

while it wasn’t exactly what you had imagined spending the most romantic day of the year with peter would be like, it beat having to sit at home alone wallowing in your own self-pity. even if it was with the person causing it… and ned.

you open your mouth to speak when you’re interrupted by ned’s phone.

“actually, change of plans,” he says. “it’s betty… and she wants to see a movie tonight.”

“i thought you two broke up?” mj narrows her eyes with confusion. 

“we did… but maybe she wants to get back together?” he turns to peter with hopeful eyes, and after a moment, the other boy gives him a nudge. 

“dude, go!” he laughs. and just like that, ned rushes down the hall in search of betty, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as you let out a chorus of chuckles. 

“on that note, i better get going too,” mj says once the laughter faded into sighs and points the same way ned had gone. “i’ll see you losers monday. have fun, studying.”

rolling your eyes, you wave goodbye to the girl, as the thought of being alone with peter all night creeps into your mind. 

the idea alone causes your heart to fasten, thrumming loudly in your ears as your mouth becomes dry with nerves. it wasn’t like you at all to be so anxious around peter, and so much so that you almost couldn’t think straight. he was typically the one person you went to when you needed things to slow down, not make them difficult. 

you try to play off the effect he was having on you as you close your locker and swing your bag over your shoulder, but the second your gaze meets his again, it only seems to amplify. 

“so, it looks like it’s just you and me,” he shuffles awkwardly on his feet, tightening his grip on his bag straps once more. 

“uh, yeah. looks like it.” you smile, swallowing the ball that had formed in your throat, and the two of you slowly head towards the exit. 

the walk back to his apartment is quiet at first, but the second peter starts talking about the chemistry assignment he had coming up, there was no stopping him. though, you couldn’t shake the feeling like he was purposely trying to prolong the walk. 

he insisted that you take the longer route, which you never do, and he even slowed down his pace through the park. and as you were passing the deli-grocery, he stopped off to buy you both a sandwich, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but it did add another fifteen minutes to your time. 

it was like he didn’t want to get back to the apartment, like the thought of being fully alone with you was something he didn’t want to partake in. 

when you do finally reach the apartment, however, he fumbles to unlock the door and almost drops the keys in the process, but the second it’s open, you’re hesitant to even step inside. you had been there a million times before but this time, for whatever reason, felt different. 

you wondered if it really were such a good idea for you to be there, to be alone with him when he was clearly opposed to the idea. which was odd considering he had been the one to initiate you going over there in the first place.

“do you want a drink or anything?” he asks as he passes the kitchen to put his bag in his room. 

most days, you would follow him straight to his room, sometimes even beating him there, but with how he had been acting, it just didn’t feel right. so you lingered in the living room instead. 

at least, until he pops his head out of the door, and with a reassuring smile surfacing on his lips, he gestures for you to follow. 

“we’ve got water, juice or soda?” he asks as you enter the room, dropping his bag at the foot of his bed. 

“water is fine,” you nod. 

“okay, give me a sec,” he nods back, and having to cram past you to get out of the door, his hand runs down your arm so to not squish you. the touch immediately sends a pulse throughout your body, causing you to let out a small gasp. 

you were just grateful peter was far enough away that he hadn’t heard it, or if he did, he didn’t show it. 

with peter leaving you alone in his room, you take the chance to take it all in like you hadn’t been there before. you drop your bag beside his and slip out of your jacket before falling into a stupor on his bed. 

peter’s room had always been comforting to you, though, since the blip, it didn’t quite feel like it was his anymore. 

like everyone else that tragically disappeared, peter lost the majority of his belongings, as did you, but he no longer had any of his action figures or comic books. even the nerdy science posters that you would pick on him for, or his lego models - all the things that made peter’s room… his… was all gone. 

shaking away the thoughts, you bury yourself in the comfort of his sheets, letting your fingers dance across the cotton as you wait for him to return. but when you move to grab your phone from your jacket pocket, something in the corner of your eye catches your attention. 

it was the smallest glimmer of something red inside his closet, and the door was only open a crack, but it was enough to make your thoughts go wild. 

was it possible that peter had bought you something for valentine’s day and this whole thing was just a ruse to get you alone with him? were ned and mj in on it? or had he decided against it, thinking that maybe it was too much, and that’s why it was hidden away in his closet?

perhaps that was why he had been acting so strange and why he had been pretending like today was nothing but any other regular day?

however, before you get the chance to relieve your suspicions, peter walks back in with two glasses of water, and when he sees that you had already made yourself comfortable, he draws in his bottom lip as a nervous smile takes hold of his features. 

“something tells me you have absolutely no intention of studying,” he shakes his head. 

“something tells me you’re right.” you pat the spot beside you, and he obliges, pulling his laptop from the desk beside the bed and finding a movie for you both to watch. 

while you enjoyed laying with peter in comfortable silence, watching the film he had chosen, you couldn’t stop thinking about what was in his closet. the tiny sliver of red teasing you from between the slats, begging for you to confront it. 

nevertheless, it takes two hours for peter to finally leave the room again, and within that time, he hadn’t mentioned it at all. which only made you all the more curious. 

so the second he stepped out of the room, you set into motion to find out what it was he was hiding. and you knew you shouldn’t have, but not knowing was killing you, and you simply couldn’t help yourself. 

you tip-toe across the floor, avoiding the creaky spot in the middle, and after a deep breath, you slowly open the door. though, what you were expecting to be a heart-shaped balloon or a cute stuffed animal that said something like ‘be my valentine?’ on the front, was far from what you had imagined. 

instead, hanging on the metal rod was a suit. a suit that you would recognise absolutely anywhere with it’s distinct red and black colours, and who could forget the unmistakable mask with its intricate detailing. 

then it hits you, and a shiver of realisation rolls down your spine. 

setting out a gasp, you drop the suit to the floor and stumble back into the bed, knocking over a book in the process. you couldn’t believe what you had just discovered, and you barely get a moment to collect yourself before peter comes running to the door. 

“hey, are you-” he stops the second he sees the suit, his smile falling as he takes in your bewildered state and it transforms into a look of horror. 

“peter, i-”

“shit,” he exhales, cutting you off as he reaches for the material and throws it back into his closet as fast as he can, despite knowing that the damage was already done. “don’t look at that. that’s nothing. completely and totally nothing.”

“peter, was that - are you?” you try to get the words out, but you’re still in so much shock that it seems near impossible to do so.

“no. nope. It’s not…” he shakes his head rapidly, leaning against the closet now. “it was, uh, it was a gift from may. she knows i like superheroes, so, y'know?”

“peter…”

“it’s nothing, really. i promise. it was just a-”

“peter…”

“i was thinking of maybe even wearing it for halloween this year, what do you think? you could go as black widow, or umm, captain marvel?”

“peter!” this time when you say his name, he stops talking, realising that there was no way he was going to get out of this. and if he did, it would be a miracle. but you were smart, smart enough not to believe the nonsense that was pouring out of his mouth, and know that this was for real. 

his head falls with defeat, and he drags himself to sit beside you. the air was heavy now, filled with worry as he tried to choose his words carefully. there were only so many ways you could tell someone you had a secret identity being a superhero and he had wanted to do it perfectly - but most importantly, not like this. 

“look, i - i hated not being able to tell you but if everyone knew who i was then my life wouldn’t be the same anymore." 

"but, this is me we’re talking about peter. i’m the same person that knows you still wear star wars underwear, and that you secretly love it when i choose to watch twilight on movie night.” you sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “you can tell me anything.”

his eyes soften at your remark, and the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “i know, but i wanted… i wanted to keep you safe. there are bad guys out there that would like to come after spider-man and you knowing who i am, only puts you in danger." 

"who else knows?" 

"may, ned and… mj.”

“mj?” you retort. 

“to be fair, i didn’t tell her. she worked it out herself and i swore her to secrecy so don’t be angry at her for not telling you.” he raises a finger to further prove his point. “i was actually planning on telling you about it tonight, but every time i thought about it, i got nervous and i couldn’t do it.”

“so that’s why you’ve been acting so weird?” you ask, nudging the boy’s shoulder playfully as relief washes over you. “and here i am thinking that it was me. the only reason i looked in your closet was because i… i thought… never mind it’s stupid.”

he chuckles, “no. you have to tell me now!”

you let your head fall back for a moment, and after letting out a deep breath, you sway your head back down. “okay. i saw the red through the cracks and i thought that maybe… it was a valentine’s day present. i know we never really put a label on… us… but i just, i don’t know, i thought that maybe that’s where we were and-”

your words turn into muffles as peter presses his lips to yours in a swift movement, and you’re taken back by his actions but you don’t push him off. your body feels electric and you kiss him back with a smile, sinking into it more before he pulls away. 

he doesn’t pull back much, and instead, rests his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath. your heart thumps in your chest and you’re still so close that you were sharing the same air. 

peter had kissed you many of times before, some of them turning into heated make-out sessions but this was different to any of those. this had purpose. 

“sorry, you were rambling and i couldn’t help myself.” a coy smile flashes across his face for a moment, before being replaced with a look of uncertainty. “was that enough for you to see how i feel about you? or would you rather i change my relationship status too? or i could just post to the entire world about how much i love you?”

upon hearing the words, you pull away and a shallow gasp escapes you. you weren’t sure if peter had meant to say it, but whether he did or not, it was out there now and your heart pangs inside your chest as your stomach fills with butterflies. 

“you love me?” you say between breaths and disbelief in your eyes. 

he lets out a nervous laugh as his cheeks redden, and his fingers play with the folds of his shirt. “i mean, yeah… you’re kinda my favourite person in existence. it’d be hard not to.”

“really?”

he nods and walks back over to the closet. “yeah. also if you had of looked in the other side of my closet you would’ve seen this…" 

you watch as he opens the closet door to reveal a beautiful bouquet of white and red flowers all wrapped up in bright red paper.

"i was going to give it to you when i told you about… y'know…” he widens his eyes. “but you sort of did that for me… plus, there was also this.”

this time he pulls out a small bag, something that you’d find at a jewellery store, and hands it to you. you look to him as though to be asking permission to open it, and he nods, gesturing for you to do so before leaning against his desk. 

“it’s not a lot, and i’ve been saving for a while now to get it for you, but if you don’t like it then we can exchange it or get something else…”

opening the bag, you find a small box with gold detailing around the sides. and when you open it, inside sits a bracelet decorated with charms, but the one in the middle, that you can’t really see unless you’re looking close enough is a 'p’.

after a moment of basking in the sentiment of it all, you lean back and give him a warm smile. 

“i love it,” you say, tears slowly starting to brim your eyes as your mouth involuntarily starts to crease. “and i love you.”

“yeah?” peter’s brows twitch, his eyes never leaving yours, and he lifts your palm to his lips for a feather-light kiss. he barely touches you, but it sets your skin alight. 

then all of your focus is on him as you stand to meet him, enveloping him in another kiss. hands moving along his chest to fall behind his neck as he wraps his own around your waist and holds you tight. pulling you as close to him as humanly possible. 

when you do finally pull apart, he clasps the bracelet around your wrist before you slide your fingers through his, savouring the warmth of his skin against yours. 

“so, since you have two identities does that mean i get double the love?” you let out a small chuckle and peter matches it. 

“i think i could manage that.” he says and places one more kiss on the tip of your nose. 

[love-granger]

Ladies and gentlemen, them.

[love-granger]

So cute!!! Can’t wait for pt2!!!🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

A letter?

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — Hi!!! Love your writing so much!! Not sure if you’re still doing requests lol, butttt I have a really specific one so if you’d be able to do this I’d like actually die omg. Okay so I’m a fashion student from LA and I was thinking, the reader is like basically siblings with billy and Graham, (her dad and their mom started dating when they were kids so they were practically raised together) but she’s closest with Eddie in particular. They’re best friends. They’ve basically been attached at the hip since they were kids. They’re both secretly harboring feelings for each other and everyone knows it but themselves. She’s been there for them since the band started, like Camilla, making them outfits for gigs and stuff. and Eddie even takes her to prom when her date ends up being a jerk to her. Butttt the reader ends up moving to LA to go to fashion school (maybe eventually she can be their costume designer for the aurora tour 🙏) and Eddie slowly stops talking to her god knows why. Fast forward- The band moves out to LA and they stay with her until they’re stable enough to be out on their own. The tension is super high between her and Eddie and EVERYONE notices. Super Angsty. Ends in fluff and love confessions 🫶 maybe angry billy lol. AGAIN THANK YOU!!! I know that was super complicated. YOUR WRITING AND EDITS ARE AMAZINGGGG !!

✧.* you're reading part one, here's the sequel — ??

✧.* summary — You and Eddie were a story in the making, which you were sure had been finished after the way you left. But now with your reunion, perhaps there is a reticence.

✧.* warnings — none.

✧.* word count — 3.2k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I love this ask! And I'm working on part two for it already. Please, lmk what you guys think of this back and forth writing dynamics.

You drop your keys into the jar that was on the table next to the door, then hang your coat on the hanger as you try to speed up the process to finally rest from a long day. The apartment was dark and you didn't bother turning on all the lights, contenting yourself with just the orange light from the kitchen, you went to the counter, checking the letters you had received and also collecting some newspapers from the previous days to throw away.

Days like these make you miss the constant movement and excitement that your life in Pittsburgh contained, your thoughts from time to time hovered over delicious memories that you, whether or not you wanted to have a taste of once again. It had been a few months since studying fashion had brought you to LA, and even if you were satisfied with several friends and studying what you loved, there was a huge lack of what remained there.

With the feeling of nostalgia tugging at the pit of your stomach, you head to your phone to call the number you used to answer. At the end of the line you hear three rings before the hiss and finally a voice.

“Hello?” The unexpected voice makes you wonder if you had the wrong number.

“Uh, I'm looking for Mrs Dunne?” Your voice was tired, at this point you just wanted to kill the longing.

“Y/N?” You hear the questioning after a silence, and recognizing the voice makes the butterflies in your stomach rise.

“Yeah Eddie, it's me.” You say in a breath, and once again you receive silence.

“Y/N my dear, how is everything going there?” You try to avoid the feeling of sadness about what had happened, swallowing hard.

“Everything good, and things there?” You are amazed at how natural your voice sounds.

“It's actually a bit chaotic, the boys are packing everything up in a hurry to move.” She says in a nervous laugh.

“Move? What do you mean?” You try to remember having received this information before, but you can't find it.

“Didn't you receive my letter? They will try to grow the band in LA, you might even meet up. Isn't it great? Your brothers miss you.” You didn't know if you believed the last sentence, at least not in the plural. Graham and you talked sometimes, but you and Billy hadn't talked since your move.

“That's awesome! I'm happy to hear that.” You indeed were, but you couldn't help but feel the confusion of why all this was happening now.

…

You have a vivid memory of sitting on the floor of Graham's room as he murmured about how unfair life was, and at that point you tried your best to help your half brother with any advice you came up with. Your face was resting on the bed when you and he looked at the door when you heard Billy knock three times, indicating that he was going to come in. They were your brothers since you were two years old, when your father married the boys' mother you grew up together in that house mostly without any problems.

They were kind to you, they always were, even though Billy was more distant. You knew someone that he was marked by something that you weren't here to witness, but in a way you understood how much a parent was missed.

The older Dunne sits on the edge of the bed, watching his older brother frustrated, you notice that he holds back his laughter feeling the nostalgia of something that perhaps he has already been through. You thought about whether you should go out and leave them alone, but you figured that if you stayed quiet it wouldn't get in the way.

“They'll be other girls.” Billy tries to comfort him, Graham for the first time stops staring at the ceiling to look at his brother.

“And how'd you know that?” You watch them talking and try your best to go unnoticed.

Billy looks at you, his gaze urgently asking you to help him with this.

“Because you know how to play the guitar" Your voice barely comes out, since you hadn't spoken for so long. Your older brother looks at you with a subtle look of 'what the fuck?'. You shrug, completing the sentence. “What? I heard it's something girls like.”

Graham lets out a muffled laugh and you're happy to have made him laugh, Billy frowns and you can see a bit of jealousy there which makes you smile.

“And besides.” Billy continues, looking at Graham again. “You’re fourteen years old!”

You laugh and your brothers accompany you. It's a comforting memory, one of the moments when you felt welcomed and loved.

However, from that day onwards Graham's obsession with having a band was born. You thought it was a good idea, after all, you spent the afternoon idly after all your homework was done, and when you sat down to design different types of clothes and sometimes sewing something with Mrs. Dunne Graham hovered around making sounds of boredom, you knew that would be good to entertain him.

He had invited his best friends, who you had been attending since you had moved in at the Dunne house. You can vividly remember the morning you were woken up by the thunderous sound of drums coming from downstairs, you curse and mumble, getting up to find out what it was about.

When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you come face to face with Warren trying to arrange his drum kit in the living room of your house, you blink a few times trying to shake off the sleep that still resides within you, Eddie's figure appears soon after with his guitar hanging around his neck. He smiles at you and you give him an even wider one.

“Does Mrs Dunne know what you guys are doing here?” You say in a laugh, Warren turns to Eddie for that answer, his messy curls reaching his eyes.

“I guess so…” Roundtree answers you, moving closer to you. And your body demonstrates a fact that you had hidden from your brother: the girl who was attracted to men who played guitar was you, and he was the boy you felt attracted to. “Do you know where Graham is, sunshine?”

Your legs shake at the nickname that gradually became common coming from him, you shake your head, spending as much time as possible observing Roundtree closely. “I literally just woke up. But assuming that you guys already looked for him in his room, you should try the garage.”

“On it!” Warren exclaims, heading towards the garage but not before winking at Eddie who rolls his eyes.

You frown, and are slowly eroded by the silence that surrounds you and Roundtree. He clears his throat “I think they made omelets, if I were you I'd run before Chuck finds out.”

“Would you like to join me?” You ask in a whisper, afraid of the answer. "I mean, if I'm not busy with all this.” You gesture to the instruments piled up on the couch and Rojas' drums.

“I'd love that.” He smiles, leaving you with the pleasant nervousness of falling in love.

…

Now the orange light wasn't enough to make you see your surroundings without your eyes hurting, so getting rid of the vivid memory you decide to immerse your thoughts in what you loved the most ‘create clothes’. Recently you were obsessed with a specific style you had noticed on the streets of the city, and the way women in particular looked most beautiful in the prints you had in mind, your goal now was to create a line to present in the same style and this had involved your last thoughts and efforts in the last few days.

You didn't know how to shake off the bittersweet feeling of having your childhood experiences in the same city, it was good when it came to homesickness, but you couldn't shake off the thought that would always go to Eddie Roundtree. After all, even after so long you couldn't shake the love that arose in your chest when his face came back to memory.

You smile when you remember that innocent and calm love that always surrounded you two, the first of so many things for each other, your firsts were his and his were yours. And even though he seemed to try, distance wouldn't erase that, but of course, the thought that he wanted to delete such memories hurt.

Of course, you weren't sure about that, you had no way of knowing if he actually wanted to erase everything you lived through since you didn't speak to each other anymore. But it was customary for you to always expect the worst so as not to be disappointed if it turns out to be true.

…

You accompanied your brothers to band practice with your sketchbook in hand, with no other plans for the afternoon other than watching them play while using the band and their inspirational styles. You guys liked the idea that in the future you would be successful as a fashion designer and they would be the biggest band in the world with you making every outfit they would wear off and on stage.

“Hey Y/N, glad you're joining us!” Chuck says as he opens the garage door for you to enter, you smile.

“Thanks for having me.” You thank him, already taking your place on the ottoman he used to leave for you there. "Cami, You came!" You say running towards your good friend, and now, sister-in-law.

“But of course, I wasn't going to miss a preview of your prom show.” She says hugging you back, then looking at the boys.

“Yeah, about that…” Your voice makes all the boys look at you scared. "No! Oh sorry, now that I noticed what you could understand, What I meant was that I don't even know if I'm going.”

“What? Why?” Warren asks, twirling one of the drumsticks in your left hand.

“I thought you were looking forward to it.” Graham adds, intrigued along with concerned.

“She was, what happened sunshine?” Eddie asks, you could see he was very confused.

“I just don't want to be alone, you all already have dates." You try to explain, they look at you intently. "And my friends too, so..."

“I thought you liked our dates." Chuck says, trying to tell you that you would still have their company.

“Yeah, and besides, you know Amanda is looking forward to meeting you.” Rojas says, referring to his date and new girlfriend.

Eddie didn't say anything, but you feel his gaze on you the entire time, which makes you avoid his gaze.

“Are you being serious?” Billy asks, his tone sharp as usual. You shrug. “I thought that Jamie guy was going with you." You can see he's holding himself back from rolling his eyes, and Eddie stops looking at you to look at him.

“Jamie?” Warren asks what everyone was wanting. "Really?”

“You said that it was a bad idea.” You say angrily to Billy, because he was acting like he wasn't partly to blame for this.

“Yes, but if you're going to complain about going alone, you'd better accept the invitation." You suck in a breath, and Billy triggers a deafening silence in the room.

“I'm going out for a walk.” You say leaving, if you let no one stop you or ask you to stay.

“Really bro?” You hear Rojas' voice as it fades out as you move away.

You don't know how long you spent kicking pebbles on the sidewalk outside your house, slowly becoming grateful that your house wasn't so far from Chuck's and that soon you were on your own. You feel the presence of someone approaching, and decide not to look at whoever it was, it was still daytime and you didn't feel threatened by being alone on the street.

“Billy is a dick!” Roundtree speaks, sitting next to you, and you laugh melancholically. “I'm sorry about him, you know that if you don't want you, you don't have to do anything, right?”

You nod, still looking ahead and not at him. And that's why you don't notice how nervous he was, thinking minutely about his next words and how to do it. He opens his mouth and closes it without saying anything a couple of times before getting straight to the point.

“Go with me.” That's all he says, and you look at him with a frown.

“Is this a joke?” You start to get irritated just by this prospect, he holds your thigh so you don't get up.

“No.” He makes it clear, and you try to understand what the hell was going on. “I don't have a date.”

“But you said…”

“Let me be clearer." He says, holding back a laugh. "I don't have a date anymore.”

“You didn't have to do that." You say, with a bittersweet feeling of happiness.

“I wanted to, and besides, you know my times with you are always amazing.” You feel your cheeks burn as your smile widens. "So, what do you say?”

“Of course, I'd love to go with you." You hug him, feeling your body fill with butterflies. "Thank you, really.”

“I'll pick you up at eight?" He says, seeing you get up to go to your house.

“But don't you go early to check the sound?" You say holding back a smile.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.” He says scratching the back of his head. “Then...”

“We can meet at Chuck's.” You say, completing his reasoning.

…

You take a deep breath before you knock on the door, automatically holding your folder with your drawings close to your chest, as if that would protect them from any judgment you theorized could happen.

When the wooden object opens, you can't contain your smile, and open your arms to welcome your brother in a hug. He squeezes you with longing and happiness, in the corner of your eyes you can see the rest of the band smiling when they look at you. When breaking away from the hug, everyone in the band gets their due "hi" and "I missed you!" of you, as soon as you finish talking to Karen and getting to know her you turn to Roundtree.

“Hey.” You say in a low voice, as if anything that involved you and Eddie was a secret. Perhaps a force of habit.

“Hello Y/N” His voice comes out harshly, something you hadn't imagined coming from your reunion.

“Good to see you.” By this time, you were feeling the tension building up. “Look, maybe we should talk about…”

“I don't think that's a great idea.” He cuts you off, avoiding looking deep into your eyes.

“Oye Eddie, check out this vest that I brought!” Rojas' voice calls him, and you try to ignore the tightness in your chest.

“I'll see you around.” He says, walking over to the curly-haired drummer.

“Everything alright, honey?” Camila's voice makes you jump in fright, but when you come face to face with her, your body melts.

You hug her immediately, gradually feeling calmer. "I'm so glad you're here, you have no idea”

She notices your gaze fixed on Eddie when you leave the hug, and knows (more than anyone) what that gaze held. All the history you had since that prom, which was put on hiatus due to the reticence caused by your departure.

“So you and Eddie?” She asks, looking concerned.

“I fear that's not even a thing anymore.” You swallow your upset, and put into practice what brought you there. “Hey y'all, gather here! I can't wait to show you what I came up with since I knew you were coming.”

“You know we don't even have a record company yet, right?” Billy asks, but not in a harsh, rude tone. But in fact, genuinely curious.

“I know, but you wouldn't come here if you didn't believe you were going to wear these clothes on stage one day." You smile, causing your brother to do the same. “So shut up and come and see it.”

You see they laugh with you, not noticing that Eddie was holding his.

…

Your hands shook as you positioned the letter in front of your boyfriend, if you could call him that. For everyone, Eddie had only done you a favor on the day of the prom, but in reality you had been sneaking out ever since.

The vivid memory of the cold wind hitting your skin took you to that night, ‘The Dunne brothers’ had already made the show a while ago and he didn't take long to grab your hand and guided you to the roof. You had no idea if they were allowed to be there, but fuck it, you had finished school and nothing would be important after that night.

You sat together eating some food that you had brought, and the comfortable silence hovered between you. You feel his gaze on you, and you slowly gain the courage to say what you've been thinking since that day began.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. “For doing this with me.”

“Are you kidding?” He says between a laugh. "I always have a blast with you. And to be honest, I kinda want this to last forever.”

“Yeah me too.” You look deep into his eyes, and see him get closer, interspersing his gaze between your lips and your eyes.

It stops when you are inches close, You feel his breathing and his intense gaze, little by little the party music fades away, being replaced by the beat of his heart.

“Why did you stop?” You whisper, looking now at his lips.

“Your brothers are going to kill me." He says jokingly, making you smile. “But I never cared what they thought anyway.”

One of his hands goes up to your cheeks, caressing your skin before kissing your lips. You didn't know what an explosion it would be like when it happened, but your body surrendered to it every second, and since then, you two haven't been able to put an end to it. And honestly, you didn't even want to.

Eddie takes the letter in hand, knowing that your nervousness probably indicated something. He wasn't angry, but disappointed, and it broke your heart.

“You were going to leave me a letter?” He speaks in disbelief, a few tears appearing in his eyes.

“Babe, let me explain…” You say but he interrupts you.

“You were going to leave, and I was going to be the last to know…” Your voice was choked, and you felt your tears running down your cheeks. "Damn sunshine, a fucking letter?!”

“I couldn't find the right time to tell you. " You say taking his hands, sitting next to him. "I didn't want to upset you…”

“Did you really think I was going to be upset?" He looked hurt by it all, and you wanted to disappear. "That I would be upset watching my girlfriend achieve her dream?"

“When you put it like that, well.” You close your mouth before finishing your thought.

“I wish you the best." He stands up, and you watch him closely. “You will rock, I'm sure.”

“Where are you going?” You say through tears, and he turns so you don't see his.

“I need some air. " He says, opening the door, and leaving.

You didn't see him in the days after, and on the day you were all packed to leave… he left you a letter.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

-> Part two will be out soon!

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taglist: @jaidaschampagneproblems @boredshit-shadow @warrenrojaswife @o1iv3 @hopelessromantic727 @eddiesaurora

[love-granger]

Exactly!!

yes i am still mad that they implied camila and eddie hooking up but we didn’t even get to see a kiss or anything akfjshd

[love-granger]

⋆ ˚⁀➷ 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺: 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥 + 𝘩𝘤𝘴

when you first start dating he’s really shy around you, but eventually starts introducing you to his family and friends and brining you around them more.

he’s really not ashamed to show you affection in public, he wants everyone to know how much he loves you and for you to feel comfortable in public around him.

he makes sure molly knits you a sweater for christmas so you can be included too

he loves when you shower him with affection and attention back because he often feels overpowered by his friends.

having baking/cuddling sessions almost every time you hangout, he loves all the food you make and always appreciates you for it.

[love-granger]

i fully (and delusionally) believe that i could pull eddie roundtree in a heartbeat

[love-granger]

𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 — 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸? 𝘐𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

— 𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥

[love-granger]

So cuteeee

Always Choose You - Eddie Roundtree x Female Reader

Summary: You and Eddie were never meant to be more than a fling. So, why did you both keep coming back?

Includes: implied sex, alcohol and drug use, adult language

Note: The bolded names followed by a colon represent interview dialogue like from in the book.

The first time you met Eddie was at some gig he played with The Six. It was before Look At Us Now had blown up and they’d flown to stardom. No, you met him back in the days of small clubs on the Strip.

The band had just finished playing, you’d had a few drinks (and therefore some liquid courage in your blood), and you went for it. As soon as the cute bassist headed to the bar himself, you sauntered over.

“You were great up there. I’ve always wanted to play music like that.” You smiled and slid into the seat next to him.

He returned your grin and took a sip of his drink. “Ah thanks, we’ve been at it for a while now. I’m Eddie, by the way.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Eddie. I’m Y/N. Have you all been in town long, I can’t say I’ve seen you play before.”

He shook his head. “We’re from Pittsburgh. Kind of took a leap of faith coming down here, but I think we’re all happy we did it.” 

You noticed as he glanced quickly over at the side of the bar. The singer of his band was talking with a beautiful brunette, but you could tell he was more focused on the girl than his friend. He looked back to you after almost a split second though, and you were almost convinced you made it up.

“Well, cheers to your success, I’m glad it’s working out for you guys.” You chuckled and clinked your glass with his.

You and Eddie flirted a bit more, drank a bit more, and at the end of the night he climbed into a taxi with you. Your roommate was out for the weekend, so you had an empty apartment and a hot guy at the ready. A nice one night stand could be just what you needed.  

————————

It never occurred to you that you’d see him again. Hell, you’d practically forgotten him after all that time had passed. Not that the two of you didn’t have a great night together, you were just both a little drunk and it was just once, so it never really crossed your mind. 

But then here you were, at a party for your roommate’s friend. She hadn’t told you much detail about the party, just that her friend Camila was hosting a housewarming party of sorts and she wanted you to come along as her guest. It gave you an excuse to get dressed up and it sounded fun, so you agreed without much thought. 

Your roommate, Sarah, introduced you to Camila and her husband Billy when you first arrived. Something seemed vaguely familiar about them, but you figured it was just because Billy’s band was famous and there was buzz about them everywhere. Still, you felt like maybe there was something else about them. As Camila and Sarah got caught up in conversation, you politely excused yourself to go grab a drink.

The house was full of people and you felt slightly like you were in a maze. Luckily, you wove your way to the bar area and were able to acquire a beer. 

You decided the next stop should be the patio out back. It was getting a little stuffy and some fresh air sounded perfect. You were on your way to the back door when someone stumbled into you from behind.

“Oh shit, my bad.” The man said immediately.

You turned and gave him a small smile. “It’s all good, no worries.” 

“Jesus Warren, I leave you alone for like five minutes and you’re already stumbling around aimlessly,” a familiar voice chuckled as another man strolled up beside him. 

Holy fuck. As you glanced over at his friend, you realized you knew this guy. This was that bar guy from God knows how long ago. 

It looked like said guy was having the same realization, or at least some kind of epiphany. His eyes narrowed slightly as he turned to really look at you.

“I think I know you from somewhere.” He muttered.

Eddie: Okay, I know it sounds bad, but I promise I didn’t forget about her. It had been a long time. Besides, apparently she couldn’t even remember my name, so we were both a little drunk that night.

Warren: I was high as shit, and I could definitely tell he didn’t recognize her. It’s funny to think about that now, God I can’t even imagine.

His friend-Warren- elbowed him with a laugh. “You can’t pick up chicks with that cheesy ass line, brother. No one is gonna fall for that shit.” 

You kind of wished you had some of whatever this guy was on because he was clearly high as a kite and having a grand old time. 

“Oh, I don’t know.” You let out a quiet, nervous laugh. You weren’t about to explain that you two had fucked and never spoken again once like a year or so ago.

“No, we have met before…” He trailed off in thought, but then his eyebrows shot up as it clicked. “Did you hang around the Sunset Strip by any chance?”

You downed what was left of your drink and nodded. “Yeah, I used to. I think you’ve put that together, though. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab another of these.” You held up the empty bottle and spun on your heel. 

Thankfully, the house had several exits, so you were able to grab your beer and slip out back unnoticed. Well, at least you thought you were. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

Bar guy came up beside you and gestured to the empty seat beside you. You felt like shit for this, but you couldn’t remember his name. Fred, maybe? God, you didn’t sleep around that much, you should be able to keep track of this. 

“Sure,” You shrugged. You do remember him being a nice guy, so you weren’t opposed to hearing him out. 

He hesitantly sat down. “Listen, I feel like I should apologize. I’m sorry it took me a minute to recognize you, and…well, I’m sorry I kind of disappeared from your place right after we…” His voice started trailing off when you started chuckling. “What’s funny?”

You felt your face flush and you waved a hand. “No, no, it’s not you, I promise. You really don’t have to apologize for anything, that’s why I was laughing. We slept together after I met you at a bar, I didn’t exactly expect us to grow old together.”

He was chuckling now too. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just didn’t want you to think I was an ass or something. Can we start over?”

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You smiled and held out your hand for him to shake. 

“Eddie, and likewise.” 

Eddie! So you were kind of close earlier. Truth be told though, this was one of the weirdest encounters with a hookup that you’d ever had. Normally, you wouldn’t dream of interacting with someone afterwards, but something about this guy was different. You kind of liked talking to him, and you remember feeling like that the first time you met him too. 

———————— 

You woke up in a room that was definitely not yours, which caused a little bolt of panic to shoot through you. It only took a second for it to all come flooding, thankfully. 

Somehow, you had decided it was a good idea to go home with Eddie last night. Again. That definitely was not in your plan. You weren’t in the habit of dragging out one night stands, but it looks like you had a repeat. You two wound up hanging out for most of the party last night, and you were talking, then you were kissing, and now you were here. But God, was he a good repeat. To be honest, when you snuck a glance down at his sleeping face beside you, all you could think about was that he was kind of beautiful. 

A knocking came from the door and it nearly startled you out of bed. 

“Eddie! We gotta leave for the studio, man! Billy wants us there in an hour!” 

You looked down and realized you were bare ass naked, and immediately lunged for your clothes. You weren’t sure if Eddie’s roommate would just barge in, but you were not about to be caught naked if he did. Immediate relief flooded through you as you pulled on your dress and heard footsteps as the guy walked away from the door, but you were mostly amazed by the fact that none of this had actually woken Eddie. 

This was actually kind of worse. Now you had to make a choice. Did you leave unnoticed or did you wake him up and face the morning after conversation. You really didn’t want to talk. You hooked up once and then again, it was a weird string of events that you couldn’t hash out right now. Unfortunately, he showed no signs of waking up and you’d feel really bad if he was late to his band thing. 

With a sigh you stepped over to the bed and shook his shoulder gently. Then you shook it a little less gently. This man could sleep through a fucking tornado. 

Finally, he sat up and rubbed his face. “Hmm? Oh, mornin’...”

You quickly wiped off the tiny smile that threatened to overtake your face. Thinking he looked cute, all sleepy in the morning, was not a road you needed to go down. “Hey, your friend just knocked and said Billy wants you at the studio in an hour. You seemed pretty out of it, so I just wanted to let you know before I left.”

He muttered something about “he’s such an asshole” under his breath before looking back up at you. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” You nodded as nonchalantly as possible. “Well, I’m going to head out now. Um, thanks…for last night.”

The second the words left your mouth, you knew how stupid it all sounded. You used to be pretty smooth, but apparently that was temporary. You had to get out of there before you made it worse. You grabbed your purse and strode hurriedly for the door, but before you were outside, Eddie shouted. 

“Hey, wait!”

You looked back over your shoulder at him as he pulled on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and started over to you. “Yeah?”

“Listen, um, I had fun last night. And I like you.” He combed a hand through his wild hair.

He looked like he wanted to keep going, but you cut him off first. “I’m not really looking for a relationship.” You blurted the words before you could think, and they left a curiously bitter taste in your mouth.

He looked mildly surprised at the outburst, but then shook his head. “I’m not either, actually. Honestly, I’m kind of getting over someone else right now. Stop me if I’m out of line here, but I was wondering if you might want to do this again sometime. All I’m saying is I had fun, and if you had fun too, then could I get your number? I promise I’m not proposing we grow old together here.” 

You chuckled at his reference to your conversation last night. You had to agree with him. Last night was good, and the thought of seeing him again was something you didn’t hate. 

Y/N: I can’t believe I’m actually admitting to this, but yes he became my, oh what is it people say now? My sneaky link? Friends with benefits? Whatever, the point is we kept seeing each other. Just having fun. We were in our 20s and carefree, you know?

————————

You and Eddie kept things casual for a long time. He grew to be one of your closest friends during that time. Yes, it was mainly about the sex for the two of you, but you actually got to know each other well. 

Eddie knew things about you that not even your roommate Sarah did. One night he opened up to you about Camila, about how he’d been in love with her for years and that was why he wasn’t looking for something serious. He seemed really vulnerable about it, and you decided to tell him about your cheating ex and why you didn’t want to date either. The two of you formed an odd sort of bond over that, over loving people that had chosen someone else. 

Eddie: If I’m being honest, I was lying when I told her about Camila. I told her I was still in love with her, but I hadn’t been for a while. I was just too afraid to admit that maybe I moved on. 

Y/N: I was done with it just being a fling at that point. Sure, I was still hurt by what happened, but I think Eddie helped heal that untrusting part of me. I felt ready for a relationship, but I didn’t know where he stood on the matter. I didn’t fess up because it almost felt better to have him in that way, than to not have him in my life anymore.

Karen: They were so obviously in love with each other, I’ll never know how they couldn’t see it in each other. The rest of us definitely could. 

Graham: Y/N and Eddie? Yeah, I think the rest of us knew about them before they knew themselves. It was annoying as hell to live with them, I mean especially sharing a wall with Eddie. Warren and I took bets on how long it would take them to actually figure out their shit, and that son of a bitch beat me. 

You and Eddie were lovers for almost a year. 

Everything changed on a night that seemed so typical. Eddie had showed up at your place, absolutely livid.

“He cut my fucking part from the song! He’s such a fucking asshole!” Eddie slammed the door behind him and flung his coat over the back of the kitchen chair.

You put your book down and hopped up from the couch. “Again? Shit, Eddie, I hate that he keeps doing that to you.” The moment you placed a calming hand to his chest and leaned against his shoulder, you felt him relax beneath your touch. 

He sighed and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry I keep showing up here like this. I just get so pissed at him, and it’s like the only place I can think of to go is here.”

“Yeah?” You laughed softly.

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he said with such finality that you could feel a shift in the room. 

The way he was looking at you…like you were something special. Like you were something valuable. 

“And why is that, Ed? Why here?” You whispered.

In answer, he leaned down and kissed you. You too had kissed obviously, but this one felt like it meant something different. “Y/N, I’m so fucking in love with you that it’s all I can think about. Even when I’m not thinking about you, I still am. I was so mad at Billy and had to get out of there, and somehow I drove here without even thinking about it. So, yeah, I’m in love with you. I know that wasn’t in the agreement, but I can’t keep going and not tell you this once.”

You could tell he was going to keep rambling, so you decided to muster up the courage and do what you were dying to do. “Eddie!” He stopped and looked at you, visibly anxious. “Eddie, I love you too. I have for so long, and screw the agreement. I want to be with you.”

Eddie’s face lit up and he kissed you again. And again. And then he stopped to why the tears off your cheeks, which you assured him were happy tears. 

“God, I should’ve told you sooner.” You chuckled and leaned your head against his chest. 

He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. “Warren would definitely call you a chicken right now, but I wouldn’t stoop that low.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes. “You know, I feel like you kind of did by mentioning it, but I’ll let it slide. Besides, I still thought you had feelings for Camila. I didn’t really think it would ever be me.”

Eddie pulled away slightly so he could look you in the eye. “You know I would always choose you, right? You’re it for me, baby. If you’ll have me, anyways.”

“Always, Eddie, always.” 

Y/N Roundtree: We got married like six months after that. 

Eddie: I would’ve married her that night, to be honest.

[love-granger]

thinking about ron with a gf who loves lipgloss. him subtly getting her to talk about her favorite brands and shades. him saving up money to buy her new ones. him letting her try them out on his arm in stores.

thinking about ron with a gf who hates storms. him letting her crawl into his lap and hide her face in his neck. him slowly rubbing her back and kissing her temple. him wrapping a blanket around her, whispering reassurances. him putting on her favorite movie and turning the volume way up so that the storm is just a distant white noise. him shutting the curtains so she can't see the flashes of lightning outside.

thinking about ron with a gf who plays an instrument. him sitting nearby her while she practices, watching her in awe. him raving about her to all his friends, so much that harry hits him upside the head and begs him to shut up. him letting her rant about whatever piece she's learning.

thinking about ron with a hopeless romantic gf. him saving up his money to buy her chocolates and plushies and jewlery. him picking flowers from random people's gardens and showing up at her door with them. him rolling his eyes when she wants to watch romcoms but sitting with his arm around her, smiling.

thinking about ron with a girlie gf. him twirling her around like a princess. him watching her do her makeup in the mirror reflection. him treating her like a princess, because that's what she is and that's what she deserves.

[love-granger]

King

♟️

[love-granger]

i really do love jeff that man will stand with his wife through cheating, murder, cannibalism, literally anything. he’s so obsessed with her. like yeah me too buddy.

[love-granger]

A Slow Motion Love Potion

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [9.7K] late nights, poolside, getting high and wondering why the boy next door is always sporting a black eye. smut.

Summer at two am smelled like chlorine and smoke, like boys aftershave and the coconut sunscreen you hadn’t reapplied since that afternoon. It was pool lights underwater, the warm glow of a patio pit fire, the buzz of faraway cicadas. It felt rosy, hazy, like the sky wasn’t dark and the sun still lingered, even amongst the stars.

Summer at two am brought out the boy next door, cuts and bruises and all, a freshly rolled joint in his hand as he leaned over the garden fence and asked, “got a light?”

That’s how it started, this thing, this friendship, with Steve Harrington. You just didn’t expect it to lead to what it did. 

The first night, June had barely started and Steve was just another boy you’d known from school, a pretty boy with a bruised up face and he appeared at your shared fence, hazy behind the steam that came off of the heated pool. He was lit up in shades of blue, from the water, the reflections, the marks around his eyes and cheek, hanging over the wooden slats, looking like he didn’t care anymore.

About anything. Anything at all.

He watched the way you brought your own roll up to your lips, the end burning amber, almost smoked down to the roach. You were sitting at your pool, bare legs in the water and the too big shirt you wore only held together by a few buttons. The big, expensive house behind you lying as empty as the Harrington’s and when Steve asked if he could borrow the lighter that sat on the patio tiles beside you, you’d nodded.

But you hadn’t expected him to jump the fence so effortlessly, trainers crunching gravel under their soles and he walked towards you like it was no big deal, like you were more than just two people who had nodded at each other in the hallway, who got off at the same bus stop every day before Steve got a car and drove by you instead. 

Sometimes you’d see him in his own yard, lying out bare chested in the afternoon heat, a can of soda and a pair of headphones for company. And when his parents were home from whatever business trip they’d been on, you only saw the boy through his bedroom window, adjacent to yours, an accidental TV screen to what King Steve got up to when he was alone.

You knew by default that that meant he could see into your room too, with the buttercup yellow walls and pinned polaroids. You knew he’d caught a glance or two of you in a state of undress, underwear on show, sleep shirt too short and riding up past your thighs. 

You’d burned before you remembered to close the curtains, telling yourself that you did care.

But he was the boy that was once popular, pretty face, kind eyes, never home and running around with a new crowd that didn’t seem to be accepting new memberships. You heard his car leave his driveway and not come back for a full day, sometimes not until the next. And from through the gap in your curtains, you always expected the boy to stumble into his house with a girl in tow, maybe a boy, maybe both. Attached at the lips like in the movies, hands groping, eyes closed, in the throes of something heated. But if Steve wasn’t alone, he was only ever with friends. 

And then, at nights, by the pool with you. 

You didn’t ask him where the bruises came from, you didn’t pry, and Steve liked that. It’s why he sat down next to you after he’d lit his own joint, cotton shorts pulled across his thighs as he let his legs drop into the warm water beside your own.

You watched him take a long drag, head tipped back so he could look at the stars as he held the smoke in his lungs and when he blew it all out, it sounded like the world’s heaviest sigh. Steve looked tired, he looked sore and the lavender colour bruises along his cheekbone looked mottled and dark. 

His fingers brushed yours when he handed back the zippo, heavy and silver with a curling sticker on the front, a pastel coloured peach that you’d drawn eyes and a smile on. 

“Thanks,” he’d said, taking a few more puffs before offering the joint to you, and you’d accept, ‘cause it was only polite, right?

You were already past the point of feeling lighter, floaty, airy. And Steve was quick to join you there, on a pool water coloured cloud above your yard, ankles dipped in the warmth, head resting in the sky.

Well, that’s what it felt like, lying on your backs side by side, the dampness of the grass pressed to your backs and it was strange, the way you could speak to Steve a little easier when you were both staring at the sky. 

You whispered into the night with him, stayed up until the sun broke the blackness and started colouring the clouds tangerine and pink, a cotton candy sky appearing on the horizon and you missed the stars, the way Steve’s words seemed to get stolen by the moon, ‘cause there was nothing out there but you two. 

But the sun came up and the high wore off, the joint smoked to a stub. The air only grew warmer as a new day began and you heard the tell tale sound of six am sprinklers, Mr and Mrs Sibbald’s garden hose coming to life.

You’d watched as Steve sat up and stretched, blinking in the red morning light and he’d  looked over at you as if he wasn’t all that sure if you were real, if you were a dream, if you were supposed to have disappeared with the stars. You weren’t sure what you’d spent four hours talking about, if you were totally honest, the joint had been passed and finished an hour in, the rest of the night taken up by shared secrets that neither of you could remember, small laughs and bright smiles, the kind that made Steve’s eyes turn into honey.

He hopped back over the fence like it was nothing, as if he’d never even been there to begin with. The only evidence he left was wet footprints across the patio, leading from you to the edge of your yard and you thought that that was it, a one off, one night, a Thing never to be spoken about again. 

But the week after, when Friday night was leaking into Saturday morning, a small pebble narrowly missed your knee and plopped into the pool instead. You tried to hide the smoking joint behind your back on instinct, heart rattling your ribcage at the thought of your parents returning home early.

You looked up from where you sat, legs back in the water, a book by your thigh and an ex-boyfriend's hoodie covering your bikini from the summer night breeze. It wasn’t your dad though, or your mom. No disappointed gazes, furrowed brows or downturned lips. No, none of that.

Steve stood by the fence instead, forearms leaning against the ledge, another rock held between finger and thumb. He dropped it when your gaze found his, no need for any other projectiles now he had your attention. There was an unlit joint tucked behind his ear and the bruises from last week were fading. But he had glasses on this time, thin, gold rimmed ones that made him look prettier than ever, a disarmingly kind of charming. His hair was messy, his t-shirt soft looking and threadbare and he didn’t saything to you this time, just raised his brows and smiled.

You tried to hide your own, the way it wanted to stretch across your lips too big and too bright, too excited. ‘Cause the night had settled in and the town was too quiet, like you and Steve Harrington were the only ones left awake. You nodded, kicked a leg through the water and you didn’t need to look to know that Steve saw.

The boy hopped the fence. 

He was warm and solid as he sat down beside you, almost too close too soon but you didn’t find that minded all that much. He smelled nice, like aftershave and boy and a little line mint and the forest, sharp and clean. He was showing off too much skin again, old gym shorts hiked up his thighs as he sat with his legs in the water, the collar of his shirt thin and stretched out, like he wore it for comfort not style. 

You didn’t let Steve bother lighting his own smoke, handing him your own joint instead of your zippo and you noted the flicker of surprise on his face. But he didn’t say protest, just took it carefully from your fingers and slipped it between his lips, murmuring a soft ‘thanks’ as he did. 

It took one puff, one pass, two puffs, three, before anyone spoke again and you were surprised to find it was Steve who did it first. You were still a couple of drags away from finding the courage, that warm, slow feeling that would let you look the boy in the eye without burning up. 

“Where’re your folks?” He asked quietly. 

You peered up at him, wondering if he’d really noticed these things the way you noticed him. “Uh, country club? I think? Or a dinner at a friend's place, I can’t remember.”

“They’re not around a whole lot, huh?” Steve posed it like a question but you knew it wasn’t. ‘Cause he kept talking, didn’t wait for an answer that he already knew. “Neither are mine.”

You nodded, not trying to pretend that you didn’t know that either. ‘Cause there was only ever Steve’s car in the driveway and when Mr and Mrs Harrington did return, their son was always out, making a point of leaving early and coming home too late. 

“Gets lonely right?” You whispered to the pool, that floaty, hazy feeling you wanted finally settling over your head. The pool glittered in response. “In those big houses, when it’s just you.”

Steve hummed, agreeing and you were brave enough then, high enough then, to look over at him. He was shades of blue, all indigo shadows and aquamarine highlights, reflections from the pool lights on his skin. And that’s all it took, that shared gaze, the shared joint, the feeling of knowing that someone felt the same way you did. 

After that, you and the boy created some sort of routine. That wasn’t to say you saw every night, or every Saturday. In fact, some weeks you didn’t see him at all. Those days were lonely, stretched out on a neon pink pool float, your shirt wet as you lazed around the edges of the pool until the sun came up and your parents realised you weren’t in your bed. 

You’d see Steve during the gaps in the day, maybe a glimpse of him through the gap in his curtains, shirtless and half asleep, lying on his bed with a new bruise on his side. Sometimes out the window when a van pulled up on the street, Eddie Munson waiting in the front for Steve to jump in and you’d stare as they drove off, wondering why they looked so worried. 

It was the nights after these stretches of loneliness that were the best. When you left the backyard lights on for Steve to see, sitting out by the pool half dressed, the summer air suffocating, smoke and steam from your lips and the water filling the night sky. 

A familiar dance. 

Two o’clock, stars out, the buzz of the pool filter, the heat from the water and the leftover July sun. The smell of chlorine and weed, the sunscreen you’d rubbed into your skin earlier that day and this… this thing… with Steve? 

It had been happening so often that now he didn’t ask, didn’t seek out permission to join you. You just waited for the slide of his back door, the soft sigh he gave out when he spotted you and god, it made your heart rattle. 

You weren’t sure he even knew that he made that little noise. But sometimes, after the sun came up, and you went to bed alone, you would dream about it. 

He’d jump the fence, as always, effortless and easy. A joint held out in offering, sometimes refused ‘cause you’d already lit one in anticipation of his company. He sat too close, he always did. Bare skin on bare skin, arms brushing, shoulders bumping, knees pressed up against the others as you both sunk your feet into the water. 

You knew the colour of his eyes then, all the shades of brown and gold and caramel. You knew the way he laughed, how his lashes met in the corners when he really, really smiled at you. You knew that he was touchy, almost flirty, all soft words despite the way he was all sharp lines. 

“M’gonna owe you a whole greenhouse by the time summer's up,” Steve commented mildly, but he took your offered joint all the same.

The water trickled, lapped around the edges of both of your legs and you grinned at the boy, shrugging ‘cause you really didn’t mind sharing. Not with Steve. 

“You took forever to come out,” you complained without heat. “I got bored.”

Steve snorted, nudging his shoulder to yours. “No, you’re just impatient.”

You didn’t reply to that, didn’t really need to because the boy was right and it had only been one month but he could read you like a book already. And what an odd thing to realise, considering you didn’t let many people into your pages. 

Instead, you let your gaze settle on his cheek, the edges of an old bruise still blooming blue, mottled green and yellow as it started to heal. It covered the slant of his cheek bone, narrowly missing his eye. More often than not, Steve Harrington was a watercolour of injuries, and after watching him lead the basketball team in high school, you had a feeling it wasn’t due to clumsiness.

“Does that still hurt?” 

You never asked why, you never asked how or who or what. That was one of Steve’s favourite things about you. You knew his favourite colour, his favourite movie. You asked him about his job and his day and his friends and how he was feeling. 

But on the nights he spent with you in your backyard, when he was cut and bruised and with an eye swollen shut, you never pried. 

This was as close as you’d ever got to acknowledging it. 

So Steve took a long drag as he thought what to say, because he knew he owed you that much. And you asked it so sweetly, in a small, soft voice that Steve didn’t hear from you all that much ‘cause you were brave and unapologetic and sometimes a little mean to him but he loved the way you teased. 

He blew the smoke to the sky, counted the stars that he could see amongst the glow of the streetlights and then turned back to you. He passed the joint, smiled a little tiredly but then he shook his head. 

“Nah,” he told you softly, his voice a little rough with emotion and god, he wasn’t supposed to feel the way he felt when he looked at you. That wasn’t the plan. “Nah, s’okay now.”

“Yeah?” You blinked at him, joint forgotten about as you gazed at him, wide eyed. 

Christ, you were too sweet. 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he smiled, blinding and pretty, and Steve tucked his chin to his chest to hide it. 

And then: “It’s not… it’s not your dad, right?”

You were almost positive it wasn’t. Steve bloomed fresh bruises when his dad was out of town, out of state. But sometimes you heard the yelling when the older man was home and there was often the sound of a fist hitting a wall, a table, maybe something else. 

Steve’s smile faltered, just for a second, and you watched him look back to you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You thought he’d maybe be offended, shocked at the idea of you thinking such a thing. But he looked at you and he knew what you knew, what you’d heard, what you understood. 

His foot touched yours underwater, feeling much warmer than it should’ve been, ‘cause the brush of his skin over yours felt so, so intimate. 

Steve shook his head, held your stare so you’d see the truth there. 

“It’s not, no,” he told you. “Promise.”

Maybe you were too high, maybe you were feeling brave in the dark, with nothing but the lights on the water. You reached up, slow and careful, giving the boy time to pull away if he wanted to. 

He didn’t. 

You brushed the tips of your fingers over the faded bruise, over the slant of Steve’s cheekbone and your breath hitched at the way he leaned into your touch. You traced the colours there, the freckle that was hidden amongst the blue and lavender. 

Steve blinked, pretty eyes all heavy and sleepy, pupils blown wide from the weed, maybe from you. 

The air stilled, maybe time stopped, but the whole town was quiet and it was like some kind of spell, a slow motion love potion, a pretty kind of magic shared between you and the boy next door. Your touch made his lashes flutter, the brown of his eyes turn softer, impossibly so. Did you lean in first? Did Steve? Were you imagining this? 

And then-- 

The kitchen light snapped on, flooding the backyard in more light than you were used to, illuminating the pair of you by the poolside. You gasped, a sharp, shocked noise and you were turning, staring wide eyed as your parents appeared through the window, lit up by the refrigerator door.

Steve swore, eyes set on the early intrusion and when you turned back to him, your noses brushed and Jesus Christ, you were so close to him. The joint was still burning, the air still sticky sweet and Steve was sitting beside you as if he was still waiting for a kiss. 

The patio door slid open, a slow roll, a warning noise and if it weren’t for the hydrangea’s, your late night secret would’ve been spotted almost immediately. You heard your father, voice only coloured with a little concern, call out your name into the dark.

“Honey? Are you out here?”

You stubbed the joint out on the patio tiles, frantic and Steve’s getaway route was blocked, his side of the fence closer to where your father now stood. So you cursed under your breath and stared at the boy, grimacing in what felt like an apologetic smile. 

“Deep breath,” you managed to warn him and then, you were pushing yourself off of the ledge of the pool, tumbling into the warm water and taking Steve with you. 

The water rushed and bubbled around you both, Steve’s fingers wrapped around your wrists in surprise, his hair floating up in a messy halo around his face. The chlorine fizzed around you both, clothes sticking to skin, wrapped around legs and waists and you pushed yourself up to break the surface, watching as your dad stopped a couple of feet away, arms held out in question.

“What?” the man asked you, brows raised. “What’re you doing? It’s the middle of the night.”

You sucked in a breath, blinking away the water that clung to your lashes and you pushed your arms to the edge of the pool, leaning on the still sunwarmed tiles. Your joint was still smoking, burning red ash only a few inches to your right. 

“Hey, dad,” you grinned, pushed your back from your forehead and tried to act casual. “What’s up?”

Under the water, Steve was clinging to your waist, his hands pushed to your wet shirt, slipping over the bare skin there, trying his best to hold himself under the surface. His forehead brushed against the swell of your stomach, hair tickling your hip bone, nose bumping against your navel as he tried to keep himself hidden.

You could feel him everywhere. 

“Why on earth are you in the pool?” Your dad questioned, and despite it being a reasonable thing to ask, you scrunched your nose, acting offended, fingers curling around the ledge so you could slip further into the water. 

Steve pressed closer, bubbles sneaking out from his lips, his hands wide and warm on your hips as he moved himself into the space between your body and the pool wall, holding himself there. His face was level with your stomach, nose nudging at the space under your breasts, t-shirt riding up with the flow of the water. You knew he could see your underwear, bright green, a wicked emerald colour and you squeaked when he plucked a lace edge, taunting, teasing.

“What? Can’t I indulge in a late night swim?” You frowned, acting hurt. “S’not like you and mom are here to keep me company.”

The man sighed and you could see how he backed off, edging back to the patio doors, back to safety where he didn’t need to deal with his twenty something daughter and her attitude problem. 

“As long as that’s all you’re indulging in.”

It must have only been a minute, tops, but as soon as the patio door rolled shut and the pool faded back to a deep blue, Steve burst to the surface, gasping. You grinned and rolled your eyes, not that he could see, but it was all full of affection and you noted the way he still hadn’t let go of you, one hand still on your waist as he swept his wet hair out of his eyes. He looked awfully pretty, glittering with water under the moon and the pool lights, droplets clinging to his lashes, rolling over the curve of his lip, t-shirt stuck to him.

“Are you under the impression I have gills, or somethin’?” Steve coughed out, grinning at you despite his words. “They’re back early, no?”

“Very early,” you agreed, peering over the pool edge as you watched your parents through the glass doors, making their way up the stairs. 

“Maybe your daddy could sense that his little girl was gettin’ up to no good,” Steve whispered, and god, he was still so close, lips almost at the shell of your ear as you both kicked your legs to stay afloat. 

You shivered despite the heat from the water, lazy tendrils of vapour rolling off of your skin, rolling into the night air. You turned to face the boy, biting away a smile, bottom lip tucked between teeth and you tilted your head at him. 

“Are you talking about the weed? Or you?”

Your palm grazed Steve’s stomach, felt bare skin and a trail of hair from where his shirt and rucked up, wet and stuck across his ribs. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, tightening under your brief touch but neither of you pulled back. Treading water made it easier to hold each other, hands grabbing and brushing up against the other, the water pushing and pulling you away, over and over until it settled around you and the night fell quiet again. 

Maybe it was supposed to be a hint from inside the house, your mother or your fathers silent suggestion that you needed to get out of the damn pool and into your own bed, or maybe it was just very, very good timing. The pool lights went out, the water and the garden going dark, all navy and indigo, the shadows of the trees inky, the house bathed in complete darkness.

It was only the moon that was left to reflect off of the surface of the pool, a warm glow that made the boy look like he was carved from marble. All strong lines, his jaw, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the point of his brows.

Steve swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing and he shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips that could’ve been a smirk if he didn’t look so fucking pretty. But that confidence was there, that self assured air that had been growing and building since the first shared smoke, eyes that wandered and lingered, hands that were kept to yourselves. 

It reminded you of the boy you watched in high school, the same flirt and boyish charm, just without the arrogance. Steve had grown into himself, had learned how to hold your gaze and really smile, like it was a present just for you. He knew that you liked it when he pressed his side into yours, shoulder to shoulder, noticed how you always held your breath at the first contact, how you liked to play pretend with him and act like it didn’t affect you. 

So he’d grin and bite back when you snarked at him, rolled your eyes all fond and acted like nothing he did affected you. And Steve would play the same game until the joint was all but gone and the air smelled sweeter and you both forgot that your hands had been resting on the other’s knee for too, too long.

Like now, perhaps.

‘Cause Steve’s knee was nudging between your bare legs, his hands on your hips, wide and warm, fingers splayed over your waist, thumbs pushed to your tummy and he was practically holding you afloat in the water, chest to chest.

“Me, maybe,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to look at your lips, sighing a little at the way your tongue swept over your bottom one. “But I have a feeling you get up to all sorts of trouble on your own.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, bravery pushing through your nerves at all the flirtatious words, the way Steve was looking at you, all parted lips and through the dark line of his lashes. Your hands slipped over his shoulders, broad and strong, fingers curling over his wet shirt, holding on as he moved you easily around the water, pushing your back against the pool wall and caging you against him.

“Says the boy who sneaks over at night to get high with me,” you whispered back and god, the pool was heated, but you were overly warm, skin burning where Steve touched, cheeks flushing at the sight of him smiling for you. “If anything, you’re the bad influence here, Harrington.”

It was sinful, the way Steve grinned, boyish and all charm, big, brown eyes glittering in the low light. He leaned in, careful, still so hesitant despite the way you were both clinging to each other. His nose bumped against your own, head tilted so the line of it ran along yours. Your eyes fluttered, lashes casting shadow on your cheeks when they closed.

Steve’s breath stuttered and it caught in his chest, an audible gasp and sigh that made you push your chest into his more, hands wrapping around his neck as you waited waited waited-- 

“Can I--?” Steve whispered and his top lip was already brushing against your own.

“Is this just ‘cause we’re high?” You asked softly, the question breathed against the boy’s mouth. You briefly wondered what you’d do if he said ‘yes’, if you’d still lean in just so you could say you’d tasted him, just so you’d be able to think of the feel of him when you lay in bed at night, shirt pushed up around your ribs and your hand shoved into the front of your soaked underwear. “Do you really wanna do this?”

“Do I really wanna kiss you?” Steve asked, and he had his eyes closed too, the both of you up to your shoulders in the pool, hands wrapped around wet bodies and chlorine soaked clothes, foreheads touching as you both waited. 

Your hand came to cup his face, too small to really catch most of it but your fingers splayed along the sharp edge of his jaw and your thumb found the corner of his mouth, pulling at the edge of his bottom lip in anticipation and Steve let out a low groan. 

“Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely, “yeah I wanna kiss you. M’high, we both are. But I wanna kiss you when I’m sober too.”

“Yeah?” You asked, breathless, legs tightening around Steves, where he was using one knee to keep you up and level with him. 

He nodded, water splashing quietly as he moved into you more, a hand dropping from your waist to catch your thigh, hand curling around the dough there to hitch it to his hip. He squeezed, an overly soft and affectionate gesture and it made your heartbeat clap against your ribs. 

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out, nose pushing more to your cheek, lips touching yours as he spoke. “Fuck, yeah, sweetheart, I really do.”

So you kissed him, a soft, sweet push of your mouth to Steve’s catching the soft moan he gave you, giving him one back in return. He could’ve pulled you underwater for all you cared, you would’ve just kept kissing him, chlorine and the taste of Steve and smoke all you needed.

It was all slow motion, that same kind of love potion, a magic pull that made your toes curl, made you keen a little needily and open your mouth for the boy. He licked into you, soft and sure, like he knew how to kiss you, like he’d been doing it all along. Steve tilted his head just right, matched the angle you gave him and pushed a hand up your shirt, dragged his palm along your ribs and kept it PG, holding you there as he tried to display every piece of gentlemanly restraint he had and not rock himself into you.

It didn’t help that you were tugging at his hair a little, your hands wandering too, sinking your fingers into the damp curls at the nape of his neck and pulling when his tongue stroked over your own, a surefire way to tell him you liked everything he was doing.

You weren’t sure how far it would’ve gone, how much you would’ve let happen, but somewhere over the fence, a car alarm went off and the Wilkinson’s family dog started barking. 

And that was it. A first kiss, stolen behind your parents back, wet and pushed up against the wall of the pool, all chlorine coated with a boy that tasted like summer and smoke.

That was it, for now.

—————

It wasn’t even a week later when you saw Steve again and he was already waiting by the pool when you came out. He turned at the sound of you opening the patio doors, pyjama shorts high on your thighs, a tiny tank top that didn’t do much against the still too warm night air. 

He was bruised again, a stain around his cheekbone that was threatening to turn black and blue soon. You knew you weren’t supposed to ask questions, he’d told you before that it wasn’t what you thought, that he couldn’t really explain it. 

But it made your heart hurt for him and before you could open your mouth to ask if he was okay, Steve kissed the words away, lips slanting over yours in greeting. It was a little urgent, a little desperate for just a kiss hello and when you both pulled back, you could see the stress knotted between his brows, the dark pull at the corners of his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping. 

And neither of you had, no really. That’s why you were both outside at one in the morning. 

“I don’t have any shit left,” he told you quietly. “I don’t wanna keep smoking your stash either. I just— I just wanted to see you.”

Steve said it like it wasn’t allowed, as if that wasn’t a part of the agreement, like it was breaking the rules of this… thing you both had going. 

You nodded, let your fingers trail down his forearm until your hand found his. He let you tangle your fingers with his own, too close together under the patio light. You could see how tired he looked, how tension clawed at his body and you let out a sigh. 

“I smoked the last of mine last night,” you murmured, “or else you know I would’ve shared.”

You brushed your thumb over the back of his hand, kept your eyes off of the bruise on his cheek and tried to smile. It was hard to, the boy didn’t look like himself, like this bruise was different, like this had been one hit too many and he finally felt a little defeated. 

With the chaos of the town, the murders, the missing people, you’d watched Steve and his friends disappear each day, only coming home when sleep was needed. 

You didn’t ask questions, didn’t want to, didn’t feel like you could. But the boy looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and it had finally splintered the bones in his back. 

“You look like you need something to help you chill out, Harrington,” you whispered to him, “you’re all tense.”

You ran your other hand up his chest, a brave move considering you hadn’t seen or spoken to him since you both kissed in the pool, under your sleeping parents bedroom window. But he’d greeted you with a kiss, one that tasted a lot like need and want. Your hand cup the nape of his neck, squeezing gently before your fingers slid into his hair. 

You tugged a little at the soft strands, lips parting when his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned onto you, pliable and soft, a small moan leaving his lips at your touch. 

“Are you okay?”

Steve hummed, eyes barely opening to look at you fondly. The summer air was heavy, the tension between the two of you palpable. But he smiled, an easy grin taking over his pretty face and he nodded. 

“Yeah, m’okay sweetheart.” He sighed, leaned into you more, head falling forward so your nails could scratch at his neck. “Just tired.”

“You should go to bed,” you told him, all mock admonishment ‘cause you knew as well as Steve did that sleep didn’t always come easily. 

“You should come with me,” he quipped and his words fell from his mouth without much thought and god, he sounded serious about it, no teasing to be found. 

You watched him watch you, hand still curled into his hair, one of his holding your side to keep you close and you watched him swallow, the air thicker than ever. Jesus, were you even breathing? Was Steve?

But you licked at your lip, a nervous habit, noticed how Steve followed the movement with heavy, dark eyes and you nodded, breath catching in your throat before blowing it out shakily. 

“Yeah,” you told him, and then as if it were the most casual thing in the world: “alright.”

Steve blinked, “yeah?”

You smiled, ducked your head to try and hide it, letting your hands fall away from him in the hopes that he’d take the initiative and lead you back to his. 

“Yeah,” you told him, “we’ve gotta make you relax one way or another, right?”

Steve gulped audibly, lips parting and moving over words he couldn’t quite find yet, staring at you silently. But his eyes were hooded and a darker colour than normal, all burnt sugar and heat. 

He nodded, fumbling for the response. His hand found yours and he started to back up towards his house, eyes trained on yours, fingers curling around your own. 

“Right,” he agreed, “of course, yeah.” He was breathing a little faster. 

“And I can help,” you nodded, following him to his side of the fence, waiting until his back was against it to bring your face to his, noses brushing, eyes falling closed. 

“S’real sweet of you,” he huffed out, voice strained because you were so close to kissing him but still so far away from his bed. 

“I’m a really good friend,” you murmured and despite the insinuation behind it, Steve really smiled at your words, ‘cause god, a month or two had passed with nights like these and you were his friend. 

“The best,” he agreed. 

—————

Steve’s room was all shades of blue and violet, the streetlights glowing warm through his closed curtains, the navy plaid bedspread matching the wallpaper. There wasn’t much out of place, everything there that a typical boys room should have. 

The mess of clothes on a desk chair, cassette tapes piled high by a stereo, some old basketball trophies on a shelf, a few pinned Polaroids of friends above his desktop and— and a baseball bat, topped with nails sitting against the wall in a corner. 

You didn’t ask. 

You perched yourself on the edge of the bed, peering up at the boy from underneath your lashes, watching as he moved to stand between your legs. You spread them for him, shivered when he brushed your hair back from your face, a sweet touch of his fingers curling around your ear. 

“You look pretty tired too,” Steve whispered, hand cupping the back of your neck like you had done to him, fingers twisting slightly on your hair and he gave a gentle tug, making your head fall back for him, eyes wide as you looked up and met his gaze. “Little tense, huh?”

You nodded, lips tucked between your teeth because Jesus, god, fuck, the anticipation was electric. 

“So tense,” you agreed and you reached out, hands grabbing at the front of Steve’s shirt, fingers pulling at the hem so he’d lean down for you. He did. “And nothing to smoke to fix it.”

It was an empty complaint, you knew that, the boy knew that. ‘Cause his lips were ghosting over yours and you could feel his smile, less than shy now he knew what you liked, how you wanted to be kissed, learning quickly after hearing you moan for him in the pool a few nights before. 

So he was on you, pushing you back onto the bed, his knee coming up to slot between your thighs as he held himself above you, lips connecting easily, groaning when your mouth parted for him almost instantly. 

The window was open and you could still hear the buzz of the cicadas in the woods out back, the drone of the pool heaters, the trickle of the water from that one broken jet in yours. 

It wasn’t that much cooler in Steve’s room than it was outside, but maybe that was just the way you’d pressed yourself into each other, sleep clothes shifting easily out of the way for wandering hands, a slow soft drag of fingers across ribs, seeking out new places to touch. 

And without the smoke, the week, you could really feel it all, a sudden burn and a live wire touch, no haze to numb the sensation of Steve dragging the rough flat of his palm over the soft of your stomach. 

He tasted like spearmint this time, like leftover toothpaste and when his tongue brushed over yours, you groaned, back arching for him. 

There it was again, that slow motion feeling, present even without the weed, like memories on a film camera, stuttering over grain and dust. Magic, a spell, a live potion, sticky sweet and tinting everything pink and rosy. 

It was dizzying, to kiss Steve like this, to be kissed like this. Slow and lazy, open mouthed and tongues pressing, nose pushed to each other's cheeks, breath coming in huffs and short pants, noises swallowed by the other. 

And when Steve pulled back, just a little, just an inch, his pupils were blown wide and god, you thought, maybe he didn’t need to smoke at all to feel like this - a different kind of high. 

The boy blew out a stuttering breath as he looked down at you, eyes glittering in the low light, shifting so he lay in the cradle of your hips, groaning a little softly when you gasped out at the feel of him. 

“This okay?” He whispered, smoothing the hair back from your forehead, leaning into you to press his lips against your cheek, trailing across your jawline. 

His hand stayed safe at your hip, tucked under the cotton of your sleep shirt, thumb smoothing over the soft skin there and you nodded, chest burning at the way Steve was looking at you. 

Like you were made of gold, like you were some sort of magic. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Steve,” you gasped out, bringing one knee up to cage him in, thigh pressed to his side and you tried not to get ahead of yourself, tried not to tilt your hips up into his. 

Your hands got too desperate though, grabbed at his face to pull him back to your lips, kissing a little needier than before, the pace quickening, the solid weight of him pressing you into his pillows. Everything smelled like Steve, like cologne and mint and boy. 

It went on like that, hands shaking as you slipped off shorts and shirts and sweatpants, thumbing over the edges of underwear, cotton and lace. It was easy to flip you both over, Steve letting you do what you wanted with him, lying back and pretending that he couldn’t take the control back off of you if he really wanted to. 

Instead, he lay back in the pillows, hand gripping your sides, fingers pushing into the dough there, lips parted and eyes hooded as he stared up at you. He was panting, gaze flickering from your chest to the soft of your stomach, splayed thighs, the way your underwear was hitched high on your hips. 

He couldn’t help but stutter out a moan when you rolled your hips over his, the wet spot on your underwear pressed into his, your cunt pressed over the length of his cock, separated only by his boxers and lace. 

Steve’s face was a pretty riot, eyes wide, hair wild, lips parted and pouty, his cheeks all flushed. It was hard to stay away, too easy to dip back down, your bra scratching softly against his bare chest, lips finding his again in a kiss that made you both lightheaded. 

You pulled away only to whisper to him, lips brushing against his, cupids bows touching, eyes closed. 

“Can I make you feel good?” Your voice was impossibly soft and it made Steve’s chest ache. “Will you let me help you relax?”

The boy couldn’t remember a time he’d felt more pent up, heart racing, too warm. He was far from relaxed, too eager to watch you on top of him, all mismatched cotton and lace hiding the parts of you he wanted to see, if you deemed him lucky enough. 

But he nodded anyway, greedy for your touch, for anything you might give him. The girl next door, too pretty and too sweet, all coconut sunscreen and chlorine scent skin. 

“Christ,” he groaned, “yeah, yeah, please.”

He didn’t know what he was asking for, begging for. He just knew that if you were giving it, he wanted it. You moved slow, a whisper against him, lips trailing sweetly over his jaw, his chin, dipping lower and lower until you were kissing his Adam’s apple and mouthing across his chest, your hair tickling his stomach and he felt you grin against him when his muscles flexed, tensing at your touch. 

Your hands smoothed over the front of his boxers, sucking in a breath when his cock twitched under the material, hot and hard and thick. You looked up to see Steve fighting with himself, struggling between throwing his head back into the pillows - jaw slack and eyes slammed shut - and keeping his gaze trained on everything you were doing. 

You repeated his words back to him, eyes on his as you tucked your fingers into the band of his underwear. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve groaned out. “I think you’re gonna kill me, but yeah, it’s okay,” and he laughed a little here you did, a huff of warm air over his navel as you grinned up at him. 

He shivered at every touch, swore out loud when you dragged the band of his underwear down and let his cock spring free, the weight of it slapping up against his stomach. 

Another pretty noise when you wrapped your hand around him, thick and warm in your palm and you watched as Steve’s jaw clenched. You soothed him with a soft tsk, lips pressed to the tops of his thigh but the boy was a mess.

“Sensitive?” You whispered, your hand pumping him slowly, twisting your wrist when you got to his head, the tip of him already slick and sliding into your palm. 

It took a while for Steve to reply, to contain the boyish whines he was trying not to let out, but he eventually sucked in a breath and pushed himself to his elbows to stare down his body at you, rosy cheeked and in awe. 

“Just, fuck— just been a while, since…” he trailed off, gone for you, entranced by the way you were kissing so close to the base of him, lips teasing at his hipbone, trialing across his thighs. 

“Since?” You squeezed him, hand dragging up and down his length, hiding your smile when his cock jumped for you. 

“Fu-uck, since anyone…” Steve broke off with a groan, deep and dirty. “Since anyone touched me, done this, shit.”

You were sweet with it, moving to lie between his spread legs, free hand rubbing soft circles on his thigh and he was quivering, eyes glazed over as he watched you press a kiss to the side of his cock, keening high at the sight. 

“I’ll go slow then, yeah?” You told him, starting a lazy pump up and down his shaft, “we can take it real easy.”

Steve nodded and looked like he was close to losing it already, unable to form a full sentence. He dragged a hand through your hair, keeping it back from your face so he could cup at your cheek, thumb pulling a little at your bottom lip, letting you suck on it as you kept moving your hand over him. 

“Fucking Christ,” he moaned out, “you look so pretty— too pretty. Think ‘bout you all the damn time, it’s ridiculous.”

You preened at that piece of information, eyes locked onto his before you licked a slow stripe along his cock, getting him slick for you. The boy tensed up, a gutteral sound coming from his lips and it was too hot, too filthy. His hand stayed on your cheek, fingers splayed over your jaw whilst the other one sank into the sheets, gripping them tightly. 

“Holy shit.”

“All the time?” You asked softly, “really?” Steve could only nod, brown eyes wide and doe like as he watched you, lips parted and still swollen from your kisses. He was a pretty, pretty picture. “Tell me.”

He whined, head lolling backwards as you slid your hand over him, up and down, up and down, up and down, soft pants coming from his chest as he tried to speak. 

“Can’t help it,” he mumbled, “would sit out all night and smoke with you and shit, you always look so fucking pretty and you smell so good. Always waitin’ on me with hardly any clothes and oh god — yeah, just like that, fuck — I’d have to go home and jerk off in the shower, always so hard just from thinking ‘bout the things I wanted to do to you.”

It was indecent, the way Steve spoke, breathy and gasping, little moans interrupting every other word and he held your gaze the entire time, completely unabashed. It was hotter than it should’ve been and you could feel the way your eyes drooped, lip tucked between your teeth as you held in your own sounds. 

“Yeah? Like what? I wanna know,” you coaxed him. You leaned in once more, finally wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, lazily licking and sucking at him. 

His hips almost shot off the bed and you hummed in appreciation around him, watching with dark eyes as Steve threw his head back into the pillow, neck taught and pulse thrumming. His hands were both in your hair, doing his best to gently smooth it back instead of yanking on it the way his body was telling him to. 

The boy was speechless. But it only made you pull off of him, the tip of his cock resting against your lips as you kissed at it sweetly, tongue peeking out to press against it. Steve looked like he was about to lose his shit. 

“Tell me,” you urged softly, “tell me what you want to do to me, Harrington. Maybe I’ll let you.”

“Oh, fucking hell, baby.”

Baby. It was a dirty groan, all affection, a heady dose of sticky sweetness as he stared down at you like you were his own personal wet dream. 

He gasped out as you took more of him into your mouth, inch by inch until you had to admit defeat — he was too big. 

“I, uh, god, I think about you… on top of me, how insane you’d look riding me,” Steve hissed at the way you ran your tongue along the underside of him, pulling off with a wet ‘pop’. “Under me, on your hands and knees, against the tiles in m’shower — fucking everywhere, sweetheart.”

He was quick to catch you as you made your way back up his body, legs a little shaky with anticipation, cunt throbbing as you tried your best not to launch yourself at the boy. You settled yourself back on his lap, Steve’s warm hands clutching tight at your waist. 

“You don’t want much, huh?” You teased quietly, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra.

It fell forward, down your arms and Steve reached to pull it off, sighing at the sight of you. He pushed his hands to your chest, cupping your tits as he ran a thumb over each nipple, smiling when it pebbled under his touch. 

“Just you,” he answered honestly. “In any way you’ll let me.”

You whimpered at that, wondering if you should give up the control right then, pass it back to the boy and let him manhandle you about his bed, hands hot and greedy. But you looked down, saw the way he looked blissed out, his cock hard and throbbing for you between your legs, twitching against the soaked centre of your underwear. 

“Just me?” You said instead, smiling prettily as you ran your hands across Steve’s chest, appreciating the muscles that tensed there, broad shoulders flexing as he did the same, hands wandering over your navel, fingers flicking against the band of your underwear. “Aren’t you the sweetest?” You cooed. 

It might have been your voice, or maybe the words you said, but either wait, Steve gave in and let his hips thrust up, all semblance of control slipping through his fingers and he was reaching for you, fingers slipping underneath lace to find what he wanted. You both groaned out at his touch, the boy’s eyes rolling as he found you soaked and slick for him. 

“You make me feel desperate,” Steve stuttered out, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard, dragging you with him to keep you sat on his lap. “D’you know that? D’you feel what you do to me?”

He rolled his hips into you for effect, as if you couldn’t already feel his hard cock pressed against your ass, flush with your cunt, twitching with need for you. 

You could only moan, a stuttering sound that made your chest ache and you were reaching for him, suddenly wanting to feel his lips on yours more than anything. “Steve.”

“Ah, ah,” Steve stopped you, pushed a hand to your sternum, fingers splayed over your throat as he pushed you back into place, sitting pretty across his hips. “Stay there for me, hmm?” A sharp tap to your thigh, soothed by a warm palm. “Spread your legs wider, pretty, there’s a girl.”

It turned out, you didn’t really need to let Steve roll you underneath him to gain back control. 

You did as you were told, splaying your legs apart as far as you could, knees digging into the mattress as you leaned back a little, hands finding purchase on the tops of Steve’s thighs for support. 

It was easy for him like this, much too easy for him to make you fall apart. Fingers hooked into the lace of your underwear, dragging to the side a little dirty, leaving you exposed for him. The boy groaned, a pretty sigh and a soft coo when he slid one thick finger inside of you, barely letting you get used to the stretch before adding another. 

“Jesus, you feel so good,” he whispered to you, smiling when you feel forward, forehead touching his, panting against his mouth, eyes closed. “So soft, feel perfect.”

Steve held his hand there for you, two fingers curled inside your cunt and he moaned out encouragingly as you rocked over them, taking back a little bit of the control as you set the pace, fucking yourself over him. He was panting, pupils blown wide until his eyes were just black, cheeks all flushed pink for you. 

He was mumbling, a steady stream of almost nonsense and praise, mouthing over your throat and jaw, lips kissing at your cheeks and chin as he spoke, telling you how good you were, how pretty, how much he’d thought about this.

And when his thumb pressed to your clit, you mewled, hands grabbing at his hair, the hook in your stomach pulling, a white hot burn, a slow motion explosion, a lick of heat over your navel. 

“M’gonna come, Steve,” you told him, breathless, panting. “Please make me come.”

 “Yeah? Yeah, aww shit, come for me, pretty thing,” Steve gasped out. “Wanna feel you, can you do that, yeah? Let me feel how tight you get for me, Jesus fucking Christ, babe.”

You did, lips parted against Steve’s as you cried out, a barely there kiss, nails leaving half moons on his shoulders, fingers seeking out messy hair that you could pull at. 

And Steve barely had any time to marvel over the sight of you, the feel of you, ‘cause you were still whimpering as you lifted yourself off of him, only to wrap a hand around his cock and line him up with your entrance, the top of him pressed against where you were most wet. 

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“I’m on the pill,” you offered, eyes hooded and lips parted, messy in the prettiest way for him, underwear still stretched to the side. “I haven’t— there hasn’t been anyone in a while.”

Steve nodded helplessly, wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you down and onto him, inch by inch, a tight, warm fit as you still rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm, clenching around him immediately. 

“Oh fuckfuckfuck,” you gasped at the stretch, the feeling of being so full, fingers knitting into his hair to pull him to you, kissing away his sounds, his pretty moans and sighs. 

Steve’s hands stilled you, his breath coming out in short, warm bursts over your lips, his forehead pressed to yours as he tried to gather himself. 

“I need, uh, shit, you need to gimme a minute here, babe, I’m gonna lose it.” Steve’s eyes searched yourself, wide and filled with a stupid amount of fondness, a sweet, sticky kind of wonderment, like he thought you were made of magic. “You feel too good.”

“I want you to lose it,” you told him and god, you sounded wrecked, and it would’ve been embarrassing if Steve didn’t sound the same when he moaned at your words. “Wanna make you feel good too, can I? Steve, please?”

It didn’t take much to coax him backwards, body slumping onto the pillows, head resting against them as he looked up at you through messy hair. His hands soothed over your thighs, knuckles brushing over the soft of your tummy before he gripped your hips and readied himself. 

He nodded, staring down the line of your body, groaning out something filthy when you lifted yourself from him, starting a slow, hot drag of your cunt on his cock, almost letting him slip out before dropping yourself back down. 

You planted your hands on his chest, grinning as you let him grab at your ass, your thighs, your hips, kneading the skin there as he tried to stave off his own orgasm, nose scrunched cutely, lips pressed together to keep his noises in. 

“There you go,” you murmured, catching his chin in one hand as he panted out, lips parting at your touch, biting down softly on your thumb as you pushed it to his mouth. “Look so pretty like this, Stevie. Wanna see you come for me.”

He fell apart for you like that, your thumb tugging on his bottom lip as his jaw fell slack, moaning out your name, hands bruising your hips as he spilled inside of you. Steve’s hips stuttered, legs shaking as you fell into him, his cock still buried inside of you, lips pressed together in a kiss that was just as good as the first one. 

You lay like that for a while, chests pressed together, kissing lazy and soft in the blue light, the air smelling like summer and sex and Steve. He only moved to grab you a warm washcloth, soothing you when you whined as he swiped it between your legs. And when he crawled back into bed with you, sweats hung low on his hips, he gathered you easily, crushed you to his chest and buried his face in your hair. 

Neither of you smelled like smoke, or even of chlorine or the summer night air, that sticky, heavy scent that only came with spending the night outside. And despite that, it was the first time in a while where Steve was asleep before the clock hit four. 

[love-granger]

just saw a theory that max isn’t even alive and it’s just her body that is alive, she could be used as a vessel for next season :/ it does make sense cuz el looked into her mind and couldn’t find max

#stranger things #steve harrington #will byers #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #nancy wheeler #stranger things season four #eddie munson

[love-granger]

The Gate is open, but Hawkins has not yet fallen. It’s only partway open, because Max is only partway dead. Her soul is in the Upside-Down, but her heart still beats. She is not One’s, not yet. He cannot escape to the world until he fully has taken her soul into his. But she’s still fighting. That’s one thing about Max. She’s a fighter, despite it all.

[love-granger]

This season was so good!! It could’ve lowkey been a perfect way to end the show. Like some things you just can’t fix And the fact that the world is basically ending because the gate is so huge how are they gonna come back from that? My poor lumax heart tho :( I really liked how they didn’t end on a cliffhanger and I can’t wait to see what they do next season BUT I hate time skips and especially rn like no plz😭

#steve harrington smut #stranger things #steve harrington #will byers #max mayfield #lumax s4 #lumax #robin buckley #nancy wheeler

[love-granger]

[call me by blondie playing] THE STEVE HARRINGTON BABYSITTING SERVICE

[love-granger]

God is a woman indeed