#so I gave that memory to eddie

[nocturna1sea]

My Fav Marvel Characters (sort of)

[steddiealltheway]

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays :) This is way longer than I thought it would be, but it's been a while since I've written, so I think I needed it. I hope you all have a wonderful end to your year <3

Steve thought it was fate when he reached into Dustin’s old Santa hat and picked up a crumpled piece of paper with Eddie’s name scribbled on it. He had a gift stored away for Eddie that he bought weeks ago, and he was hoping there would be some way to get it to him without making it a big deal or something. Miraculously, the tiny slip of paper gave him that chance.

Now, two weeks later, Steve feels like his nerves are on fire as everyone gathers around in his living room, waiting to receive their gifts.

He goes off to the guest bedroom where the party had dropped off their gifts under the bed with the promise of not peaking - per Steve's request. Mike complained that the system was a little bit much, and Steve couldn’t argue with him. He just didn’t want to give away that he was Eddie’s secret Santa.

And now that he has pulled all the gifts out from under the bed, his stomach churns and his heart races. He just hopes his gift doesn’t cross a line or bring up unwanted memories, especially since he and Eddie aren’t exactly best friends.

Well, okay, they’re close. Considering the number of times Dustin has insisted they all hang out now that they’ve all been trauma-bonded, Steve has spent a lot of time with Eddie. But he hasn’t gotten a lot of alone time with him.

Sure, there have been a few times when Eddie has stopped by work, but Robin was always close by - not that Steve minded at all, except he got tired of the looks she would give him after Eddie left as if she was expecting Steve to say something. He doesn’t know what exactly he would say, but he will admit that it was always sad watching Eddie go. Maybe he should tell Robin he wishes he could stay a little longer, maybe even after hours.

The thought reminds him of the one moment they spent alone that Steve can't help but recall often. Even his present to Eddie is based around that moment which resulted in him purchasing something definitely higher than the price limit, but none of the kids would know that so it’s fine.

There’s a light knock on the door behind him, and Steve turns around. “Hey,” Eddie says with a small smile. “Everything okay?”

Steve smiles back, willing his heartbeat to slow down a bit. “Yeah, just trying to figure out how to get them all at once.”

“Let me help,” Eddie says, already bending over to grab half the stack that Steve had pushed out from under the bed. “You don’t happen to have a Santa suit do you?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “No?”

“Damn. Next year, okay? And I want to be Santa.”

The corner of Steve’s lip quirks up and Eddie's eyes light up, looking awfully proud of himself. The two hold the gaze for a few moments longer than they should, but it’s not like that's new to them.

“Guys! What’s the holdup?!” Dustin yells.

Steve sighs and offers Eddie a now irritated smile before leading the way to the living room, glancing down at the names on each present before handing them out. He and Eddie finish around the same time, and Steve notices there are two clear spots for them in the small circle on either side of Dustin. He almost makes a snarky comment to Dustin, but he holds his tongue, knowing Max and El will shoot them irritated glares if they start bickering.

"El, why don't you go first?" Steve suggests as he sits down, not giving the rest of the kids a chance to argue about it. After all, no one is going to protest after all that El did for them.

El smiles and carefully opens her gift, but Steve spaces out a bit, lost in thought about his gift and questioning if it will be an appropriate thing to bring up in front of the kids. Eddie had shared the moment only with Steve and even hesitated in doing so, so maybe he doesn't want it to be broadcast to the kids. Shit.

Steve snaps back to reality when El knee-scoots over to Dustin, pulling him into a tight hug and thanking him for her present. Dustin flushes an interesting shade of red that Steve is definitely going to bring up later when he himself isn't panicking. For now, he moves the game along. "Alright, Dustin gets to open his gift now since he was the Secret Santa," Steve announces, nervously glancing at Eddie, hoping the excited look doesn't mean the gift is from him. He's not sure if he's ready for Eddie to open his gift yet.

Luckily, the gift is from Lucas, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. But as the game continues and more people unwrap their gifts, Steve finds himself getting a bit impatient as he waits for someone to get their gift from Eddie. It's only when Max is last to open her gift that Steve realizes that he and Eddie are the only two remaining which means...

"No way," Eddie says with a big grin. "We're the only two who got each other."

Steve slowly looks down at the gift in his hand, neatly wrapped with a beautifully done bow that seems so unlike Eddie who always seems to be in a rush, doing everything with an almost frantic energy that Steve kind of adores. He wonders what he must've been like sitting still, carefully folding each curve of newspaper and taping it all together before neatly tying the red ribbon around the box into a beautiful bow. "You did this?" Steve can't help but ask, hoping he didn't just stick his foot in his mouth.

"Yeah," Eddie says somewhat bashfully as he pulls his hair in front of his face. "You do the honors." Eddie gestures to Steve's present and nervously rambles, "It isn't much really..."

Steve carefully undoes each fold, seeing the care Eddie took in wrapping a small box that Steve pulls the lid off of. He stares down at a small metal-looking thing and picks it up off the paper it's on top of. He presses it and startles a bit as it buzzes.

"A hand buzzer," Dustin laughs in disbelief.

"Maybe you two need to hang out more," El suggests innocently.

Eddie clears his throat. "There's a note in there, too, but you don't have to read it out loud in front of the kids or anything."

Steve keeps ahold of the little buzzer and picks up the note, staring at a few numbers in confusion before following an arrow that elaborates 24/7 Walkie Channel - especially at night. Steve flushes a bit red at the joke, but as he reads further, he realizes it's not a joke at all. In fact, he knows exactly what this is referring to.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Eddie walks up to the counter of Family Video and raps his knuckles on the counter. "Now tell me, what exactly is behind that restricted section with the red curtains?"

Steve rubs his temples and gives Eddie an unimpressed look. "You know exactly what's behind there."

"Well, maybe I want to hear it from my favorite employee. After all, you're supposed to help me with all my needs."

"Alright," Robin announces loudly, "I'm taking my break."

Steve hears the break room door shut behind him, and he drops his head in his hands with a slight groan.

"That embarrassed, Harrington? I thought you were like the expert here. Especially since Robin isn't allowed back there, but..." Eddie trails off but suddenly his voice gets much closer yet softer. "Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Sometimes I push too far without realizing and-"

Steve cuts him off with a short wave of his hand. "It's not that. You're fine really. Just didn't really sleep last night."

"Company or..." Eddie goes for a joke to lighten the second half of what he's implying.

Steve sighs and glances up at him. "It the 'or' option."

Eddie gives him a sympathetic look and glances around at the empty store before leaning on the counter, right into Steve's space, but it's comforting rather than intrusive. Eddie softly says, "I get it, man. The night terrors are... they're intense. I still see Chrissy when she..." He looks away, swallows hard, and takes a deep breath. "I get it."

Steve glances up and sees a matching haunted look in Eddie's eyes that Steve catches in the mirror from time to time. "It's harder late at night. I get this urge to reach out to everyone and make sure they're okay and..." Steve sighs and lowers his voice, "still alive." He shudders slightly and laughs humorlessly, "But it's not like I can just call everyone's house at night and wake up them and their family. I usually just wait for the urge to pass but it's harder for me with some people." Steve swallows hard, knowing what Eddie will ask next.

"Like who?"

Steve glances up at Eddie and says, "Robin of course because she's my best friend. Max is tough too because of how close she was to dying and you just never know if that thing will come back or not."

"He's gone for good this time. You know what Owens said," Eddie presses gently.

"Yeah, but I've heard it before," Steve argues. But he can't deny that things definitely feel more final now. Like maybe they're finally over. Still, he can't just let his guard down on the off chance that his gut isn't right for once.

Eddie shifts and nudges Steve's elbow with his own. "Anyone else though?"

Steve holds Eddie's gaze for a moment, and he sees the exact moment Eddie knows exactly what he's thinking as the memories of Eddie's lifeless body in Steve's arms flood in his head. "You were... gone there for a little while. And sometimes I wake up, and I think that you didn't make it. That the nightmare I keep having is actually reality."

Eddie gives him a pained look and places his hand over Steve's. "You can call me at any time. Day or night. I'll try my best to answer, especially at night."

"Eddie, I don't want to make you lose sleep any more than you already are."

"But I'm probably already awake. And I don't care if I lose sleep for you, okay?"

Steve glances up at him and flushes a bit as his eyes flicker down to Eddie's lips. For a moment, he thinks he might understand what Robin's looks mean, but he glances away before he can truly think about it. "That's not the only problem though," Steve confesses quietly.

Eddie just squeezes his hand, waiting for him to elaborate.

With a deep breath, Steve hooks his thumb on top of Eddie's pinky and squeezes back for some support. "I hate speaking in that empty house. My voice seems to echo, and it makes me feel more alone than I already am. And sometimes it feels impossible to speak about things. Like my voice doesn't work or something. I don't know."

"I get it," Eddie says simply, squeezing his hand again. "But really, if you ever need to call or stop by or anything. I'll be there." Steve holds Eddie's gaze, thinking maybe the upcoming night won't be so bad.

Before Steve can really say anything else, the bell on the front door dings loudly and he and Eddie practically jump apart. The customer doesn't even so much as glance at them, but they both still keep their distance, recognizing that the moment is over.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve stares at the little list in the note.

One Buzz: Checking in. I will buzz back so you know I'm okay. Two Buzzes: If you need to hear my voice. I will respond over the walkie and talk for as long as you like. Buzz multiple times, and I'll stop. And trust me, I will talk your ear off, so I won't get offended when you buzz. Three Buzzes: If you need me to call ever. Don't be afraid to use this one. Wayne is still working night shifts, so you're really no bother if you want to call first. But this way, I can be the one calling you so you don't have to worry about waking me up or anything. Really. The buzzes aren't too loud, so they shouldn't wake me up. Let me know if you want to add anything to this list. I have an identical list with my hand buzzer at home that I would be happy to add to at any time. Merry Christmas Love, Your Secret Santa

Steve stares at the note in his hand almost too stunned to speak. He doesn't think he's ever received a more thoughtful gift in his life. He pinches at his nose and tries to shut his emotions down a bit, and Eddie must catch on because he loudly announces, "My turn!"

Steve takes a deep breath, forgetting entirely about the gift he got Eddie. He watches as Eddie tears the wrapping paper off the small box then dramatically and very slowly opens it up with a big smile, knowing he has the kids' impatient attention practically in the palm of his hand. But when he finally sees the gift, his smile and whole act drop as a look of realization crosses over his face.

Steve's heart pounds in his chest.

Eddie slowly removes the little glass bottle filled with brown liquid and silently stares at it.

"What is that? Some type of fancy bourbon?" Max asks with a scoff.

Steve watches Eddie's eyes get slightly glassy, and he's quick to announce, "Something like that. But alright, we have to move on before your families start coming to pick you up. Was a snowball fight next on your cheesy list or something?"

Dustin is quick to defend the list the group came up with, but Steve is quicker in pushing them all toward the front door. "I'll be there in a bit. Eddie and I have to clean up."

The kids all rush to put on their coats and shoes, not wanting to be a part of any type of cleanup. Once they run outside, Steve closes the door and rushes back to the living room where Eddie's still staring at the bottle, a single tear going down his face. "You... you remembered... and you... you got... how?"

"Of course, I remembered," Steve says, thinking of what Eddie told him months ago.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve sighs and stuffs more things into a box from Eddie's closet. Dr. Owen's people had finally given the trailer the all-clear, so they were finally able to get the remainder of Eddie's and Wayne's things out of there. Of course, the kids had spent about an hour helping with the living room before taking a very very long break at Max's place. Steve assumes it will be lasting until the rest of the trailer is cleared out.

"They're great help, aren't they?" Eddie jokes as he brings another box into the room.

"Absolutely. Always willing to lend a hand. That is until they decide that the adults can just slave away for them."

"Someone needs to give them a lecture," Eddie sighs, pulling out a pile of clothes from his closet.

Steve scoots the box over and asks, "And why does that person always seem to be me? Especially when they don't listen to me."

"You're just so motherly," Eddie says with a big smile, dimples on full display.

Steve can't help but smile at the sight. And luckily he's staring his way when Eddie picks up another stack of clothes and suddenly hurdles something Steve's way. And even luckier, Steve's reflexes are quick, so he's able to easily catch the smaller glass bottle.

Eddie's eyes widen and he quickly grabs at the bottle, wrapping his hands around Steve's in the process. "Jesus H. Christ." Eddie's grip tightens as he stares at the bottle and breathes a sigh of relief, dropping his head to Steve's shoulder. "Have I ever told you that I'm so glad you're a jock?"

Steve snorts. "No, but whatever in this bottle must be important enough for you to admit it. So, tell me, what's in it? Alcohol? Some type of weird liquid drug?"

Eddie pulls back and looks away, still cradling the bottle and Steve's hands. "It's nothing. Just, hold it gently while I find another shirt to wrap it in."

Steve gently grasps the bottle and brings it closer, inspecting what it could be when he's hit with a bit of deja vu. He tests his suspicions and carefully removes the cap. "Eddie, why do you have an almost empty bottle of perfume in your closet?"

Eddie turns to him and asks, "Please, don't tell me you sprayed it."

"I didn't. The cap just gave it away."

Eddie quickly takes the bottle from his hand and puts the cap back on. "It's nothing. Like I said." He rolls it carefully in a t-shirt and places it in the box.

Steve slowly approaches and looks down at the box, frowning when he sees it start to blend in with the other pile of clothes in there. "I'll be right back," Steve announces before running out to his car. He opens the trunk and sighs, grabbing a shoe box and carefully placing his emergency date shoes in the corner of the trunk before taking the box inside.

When he gets back to the room, he reaches into the bigger box, fishes the shirt-wrapped perfume out, and places it gently into the shoe box before setting it aside. Steve glances up and notices Eddie staring at him. "Is that the emergency date shoe box?"

Steve is going to give the kids or Robin a lecture later about giving away people's personal information. "Yes," he admits.

"So, where are the shoes?"

"In my trunk," Steve says, moving onto Eddie closet to grab the last of the clothes.

Eddie pauses before asking, "You put your emergency date shoes the kids told me to never touch in your trunk to give me a box for my perfume?"

Steve shrugs. "Yeah." He stuffs everything down and closes the box, pushing it toward the door. But he's stopped by Eddie's hand on his arm.

"Why?" Eddie asks.

Steve straightens up and puts his hands on his hips. "It's clearly important to you, and I wasn't going to let you forget about it and accidentally throw it again when I'm not there to catch it."

Eddie holds his gaze for a few moments and Steve almost breaks the eye contact, not used to having Eddie's attention directly solely at him. But he feels like that will change in the future.

Eddie shifts and places a hand on Steve's back, leading him to where he placed the box. He picks it up and opens it, slowly unraveling the perfume and staring at it as if debating if he wants to share the story with Steve.

Steve just waits, not wanting to pressure him. Instead, he lets the moment play out.

Eddie breathes out, "It was my mom's."

It hits Steve all at once the implication of the phrase.

"She would wear it all the time. I remember she would put it on once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once before going to bed. I told her it was silly to do that before bed, but she told me it was only silly if I let it be." Eddie smiles at the memory before growing distant in his expression. "When she got sick, she started forgetting the time more and more. So, I would remind her. And toward the end, I started putting it on her when she felt too weak to spray it."

Steve shifts and lightly rests his hand on Eddie's back as he continues, "I told my dad that she should be buried with it. That she would want to have it with her and wear it all the time." Eddie's voice cracks a bit and he clears his throat. "He told me that was silly."

Steve shifts closer to Eddie so their sides are pressing together, trying to give him physical support because he's unsure of what to say.

Eddie shakes his head and smiles sadly. "I kept it since then. And I used to spray it all the time, and god, the guys at school would make fun of me for smelling like girl's perfume, but I didn't care. But maybe I should've listened to them because now I only have this much left." He holds up the bottle to emphasize his point, the perfume so low that it seems to barely cover the bottom of the glass.

"One time, I brought it to a perfume store to ask what brand it was. I thought maybe I could save up and buy another one." Eddie shakes his head again. "But the lady accused me of stealing it. She said there was no way I would've been able to afford it in the first place. That there was no reason for me to even have it unless I was looking for a cheap buck to make."

Steve's grip on Eddie's back presses a little firmer as he feels anger and disgust toward the woman overflood his system. "That's fucked up."

"A bit, yeah," Eddie agrees. He glances at Steve, and Steve realizes how close they are, but he doesn't try to move away. "Do you want to smell it?"

Steve's brows furrow. "Eddie, there's barely any left in there, don't waste it on me."

Eddie smiles somewhat bashfully. "No, it's alright. I haven't used it in a long time, and after everything we went through, I need the reminder."

"If you're sure, then yes. I would love that."

Eddie holds out his wrist and lightly sprays the perfume. He uses his other wrist to rub it in before he holds it up to Steve's nose. Steve takes a deep breath and is suddenly taken back to a vague memory from a Christmas years and years ago when Steve was too young to succumb to the disappointment from his parents who were still around. But it's a happy memory nonetheless.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles softly. "I think your mom had great taste. And it smells really beautiful. I wish I could've met her."

"Me too," Eddie replies softly, staring at the bottle.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"My mom had the same one. Years ago it was gifted to her. I ended up finding the bottle in one of the drawers in her bathroom. It was still in the box, so it wasn't too difficult to find at the store," Steve admits. He holds out his hand and says, "Here. I have to show you something."

Eddie carefully places the perfume back in the box and takes Steve's hand, following him up the stairs and into his room. Steve regrettably lets go of Eddie's hand to pull out a box from under his own bed. He holds it up to Eddie who gasps, "Steve, this must have cost you a fortune."

Steve glances down at the five boxes of perfume and shrugs. "There was a Christmas sale. Plus, I was able to use my Harrington charm a bit."

Eddie grabs the box and carefully sets it on Steve's bed before quickly wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him in close. "Thank you. God, this is the best gift I've ever gotten."

Steve squeezes him tight. "Same with yours."

They remain in each other's arms for a few moments, not rushing the embrace or questioning how long they're allowed to linger. Only, when Steve starts pulling away, he starts questioning his next move. Because more than anything he wants to kiss Eddie.

The realization hits him hard. He knows exactly now what Robin's glances mean and what she's been expecting him to say. Of course, deep down he knew, but he just hadn't had to face it head-on yet. But here he is and... "Eddie," Steve says softly, lingering in his space.

"Steve," Eddie replies quietly, eyes flickering down to Steve's lips, already knowing what he means.

Steve takes a deep breath, feeling his heart pound in his chest as he asks, "Can I?"

"Hell yes," Eddie replies.

They both move together at the same time, meeting each other in a gentle kiss which they linger in. Steve moves away to breathe and shifts to cup Eddie's face with his hands and bring him in again. He kisses him with all he has, filled with the awe of the thoughtful gift he received, joy of the gift well received, and the overwhelming feeling that this is right.

Steve breaks the kiss with a smile and whispers, "Merry Christmas, Eddie."

"Merry Christmas, Steve," Eddie says breathlessly before kissing him again.

And it really is a merry Christmas.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

[ i wrote this in an hour after a very long day at work so if you see any mistakes...no you dont. Also i WILL see them later. Like immediately after i post this...so it goes. Enjoy guys! 🧡 ]

The sun from his window wakes him, shining in his eyes. The night before coming back to him slowly, his stomach swooping at the memory. He reaches behind himself, blindly, his stomach dropping. The sheets are cold.

Steve rolls onto his back, letting his head fall to the side slowly, not wanting to see what he's already felt. Not wanting to see the emtpy bed Eddie had promised wouldn't be there in the morning.

He turns.

No Eddie.

He refuses to acknowledge the whine that crawls up his throat, takes a deep breath, and rolls onto his side, his fingers idly moving over the sheets Eddie had left rumpled in his wake.

It had taken them months to get here. To this place. From Eddie and Steve. To EddieAndSteve.

Steve hadn't expected Eddie. Was shocked how much he enjoyed the other boys company. He was loud, and intense, and smart, and an asshole, and kind. This weird puzzle Steve wanted to toss onto the table so he could see the pieces better.

And then he'd met the other Eddie. The Eddie he was when he was alone with someone. He was no less intense. But he got quiet. He got calm. And at first, it freaked Steve out a little bit. He hadn't been expecting it, this quiet side of Eddie.

He'd actually asked Jeff about it one day, asked if maybe he'd been doing something wrong. That Eddie was too nice to call him on it so he'd just kept his mouth shut and gotten quiet. Jeff had laughed, not meanly, and had said,

"You ever known him to keep his mouth shut? About anything?" Jeff gave him a look, his brows moving up his forehead. Steve shook his head.

"It's freaky right? When he gets quiet, and calm?" Jeff had asked, the look on his face softening when Steve nodded slowly.

"But nice right? Not in a mean way. Just... there's somethin about him when he's quiet." Jeff shrugged, still looking at Steve.

"It's like he's got so much focus. And then it goes quiet and all that focus is just... on you." Steve said, quiet, and slow. Jeff tilted his head to the side, eyes moving over Steve's thoughtful face. A lot of people usually made comments when he made that face, told him not hurt himself, thinking too hard, but not Jeff. Jeff smiled at him, clapped him on the shoulder and said.

"Yeah. And Eddie focus can a be overwhelming when you aren't used to it. But you do, get used to it." He gave Steve's shoulder a squeeze, smiled again when Steve mumbled something about that not being an issue. And that had been the end of it. And the beginning.

Steve got used to Eddie's quiet focus, the way his eyes were always on him when they were alone. He got used to the way Eddie liked doing things for him. Little favors. Little errands. Little good deeds.

He got used to the way Eddie would read to him when he got headaches. His voice calm, and even, and most of the time putting Steve to sleep.

And then he got used to the way Eddie touched him. Like he was something precious. And that was when Steve couldn't help himself. He kissed Eddie. One night in his stupid plaid bedroom. The plaid Eddie loved so much. Cuz it was all Steve.

He'd kissed him and Eddie had smiled into it. And then kissed him back. And Steve got used to that too. He'd gotten used to Eddie being there. With him. For him. Around him and inside him. He was everywhere. And everything. And Steve was so sure he loved him. That Eddie loved him back.

But he was alone.

Eddie promised he would be here with Steve in the morning. Steve was so tired of being with someone and then waking up alone. And Eddie promised, soft and sweet in that way he had, he would be here.

He promised.

Steve felt his eyes burn and curled around the pillow next to him. It still smelled like Eddie, his shampoo and his cigarettes and his sweat. Steve sobbed into the pillow, holding it close as his tears stained the fabric, his chest aching.

And then the smoke detector is blaring. Startling him, he jumps out of bed, disoriented from crying and being pulled out his little bubble. He almost trips over something on his way to the door, he looks down, sees Eddie's jeans. Huh.

He tugs his shirt down over his stomach where it had ridden up in sleep and darts down the stairs, the loud, incessant beeping is coming from the kitchen. As soon as his feet hit the stairs he smells burning. A few more steps and he hears an all too familiar voice. His heart stops pounding from the adrenaline, and starts pounding for a new reason, as he stops right outside the kitchen doorway to listen.

"Please stop please stop please stop!" Eddie's voice begs in a whisper.

"Oh my god. Oh god. What the fuck? Chair. I need a chair." Steve hears him snap his fingers, hears him grunt.

"Okay! Oh my god. Shut uuuupp!" Eddie hisses. Steve's hears him fumbling with something.

"Waking up the whole fucking neighborhood at this rate. I mean c'mon this can't- are you fucking- Gotcha!" Steve hears the sound of the fire detector click free.

"You're gonna get it now you little- oh shit. Okay. I'm okay." Eddie sounds like he's soothing himself. Steve hears another rattling noise, a little "ah HA!", and the beeping finally stops.

"Jesus." Eddie sounds out of breath.

"That was fucking never wracking. A whole fucking todo. My god." He sighs loudly, Steve covering his mouth, trying not to snort and give himself away.

"Now where was I?" Eddie asks himself, Steve hears him groan softly and can almost see the way his body deflates.

"Oh right. You." Steve smiles at the venom in his voice, has to peak around the corner to see if his suspicions are correct. Sure enough, Eddie is looking at the pan on the stove, what was once probably eggs, is now a pan full of smoldering nothing.

Eddie sighs again, his shoulders sagging. He curls his fingers around the handle, lifts the pan closer to his face, squinting at the ashes inside.

"Now, what am I... gonna do with you?" He asks, frowning. Steve bites his lip.

"I was just about to ask you the same question." Steve says, stepping around the door frame. Eddie yelps, nearly drops the pan, rights it quickly but gets a handful of ashy eggs in the process, makes a face and a strangled noise as he sets it back on the stove.

"Steve! You're awake!" He says, smiling, as he takes a few steps backwards, shoves his hands into the sink and scrubs them off, gagging once as he pushes soap between his fingers. Steve drags his teeth over his bottom lip, lets it go. Smiles as he watches Eddie clean his hands.

"Yes Eddie. I'm awake." He leans agaisnt the door frame.

"I um... did I wake you up? I didn't mean too. I had like a whole...plan. Well... maybe not a whole plan. Half a plan? Let's call it part of a plan. " his hands flail and then drag down his shirt as he dries them.

"What are we talkin like, sixty/forty?" Steve teases, Eddie fowns, scrunches his face.

"I wouldn't give it that much. It was eighty/twenty at best."  His hand wiggles and wobbles in front of him. The laugh that bursts out of Steve makes him smile.

"I just wanted to bring you breakfast in bed. I only remembered about half way in that I, actually, cannot cook." His eyes move to the ashy eggs again.

"Clearly." He sighs, his shoulders drooping again. Steve's stomach swoops, again, and this time the feeling stays. He laughs again. And moves toward Eddie. Eddie looks at him, holds his hands up between them quickly, like he's gonna fight Steve off with Karate he doesn't know.

"I will clean your kitchen! I just wanted to do something nice for- oomf." He huffs out air into Steve's shoulder as Steve slams into him and pulls him close.

"Oh. Hi." His voice has gone from defensive to pleasantly surprised, his hands resting against Steve's back are warm, and he can feel Eddie smiling into his shoulder.

"You stayed." Steve breathes, closes his eyes and breaths Eddie in, squeezing him tighter. Eddie makes a teasing gasping for air noise and then squeezes back.

"Well yeah. I promised didn't I?" Eddie asks, his fingers digging into Steve's sides, making him squirm. Steve pulls back and looks at him.

"Yes. You did. Thank you for keeping your promise." Steve watches Eddie smile, watches his eyes wander slowly over his face, taking him. And then he kisses him. Again. For maybe the hundredth time. For the thousandth. Steve doesn't know. Just knows that he never wants to stop. But he does, so he can look at Eddie, all wide eyed and frizzy haired, looking a little dazed, the way he always does when Steve kisses him.

"Will you make me another promise?" Steve whispers, bumping his nose softly into Eddie's. He's already nodding.

"Yeah. Anything. What do want?" Eddie asks, his hands squeezing Steve's hips gently.

"Promise me. You'll never, ever, try to cook anything for me ever again." Steve bites his lip when Eddie sqwuaks and shoves him away.

"I was trying! To be sweet to you!!" He shouts, his hands on his chest as he backs away, over dramatically offended.

"I know. And the thought was very nice." Steve nods, grabs the pan and holds it upside down, the ashes do not move, or fall out.

"But I think you killed my pan. And I really can't take anymore kitchen casualties, like, financially. At the moment. So..." he sets the pan back down, smiling when Eddie glares at him. He shakes his head, crosses his arms.

"You try to do something nice for your boyfriend, and what do you get? Nothin but jokes. And financial insecurity." He huffs, his nose in the air. After maybe half a second he glances at Steve.

"But yeah I can promise you that." He winks and then all but bounces back into Steve's arms, nuzzling into his neck and humming.

"Please tell me you can cook. We're gonna die if you can't. We're gonna starve to death. And I'm already precariously skinny, we can't let it get any worse. I'll be nothing but skin and bone come winter!" Eddie laments, going nearly limp in Steve's arms, trusting him to catch him, to hold him up, and he does, as he laughs.

"Worry not fair maiden. I can indeed cook. Shall I scramble you an egg? Make you some toast perhaps?" Steve asks, his hands soothing up and down Eddie's back. Eddie straightens immediately at his words and pulls back, his head cocked to the side.

"Okay toast does sound amazing but I need you know that if you keep playing along with my little dramatics like that, that pan isn't gonna be only thing I ruin in this kitchen." Eddie's cheeks are flushed, his teeth worrying into bottom lip.

"Did you mean for that sound so fucking smooth?" Steve asks, his cheeks going hot as Eddie's eyes drop to his mouth.

"Not at all! Oh my god!  I didn't even mean it like that, but it was so good!" His little excited face as he hops a few times is the best fucking thing Steve's ever seen.

"Well how bout we go ruin something in my bedroom instead. And I can make you toast, or whatever you want, after?" Steve asks, sliding his hands down Eddie's arms and tangling their fingers. Eddie nods excitedly. Steve turns to leave the kitchen and Eddie jumps on his back.

"Oof." Steve sighs.

"Sorry. Wanted a ride up the stairs. You have too many stairs in your house." Eddie whines, smiling into Steve's shoulder when he hikes his legs up and holds him.

"Hey what else can you make besides toast? Can you make soups?" Eddie asks, as Steve takes the steps slowly.

"Yep."

"Hell yes! Can you make grilled cheese?" Eddie asks.

"Yep."

"Amazing. Can you maaake.... meatloaf?" Eddie asks.

"I haven't in awhile, but I have a great recipe for it. Soooo... yes." Steve answers.

"Nice! Can you maaaakkeee.... ooohh can you make bread?" He pats at Steve's chest excitedly. Steve laughs, bounces him once as he heads down the hall to his room.

"Mhm. I can. A few different kinds." Steve hums.

"Holy shit. You're a cooking wizard! We shan't starve after all!" Eddie shouts, his voice echoing off the walls before Steve closes the door, the sound of their laughter muffled through the door as they fall into bed. Steve rolls on top of him, smiles down at him, and thanks him over and over again, through smiles and whispers and gasps and moans. Thanks him for keeping his promise. Thanks him for staying. For staying with Steve.

And Eddie tells him, in that easy way he has, quiet and intense, that there's no place else he'd rather be.

[livwritesstuff]

Steve wants it on record that there isn’t much he wouldn’t do if it meant spending time with his kids.

The one exception to this is shopping. Generally speaking, Steve can’t really handle shopping anymore (migraines – or, rather, the way shopping is a pretty consistent trigger for migraines).

Eddie handles most of the shopping – he does the groceries every week, he runs most of the errands the pop up, he gets dragged to the mall with their daughters on the weekends.

 There’s one exception to that exception though, and it’s back-to-school shopping.

Steve makes an exception for back-to-school shopping for a couple reasons.

For one – memories. The passing of time is a cruel thing, as Eddie loves to remind him, and they only get so many years to set their kids loose in Walmart, to watch them pick out a new lunchbox and water bottle, to see which novelty folders Robbie and Moe will fight over this year, and what color notebooks they’ll claim. This year in particular, Moe is starting fifth grade, her last year before she heads off to middle school, and Hazel is starting kindergarten. Obviously, Steve will risk a migraine if it means getting to watch his daughters back-to-school shop for the one year ever all three of them will be at the same school together. 

The second reason Steve makes an exception for back-to-school shopping – Eddie. Steve loves Eddie. So much. That being said, his judgment can be a little questionable, which is fine most of the time because Steve is used to it. His kids’ teachers though…not so much, and they’ve also got sixteen to twenty other hellions to manage, so for their sake someone’s gotta be there on these shopping trips to lay down the law when Walmart decides slap-bracelet rulers are a totally fine thing to equip elementary-schoolers with.

“No,” Steve told Robbie simply, his arms crossed as he leaned against a shelf filled with notebooks.

“Why?” she countered, still holding up the purple “ruler”.

Moe helpfully decided to smack Robbie’s bare arm with her own pink bracelet-ruler. Robbie yelped as Moe gave a maniacal laugh and yanked the ruler back.

“That’s why,” Steve replied, “Neither of you need rulers this year, and even if you did, I’m not doing that to your teachers. Let’s move on please.”

Obviously, neither Moe nor Robbie gave any indication that they’d be moving on, which is fine. He’d rather they get over the novelty of the damn things here, so he turns his attention to where Eddie was sitting cross-legged on the linoleum floor trying to convince Hazel, their rising kindergartener, that she doesn’t need a locker shelf.

“There’s no lockers in kindergarten, my girl,” he was telling her, “No lockers at all until middle school.”

“But what if I just get it and then we see if maybe there’s lockers?” Hazel asked, her lower lip starting to tremble.

“I promise we’ll get you a locker shelf when you start middle school,” Eddie replied, easing the pink metal locker shelf out of her hands, “But that’s six years away. Think of all the ways locker technology will improve in six years.”

Hazel nodded.

“We could be looking at a whole new world, Hazy-Jay.”

Again, Hazel nods, though she does give the shelf one last mournful look as Eddie gets to his feet and leads her over to the wall of Crayola paraphernalia.

Steve turns back to the older two in time to hear Moe say, “Do you think it’d wrap around your head if I hit you hard enough?”

“Okay, that’s a no.”

[caxde]

yellow | steve harrington x reader

summary you're Dustin's older sister, you used to go out with Steve, but the distance broke you off, you're back in Hopkins, for good, and destiny makes you bump into eachother. (3.9k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn exes! to lovers, idiots in love!!!, mentions of alcohol use, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

-

“Since when do you own this?” Dustin asked as he pulled a yellow crewneck out of one of the boxes. 

“Oh, uh…” You hadn’t seen it in a while. It fell on your hands as Dustin gave it to you, the softness of the fabric still holds a reminder of his cologne. “It’s not mine, it’s Steve’s.” 

He grew quiet for a second, looking at you intensely. They were still friends, Steve had seen him grow up, and was close to him, almost like a brother, and when you broke things off, you begged him to not leave him. He kept his promise, he always did. 

“Sorry.” He muttered, an apologetic look stayed on his face even when he stopped looking at you, you shook your head. He didn’t need to apologise, not to you anyway. 

“How is he?” The curiosity always took the best of you, and you had left quite some time ago, not really thinking about him. Running away so you wouldn’t have to think about a broken heart. 

“I haven’t told him that you came back home.” Your little brother blurted out, with a grin on his face, letting you know he is really glad that you’re actually back, his way of telling you he’d missed you. “He’s doing good. He’s working, and he went back to studying… He’s happy.” He smiled back at you, seeing how your face was no longer expressing grief or melancholy, but a pleasant smile. 

You were unsure of a lot of things, but one thing that you were certain of, he deserves all of the happiness in the world. 

“That’s nice to know.” Your attention went back to the sweater. The coldness of the night he left it to you seemed to reach your fingertips, and the warmth of the memory reached your gut, butterflies that you thought dead flew for a second. “You should give it back to him.” You added, lifting your head up to look at him. 

“You sure?” Even if he was the youngest, he always treated you in such a delicate manner, it made you softer, you had missed him. 

“Yeah, it’s been long enough.” You chuckled as you said it, and he nodded along. You hadn’t been home in years, hadn’t seen him in two of those. 

“I’m meeting him in a bit, I can give it to him then.” You nod, and he mouths a soft okey before leaving the room. 

You had a moment, for the first time since you had arrived back home, where you were alone. No music, no noise, no one else with you. 

You left so you could go to college, that was your excuse. Then he broke up with you, the distance only exposed other problems, in both of you. When you did break up, he told you that he still loved you, but it wasn’t enough. 

The echo of his words still with you, it isn’t enough, am i not enough? 

The sweetness of his voice shocked with his broken tone, tears fell from his eyes when he said goodbye. That was the last weekend you came down, and you had been avoiding coming back ever since. 

The walls of your room were empty, the new coat of paint now dry, half full boxes of clothes and shoes and memorabilia were scattered around the floor, the bed half done, the cover still having to be put. It seemed like a new beginning, a new chance for yourself. 

Not a lot of people knew you were back. Dustin knew, of course. It had been funny seeing him finally drive, his hands still a bit insecure behind the wheel, but he looked so happy being able to pick his sister from the airport, it had made you beam with happiness when you saw him.

And you had called Eddie as soon as you woke up today. He was ecstatic, begging you to come to a party tonight, telling you that he’d come pick you up as soon as his shift at the garage was done. You knew he’d missed you, even if he’d come often to the city, and vent over everything he had going on. Avoiding to bring him up, even if you did. 

So you laid down on your floor, staring at the same ceiling you did as you grew up in that same house. 

Before you were aware of what you were doing, or why, a pen rested on your hand, scribbling down on a piece of paper. 

Hey, I’m sorry it took this long to give it back, guess I wasn’t ready to let you go. Maybe I’ll never be. I hope you’re happy, and that you have everything you deserve. I’m also sorry if it stinks of me, it has been with me for a while now. Bye. 

PS. Don’t be a stranger. I’m here if you need me. 

You signed it, and folded it one too many times before dropping it inside the little bag that had his sweater in it, the green clashing with the yellow fabric. 

Dustin grabbed it before he left, you smiled when you heard that his car sounded the same. 

-

Loud music, sweaty people and colorful lights. 

Your drink was empty, it had been for a while.

Eddie smiled while he danced and took a sip of his drink, happy that you’re finally back, his head swinging back and forth. His attention was split, between you and an unknown blonde girl that was on the bar. You smiled when you caught her staring. 

“You’ve got a fan Edds.” You chuckled as you teased him. Raising your voice so he could hear you. 

“Who?” 

“The blonde”

“I don’t think that’ll work.” He laughed, his shyness coming in as it always did when the attention was on him. 

“I think it will if you actually go talk to her… buy her a drink?” You shake your head in her direction, he knows you’re actually telling him it’s okay, you can go, i’m okay. 

“Sure?” 

“Yeah, I’ll go to the other bar and get a drink, wait for you there.” He nodded, and you smiled as you saw him blush. 

He looked back at her, he rubbed his chin in a nervous manner, before actually walking over to her. You laughed at him, smiling deeply seeing your friend acting the same he always had. 

As you shook your head to yourself, stifling another laugh you left him on his own, Eddie flirted better when you weren’t around anyway. You started walking to the other bar area, the only problem, you had to find your way through the dance floor before you could reach it. You looked at the people there, all of them dancing mindlessly, some couples that had been formed, kissing or dancing together -it always made you smile, seeing people loving each other, publicly, without fear- and some doing what you were doing, looking around while downing their drink. 

You were halfway through, when you saw him. 

Everything else became fuzzy, the only clear image in your vision was him, wearing the yellow sweater. 

Steve saw you too. 

And time seemed to stop for a moment, and before it started again, there was a few seconds of slow motion. His hair flicking to the beat of the music, as his lips curved upwards at the sight of you, his eyes softening. He’d missed seeing you. He looks the same he did. You thought, though taller, broader, happier. 

Before you knew it, you were face to face. 

You didn’t say anything. You just looked at each other. Years of not seeing him, of avoiding him, it all didn’t matter now. His smile had the same effect on you as it always had, melting you on the spot. He broke the distance, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in close for a hug, your arms laying behind his neck, your fingers stroking his hair. 

I miss you. 

“Hi.” Steve whispered into your ear. An excited but yet calm tone could be heard in his tone. 

“Hi.” You whispered back, holding on to him for a second longer before pulling back. 

“Dustin told me you came back.” He raised his voice now that your head was no longer close to him. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”

“I can tell.” You joked, as you grabbed his sweater, and you saw him chuckle in response. 

“D’you wanna go out? And talk?” He pointed at where the exit was. Of course you wanted to, you almost felt like you needed to. Hear his voice for once, not just remember it. 

As soon as you nodded, he started to head out, grabbing your hand as he passed in front of you. The same tingling feeling comes back to you, as if it was the first time you went on a date with him. The excited nervousness, the hopefulness, the wishing. 

Cold air hitted your chest, even if it was an unseasonably warm night, you blamed the alcohol because anything else would be too confusing, and you were really trying to not get too much into your head. Not now, when he was standing against the wall and his pretty brown eyes were fixed deep into yours. 

“So, how have you been?” He broke the silence, and the moment of admiration between the both of you. 

“Good.” You smile shyly to yourself. “I’ve been good.” 

“How did the big city treat you?” 

“Chicago is… Interesting.” You chuckled, as you scratched your forehead. He knew that was your anxious tick, the way you had when you had too many thoughts swimming around inside your mind. “Uh… You’d hate deep dish pizza.” 

He laughed, and the little butterfly hidden in your stomach came alive again. Warmness and goosebumps on your skin. 

“I did hate it.” He recalls, looking up for a moment, the street lights shining on him. He looks like a statue, you thought, unaware of how pretty he is.

“When did you try it?” 

“I was waiting for one of your classes to end, got hungry and saw a little place that was selling them, disgusting.” He shook his head in a funny manner, it made you giggle, so he did it again, wanting to hear you again. 

“I ended up liking it, y’know.” 

“Of course you did.” He teased, a finger poking your cheek, your face leaning into his touch. 

“You get used to it.” You shrugged, your hand reaching for your purse, searching for the pack of Marlboros you knew you had. 

“You’re good at that.” He grinned as his eyes became softer, he couldn’t stop looking you up and down. “You’re good at everything.”

“‘M not.” You laughed as you took a cigarette out, placing it between your lips. “I still can’t cook as good as you can.” 

“You miss my cooking?” He raised his eyebrows as he asked, a cheeky grin on his lips. 

“I dream about those meatballs you made.” You confessed, trying to hide your truthfulness with a giggle, that he saw through. His head tilted back for a moment, as his Adam's apple moved as he sifted a laugh. 

“D’you remember when I tried to teach you how to make Napolitanian pizza from scratch?” You started to laugh at the memory, failing to light your cigarette, hiding your face on the palm of your hand. 

His heart started to beat again, louder, stronger, faster. If you weren’t too busy trying to quiet yours down, you’d hear it.  

“God… I ended up covered in flour.” 

“Your hair was all white.” His tone softented, as did his eyes. His body seemed to be closer to yours, itching for contact. “I missed that laugh.” He finally confessed, even if the thought had been on his mind since he first heard it that night. 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I missed you too.” 

It happened then. The wave of nervousness, relieved in an instance. 

He missed me. Hemissed me. Hemissedme. 

The excitement that came with it, the realisation that what you felt in some way was reciprocated. And that the complicated feelings were felt by the both of you. 

“Really?” Your voice was full of hope, your eyes shining bright at him. 

“Yeah.” He was blushing now, as he smiled. A wide upside down grin that made your stomach flutter. “Did you?”

“Of course I did.” 

How could you not? He has been the best person that has ever stood by you. Even if things had ended, you could only remember the good times, the fun times, the soft ones. How loved he made you feel every single day. How wanted. How cared for. 

“When we broke things off…” You started to rumble, as smoke escaped through your lips, finally having ignited the cig. “It wasn’t because I didn’t love you anymore.” 

“I know.” He muttered, his tone letting it known that he had a knot in his throat. “I still loved you.” 

“Yeah.” You looked up at him, your hand reaching for his, a needed familiar contact came back. “I needed to be okay.”

“Are you?” You knew he was worried about your answer, in a weird way, Steve never had stopped caring about you. And neither had you. 

“I am.” You nodded, the curve your lips made made him know that you couldn’t be lying. “I don’t have panic attacks every night, I’m fine being on my own. Honestly.” 

“I believe you.” His hand squeezed yours, the soft touch telling you he trusted you, implicitly. You felt yourself falling back into him. “And I’m proud of you, really.” 

“I’m proud of you too.” You finally took a step closer to him, your legs touching and a love sick grin on both of your faces. “Dustin told me you’re studying.” 

“Yeah well… I finally decided, I guess…” 

Even if your attention was on nothing else but him, when the doors opened and people started to come back to the street, smelling of alcohol, smoke and sweat. A chattering invaded the quiet street, and your focus changed. 

“Shit.” Your eyes were scanning the multitude, trying to find Eddie, or the blonde girl, or any of her friends. 

“What?” Steve’s eyebrow furrowed again, not really knowing why the swarm of people had made your demeanor change. Your hand letting his go, your body taking a step back. 

“I came with Edds… Do you see him?” 

“Oh, you’re with him?” You scoffed at the question, rolling your eyes lightheartedly, as you shook your head no. Steve nodded as the smallest grin appeared. A relief appeared in his face, and you chuckled at his question and reaction. 

“He’s a friend.” You still were trying to find him, people kept passing you by, taller, shorter and drunker. “D’you see him?” 

“No.” 

Steve left his hand on your shoulder, asking for your attention, knowing that you were getting into your head, and you were worrying too much too soon. And he also knew that once you felt his touch, your shoulders would relax and drop. Your mind stopped spinning. 

“D’you remember where he parked?” As soon as he speaks you feel grounded. You nodded, and he replicated the movement. “We’ll wait for him there then, come on.” 

You started walking, comfortable silence was one of your favourite things. Just knowing that he was there made you feel better, glancing at him from time to time, catching him staring at you everytime you did so. Making your lips curve everytime you catch him. 

The van wasn’t there. 

“Fuck.” 

“He left?” His tone was a bit agressive now, not at you, if anything he just was protective, so in consequence he seemed pissed that he had left you stranded. Alone. 

“I’m guessing he got lucky with the blonde.” You chuckled out of nervousness. Your hand playing with your hair, placing a strand of it behind your ear, trying to look everywhere but him. “S’fine, I’ll just call a taxi and wake Dustin up.”

“Shut up.” He scoffed, his arms crossing in front of his chest, looking down at you, a look of decision in his eyes. There was no way you were going home alone. “I’ll drive you, c’mon.” 

“I don’t have my keys.” You mumbled. “Dustin has mine. I was supposed to sleep over.”

“Then you’ll sleep over. Let’s go.” His hand reached out, an invitation you weren’t sure you should take, but do anyway. 

-

The car ride had been filled by music, and soft touches. Loving stares, and nervous chuckles. 

It really did feel like old times. 

It didn’t help that his house smelled the same, and time seemed to not move in the Harrington household. 

The only difference was the most noticeable of them all. All of the family pictures had been put down. 

“You changed it up.” You whispered as soon as you walked in, seeing the bare walls, were paint was darker where frames used to be. 

“They don’t live here anymore. So…” You knew he wanted to tell you about it, just as much as you knew he didn’t want to talk about it now, so you just nodded, and he understood what you knew. Words weren’t even necessary. 

“Who does?” You changed the topic, slightly, once you saw a jacket that wasn’t his hanged on the wall. 

“Robin.” He smiled, his face relaxing and becoming brighter. “Her parents didn’t really get the whole… uh… liking girls things.”

“Right, how is she?” You had wanted to reach out to her, but you weren’t sure if she’d wanted to hear from you, you worried, and Steve’s voice echoed in your head you worry too much.

“She missed you.” He confessed with a smile, starting to climb up the stairs, finding his way to his bedroom, you followed him closely. “We all did, I guess.” 

His head hung low for a second, remorse in his voice. Looking back at you for a moment before he turned on his bedroom light, his skin glistened under the moonlight that sneaked through his window. You smiled, seeing him in this light again, with the same background that you had becomed so familiar with once before. 

His walls where still the same colour, and bedsheets were still stripped. It smelled and felt the same as it had always done, and for a moment -however brief- you were back in time. 

You were eighteen again, and you were sneaking into his room for the first time again. 

The orangy bedside table filled the room again, and Steve had his boyish grin that had made you fall in love with him all those years ago. He looked at you, fondly, lovingly, melancholically, as you looked around, noticing the new photos on the wall. 

“Most of them are from Jonathan, some of them are your brother’s” You chuckled as you carefully looked at all of them, seeing what he had been up to. 

Him working at Family Video with Robin, him with his hands on his hips, apron on and full of flour with a rag over his left shoulder. Him asleep on the back of Eddie’s van. 

And your favourite one, Steve laing on your bed, looking straight through the camera, a smile that he was hiding behind his arm still evident by the way his face looks, barely woken up. You took that one, when he came to visit you, before you ended things. 

“You looked really beautiful.” You whisper, a tone of sadness could be noted on your voice. But your body relaxed when you felt him stepping closer to yours. 

“I don’t anymore?” He halved joked, the same lovesick look all over his face, his hair falling messily now that he had took his sweatshirt, hanging it back to you. A gesture that said you’re always cold before sleeping, you can wear it.

“Thanks.” You mutter before taking it, your body feeling his warmth through that piece of clothing. “You do. You always are.” 

He stood there for a second, and you could tell he wanted to say something he didn’t quite have the courage to do so. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He answered, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed. You scoffed as you shook your head. He knew that you were saying don’t lie, i know you better than anyone. “Think I’m still drunk.” 

“Maybe.” You admit with a half laugh, as you feel the weight of the alcohol that you did drink, and how it had swapped for tiredness not that the clock was closer to four. “You still have something in your mind.” 

“Yeah.” He stepped closer to you. His voice was softer, quieter, sweeter. And his eyes couldn’t stop looking at yours. Well, that might have been a lie, he did look at your lips once or twice. His hand reached for yours, nervous that you might pull away. But you never did. You never could. “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” You squeezed his hand tighter, wanting that gesture to make his frown disappear, but you only see his anxiousness shine for a second. 

“I don’t know. Nothing? Everything?” 

“You’re not making that much sense, Stevie.” It had slipped out, the old nickname. You felt a bit embarrassed until you saw him smile. A true deep fond smile. 

“I know, honey.” His didn’t, he chose to say it. The dopiest grin that made your heart skip a beat came back, while his fingers played with yours. You could feel the warmness of your cheeks staying there. “I just… I meant everything I said, when we were together.” 

“What-?” 

He interrupted you, too iger to let you know what he had been thinking since he saw you through the club lights and the sea of drunk people. 

“I told you, you were the one I love. It hasn’t changed. I’ve tried, believe me. I tried to stop loving you, and move on, and be with someone else, anyone, but they never came close to you. Nobody knows me like you do, nobody can read me like you do, and I don’t think I can love anyone else like I have loved you.” 

With every word, with every breath your body came closer to his, excitement and electricity growing with every word that reached your ears, you couldn’t really believe that it was really happening. 

And you weren’t conscious about what you were doing before you did. You just knew that your right hand was tangled with his, and that your left one was cupping his cheek, looking fondly at his eyes before closing the distance between your lips. 

They were as soft as you remembered. And he still tastes the same as he did. 

You enjoyed it, for as long as you could, your heart beating as one, as your breathing synchronized, and his neediness became yours. Your kiss, this gesture, was enough, more than words could even say. 

“I haven’t stopped.” Your voice comes out lower, softer, quieter than you intended to. Your forehead pressed to his. Your eyes still closed, enjoying the way your breathing was mixing with his. 

“Thank god.” He giggled as he pulled you close once again. 

The second kiss was longer than the first one, but it still made your heart flutter, and your skin warming up in familiar desire. His free hand found his way to your waist, holding you closely, afraid that if he opens his eyes you might disappear. 

“We can talk about us, tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” 

You buried his head on his chest, as he pushed you closer to him. A warm hug that you didn’t want to see the end of, a closeness that you’d missed, and that you hoped you didn’t have to miss again. 

The promise that tomorrow you’d wake up next to him again, and his warmth wrapping you up under the sheets let you actually rest for once.

-

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[aidaronan]

"First movie you ever saw in theaters?" Steve lounged opposite of Robin on the couch in his living room, the stereo on low, spitting out Madonna on the local radio station.

"Oh, that's easy." Robin bit off part of a licorice. "Freaky Friday. I remember because I was terrified for weeks that I'd end up switching places with my mom and have to, like, balance a checkbook or something."

Steve laughed, separating m&ms in his hand. "You still don't know how to balance a checkbook, do you?"

"Like you do." Robin playfully glared at him. "Okay, here's a good one. First kiss."

Steve ate the sole blue m&m first, a grin spreading across his face because he usually lied about his first kiss, but he didn't have to. Not with Robin. "Camp Stronghold when I was nine. We met up in the boathouse after lights out to trade contraband."

"Contraband, huh?" Robin raised her brows.

"Candy. I swear my parents loaded me up like I was going to prison. 'This is as good as cash in there, Steven.' I think my dad wanted me to network or something. Because, you know, I was totally gonna start a small business with a group of eight-year-olds."

Robin snickered. "And the kiss?"

"Ah. I didn't actually want candy. I just wanted this kid to like me so bad, and I didn't know why until we were there in the dark tripping into each other because we couldn't see. I had all these butterflies, and we were standing close enough that I could feel the heat off his sunburn in the air." Steve could still picture it. The way he couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face. "Then he kissed me, just this quick peck on the lips before he turned tail and ran. I left the boathouse with a Snickers and one massive first crush."

"Did anything else happen?" Robin asked.

"No. It was the last week of camp and I think he freaked himself out over it. I don't know. He didn't even really say bye to me after we climbed off the bus to meet our parents. Never saw him again. I honestly never even thought to get his name."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I just hope he's doing okay, you know? That he's got people in his life that make him feel like he's allowed."

Robin looked at him softly, reaching out to give his ankle a squeeze. "Hey, you never know. You might run into him again someday. Maybe he's your soulmate or something."

"Please. I think you're pretty obviously my soulmate." Steve nudged Robin with his foot. "But I guess he could settle for 2nd place."

"Oh, there's a toast for sure." Snacks tumbling off her lap, Robin reached for her can of Coke on the coffee table and raised it as high as she could reach. "To both of us finding our 2nd places."

"Cheers to that." Steve thrust his own Coke into the air.

____

It felt like a big cosmic joke that Steve would be in a boathouse when he realized who Eddie Munson had been all that time. Eddie had looked so different when he'd transferred into Hawkins that Steve had never even given him a second look, not during their shared classes, not during any of those cafeteria tirades. Not during the numerous occasions where he gave the kids rides to D&D.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!"

It was the eyes that finally pulled back the curtain and cut away all those in-between years. Steve had never been close enough to clock them, but he couldn't deny them now. Not at such close range, Eddie holding a broken bottle against his neck, trembling with so much fear that Steve worried he might actually use it.

Dropping the oar from his own shaking hands, Steve said the only thing he could think to say.

"Well, this brings back memories."

Eddie didn't respond, the fear in the air drawing out every second, making it feel infinite. Behind them and in another universe, Dustin said a bunch of stuff Steve barely heard for the pounding in his ears. He watched beads of sweat roll down Eddie's forehead and waited for something to give.

Like clouds fat with rain, Eddie finally broke open, tension draining out of him, arm and weapon dropping to his side. He exhaled a shaky breath, maintaining eye contact, his expression too complicated for Steve to fully read.

Steve was about to say something else when Eddie finally spoke, cocking his head to the side and leveling Steve with a look.

"And here I spent all these years thinking you forgot."

[ddejavvu]

eddie teaching venom about love languages <33

"Physical touch is," Eddie starts, shoulder bumped up beside yours on the couch, but Venom cuts in, head hovering over Eddie's shoulder.

"That is the one where we fuck her." Venom announces proudly, toothy grin aimed in your direction. You stifle a laugh and Eddie groans, head tosses back against the couch cushions.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's the one where we fuck her," Eddie drawls, exasperated, "But that's also, like, holding hands, kissing, that kind of stuff."

"That one is my favorite." Venom declares, "I do not care about the other ones."

"Yes you do," You counter, and Venom's milky white eyes turn to you again, "'Cause there's gift-giving. That's when I bring you chocolate. And chickens."

"I gave Eddie the gift of a decapitated man once," Venom reminisces, "But he hated it. Does that mean he does not love me?"

"That's not a gift, buddy." Eddie shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the gory memory, "That's- I mean maybe you thought that was a gift, but gifts are supposed to be nice things, like flowers or a teddy bear."

"Teddy bears are useless!" Venom roars, and you know he's only speaking out of deep-seated loathing for your own stuffed animal, which the symbiote is rather jealous of.

"I would much rather receive a head," He huffs, turning back to Eddie, "Does it mean that you do not love me because you do not give me heads to eat?"

"No," Eddie rubs a tired hand over his face, "Let's- let's just move on. Uh, words of affirmation."

"You're so handsome," You croon at Venom, who blinks as you stroke the back of your hand along his goopy cheek, "And you're a great protector, I always feel safe around you."

"See?" Eddie nods, "Just like that. Nice things you say to the person you love."

"You are very small," Venom practices, and while it's true compared to his gargantuan size, it's not much of a compliment, "And I like that you feel safe around me even though I could easily rip your head off. And eat it. You would not stand a chance."

"We'll work on it," Eddie mutters, "Alright, acts of service."

"Like when Eddie gives me a shoulder massage," You hum, stretching out the tense muscles in your neck, "Or when I wash his hair for him in the shower. That's nice things you do for the person you love."

"I am good at that!" Venom boasts, "I make you breakfast sometimes."

"Yeah," Eddie nods, voice strained, and you play along even though you know that the attending to the mess that comes with Venom's cooking is more effort than doing it yourself, "Yeah, buddy, that's good. You're right, that's really nice of you."

"I am very nice," Venom agrees, bobbing his head up and down, "Are there more?"

"Quality time-" You and Eddie speak in unison, laughing sheepishly at each other. It's Eddie that continues, "Like what we're doing now. Sitting together, talking, just hanging out and being with each other."

"When he takes me on dates, too," You chime in, your voice a soft hum, "Or when you take me around the city, big guy."

You tap at Venom's cheek and he nods, blinking once in understanding.

"I like quality time," Venom decides, the thick black ooze connecting his head to Eddie's shoulder sucking him back in until his face is nestled between yours and Eddie's. It's an odd feeling on your hair but you and Eddie hold your positions anyways, intent on drilling non-sexual physical touch into the symbiote.

"Me too," You nod, and Eddie pitches in his confirmation, "Which one is your favorite, V?"

"Mm," The symbiote hums, but it sounds more like the revving engine of a car, "I do not know. I like getting gifts, but I like sitting with you, too. I like them all."

"Too hard to choose," Eddie agrees, "You?"

"More of the same," You conclude, turning your face so that your nose nudges Venom's cheek. He purrs, not unlike a cat, sounding more engine-like than ever, and his large eyes slip shut.

"Naptime," Eddie chimes, reaching over to grab your hand in his. You smile, puckering your lips to send him a kiss that you can't press to his cheek unless you break away from Venom. He pretends to catch it where the symbiote can't see, slapping it onto his cheek and acting injured at the recoil.

"Oh," He groans while you giggle, "You throw a mean kiss."

You settle against Eddie's side, and it's odd having Venom's face in between you to where you can't rest on the man's shoulder, but he's a nice pillow in and of himself. You're only seconds away from fully drifting off to sleep when Venom's jaw moves against your face, and he whispers (terribly), "Eddie. Are you awake?"

"Yes, Venom." Eddie groans, but by the sound of his voice, he wishes he wasn't, "What do you need?"

"I decided on a favorite," Venom informs Eddie, and you listen under the guise of closed eyelids, "I like the sex one best."

You can't help it; you let out a snort.

"Nice going, V," Eddie squeezes your hand, shutting his eyes once more and attempting to get comfortable, "I'm sure that's just the answer she wanted to hear."

[blueywrites]

someday I'll get it

eddie munson x fem!reader eddie comforts you when the lingering memory of your ex brings shame with soaked sheets.

3.1k

cw: 18+. toxic ex, feelings of self-doubt, referenced verbal abuse, hurt/comfort, smut, squirting, first time piv with new partner, no y/n, no physical descriptions.

this is for my fellow infps & all the girlies who fall fast and hard. a bit of a departure from the other naughty nights entries - not as filthy, quite a bit more emotional. I really liked writing it! check out the original ask here.

enjoy xx

Two months after you and David broke up, you downloaded Hinge. Your best friend helped you make your profile, and after some careful crafting over brunch mimosas to soften the flaws you saw in your photos and loosen your lips to make you clever in your bio, you were happy with the facsimile of yourself you’d presented to the dating public. The nerves only crept in during the Uber ride back to your apartment. What if no one liked you? What if what David said— that you’d never find someone that cared about you like he did— turned out to be right? You knew, deep down, that David’s idea of ‘care’ was not what you wanted. But as the weeks went by, your hope began to dwindle; your heart shriveled a little more each time a potential connection faltered and died. And though you kept reminding yourself how bad things were with him, how small he made you feel and how little he truly gave you, you couldn’t help the fragment inside you that hissed in a raspy twang:

Maybe I’m all you’re good enough for. Maybe my love is all you really deserve, and without me, you’ll just end up alone.

And then you found Eddie. 

His was the first conversation that lasted longer than a handful of back-and-forth messages, aside from that one rushed first ‘date’ that turned out just to be an attempt to get some dick’s dick wet. Eddie was chatty, maybe a bit excessively so, but you’d take that over the dry single-sentence replies most guys seemed capable of. It was refreshing not to be the one sending double- and triple-texts for once. And he didn’t do it in an anxious way, either, or one that made you feel you weren’t answering quickly enough. It seemed more that he just wanted to talk to you about whatever popped into his head, and that— along with his pretty brown eyes and smile, his lobe piercings and hand tattoos, and that one blurred photo of him playing guitar on some cramped bar stage, looking all sweaty and alive— piqued your interest in a major way.

Eventually, he took you on a first date, which was followed quickly by a second. And after a full month or so of officially seeing one another, now, following an afternoon spent together, you’re in your bed with him— laid out along your sheets, his weight having dipped the mattress beside you enough times that it’s just starting to feel familiar. 

Looking up at Eddie above you, you’re hit again by how sexy he is, sexier than his Hinge profile would’ve suggested, even though that initial photo made your finger pause in the first place. In it, his hair was tied up at the nape of his neck; it’s loose now, hanging around his pale face in loose tangles ‘cause you’d run your fingers through it while he kissed you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and it is again, except now there’s the pink flush of arousal across his cheeks and a sheen of sweat gleaming off the bulb of his soft nose, visible in the dim light from your lamp. That first time you saw him, Eddie's fingers were wrapped around a tattoo gun, frozen mid-stroke as he carefully etched ink into skin. Now, they’re quite in motion— just as deft and strong, but instead of using them to crawl the needle across the expanse of someone’s back, he’s plunging them into your swollen pussy, winding you up tighter and tighter ‘til you’re writhing on your own sheets.

He’s been at it for a little while now, coaxing your pleasure out with those thrusting fingers and the rough pad of his thumb swiping over your clit. You moan, letting your eyes slip closed as your orgasm starts to rush up, ready to let that wave wash over you before you happily return the favor. But when Eddie presses the heel of his palm firmly into your lower stomach, flicking his thumb faster against your clit as he fingers you, your mounting pleasure twists, thrumming into something more intense. 

Oh, fuck. 

The feeling is ecstasy but beneath it, there’s also panic. Because you know— and dread— what comes next. 

You gasp, choking on the words of warning stuck in your throat, your hand snapping to grip his wrist. You mean to pull it off but you don’t, just clutch him tight in a way he must take as encouragement because he starts to talk you through it. “That’s it, sweetheart, soak my fuckin’ hand—”

It’s inevitable now, so you stop trying to fight it. Like a flipped switch, you release the resistance, leaning into the feeling, which triples in size the moment you do. You seize up, crying out as you cum around Eddie’s fingers— eyelids fluttering, mouth hanging open, the gush of fluid against your inner thighs a secondary sensation to the gut-wrenching orgasm wracking your body. When it subsides, your body feels wrung out in the best way, sunken into the mattress, languid and boneless and like you’re so light you might float away if Eddie wasn’t pressing kisses into your neck like praise.

The peace has to break though. It always does. The second you shift and feel the sodden sheets below you, that familiar shame triggers, quick on the heels of a cruel twang bouncing around your skull. 

You draw your legs up, inadvertently kneeing Eddie in the belly. When he pulls back to look at you, you’re curling into yourself, staring up at him so mournfully his heart must twist ‘cause you can see it written on his face.

He searches your face for a moment. Then Eddie’s eyes widen and his face blanches; you see the concern give way to horror. His adam’s apple bobs on a thick swallow. “A-Are you okay?” Eddie croaks, hovering awkwardly now, seemingly stuck between wanting to reach for you and give you space. “Did I hurt you? Did you not want—?”

He looks sick, but you’re quick to shake your head, feeling even sadder now that you’d made him worry. “No, m’sorry,” you say in a small voice. “I’m so sorry, I’m— I didn’t mean to.” You take a breath that hitches in your chest. “I-I made a mess…”

Instantly, Eddie looks relieved. He even huffs a little disbelieving chuckle. "So? You think I care about a little mess?" he asks, squinting as he tips his head at you, aiming for levity. But his attempt to make light of things can't break through to you— not after all the times you've been here before, cowering in your own cooling puddle as David beat you down with his caustic words, leaving you with bruises on the inside of your ribs. 

When your expression crumples further, any amusement slides off Eddie's face, leaving him utterly somber. Quietly, he says your name. "Are you alright?"

Your mouth works soundlessly for a moment before you find your voice. It feels jagged, like it’s been broken apart and splintered back together. “My ex… he used to get really mad when that happened. Said it was gross, that it was my fault now he’d have to wash the sheets.” An ache rises up your throat, and you avert your eyes. “He’d make me do it and change the bed before I could go to sleep.”

A severe wrinkle forms between Eddie’s brows— confusion, indignation, maybe both. “Wait, but— couldn’t he feel it coming? It feels different inside when a girl’s gonna squirt. Why would he keep doing it if he didn’t want you to?” He’s plain, as direct as he always is, and in the face of such a bald question, you have nothing to reply with but the barest shrug of shoulders weighed heavy under a burden you haven’t yet been able to shed.

When some seconds pass in silence, Eddie realizes you aren’t going to elaborate. He softens. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For what it’s worth, sex is supposed to be messy. And I really wanted to make you feel good. I’m glad I did.”

You can’t see them, but you can feel his fingertips brush against your ankle. When you nudge into the touch, he places a tentative hand on your foot, letting his thumb press into the center just below your toes. He raises his eyebrows, looking something like a puppy dog. “D’you wanna take a break? Can I get you some water?”

You shake your head, then open your hands to him— not quite able to extend your arms out for a hug, feeling too brittle and pathetic to make your wanting so obvious. You find with relief that Eddie is perceptive enough to know what the gesture means. Carefully, he leans over you and plants his palms beside your upper arms, sliding them under to fold you in. When he goes to lower himself in a slant on top of you, you let your knees fall open in a silent invitation instead. You’re very happy you did when, after some mutual shifting and shimmying to make yourselves comfortable, Eddie’s weight slots against you— your collarbone to his chest, his lap held in the cradle of your thighs, your arms wound underneath his to clutch his bare back as he presses you into a comforting embrace.

You focus on the feeling of Eddie on top of you— his belly expanding and contracting against your navel, his heat seeping into you head-to-toe, his herb-musk scent clinging to his shoulder when you tuck your face there, slowly letting him ease you. For a while, you breathe into him like that, letting yourself sink into the intimacy of all his bare skin against yours until the physical sensations swallow up that hissing voice, and it finally falls silent. With a heavy sigh of relief, the last of the lingering tension from the memory of David leaves you. 

Finding you now relaxed, Eddie hums against your hair, a rumble that sounds like satisfaction with himself that he was able to bring you comfort. He untucks one of his hands from beneath you then, shifts his arm along your sheets so his forearm frames your head. You pull your face from his hot skin, letting your head thump back against the mattress as the final surrender to your recovery. 

Eddie’s thumb strokes along your hairline as he looks down at you, his hips cradled by yours, his flagging but still present erection pressed intimately against the crease of your thigh behind his boxers. Quickly, you realize how much easier it was to be embraced like this when he wasn’t looking at you. Under his gaze, you feel exposed, almost too much to bear-- too vulnerable, your soft underbelly revealed for him to sink his teeth into. But he doesn't. Maybe, you think, Eddie never would. Where David had fangs, Eddie's teeth are blunted; capable of damage if he were to try hard enough, but more suited to playful nips, which is all he ever seems to care for anyways, at least for how little long you've known him. He's still new, and you're still learning how it feels for him to see you and decide what he'll do with what he finds. 

It's thrilling and downright scary to let him, but you let him. You blink up at Eddie, deliberately resisting the urge to master your expression and hide from him. Your heart thuds and squirms as he observes you for a long moment, still stroking your forehead with his thumb like you're a skittish rabbit, kept only from fleeing by a gentle, hypnotizing touch. 

After a long moment, Eddie's features ease. One corner of his lips tugs up into a crooked, dimpled smile. "Pretty girl," he murmurs, and something releases inside you. Your hands skate down the hot plain of his back, skimming slowly over its topography-- the elegant jut of his shoulder blades, the solid strength of his lats, the low, curved dip just before the hill of his covered cheeks. Those you spread your fingers over, gently pulling him in closer to you, and you flutter at the shaky breath he exhales over your lips as his shaft presses tighter between your bodies.

"You want to?" he whispers, his eyes flitting between yours. You know what he’s asking. In the month you’ve been together, you’ve done pretty much everything but gone all the way with him. You weren’t waiting for anything in particular, more just a sense that it would feel right to connect with him that way.

You feel that now.

So you respond with a kiss— firm, decisive, one that Eddie opens his mouth instantly to. His tongue finds yours eagerly, slick muscle against slick muscle, and the wet sounds of you meeting and parting have your arousal stirring up into a flurry of excitement and desire. Your fingertips ease beneath the waistband of his boxers, pushing the fabric down to bare him, and you crane your neck to keep kissing him until eventually you can’t reach any lower. Eddie helps you shimmy them off then, his lips falling still as he concentrates on wiggling his hips and kicking his legs to get them down to his ankles. You feel him kick one final time, followed by the faint shlump of fabric hitting the ground before he’s suddenly propped on his elbows and his hands are cupping your cheeks, tilting your face to kiss you so thoroughly it steals your breath away.

And you think— expect, maybe— that now that you’re about to have sex, the energy between you and Eddie will keep escalating until you’re caught up in a rush: both panting, desperate, fervent in your need for completion. But it doesn’t happen like that. Instead, your kisses slow, turning into lingering, open-mouthed presses, a sensual ebb and flow of lips and tongue and teeth— deep, savoring, as if the pleasure of what you’ll both feel when he joins with you is so certain, there’s no need to hurry it along. You raise your knee to open yourself up, and with a nudge of Eddie’s narrow hips, his shaft nestles into the slick wetness between your puffy lips. You press up to meet him, grinding slowly in time with your kisses until your abundant arousal coats him thoroughly, easing the way for you to reach down and guide his tip to catch at your entrance. And when you lift your legs, joining your ankles at the back of his thighs, you feel Eddie enter you for the first time.

There’s no resistance. It’s just a slip, a glide, and an exquisite stretch as he sinks inside, splitting you with his thickness. Eddie moans low as his cockhead meets the deepest part of you. It’s a gravelly sound, one that rumbles against your breasts when you twine your limbs tighter around him, already covetous of the feeling of him touching every bit of you he possibly can. Your pussy flexes and flutters, testing the welcome intrusion, preening when she elicits an answering twitch from his length before he draws just slightly back and rocks in again. You sigh softly, smiling as your eyes slip closed when you feel Eddie’s curved lips press to your temple. 

The rhythm you find together is natural, if rather shallow— shallow because your hands are clutching at his back and his arms are wrapped tight around you, keeping you close as can be. He can’t pull even halfway out; his hips rock in the barest gap that remains as if neither of you can stand even that much distance. There’s no lack of enthusiasm, though, no lack of passion as he pushes in so tight that the pressure has your swollen clit jolting with a delicious spark on every thrust. The heat between you grows, turning you sticky and damp with sweat down the length of your bodies. The pleasure grows too, quickly for you with all the stimulation until you’re panting against his shoulder. It grows unimpeded until Eddie nestles his face down further toward you, inadvertently feeding you a mouthful of his hair.

You turn your cheek and try to spit it out, but the thick, dry strands stick stubbornly to your lips until you have to enlist his help. "Your hair's everywhere, Eddie,” you murmur, more amused than anything.

"Ah, shit.” You have to hide a smile against his jaw at how put out he sounds. “Sorry." He tries to shake it away from you, craning his neck back but unwilling to stop embracing you.

"S' okay." Gently, you extract your arms from under his, huffing a little chuckle at the tiny whine of protest that rumbles in his throat. He props himself up so you can carefully clear his face: nudging his bangs out of his eyes, then pushing back the bulk of his curls, tucking them tenderly behind his ears. 

"There," you say, sweet and warm, your smile growing at the way the hair almost springs right out again. Unable to be contained, a lot like Eddie. 

A lot like the way you feel about him. 

"I love your hair," you tell him suddenly, your heart twisting at the way he lights up in response. Eddie rubs the very tip of his nose against yours, smiling boyish and wide, and emotion wells up inside you-- potent and poignant like the sting of happy tears, sweet like coming home and tender like a bruise all at once. 

And it’s like the second you say it, you can’t stop thinking about what words really want to spring from your lips. But it's too soon, far too soon, so you cup his face, draw your thumb along his cheek, and kiss him instead, keeping yourself occupied so those words will stay inside.

You kiss him until he’s moving steadily within you again; kiss him until you’re squirming beneath him, whining into his mouth. Kiss him as he drives you over the edge of bliss and then follows you, groaning when he throbs and spills inside. You kiss Eddie until the pleasure fades into contentment, until you both are sated, until those kisses gradually slow and gentle and turn to chaste presses of swollen, love-bitten lips.

Your mouths finally part. And when you see the way Eddie’s looking at you— the curl at the corner of his lips, the subtle tilt of his brow, the warmth in his deep brown eyes— you remember what David told you before you made him leave.

You’ll never find someone who cares about you the way I do.

You knew he was wrong then. But now, you know it.

[paperbackribs]

tags: steddie, nsfw, the homoeroticism of knowing you could treat them better

🥵🍆💦

"Okay," Robin smirks at Eddie as she pops the open button on the microwave in Steve’s kitchen, "But you understand how pathetically gay you sound right now, yes?" She pulls out a fragrant paper bag of popcorn; she says that she likes to have an extra bag before retiring after one of their movie nights.

Eddie scowls, forgetting that Steve's in the next room as he becomes revved up over a pet peeve that is less pet and more a wild animal, "It's not gay to appreciate a work of art." He gestures wildly, the lights above catch on his heavy silver rings, "It's not gay to understand that a sweet, beautiful boy is tragically unloved."

Robin snorts, pulling open the edges of the paper bag, releasing a plume of buttery steam, "No, pretty sure that's pretty gay. Next thing I know you'll declare 'no homo' while sucking his dick."

"I'd suck his dick better than Brittany or Betta or Betsy or whatever her name was," Eddie declares, sore at the memory of Steve's broken brow as he'd explained that his latest date had ridden his face and then gave him a pat on his shoulder, explaining that it was a nice time but not to expect a callback.

What an idiot, Eddie fumes to himself, neglecting to notice the shifting shadows in the hallway behind him; who doesn't enjoy a man who vehemently and vocally declares his love for going down on his partners? Eddie would kill for a partner willing to suck him dry.

Eddie may have blamed the deficiency on the female of the species, but Steve had allowed Eddie in the inner sanctum a few months ago: letting him know that it wasn’t only Robin and Eddie who were vehement friends of Dorothy, even if it was only Steve who enjoyed the full spectrum of the rainbow. And while B-whatever-her-name-was may be the source of Eddie’s ire right now, he knows that Steve has had likewise lousy luck with men whenever they’d ventured for their weekend nights out to Indy.

Each and every time Eddie had to endure Steve’s sad face a week or two later as he’d admitted that he thought his night’s partner may be up for more than just a brief bit of fun. And each and every time he’s been left dumbfounded because—

Eddie pulls at his hair, trying to work it out because—

Well. He can only imagine that every single person that’s walked away from Steve’s beautiful lips couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a fucking canon with the intelligence left over in their little pea brains. Because Steve Harrington is a goddamn catch and every one of them has let him escape their grasp.

Eddie’s too busy scowling down at his Reeboks to see Robin look over his shoulder and softly laugh. She scoops a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she swiftly leaves the kitchen, calling out, “I’m claiming the spare bedroom tonight—the one at the far end—see ya.”

Eddie looks up at the last minute, wondering at her sudden exit.

The air shifts again but Eddie doesn’t realise it until Steve’s right behind him. "Her name was Bella," Seve says in a low caress, close enough that his warm breath rustles Eddie's loose curls.

He stops, frozen, the touch of Steve's words making Eddie ache for something that he's wanted for such a very long time even as he’s unwilling to allow himself to think that Steve could mean anything by leaning in so close. But he can’t help but shiver, a tiny movement that brings his lips against Steve's sharp jaw, nearly stuttering, "Who?"

Strong arms wrap around him, bringing the broad planes of Steve’s chest against Eddie’s back, blunt fingers coming up to grip his jaw, directing Eddie’s lips to just under Steve’s.

Eddie freezes again in desperation, every single fantasy converging at once to break his brain and body while he tries to understand that the arms, hands and fingers wrapped around him are not an invention of a daydream.

"I’m saying,” Steve says patiently, eyeing Eddie with a dark gaze over his firm grip, "That I want you. Not Brittany or Betta or Betsy."

Eddie swallows around the knot in his throat.

"Just you," Steve repeats, a steady weight holding down his words that has Eddie’s gaze flying up to meet the hard pressure of hazel eyes bearing down on him. A force that has Eddie’s heart knocking heavily against his ribs, his breath shuddering against his frame, pressing taut and bullying against the thin of Eddie’s skin as he meets Steve’s expectant gaze.

And suddenly Eddie is angry.

Furious.

He’s had to endure weeks and months of listening to Steve be sad. Listening to Steve tell of glum exploits where women and men haven’t appreciated his freely-given love. Where it hadn’t mattered how quickly and devotedly Steve would put himself forward, that his partner would pat him on the back and distance him or herself after.

Eddie is furious and he glares at Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, so close to his own and suddenly wide at the clear fury in Eddie’s eyes. Steve stumbles back, “What…” But Eddie lowers himself decisively, knees falling to the ground with a clear thump and thighs spreading as he knows with a deep conviction that he’s finally interpreting Steve’s actions correctly.

He looks up with dark eyes and presses into the tentative hand that falls against Eddie’s nape; Steve’s brows pull together, doubt drawing at them, “Eddie…”

Eddie glares up at Steve with all the strength of emotion running through him like the swift currents of a river. “No Steve, that’s it. That’s fucking it.”

He determinedly wraps his fingers around the zipper of Steve’s Levi’s and, as Steve chokes out his name again, Eddie glares up at him, daring Steve to take his prize away. “No, I’m done. You’ve given me permission now. You’ve given me a sliver of hope, and you’re not fucking taking it away.”

Eddie swiftly draws down the zipper, pulling down denim and soft cotton until Steve’s already hard cock bobs in front of him and he reaches forward quickly, hand already at its base and mouth open as he’s about to swallow him down but Steve’s hand buries itself in Eddie’s curls, gripping him tight.

“Do you want me?” Steve breathes and Eddie somehow finds it in himself to glower deeper, scowling up at Steve while refusing to speak. Inching forward until the tip of Steve’s cock hovers over Eddie’s open mouth. Steve curses and a heavy pearl of fluid drops from the tip to Eddie’s outstretched tongue. Eyes closing in contentment, he hears Steve choke as Eddie almost hums around the welcome flavour.

“Right,” Steve rasps roughly before pushing forward to rest against Eddie’s lips, he traces the heavy beads from his weeping slit against the petals of his mouth, breath running ragged before pressing further.

Eddie gasps, stretching his lips wide and pushing in and forward to embrace the cock intruding his mouth. His lashes flutter as he finally has the heavy weight of Steve’s cock resting on his tongue, stretching his mouth obscenely open before peering up to check where Steve’s at.

He needn’t have worried because Steve’s own mouth is hanging open with eyes darkly trained on Eddie. “So fucking pretty,” Steve gasps, gripping Eddie’s head to pull him closer. Choking Eddie as he moans, “Yes, fucking, yes, baby. Take it.” And Eddie does. Gratefully. Happily. Fucking swallows and devours and pistons back and forward until the bitter musk dripping from Steve’s dick is greedily consumed, taken within.

Steve cries out, throbbing powerfully and pouring into Eddie. Spilling and overflowing, fucking against his face until beads flood and stream out of his mouth. Eddie lets out a long, guttural and broken sound, grateful for the blessing that Steve fills him with.

He’s so consumed with the feel of Steve in him, surrounding him, that he barely registers the hardness in his own black denim until Steve drops to his knees too, meeting Eddie face to face before falling forward, fingers working his zipper open and mouth swallowing him whole.

Eddie gasps at the sudden sensation of the hot welcoming cavern of Steve’s mouth. He bucks, lightning shooting up his spine and overwhelmed at the attention as he thrusts once, twice and another before shuddering as he releases into Steve’s warm embrace.

Gasping, Eddie’s head falls forward to stare down at Steve in wonderment. In clear awe as he stares down at the beautiful boy in his lap. Mind blissed but still a niggle worries at the back of his mind, enough to have his hand reaching forward to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek and bringing him up to meet Eddie.

“Sweetheart,” the endearment drops from Eddie’s mouth without his permission.

Steve’s lips tug up, spreading in a grin and widening his eyes, “You want me, don’t you?” He asks, almost breathless.

“Yes. Fucking yes.” Eddie has nothing but honesty to his name at this point.

Steve smiles. Smug and fucking so proud of himself. He leans forward, “Then take me,” he whispers.

And Eddie does.

❤️ More steddie here

[steddiealltheway]

(So, idk if anyone has ordered or seen the Scoops Ahoy costumes from Amazon or whatever, but the shorts for Robin are tight and short. But the shorts for Steve are like the ones seen in the show. Which leads me to this thought…)

Steve’s first day at Scoops Ahoy is… alright?

Actually, it’s pretty miserable.

Scooping ice cream is way harder than it looks. And for some reason he can’t get that perfect rounded shape. It just comes out in pieces that he has to mash into cups and balance on top of cones.

Plus, he’s pretty sure his coworker hates him.

Her name is Robin, and she scowls and dramatically points at her name tag when he asks for it. To make matters worse, they apparently went to high school together, but he doesn’t have the vaguest memory of her. (To be fair, they did not run in the same social circles with her being in band and even theatre and with Steve being “King Steve.”)

But for some reason, she loves to poke fun at him especially when he fails to get any girl’s number. It’s like the Harrington charm radiates through his hair which is blocked by the stupid hat.

But what he really notices only an hour into their eight hour shift is the way she’s tugging at her shorts. She digs her fingers under the elastic band around her thighs as if trying to stretch them out, and she’s constantly trying to pull them down as they begin to ride up.

And really, Steve not trying to perv or anything, but she’s make quite a bit of a fuss with the whole thing, cursing under her breath and obviously really uncomfortable.

So, when the store is fairly empty, Steve turns to her and asks, “Do you want to change shorts with me?”

For the first time, Robin laughs. Loudly. She even snorts at the idea. But her laughter quickly dies down when she realizes Steve isn’t laughing. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Steve shrugs. “Yeah. You look uncomfortable. And hey, I’ve worn way worse to basketball practice, plus I had to wear speedos when I was on the swim team.”

Robin’s nose scrunches up. “Gross.”

Steve puts his hands on his hips and huffs, “Do you want to switch or not?”

She takes a few seconds to stare at Steve, clearly suspicious of an ulterior motive. But then, she curses and starts tugging at elastic band again. “Okay! Fine. But we’re not getting change in the same room.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he heads to the back room. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

In the end, Steve is left to change in the damn freezer storage area while Robin gets the whole break room. But he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so he sucks it up and doesn’t complain. (Although he really really wants to.)

He waits for her to knock on the door to signal she’s ready, looking down at the shorts. They’re not horrible, but he can understand why Robin was uncomfortable - as they’re already stretching over his ass and thighs while starting to ride up beyond mid thigh.

Even after she knocks, Steve asks, “Ready for me to come out?”

He thinks he hears her laugh about that for some reason before she answers, “Yeah!”

He steps into the room and glances down at her new shorts momentarily before nodding. “Better?”

Robin smiles slightly and nods before heading back out to the main area.

Steve follows behind her. “Hey, they gave me two pairs of these. I can give you the extra pair to wear and keep during our next shift together.”

Robin turns to him and narrows her eyes. “What are you asking for in return?”

“Nothing,” Steve says, eyebrows furrowed. He hopes she understands that he really means it and won’t hold this over her head like an asshole.

She just stares at him for a few seconds before almost wondrously saying, “Huh.”

Luckily, she seems to relax for the first time since their shift started.

After this, the teasing from before has less of an edge to it, but it becomes relentless. Steve almost thinks that maybe this is the start of a wonderful friendship. But Robin would never want that from him.

He only changes his mind about this later when Eddie Munson walks into the store while Steve is cleaning the tables. He accidentally knocks over a napkin and bends over to pick it up, feeling his shorts ride up.

When he stands up, he’s met with a pink faced Munson who stares at him - or rather his ass - with wide eyes.

“See something you want to sample?” Steve asks honestly a bit against his will because it’s part of the Scoops Ahoy greeting. (Only for some reason, he’s unable to get any other part of the greeting out.)

Eddie’s pink face turns red as his eyes snap up to Steve’s. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he quickly breathes out, “I need to leave.”

When the boy practically runs out the store, Steve naturally glances over his shoulder at Robin, trying to gauge if she just saw what he did.

She’s already laughing behind the counter saying between bouts of laughter, “See something you want to sample?”

Steve huffs and feels a blush rise to his cheeks. “Shut up,” he mumbles out, throwing the napkin away before returning behind the counter. “I’m never asking that again.”

But as Robin continues to laugh, Steve can’t help but join in a little, wondering if maybe she would like to be friends and if Eddie will ever come back.

So, maybe his first day wasn’t pretty miserable or just alright. Maybe it was perfect.

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶What happens when Eddie tries to hide the less-than-fun side of being a single parent from you, and you discover Miss Mouse can't always save the day?✶

NSFW — angst with a happy ending, reader wears eddie's hoodie, comfort, kissing, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 11/20 [wc: 14.2k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 11: In the Beginning...

——Then——

In the beginning…

It was January 31st, 1988, and Wayne had come in to check on him again. And maybe he had a reason to when Eddie continued to stare at the pockmarked ceiling, dressed in the same clothes as three days prior, laying on the same bedsheets last washed by well-meaning, pre-aged, liver-spotted, wrinkled hands gnarled from factory work after being tanned on a big rig’s steering wheel for decades.

No music played from the stereo record player; The Doors still sat with the album art turned, stopped mid-spin. The paperback on the nightstand remained unfinished, its dog-eared page trapped as a placeholder from New Year’s Eve. Dust and cigarette ash clung to the room as if saving it in a time capsule of the morning he was arrested, and any movement would disturb the illusion.

“Eddie?” Wayne called out to him with his Free name; one that shouldn’t hold a stigma, because Eddie was a free man, wasn’t he? He was innocent. Even if they hadn’t caught the other guy yet. “You okay if I go?”

Tracing the bumpy lines of the most recent tattoo on his stomach, he answered, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and his uncle breathed as he usually did when he was wringing his mouth with indecision.

Wayne twisted the doorknob, uncertain. “If you’re sure.. And, uh, I’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up somethin’ for the spray paint on the trailer if the cookin’ oil trick doesn’t work, don’t you worry about it.”

Whatever rude thing someone wrote this time, Eddie hadn’t gone outside in days to know.

After a long silence, Wayne cleared his throat and gave a gruff, “I’ll see ya after work,” and left, as foretold by his rackety truck fading further into the night, and the deadness of winter taking over. A staleness of midnight inactivity in the crisp air invading the guitars and amps and magazines Eddie never touched anymore; the ceramic of his bedside lamp, the model car next to his lighter, the binders stacked on his desk with a pencil he hadn’t sharpened since it broke six weeks ago. He didn't get much relief from his routine of ignoring, shutting down, isolating, and desperately trying to get tears to form when he had none left to give, so he wept agape and dry, spiraling downward.

The phone rang.

He wasn’t going to answer—he hadn’t since December unless under obligation—but in case it was Wayne, he did.

“Hello?” The other end of the line was equally hesitant to answer his unrecognizable voice, gone hoarse from disuse. “Hello?” he repeated.

“Eddie?” A beat. “I guess I’ll get this over with. Look, uh, do you remember selling to a girl at Brad’s party a couple months back? Not the Halloween one,” they said, definitely a young woman’s voice, but with each word spoken she lost her fluttery nervous edge and replaced it with a direct tone, leaving no time for him to dawdle.

He hurled his mind into searching his memories before the ones made in the weeks prior, only grazing past the details which haunted him, and registering the question he was asked. “Uh, yeah, yeah I think so. Ah, Sarah? Something generic like that. Sold to her a couple times before. Why?”

Her severe silence loaded the chamber. His forthcoming nature pulled the trigger, never learning when to shut his mouth and keep information to himself. There was no telling who he was speaking to, or what happened to the girl he sold to, or why he was the subject of interest. His stomach clenched in knots at the whiff of gunpowder. He was too relaxed at the prospect of a normal conversation. He said too much. It was happening again. The police sirens would wail any minute now. Whatever happened to Sarah—or whoever—was bad, and he incriminated himself. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

But it was her next words that fired the shot. Rang in his ears. And he knew then, as the cold sweat took over his body and bile stung his throat quicker than his heart leapt black spots to his vision, life as he knew it was over.

“I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.”

————

In the beginning…

It was March 7th, 1988, and Eddie walked out.

It was better than listening to Wayne blame himself for not doing enough, or being involved enough, or whateverthefuck he was saying about failing Eddie, because soon those judgments would turn into nags about how Eddie’s irresponsibility got himself into this mess, and those arguments would become shouting matches about his lack of preparedness for raising a baby, and Eddie would end the fight with his fist through the hallway closet door, where his piece of shit father’s jacket swung on the hanger and fell to the floor.

Following the Munson name.

————

In the beginning…

It was April 29th, 1988, and Eddie left his motel room to drive forty-five minutes outside of Hawkins to sit across from a woman in a dimly lit restaurant with her hand laid atop her round belly, and his cold chicken alfredo. The cheese in his oval shaped dish had coagulated, but he wasn’t hungry anyway.

The entire time his mouth ran sentences, he kept his gaze focused on a crumb dirtying the white tablecloth as the candle flickered shadows through their untouched water glasses. Yet, his tone remained animated and optimistic, though a bit hollow. “—So, uh, with the money from workin’ at the gas station, and what I have saved from that graveyard shift I picked up at the laundromat, I can afford the crib no problem. Maybe you could, ah, come with me to pick it out! I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for, but whatever you want, you got it. And—And I’ll start stocking up on diapers, and stuff. Y’know, different sizes. Some clothes. Could even get a nice baby blanket, or somethin’. I guess cribs have those teeny mattresses, so we’ll need sheets for that, too. Um, one of those, y’know, things that hangs over it and spins, puts them to sleep.” His lips hinted at his first smile in weeks at his dumb explanation for a mobile. “And with your job, you have health insurance, don’t you? That’ll.. That’ll really help us out,” he emphasized by bugging his eyes, and nodding. “There’s a position open at an auto shop in town that I’m gonna apply for, but I don’t think insurance will kick in until I work there for a certain number of days. Sucks, but it’s decent money. Better than what I make now, anyway. Um..” Thinking, he sorted through his plan for the future in his head, making sure he didn’t forget anything important—

That’s when he made the mistake of looking up, and a different type of heartache wrung his chest.

Indifference powdered her shimmery beige eyelids, darkening to smoky apathy at the outer corners with a touch of heavy mascara weighing her eyes half-closed. She appeared bored—he wished she appeared bored—but in the eternity he glanced at her, she resembled a loaded chamber moments from cutting him off.

Continuing, he said, “I can also handle the small stuff like bottles, and bibs, and pacifiers. Depending on how much the crib is, I can probably swing the carseat too, just gotta sell my other guitar, and—”

“Eddie,” she stated. He winced.

There was no trace of his smile left on his lips; trembling and licking at the sore metallic-tasting spot he bit out of habit. The first sign of rejection welled behind his eyes. A sense of shame clogged his throat, but he tried, “Are people still bothering you about me?” he asked, so meek and defeated.

Her words were a merciless killing, “Does it matter?” He shrugged, running the side of his hand along the table’s edge, concentrating on the crumb. “And don’t bother buying anything.”

“Why not?” he faltered. “I’m not gonna be some deadbeat who doesn’t provide, okay? I’m good on my word.”

“You know why.”

The cruelty, the truth he denied, struck him.

“You don’t want to try?” His voice went watery, and the candles swam in his vision. “We’re having a baby together, and you don’t want to try and work something out between us?” There was a reason he avoided addressing where the crib would go, or what the arrangement was after coming home from the hospital. In the first few calls they had, she seemed interested when he rattled off the list of cheap apartments he found around Hawkins scribbled into his notebook, and when he lightened the bleak mood with a joke, she laughed, sort of.

Though, he was always the one to call her, and her answers were refined to short words such as yeah, or no. And she did pick up the phone less often, but she was busy with University or her career or there was a family thing that had come up or she was just headed out the door, so he stuck with planning their future by himself, aware of the ugly reality twisting his stomach with dread.

Maybe he was being naive, but he thought she’d come around by now. See how responsible he was being, and maybe.. maybe..

“I’m not interested,” she dismissed him in monotonously stern frankness.

“I thought you said you liked me,” he reminded her, on the verge of something pathetic, “at the party.”

The corner of her jaw twitched from an emotion she ground between her teeth.

That was the final straw.

She swung her gaze around the restaurant, releasing a hard sigh of frustration, and shaking her head. Dropping her hand to the bottom of her belly, she leaned forward, and eviscerated any hope he had for them being together. “I’m not interested,” she hissed under the susurration of nearby tables, “in raising a baby with someone whose reputation is for giving girls discounts when they flirt with him.”

Eddie shrunk into himself, not expecting the hit below the belt.

“You’re just the loser dealer that all the guys send their girls to because they know you’re too lonely to turn them down. I wish I stuck with flirting, because let me tell you, having a couple of smarties to get me through last semester wasn’t fucking worth it.” She motioned at her stomach, he assumed. “I almost missed my finals because I couldn’t stop puking.”

Fat drops wobbled his vision. Anxious sweat from holding his breath prickled his hot face. His knuckles hurt from clacking them against one another, punching bone-on-bone in his lap to distract himself from letting the venom win. Biting impressions of his teeth into tongue from the weight of his one chance at normalcy slipping through his fingers.

The ache of deep-seated rejection stung worse, built worse, escalated worse with every heartbeat echoing in his head: not even someone who’s having your kid wants to be with you.

Chairs skid across the tiles behind him, and a family stood to leave. Eddie faced the stained glass window as they passed, pretending to admire the intricate details while warm tears spilled over the dam, and onto his cheeks in steady drops like rain. Drip, drop, drip, drop..

Embarrassment, failure, freak..

Even before he was wrongfully arrested, his reputation was trash.

Pathetic loser not good enough for his dad, his uncle. Can’t pass fucking high school, or get a girl to stick around for more than a few weeks; just long enough to feel the safety of attachment, learn their likes and dislikes, what their favorite flowers were, and then they’d leave too..

“Doesn’t matter,” she exhaled. One, two—she took two calming breaths through her nose while his was running, and he was trying to not sniffle through the grossness of crying.

Composed and diplomatic, she sat up, smoothed the buttons of her burgundy maternity blouse stretched across her swollen middle, and informed him “I’m giving her up for adoption.”

Eddie froze.

Her.

Tiny tines of salad forks ceased clinking on plates. Silly dull knives unworthy of much else sank into whipped butter, and stopped. Pretty laughter faded, leaving red lipstick kisses staining the rims of wine glasses.

Her.

He froze. A strange cliche to explain how his body reacted. How his heart pounded, and tears splashed onto his clenched fists. How his brain latched onto one word, one word only, and the blood drained from his cheeks to pool liquid rage in his empty belly. How his temper surged like a wave, and crashed, again and again on the shore of fate. How he was thinking sharper, seeing clearer, smelling the raw flame of the candle being snuffed out from his sudden movement.

The tableware rattled when he planted his elbow next to his forgotten dinner, and pointed a stern finger at her stomach. “That’s my daughter, and you will not—”

“C’mon, Ed—”

“No,” he cut her off. He didn’t give a damn if another tear rolled from his wide eyes when he said it, he put conviction behind his voice even when it cracked, “That’s my daughter, and you are not giving her up for adoption.”

“Be serious,” she spat back. “You don’t have the means to take care of a baby. I’m doing this as a favor for the both of us. Mostly for you.”

Eddie sucked his bottom lip inward and chewed the flesh. Shivers of indignation trembled his body, and his nostrils flared from the absolute power he invoked to rein his voice from the snap, bite, snarl his upper lip suggested. “I don’t care what you think is best,” he maintained through the viscous tar coating his refusal in the abhorrence she deserved. “That baby.. She’s mine.” He nodded until the motion was ingrained, and her expression changed. Pointing to himself, now. “She’s mine, and I want her.”

There wasn’t much thought put behind his decision. It was done. It was innate. It was automatic, and her soft warning—”You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,”—was as heeded as the candle’s flame.

He paid for the date. It cost five hours of his minimum wage. That was all his money. He was hungry when he got back to his shitty motel; opening the door to darkness, and a suitcase of dirty clothes he’d need to sort before going to work at the gas station at the edge of town where his boss cut his hours last week because it was making customers uncomfortable to see a criminal serve them at the till, and a new sound replaced the ding of the cash register: loser, loser, loser..

Already, he couldn’t afford diapers.

Already, he failed.

Already, he was worthless.

Already, he was alone.

Not even the woman he was having a baby with wanted to be with him.

——Now——

Eddie hung up the phone, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall for long moments, listening to the rain pattern shift above. The storm spilled its sorrows on the tin roof, uncaring if the structure could handle the stress of another trial when it was weak and susceptible. It poured, and poured. Ruthless. Vicious and brutal as nature could be, targeting the vulnerable and strong alike.

His back broadened with a breath, and finally, he dropped his hand from the yellowed plastic, staring at the dial pad as his arm went limp at his side. Absorbed by his thoughts as the old night rolled into another low growl of thunder, and whatever was on his mind reflected heavily in his vacant appearance.

“Ed?” You waited for him with a kind lift to your brows, but as soon as his glance landed, your chest tightened.

The emotion in Eddie’s eyes was heavily guarded, communicating little as to what caused the tenseness in his jaw when he averted his gaze to the floor, walking fast and purposefully away from you standing half-dressed in his kitchen, and stopping at the front door with his head down. Going through the motions of buttoning his pants, and buckling his belt, rigid and rough, snapping the leather against itself.

“Is Adrie okay?” you asked, voice coming out painfully shallow, like when you were using it to diffuse a customer service issue with the breeze of happiness and a plastered smile.

Leaned over, he shoved his feet into his boots, and began lacing. “She’s fine.”

Blunt, and closed off. Not like your Eddie from an hour ago. And you didn’t know how to navigate asking him what was wrong, and easing him into opening up to you, coaxing him back to that place of union and understanding.

Left feeling confused, you gleaned that this wasn’t the time to bother him about it, and mumbled, “Okay,” and assumed the rest. You dragged the whispery ends of the blanket across the floor, and picked your sweater off the carpet, having that particular sense of embarrassment as if you’d missed a cue, and should’ve read the room sooner, and been clothed and leaving without him asking.

You dressed in silence, doing up the buttons on the cardigan he so skillfully slipped you out of. Treading over linoleum to wash the evening off your hands and mouth. Making yourself small to fit next to him in the entryway, and putting on your shoes in a state of quiet obedience, missing the warmth of his hands and the comfort of his lovesick grin. Wilting under the coldness of his attitude, and wanting nothing more than to reach out, and soothe that bit of regret knotted between his eyebrows.

He regarded the exposed skin of your upper chest, and handed you his black hoodie from where it hung next to his canvas work jacket. “Here.”

Here wasn’t much of a break in the distance he resurrected between you, but you pulled the heavy scent of cigarettes and cologne over your head, and he almost found himself braving eye contact to tell you, “I’m dropping you off first.”

“What? No,” you blurted, “I’m going with you to pick her up. She’s just scared of thunderstorms, right? No big deal, you can drop me off after.” Which seemed like the right thing to say; that you were fine with Adrie crying, but when he set his gaze on you, a small image of yourself swam in his endless pupils, and your stomach clenched at the animal warning in his unbreakable stare.

Eddie shook his head an imperceptible amount, only enough to loosen the curtain of curls tucked beneath his jacket’s collar, and shift the lamp’s glare at the edge of his bitter coffee eyes. It was a threat to back off. Leave well enough alone. Stop encroaching on the parts of his life he hid, and keep the illusion intact.

“I wanna go,” you assured gently.

However, your support fell short when challenged against the aggressive shine swallowing you whole. He looked at you. Really looked at you with the same intensity as when his hands were on your hips and you rocked yourself in his lap, chests flush together with a lazy prayer of your name on his tongue; when nothing mattered more than honoring each other with lips and teeth, tasting sweat on necks and sucking bruises until moans were spilled from heads thrown back. But instead of unraveling you in shocks of pleasure, the ignorance of your child-free lifestyle softened the harsh lines of his face, and slowly, slowly, the shine dulled. The fight left him.

He saved his apology until his back was turned, and the squeaky doorknob gave under his heavy palm—turning it with too much force—and he cracked open the world beyond the two of you, dousing the lingering tenderness of your affection on his skin with frigid mist. “Sorry tonight ended this way.” The door banged open on the rusted iron handrail, caught on a gust.

The trailer park was bright with daylight. Flash, after flash.

Eddie’s silhouette eclipsed the doorway, outlined in lightning. He stood impossibly taller—like the animal threat still lurked within his structure, and caution stayed within your subconscious, altering how you perceived his lanky frame into something more imposing. His shoulders carried many burdens, bulked from five years of hard labor, possessing strengths you couldn’t imagine. He stepped to the side, insisting the door stay open with the spread of five fingers only, and his body no longer shielded you. You were exposed to the cold splash of rain on your shins. His palm was firm at your lower back, and you peered up at the hard set of his jaw feathering the muscle at the corner, sweeping the bone in a mature edge of stubble. Strands of his frizzy hair whipped in the wind. Droplets speckled his nose like freckles. His gaze, anchored on his car through the downpour, brewed with resentment.

His deep timber resonated in your chest beneath the safety of his hoodie, “Car door’s open, I’ll lock up behind you.”

And you were pushed.

Beaten down to a hunch, you took careful strides in your heeled shoes down the concrete steps and into the soft mud, covering your head as best you could from the cloud’s assault, and flinching at the closeness of the strikes darting around the boundary of treetops surrounding the trailer park. You tried the handle, and the car welcomed you into its dry insides. Guilt followed your tracks of caked on mud, leaves, and dead weeds on his nice red interior, but when you shivered to the bone, you didn’t care as much. Curled in on yourself, you spied Eddie’s vague shape through the waterfall blurring the windshield, and listened to his heavy boots trudge up to the door, and soon, the car sank with his weight too.

The engine roared to life. Heat wouldn’t come from the tiny AC units for some time, but the promise of such gave you hope. Eddie, beside you, drenched beyond measure, did not match your enthusiasm. Shadowed streams snaked across his pinched expression, swimming down his heavy brow, and splitting his raw lips. His bangs stuck to his forehead, and his cheeks trembled from his clacking teeth.

Soft music played from the radio station.

Riders on the Storm.

Two booms of thunder ended your small attempt at a smile from the timing.

Leftover adrenaline pulsed in your veins, fumbling your grip on the seatbelt. Wet earth and unease stroked your skin like skeletal hands, muddying your tights, and soaking his hoodie, weighing it down to your crushed sweater beneath. You wanted to speak; to poke, to prod, to press him to talk to you. The questions were there. On your tongue. At the ready; inviting him to tell you why his mood soured over a situation out of his control, other than the obvious weather.

But Eddie’s face was carved with irritation, baring his teeth as he attempted to buff circles into the icy fog on the windshield, only for it to cloud over in an instant. “C’mon..”

The wipers couldn’t keep up with the powerful current, and the tires struggled to find traction. “Fucking—damnit,” he said, interrupted by him slapping the steering wheel, cascading water off his work jacket, and onto every surface around him.

You twisted your hands in your lap at his mild slip in temper.

Now was not the time to bother him.

In a lurch, your shoulder bumped the door, and your head rocked side to side from the car backing over the swell of mud behind the tires. With another frustrated stomp on the gas, it evened out on paved road, and though the visibility was low, you were off towards the nicer side of Hawkins.

For once, he drove responsibly. Street signs could be read before he passed them. Fallen limbs in the road could be avoided, not ran over. His rings tinked off the glass when he rubbed at the thin fog, and the music was dialed to a somber ambiance behind the deep sighs through his nose. Dark stretches of treetops bent to the wind’s will. Short buildings sat so dim beyond the faint streetlights, they might as well have been deserted. Each red light was a necessary break for him to shove his fingers in the air vents to thaw them.

He never spoke. Never looked at you. He kept himself busy with tasks, and when those tasks were over and his hands were defrosted and the windshield was mostly clear, he regressed within himself. Unnervingly quiet. Turning onto streets with heavier regrets sagging his features the longer he crawled in front of white picket fence houses, and stopped.

The two story home was lit beautifully by the ornate sconces placed on either side of the doorway. Their lawn was manicured, and the sidewalk was free of weeds. No cars were at the mercy of the storm, they were parked inside the two-door garages. There was activity behind the embossed curtains hung in the living room of the residence. Presumably, the biggest shape was the father who called over the phone.

Someone who wore a business suit to the preschool’s Thanksgiving play lived here.

Eddie stalled. He remained seated forward, hands gripped at 10 and 2, squeezing the steering wheel as rain echoed in the belly of the car, battering the roof inches above your damp hair. There was a pause in his movements, his breathing. An awareness in his silence at the questions you didn’t ask. Tension in his pursed lips, rubbing them together as he surveyed the street.

He opened his mouth. Then, he thought better of it, and got out.

Your earnest call of his name was swallowed by the sea cleansing his body of your night together.

Leaping up the bullnose brick stairs, Eddie raised his hand, but before he could knock, the artisanal stained glass shimmered with movement. The immaculate door opened to a winced face. The man’s glasses were askew on his aged eyes, and his peppered hair hung over his eyebrows, no longer gelled back. He exchanged a few tight words with Eddie as Adrie was handed over, and Eddie, of course, shuffled into a meek posture, dipping his head, apologizing profusely. Almost bowing to this man dressed in matching pajamas and a robe. In horror, you watched the door close during one such apology. You could tell it happened in the middle of him speaking, because you had to sit through the agony of Eddie animatedly explaining something only for him to look up, straighten at the realization, and stand there for a few more seconds until the sconces dimmed off.

Worse, still, he cowered in the nook as cruel rain belted his back, doing his best to bundle Adrie in her tattered quilt and securing her on his hip, keeping all of her dry except her little legs wrapped around his middle. She buried her face in his neck, and he hesitated on the balls of his feet, judging the distance between the house and the car. His large palm covered the blanket over her head. All he had was his jacket.

Lightning revealed his weary frown.

At the clap of thunder, he sprinted.

Back in New York, at the going away party your friends threw in your and Robin’s honor, they warned you about moving to the Tornado Alley, and what to look for if one were to appear—green skies and all—but most importantly, they told you an incoming tornado sounded like a train. Being city dwellers, they wouldn’t actually know, but Robin confirmed it. And now you could too, because the piercing wail coming towards you could only belong to a natural disaster, not a four-year-old girl.

Murky water flooded to Eddie’s ankles from where it rushed against the sidewalk, sloshing in with his boot stomped to the floorboard for balance as he ducked inside amidst the fuss. He got Adrie into her carseat as quickly as possible. In the chaos, her overnight backpack fell somewhere in the dark, her quilt was chucked aside, and he cursed when the buckle bit into his thumb. She had a fistful of his hair, tangling it, making it harder to see what he was doing. He may have even threatened her full name to let go. It was hard to hear on account of the shrieking.

“Daddy!” The vowels were elongated, broken by hiccups. He shut the door, and in the small space with no escape, her big emotions rang louder. “Daddy!” Again, the y was screamed with the full power of her lungs, which would be impressive for their tiny size if it wasn’t for the pounding in your skull. She hollered louder when he sat heavily behind the wheel, “Daddy!” He didn’t shush her fourth tantrum spilt on his name; he accepted it, knowing it was futile.

It took all your strength to blink. Sat half-turned in your seat, frozen, gaze unfocused, marveling at your brain’s ability to function. You shifted your attention to Eddie’s face, a surprising few inches from yours.

The heat of his concentration scorched shame to your cheeks.

Avoidant no longer, your reaction to Adrie’s meltdown was the sole subject of his interest. Zeroed in on, dissected, and picked apart by just his eyes alone. Didn’t matter which eye you shied from, you were pinned in both, your discomfort blatant for him to witness. Your clamped mouth, your apologetic withdrawal, your fidgety fingers on your skirt; all of it. All of it was captured in his periphery because he didn’t dare break sight as he turned the key in the ignition, and started a raucous engine you couldn’t remember being turned off.

Humbled by the girl assaulting your senses, your questions were answered.

This was why he didn’t want you to come. This was why he slighted you with a pointed look from the recesses of his annoyance when you trivialized his daughter’s behavior as ‘No big deal.’ This was why he kept you separate from his parental sphere where everything wasn’t made of sunshine and rainbows. This—coming to terms with your inexperience staining each uncontrollable contortion of your unprepared expression—was why he never let anyone near his heart.

Adrie could no longer form his name through her open-mouthed cries, resorting to plain, wet screams which trilled past your eardrums, resulting in a throbbing headache.

At that, he grasped the gear shift, put his boot to the gas, and cut fat lines through the river overflowing the pampered neighborhood streets.

Eddie’s anger was a presence. His embarrassment, too. Just like at the auto shop when problems stacked and stacked into an unbearable weight on top of his sleepless nights and long mornings, he turned inward to delay his outburst. To feel everything so fully in his fists wringing the leather covered steering wheel until it creaked, and teeth gritted until they begged no more. Just that one second to release his frustration, and then it was suppressed from sight. But you felt it. His ire rested below your braced muscles, beneath your clammy palms and in your shallow breath. It invaded the tidy home you kept behind your ribs, taking up residence in your hammering heart.

The humiliation of having the date end when it did paid its dues in his bad mood. Disappointment radiated off his narrowed eyes, and slack frown. “Adrie,” he warned in a low tone.

She bawled louder, shriller than the crack of lightning.

The immense pressure to adapt was upon you. There was no sense in parsing what he expected you to do in this situation, it was clear he was soured by your ineptitude the moment you let it show on your face, but.. Only two short weeks ago, he relied on you to divert Adrie’s meltdown before DND night. And sure, she had already stopped crying by the time you got there, but you could come to his rescue again, couldn’t you?

You twisted around in your seat, proud of yourself for thinking of a solution, and showed him you could handle a modicum of parenthood. “Adrie, look!” you tamped down your children’s television host voice to a delightful, excited cheer, “I’m here. Miss Mouse is—!” Shocked with your hand reaching towards her, shooting pain traveled up your arm from her swift kick to your wrist. You recoiled, rubbing at your forearm without blame. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t even looking at you. Her fit was directed at the window she couldn’t peel her attention from, dropping tear after tear from her swollen eyes at the thunder shaking the car. “Adrie?” you tried softer, but she beat her hands on the carseat harder. Wailed until you were defeated to a wince. Yelled until you accepted a unique heartbreak you weren’t prepared for.

Miss Mouse couldn’t always save the day.

Acute twists of rejection wrung your chest. Eddie wasn’t the type to say I told you so, he wasn’t mean like that, but when you sat forward and your gazes moved past one another, never quite meeting, you knew what he was thinking.

Little else stung worse than his obvious cynicism at how this date was concluding.

Exacerbating the issue, Adrie escalated to screeching her distress. Every open sob of hers pulled your focus, invaded your brainspace, overpowered any thought before it began, and set your teeth on edge from the high-pitched squeals you swore vibrated in your bones. Her behavior seeped into your nerves, winding them up, scratching them with the very tip of a brittle nail, inciting a riot. The need to flee crawled under your skin. Breathing was uncomfortable. Your ankle hurt. There was to break in between the blinding pulses of your headache. The car was too hot, too cold, too swerving from the high winds buffeting it sideways. Your tights were too tight. His hoodie too stifling. Itchy yarn from your sweater chafed your damp neck. Alarms of panic battled inside. Louder, louder, louder—Adrie cried louder. Eddie’s lips tugged down at the corners, chin wrinkled, tensing his face from a sadder response. Your lashes fluttered from the chokehold his frown had on you. Fingernails bit your palms. You tried to bide your time, to resist snapping. Dug down deep for something, something you could do, something.. innate. Some answer within you to fix it all. To get her to stop. To get him to relax. Something, something, something—instinctual.

“Pull over!” you barked; Eddie had every right to whip his head around at your sudden demand, but in your panicked state you only cared about the road ahead. “Ju-Just—just—” You scanned the dark parking lot outside the hardware store, and stabbed your finger on the cold window, pointing past it. “The gas station! Under the roof-thing.”

When it wasn’t clear he heard you, you turned towards him at the same time he leaned forward to catch your eye. Justifiable skepticism burdened his brow, tightening the edges of his crow’s feet. His lips hung parted with a confirmation hesitating between them; however, it was silenced after you maintained your need, and the fight against the wind won.

Soppy pebbles scraped wet asphalt, muddied in the bump and grind from Eddie turning too sharply into the sloped driveway, banging into a pothole, and rattling the innards of his already rocky cargo. He careened towards the closed convenience store with its row of dim fluorescent lights inside. Pulling up alongside the gas pumps, he slammed the breaks. A second later, he slapped the windshield wipers OFF, violently shushing their grating squeak.

His patience strained thinner. Working through the sensory overload festering like infected wounds on blistered skin, he rumbled a shallow apology past his aching teeth. Quickly, it devolved into a barrage of doubt. “Look, I’m sorry she—Wait, where’re you—?” The instant fear of rejection shot past his octave. “Wait! Please don’t—”

Cruelly, he thought; heartlessly, he knew; the sun-faded black cotton draped about your shoulders was the last image his adrenaline latched onto, playing it over, and over, door slam and all. He wasn’t parked for more than a clock tick, and you hurled yourself out into the storm, leaving him behind. His first assumption was gentle. Kind whispers stroked the angst in his chest, telling him you needed a break from the noise, that was all. Then the hatred of abandonment gutted his center.

“Giving up already?” he asked aloud in a conclusion only meant to hurt himself when no one was there to answer.

As if sensing his hopelessness, Adrie sniffled into the worst of her hyperventilated cries. Broken disjointed things. Sinking him deeper, deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his caved chest, shuddering at the hot sting wobbling his vision at his own inadequacy.

Never good enough for anyone to stay.

Tremors of repressed memories wakened the churn of nausea making him sick.

“Baby, baby, it’s okay,” soothed a voice behind him, trickling in with the splash of faraway drops. “It’s okay, sweet baby, I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Eddie jerked his chin up and stretched his neck to see into the rearview mirror. The wall of water teetering on his lash line made everything blur, so he tugged down the slick skin beneath his eyes to suck back the tears, and almost allowed them to spill at the scene behind him anyway.

In the reflection, you crawled across the backseat and unbuckled Adrie’s carseat, learning how to maneuver the straps from watching him. She reached for you, your hair, your clothes; small fists belying their strength. You didn’t care. You calmed her struggles with pretty words. “It’s okay, yeah, you can hold on to me, baby. Let’s get you wrapped up nice and warm. There we go.” Shhh. “Let me see your face, so I can clean you up.” Shhh.

“M–M-Mizz Mou—se,” Adrie got out between body-wracked sobs.

“Mhm, I’m here.” Shhh. “Miss Mouse is here.”

—Oh.

“Baby..” So modest was his whisper when so resolute was his yearn.

He leapt into motion, flushed with adrenaline.

The ripple effect of your actions caused tidal waves to swell and crash over him; body hitched in the place where his past convinced him he lost it all, only to collapse into a stuttered exhale of acceptance, understanding there was someone out there who cared about him to this degree; throat constricting with gratitude he could only express by stumbling out into the foggy cold, throwing open the door, and sliding into the backseat with you.

His fingers grazed the baby hairs at your nape on their way to the side of your head, using his wide palm which took up too much room to cradle you steady with a gentleness unknown to his tough skin. He trusted you to forgive him for how hard he knocked his forehead to your temple, and smashed his nose to the soft of your cheek. He need not worry. Beautifully, you adjusted to the bulky arm behind your neck, leaned into the crook of his body he hollowed out for you, and filled the familiar place at his side. You worked diligently to clear his daughter’s face while he passed a strong hand over her back and dropped it to shape his grip at the end of your thigh, curving his fingers in and slotting them to the underside, behind your knee.

“S’okay, Adrie,” you cooed, wiping at the sticky grossness clinging to her nose. “I’ve got you,” you continued the mantra, albeit with a lapse in motherly tenderness as a result of trying not to gag too hard.

Outside the car, the gas station’s tall canopy provided enough coverage to stop the rain from pounding the roof. Harsh winds howled past, encouraging the woeful sobs dropped onto your breasts, but the lightning stayed within the clouds, and the thunder faded in the distance. “Look at me,” you guided, sweeping the hoodie’s cuff over her puffy cheeks glowing splotchy red from the neon beer signs in the postered up convenience store windows. “We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.”

Eddie lips pulled thin against your skin, breath stuttering damp and thick on your neck like a smothered cry.

“Nothing bad can happen when we’re here, okay?” Repeating the union of you and him, you went on, “We’ve got you. You’re safe with us. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here. Right, sweet bean?” You tucked the quilt around her feet, and held her close. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever.”

With her hands latched into the folds of fabric around your neck—cotton, yarn, and canvas—her big coughs were cushioned by your arms snuggling her to your front while Eddie’s chest was at her back, embracing her between your two bodies converging to protect her in a toasty nest. Warm air hummed from the vents, shooing off the stale chill clinging to the backseat, now disturbed by activity and plucky guitar strings playing over the radio.

Across the Universe.

Undertaking the complexities of the man rubbing his forehead into your hair with the same sort of neediness as his little girl wringing your clothes, you assumed the responsibility of consoling them both. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you mumbled the lyrics into the patchwork quilt covering Adrie’s curls. “Nothings gonna change my world,” you sang to Eddie, face tipped up and eyes falling closed, seeking out his nose to trace the tip of yours along the soft bumps in a devoted offering after the turbulent events causing you both inner strife.

His fingertips became an imposing force spread across the scope of your cheek, turning you toward him, capturing you in a deeper kiss than you were ready for. It was demanding, hard with desperation, misaligned and urgent. Born out of necessity in the moment. He kissed you in front of his daughter, where she could see if she picked her face up from your chest, and a dart of surprise lit your heart at the recklessness. You kept a level hand atop her head in case he’d come to regret the decision, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. He sighed into a second helping, and at the sound of the wet smack, she stirred.

Adrienne hooked her fingers into your collar and sniffled hard, soothing herself from further cries by hugging you tight, huddling into your comfort, oblivious to what was happening around her.

Easily, you fell into the third kiss. Became what he needed, mouths mashing together at the odd angle, your lower lip plush between his. Dizzying amounts of reverence manifested in his spontaneity. He packed a lifetime’s worth of bottled up feelings into the affection he was privileged to. Giving, and taking. But his impulses were still a puzzle. When he’d drank his fill, he squeezed your leg, broke apart from your lips in a silent slick slide, and drew a deserved breath.

“Sorry, no one’s ever just.. done that for me before.” He shrugged his hand off your thigh at the poor summary of the millions of things on his mind, and left it at that.

Spurred by the praise, you seized the opportunity for communication. “Remember how before we played DND that night, I told you to call me first next time you needed help?” you reminded him, and something vulnerable, maybe even pleadful, entered your tone. “I want to be someone you can rely on, Eddie.”

An unfortunate amount of complicated emotions passed in his eyes. There wasn’t much to garner from them, nor his soft grunt when he dropped his nose to the column of your neck, above Adrie’s head, and regressed into his quiet self. Reserved. Hard to decipher. He did speak up once to warn you she would fall asleep with how you were holding her—same as he did most nights on the couch while Late Night with David Letterman aired—and you embellished your promise to him with a kiss to the stringy curls frizzing at his scalp, “That’s okay.”

And it was okay, truly, when the storm raged heaves of rain against the car, spraying the windows with shocks of water. You dabbed Adrie’s cheeks. Wiped her nose. Rocked her in the same tempo as the backs of Eddie’s fingers stroking your cheekbone, flexed bicep behind your neck. Thunder occurred. Lightning happened. But with your quick thinking, lulling gestures, and genuine effort to speak past the fondness clogging your throat, you calmed her. Calmed her so well, in fact, her hands went limp and her body relaxed, fatigue claiming her victim to the numbered sheep hopping over fences in her dreams. After her tantrums, she was taxed out. Drained.

Stuck in the cramped middle between Eddie and the carseat, you rearranged your legs before they went tingly numb from her weight on your lap, and shifted the pressure off your heels. It was sweet having her fall asleep on you. Her slow breaths filled your arms as a reward for your efforts to hush her. The quilt smelled of their home, cozying itself in your lungs and sweeping you in a sense of longing for the humidity in his kitchen after making soup.

Though, as much as you thrived on the temporary role you played as parent—taking over for Eddie and dwelling on the fact Adrie slept propped on your chest like the many times she napped on his stained coveralls—you could do without the additional pain of him leaning on you too.

You groaned at the sharp twinge in your spine from slouching sideways, and conveniently, your movement roused his consciousness. He launched into a sleepy inhale. Robust, filling his lungs to the brim, too loud, too silly and sweet. He primed you for a solid press of the bridge of his nose to your jaw by thumbing you towards him, after which he pulled away, separating himself from you fully.

Eddie rolled his shoulders, stretching out from the uncomfortable position, and faced the window. He commented in a sincere tone, “You’re good with kids.”

“I know how to entertain kids,” you corrected him. “I don’t know how to do any of the hard shit you do.”

The streetlights painted strokes of dotted orange on his complexion cast in shadow. He played with the tips of his fingers, squishing each one in a line as he ruminated, staring elsewhere, perspiration blurring the outerworld, sealing yourselves in this crowded car together. “You do a good job,” he reassured, petering out in a hoarse whisper.

Ceaseless nerves gnawed at his absent-minded ring spinning. Not a big production like when he wrung his hands or bit his nails, but enough to show he was getting anxious. You’d expected his leg to be bouncing by now, but it was laying softly against yours. Something big was on his mind.

You bumped your knee into his. “Talk to me.”

Talk to me. Yes, you asked the world of him. You knew it, too. Encouraging his gaze to flick to Adrie bundled in your arms, and back to the window. His eyes weren’t wide with fear, just larger than normal at the subtle confrontation. It was time he opened up to you. There wasn’t a concrete ultimatum if he didn’t, but there was a mutual understanding that if this were to continue, he needed to trust you to be there for him. No more reluctance.

He extended his hand towards your knee, patting twice before claiming it in the great breadth of his palm, stroking his thumb over the thin pantyhose; bridging the gap from his earlier behavior, but not yet apologizing for the soreness he caused.

Sorting his thoughts, his throat bobbed twice on the swallow.

And of all the questions he could ask, of all things he could say, of all the topics he could choose, he picked, “Did you ever want kids?”

Heat swam to your cheeks, blood rushed to your ears. Buds of true belonging bloomed at the question, adorning stems of untended longing first planted during the Christmas party at work, ever growing. Your heart pumped faster at the inherent past and implied future of the subject. His curiosity was a mild prod, perhaps not meant to encourage these leaps in logic considering he announced it in the same buckled cadence of someone who was asking about the weather—and yet, the hold it had on you was impossible to deny. A blend of you, Adrie, and him, just like now, but in different contexts—different meanings other than sitting in the back of his car—something domestic, like being piled together on the couch watching Disney movies; that’s what was pushed to the forefront of your mind.

But, despite those instantaneous fantasies, this was a place for honesty, and the significance of your pause between his question and yours was an entity of its own, stiff like his posture.

“Are you ready for this conversation?” you checked. He fostered an anxious glance and nod. “Having kids is not something I ever saw for myself, no.”  The consequence of your answer marked his immediate dropped eye contact, but ever patient with him, you continued strongly, “With how I dated and moved around, I didn’t think it was for me, that sort of lifestyle. It’s just not something I put a lot of thought into except when my friends were having kids, and really, they kinda turned me off of the idea. Pregnancy sounds.. daunting. Or—you know—really fucking scary. They’d always talk about how awful it is, all the complications you could have, the risks, the near death experience in one case,” you broke off in a squirm. “And then you don’t even get the relief once the baby comes. Like, seriously, taking care of a newborn sounds straight up terrifying.”

Eddie cracked. His hiss of laughter was a welcomed reprieve, especially when it sank to his chest, gripping his shoulders in a hearty shake. “Y-Yeah,” he got out, face crinkled in all the ways you adored, “it is straight up terrifying.”

You giggled in the softest way, careful to not disturb Adrie’s shallow breaths, and careful to not swoon too head-over-heels over the image of him rocking a baby. “It seems easier when they’re older, though,” you said, broaching the real crux of the conversation with your chin dipped to the top of her head. “Like it’s not as bad when they can actually communicate why they’re crying, or tell you what’s bothering them.”

“Not necessarily easier, just different,” he clarified. “It’s less about making sure this little tiny thing that can choke on its own snot survives the night, and more about the emotionally draining problems like her telling you about her day at preschool, explaining a situation where a group of kids kept giving her tasks to do that sent her away, and she’s smiling so big when she’s telling you, thinking it was a game, but deep down you’re just waiting for the heartbreak years down the line when she realizes they gave her errands to run because they were excluding her, and the reason they were laughing every time she came back was because they took joy in being mean to her.”

Wilt tinted your faint, “Oh..”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He upped the pressure he used to pat and rub your knee. “S’part of life.”

Consumed by his side profile, you studied the scope of his impassive expression set on the premature lines edging his face. The urge to find the right thing to say amidst the convoluted churn of anger on his behalf, and sadness on Adrie’s, itched something fierce beneath your skin. Ultimately, no words of inspiration came.

Eddie took an anticipatory breath.

The radio garbled advertisements for the station’s sponsors.

“Still wouldn’t trade it for those first months when she was a newborn, though.” Pursing his mouth thin, he rolled his lips inward with a hardened brow, releasing and scrunching tension around his nose as he shook his head slowly, addressing the memories of those days with a shine of pain to his eyes, and a loud smack of his tongue. “The moment I found out Adrie’s mom was pregnant, I wanted to do the right thing—y’know?” He took his hand off your leg to demonstrate the narrow path he followed. “Kept my head down, stayed focused, didn’t bother anybody, got a real job, and kept my mouth shut. Lotta places didn’t wanna hire me, obviously, but I applied anywhere I could, and when I got the job, I’d go get another one on a different shift, and another one on a graveyard shift. Sold whatever I had—guitars, ‘nd shit—bought what I could with the money. I wanted to be a good man. Be a provider. Be worth something.” Scrubbing his shaky fingers over the stubble on his chin, he aimed to calm himself, but when bringing up the Hell he went through during those times, there was little to stop his pitch from wavering. “Still wasn’t good enough.”

A verdict aimed at him flippantly, yet the impact on his self-esteem was immeasurable.

Gathering himself, he licked the inside of his cheek, and explained, “In the beginning, when Adrie was born, I tried to make it on my own. Locked in this little motel room with a crying baby. Couldn’t go to work. Didn’t have anyone to call to watch her for me, y’know, didn’t.. didn’t have anyone to rely on after walking out on my uncle, and isolating myself from my friends. The people at the bullshit resource center said I wasn’t eligible for benefits because they were for single moms, not dads. And child support was taking too long to kick in. Not like it mattered when it couldn’t pay for a single canister of Similac. I didn’t have fucking anything. Or know anything.”

His shame was only beginning to unravel.

“There were these free classes at a clinic for expecting parents, but I..” He dropped his knuckles to his thigh and fed them along the coarse cotton, using the friction to burn away the guilt. “I-I didn’t go. I didn’t want to go alone. Be the only guy there, by myself. Have all these people w-who might know who I am fucking.. fucking staring at me.” With how he was looking down at his lap, rocking slightly with his movement, he stood no chance against the wall of tears damming at his lashes. “I didn’t want to go because of my sense of pride, and my baby suffered because of it.”

“Eddie, that’s not true—” you stepped in.

Three effective beats of his fist on his leg, and you were left to witness his face crumple from the utter contempt he had for himself.

“It is true,” his volume fluctuated in jumps. “She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t fucking eat and keep it down.” Droplets splashed his jeans in unyielding splats. Drip, drop, drip, drop.. They slipped and spread in splotches of salty remorse he couldn’t wipe away quick enough. “Nothing worked. Couldn’t get her to latch onto a bottle, and, and—I didn’t know, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to microwave the formula, but she wouldn’t take it room temp, so if it was too hot she’d just scream at me until it wasn’t, and I–I just—I was having these breakdowns, I don’t know. I blacked out, and next thing I knew, I was at Harrington’s, and Nancy was taking care of her for me.” The emphasis alluded to much, though the fact their son was only a year older, and Nancy would still be producing milk said it all. 

Frantic breaths which wouldn’t catch were pulled past grimaced lips parted on the unrefined sob his confession emerged on. “I never wanted to be with Adrie’s mom, but proving what she said was right, th-that I was a fucking loser who didn’t know what he was doing, it-it-it.” In a desperate flourish, he pointed at his temple, It lives in here, and another tear clung to the tip of his nose, smeared by the back of his wrist.

Stunned useless by the suffocating urge to help him, you blanked. Sat still while your favorite mechanic reduced himself to the wrong opinion of others; the same person who showed his gentle nature by picking worms out of the garage after a heavy rain so they didn’t dry out. Remaining frozen while silent pain wracked your friend’s held breath, heaved and shuddered out as a cough into the same palm he used to catch your ankle when he challenged you to a race on the creepers, and he had to cheat to win before you beat him to the service door. Saying, “Baby, no,” to the man who snuck a smirk over his daughter’s head when he caught you doting over her as she sat on his hip, and the smell of Christmas potluck embedded itself into the memory of Eddie’s eyes hinting at a deeper glint than the tease on his grin.

“I am a fucking failure,” he seeped out his regret. “C-Couldn’t give her what she needed. I still can’t. Still can’t give her what she wants, ever. T-T-Tellin’ her I can’t get her something when she asks for it—and the disappointment. Just a piece of shit who disappoints her. Never good enough—” There was another high-pitched stutter, but it was muffled behind his trembling hands covering his face, and smothered by your intervention.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you shot out, hand and voice working together to untangle the trauma his knotted fingers attempted to hide. “Listen to me.” No please, but no lack of kindness, either. “You are not a disappointment. Not then, not now, not ever. Do you hear me? You’re not any of those things.” You tugged at the canvas jacket around his stiff arms tucked tight to his body, and rocked him away from his huddle against the door.

In the aftermath of your scramble to comfort him, Adrienne startled awake. Her soft hmm? became a grunty whine when the sensation of slipping backwards disoriented her. “Daddy?” One of her fists found your hoodie for balance, but her groggy curiosity dealt a heartbreaking blow.

She traced the wet trail on his cheek, encountered a tear in its path, and broke the droplet’s surface tension on her finger, wondering aloud, “Why’s Daddy crying?”

Thinking quickly, you used your muscles earned through unloading car parts from delivery trucks, and scooped her from your lap onto his, diverting the nuance of grown-up-problems by fumbling out, “Daddies cry sometimes, too. Have you told him you love him today? Can you tell him? It’ll make him feel better. Please, Miss Adrie?” Whether or not it was the perfect phrasing wasn’t important. What mattered was the unsuspecting gratitude laden at the base of his frown.

“I love you, Daddy,” Adrie said, latching her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“You’re a good man,” you added, and rolled onto your hip, fitting your body to his side. You nosed through his long, frazzly curls, and spoke earnestly, but softly into his ear, “You’re a good man, Eddie. Look at how well you take care of her. Look at how well fed, clothed, and happy she is. You make her so happy.. You make me happy, too. You’re the best dad I’ve ever met. No one else compares.”

He dragged a sniffle from his last sob into an unintelligible mumble.

“I’m here.” Shh. “I’m here.” You included Adrie in your hug as you brought your hand up to the other side of his flustered hot face, blending your fingers through the hair stuck to the sweat and stubble on his jaw. “We’re here for you. We’ve got you. Nothing bad can happen when we’re here.” Sweet with conviction, “It’s okay, handsome, I’ve got you.”

Overwhelmed by the small I love you, Daddy, on one side, followed by You’re a good man, on the other, his inhale shivered, and he cuddled Adrie to him for a watery, “I love you, too.” Croaky and real, and mouth agape on an ugly cry he let you witness until his needy reach cupped the back of your head, and smushed you to his wet cheek, scratching the same sentiment into your nape, just like you were rubbing it into his scalp, exchanging the affection without words.

Us and Them funneled through the car, mellowing the heightened emotions with its dreamy saxophone opener.

“I’m so glad to have met you,” you prized in tender sweeps of whispers and thumbs. “I actually look forward to coming into work because of you, even when you hide my pen cup, and tickle me when I go to reach for it on top of the Coke machine. Which is unfair, by the way.”

“Yeah?” he asked for dear reassurance, and distraction.

Humming against the intimate corner of his jaw, you nudged the prickly scruff, and melted into his uncoordinated pets over your ear. “I see your sacrifices, and trust me, Eddie, you’re doing a great job at raising your daughter. Stuff like buying her toys, or cookies, or whatever doesn’t matter. The love you show her is better than any of that. She’s so lucky to have you.”

Another tear dropped to the tattered quilt. Another, another dropped. He squeezed his eyes shut and more fell. Hindered breaths let go in stuttered huffs shook his chest, swayed his damp hair. You circled your thumb over the rivers on his sensitive skin, and found a dry section of your sleeve to clean the price he paid for being a good father without the proper support he needed. Soothing him with fond shushes and feather touches. Forming a ball of comfort around him: cramped in the tiny car, a cast of solid fog on the windows for privacy, Adrie’s blanket draped about your jumbled legs, and her lanky arms wrapped around his neck where precious words were stoked from the embers of a fire which he built. “I wanna color with you to-mah-rrow,” she pronounced. “You can have the dinosaur book, because I want the kitty cats. Deal?” Deal, he nodded.

Your bottom lip introduced a blessing at his sideburn, “You deserve to see yourself how we see you.”

Recovering from the unbearable throb his stuffed sinuses drove to his headache, he tried—“Thank you, baby,”—though the letters were mashed together, and further pulped by the thickness in his throat. Loud, however, was his hug. Crushing you both to him with honed strength; flexed forearms demonstrating the power lying dormant in the track of muscle he snaked around your waist. Groans were earned from his expertise. Bones protested the gesture, begging to be released. It took several seconds of your heartbeat pumping visibly at the edge of your vision, but he let go. Afterall, there was no praise to be had by flattened lungs.

“That hurt,” Adrie complained.

“Ow,” you agreed.

“Sorry,” he said in non-apology.

At a change in tone, you fawned, “But that was a nice hug.”

Adrie rated it, “An 8 out of 10.”

Crowded together, the bond was unmatched. His arms were spread like a greedy dragon hoarding its wealth. Chest open, collecting his most remarkable treasures to the roaring furnace locked within the confines of his body, ready to share the warmth to those who could appreciate its value. Clasped in your hand was Adrie’s ankle, gaining squirmy kicks for each smile and giggle traded under Eddie’s chin. Dressed in his well-loved hoodie, the crook of his elbow fit to your figure, and the backs of his fingers strummed your bicep in a trained motion. None of it was perfect, no. The hoodie could smell less like cigarettes, his forearm stuffed behind you meant you couldn’t recline comfortably, and when he patted your hip, he awakened the dull throb of the bruising grip he left during earlier events.

Those weren’t bad things, though. They were as real as human flaws. Accepted as such, too.

“Are you feeling better?”

Sporting a grin favoring one cheek more than the other, Eddie’s eyes were framed by clumped together lashes after being stripped to his barest self and given the grace he needed. “Yeah,” he answered Adrie in fondness, “I’m feeling better now.” Not forever. He wasn’t cured. But with time, he guided his gaze to the velcro shoe you were wiggling back and forth onto her heel, and climbed his soft study up to the plump concentration on your bottom lip after you released it from between your teeth.

Perceiving his attention, you clocked him with a sneaky grin. “We’re a sardine family.” Brightening at the bewildered noise he made, you tapped Adrie’s knee, and imparted your wisdom as if he should know it too. “Yeah, you know, you, me, and Adrie. Jammed packed back here like a tin of sardines. All squished together.”

They blinked at you. You blinked back.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with bad jokes,” Eddie offered after some thought. You cut him a look. “But I like the image,” he amended.

“I like sardines,” Adrie chimed. She didn’t know what sardines were, but you appreciated her enthusiasm.

The conversation waned from there. Drowsiness from the old night seeped into your collective huddle, slouching you all towards one another. Heavy limbs went boneless. Tender brushes of thumbs came to an end. The sound of deep breaths were heard between the local ads for Indiana’s finest antique mall and an uptick in the rain smacking the paved street. Near the edge of sleep, you convinced yourself to get Adrie up and into her carseat. Eddie sat back and watched you go through the steps of buckling her in, listening to her plea for Fluff in her backpack, tucking the quilt around her just right, and hitting your head on the roof in pursuit of making her happy. Taking care of his kid. You collapsed beside him, far closer than would be proper for coworkers, and basked in his approval, noting the pride in his charged gaze. The emotional rollercoaster of the evening took its toll on his swollen face—nevertheless, romance novels could learn a thing or two from the way his stare rendered you weak.

“Should get you home before the storm gets worse,” he warned in an attractive thrum of sternness. He might call you lil’ lady next. Or remind you he promised your father he’d have you back on time.

Floating in the fizzy pool of your crush's attention, you nodded your dizzy head, and observed without need, “Yeah, should get home before it gets worse.”

He laughed. You swam in his laugh, in the instinctual desire based in his mood after watching someone nurture his young. A silly thing to rock you into a sultry sweat considering the outcome of your second date. Luckily, when you stepped out of the car, the frigid mist stole your focus, hosing you down and keeping you from reading too much into the odd chemical imbalance that must be happening in your brain.

The night was really fucking long.

Driving with the radio on low, Eddie drifted his ringed fingers over your forearm whenever they weren’t being used on the stick shift. A small gesture letting you know he was thinking about you when there wasn’t anything to talk about, not that it was needed. The calm was nice. The storm behaved en route to the Buckley’s, avoiding the occasional tree limb blocking a lane. He removed his touch from your person, and with a glance, you were assured it wasn’t the last.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my door,” you gasped, posing with your arms stuck out, useless against mother nature sagging your soaked clothes.

A puddle formed on the wood planks where he wrung his hair. “And make you do this run all by yourself? C’mon, sweet stuff. I’m a gentleman.”

Shivering on the covered porch, your shoes were partially to blame for the slipping incident(s) in the muddy driveway. The lack of the house lights on was another, slowing down your sprint into a crawl. A yellow cast from a lamp in the back room lit the hallway, but other than its soft glow, that was it. Clearly, no one expected you to come home.

“Is it okay if, uh,” you began, “Is it okay if we kiss in front of Adrie?” Oh, how your awkward pointing from yourself to the car came to a charming halt, fingers caught in the stiff fabric of his jacket, under his spell.

Plush pink lips warmed by vented heat promised your worries away.

“I think she’s asleep anyway.” His voice was playful, tugging syllables in the way his lopsided grin ought. “But,” he softened, “yeah, we can kiss in front of her.”

The permission washed over you. Weeks and months in the making. Brewing tension under the surface in your daily interactions—and now? You kissed him. Just for fun, just to show off. You kissed him again. Gentle, pretty brushes. Tame, refined, and for the sake of exploring the lack of boundary before saying goodbye.

Working man arms defined your waist.

Fingers calloused from gripping pens grazed his steady throat.

He swallowed, and spoke endearments with his busy mouth, “Could kiss you all day, baby.” Your lips kicked into a smile which he devoured, kiss after kiss. Neat little things. Virtues, maybe.

“Could’ve kissed me since the day we met,” you answered, feeling the squeeze around your back when his belly pressed you into his embrace. Though, his dismissive snort caused you to frown. “I’m serious. Coulda had me back then. Or at least you could’ve kissed me when we were slow dancing in the garage, or standing under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. Like, seriously, way to make me feel rejected.”

His wide passionate eyes shared common ground with his genuine smirk at your feigned agony. “Excuse you, but I am not having our first kiss be at work.”

“Then why not at DND when everyone left?”

“Because, sweetheart,“ his cadence loved those two words most of all, “I knew I only had a few minutes with you. And I needed a helluva lot more than a few minutes with you.”

“Or, what about when—”

Crazy how you strove to be silenced by his mouth. Craved it like no other, provoking him into eager unions, fulfilling the itch and providing the scratch with your bottom lip between his, just how he liked.

You shifted. Your inner thighs rubbed through your ripped tights. The untimely circumstances bringing you to Robin’s door lived on the surface of your chilly skin; ushering you to reality, and he as well.

“I’m sorry for how all this turned out.” Eddie’s sincere apology pitched his voice to something sorrowful, something deeper, and maybe you underestimated how much the night ending when it did upset him as a man.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

He shuffled his stance, scraping his boots in dissatisfaction. “Baby, you didn’t even get anything,” and you knew what he meant. And it annoyed you he’d even brought it up.

Combing your fingers up from his nape through his hair, you drove him into you, chasing the molten ooze pooling at your center in effort to shut him up. Wet, hard, nipping kisses at his plump lips until they were raw like his tear-stained cheeks. You forwent air. Mouths melding as one, then apart as two, then one, then a set of awake eyes boring into his drunk ones. “Our date was perfect. We needed this.” The trust, the experience, the uncomfortable glimpse into his life and how you handled it. His breakdown, his shame, his face when he finally let go and ugly cried in front of you. “I don’t regret how our night turned out.”

Nodding into a nudge of his nose stroking the side of yours, he was honest with himself, “I don’t regret it, either.”

“Well, you might regret it in the next half-hour if this storm keeps up, and you’re stranded with Adrie in the car because a tree fell across the road.”

“Shit.” Indeed, the weather was turning again. If luck were on his side, he could deal with the high winds and sheets of rain until he got home, but, more likely, he drained his luck over the course of the date, and lightning was about to start again.

Eyeing the sky with hesitance, he asked, “Can I call you tomorrow? Or—today?”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Acting as an endorsement to get going before things worsened, thick forest branches creaked in the distance, popping like warnings. You followed it with snappier affections doled between your palms fitted to his jaw. “Please be safe, Eddie.”

“I will, I will. Kay?” Urgency swept him from kiss to kiss—needy, and intense, treating them as the last. “I adore you, baby. Tell me you adore me.”

Mushy under his tender affirmations, your body went pliant and he accepted your weighty lean on his chest, making it harder than it already was for him to leave his sweetheart behind. “—dore you too, handsome,” you moaned into his mouth, sending him off on a proper goodbye.

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

Ever the lovestruck fool, he stayed rooted on the porch watching your figure move from shadow to light within the home, eyes glued to sways and curves as you met the hallway and bent to peep inside Robin’s room. It was the single lamp being turned off which broke his greedy gaze, and ended his fun. Oh well. His Monday morning was booked with penciled in meetings for his admiration and your assets.

Eddie spun on his heel and stopped stalling. He didn’t bother throwing his arms over his head, he accepted his fate, and ran. Sloshing through puddles, slipping in mud. He wrenched open the door, and fell inside the car. The heater made him sticky warm in the gross way, so he turned it down, and got comfortable behind the wheel, adjusting, adjusting.

Pulling oxygen into his outkissed lungs, he heaved a solid breath, and sank into his seat, unable to comprehend the recent events carving out a new path for him to consider where there wasn’t one before.

——Then——

In the beginning…

Summer died to autumn, and it was time to move on from Steve's. Eddie tried to make it on his own in the motel room over the three day weekend break from work, but his wallet was empty, his baby was dressed in another family's blue sailboat onesie, and come Tuesday morning at 7AM, he needed someone to watch Adrie who wasn't an overworked Nancy Harrington.

Infant in hand, pride left behind in his boyhood, Eddie knocked on his uncle's door, and in Wayne's usual manner, he answered by clearing his throat when neither words nor greetings failed to repair the strained relationship.

“Can I live with you?”

Taking in the marks of fatigue under his nephew's averted eyes, Wayne said, “Of course, son,” and welcomed him inside with a swung gesture.

The walk to the single bedroom humbled what spirit Eddie had remaining. Or, crushed what was left of it. He passed by the kitchen table which still had his chair cocked out, noticed the patched-up hole in the closet door, and flicked on the lightswitch, grazing the curled edge of a poster he hung over a decade ago. His stomach sank at the familiarity.

Blazed by the ornate lamp hung in the corner, standing out like a behemoth beside his white desk, was the crib he was never able to afford.

Adrie grunted awake in her carseat. Looking down at her would spill his tears, so he cranked his head back to stare at the ceiling, steeling himself after spotting the new bedsheets stretched across his mattress, and he knew—he knew—if he turned around, the pullout bed in the living room would still be set up.

His uncle never took his room back.

Defeated by the routine pang of worthlessness, impressed to have any self-esteem left to be stolen from him at the point, Eddie sank to his childhood mattress with his three-month-old daughter at his feet, undressed himself from his boots, and made a clear spot for them both on the bed, away from blankets or pillows. He laid on his side, legs crossed and knees bent with an arm beneath his head. Same position he assumed on the motel’s carpeted floor yesterday when Adrie experienced a milestone: rolling over. Not from her back to her stomach, she wasn’t coordinated enough for that yet, but with enough powerful kicks and wiggling, his paranoia coaxed his other arm around her.

He molded himself to be her protector. Chest sunken on a shallow breath, forearm spooned to her side closest to the edge, and gaze trained on her chubby cheek. Her babbly noise of happiness brought him a sense of reward, and though the newborn smell had faded in the weeks where motor oil stung his nostrils, he put his nose to the top of her head for a whiff of a sweet scent that wasn’t there, and felt the peace it brought him anyway.

Wayne shuffled into the room with a sizable stack of chunky hardcover books between his hands. “I, uh, checked these out from the library. Been doin’ some readin’ while you were gone.” He set them down on the bedside table, and pointed at a few of them. “Learned a lot from the one on the bottom, but they were all, ah, educational, I s’pose.. Some lean more religious than others,” he grumbled. “But, uhm..”

The expectant pause in his uncle’s speech drew Eddie’s awareness.

“Can I hold her?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah.” He almost had the strength to clear the rasp from his throat. “You can hold her.”

Putting his new knowledge to good use, Wayne first worked his palm under Adrie’s head before scooping her into his folded arms. Eddie took his shame in small doses, glancing at his uncle meeting his grandchild for the first time, and looking away when he cooed over her. Three months and his only family member had yet to meet his baby. Three months spent avoiding this trailer, and depriving his uncle from making these memories.

Self-loathing boiled under Eddie’s skin, and still, there was a fleeting desire to brag about Adrie’s neck strength, and how it wasn’t so necessary to be wary of her head falling back.

But he stayed quiet. He pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes, and read the book’s titles, wondering what sparked enough interest for Wayne to stuff receipts between the pages, or mark them with paper clips if they were particularly interesting.

Speaking in his gruff smoker’s voice with an edge of seldom heard unease, Wayne introduced a conversation, “I read in that yellow book there that babies shouldn’t sleep in the same bed as the parent. Dangerous, with how tired you are, ‘nd all. Should I put her in the crib?”

As gingerly and delicately as one could be when discussing the reality of a child suffocating to a parent who was well aware of the risks, Eddie regarded him with an annoyed expression, and Wayne shut his mouth in apology.

“I’ve gotta do her night routine again, so I’ll be up for a bit.”

“Yep.” A solid statement, and conclusion, to the conversation.

Bending down, Wayne positioned Adrie in the hollow Eddie created for her, and mentioned there were leftovers in the fridge on his way out. He shut the door behind him. It didn’t take long for tiny fists and tinier fingers to find a lock of his hair, and pull it into a drooly mouth. Didn’t take long, either, for his exhaustion to kick in and for the emotions to crash through his walls.

Tears slipped sideways along his features. Cresting over the bridge of his nose, colliding with his other eye, and joining the wetness at his hairline, dotting the bedsheet. He pressed his face to his baby who was too innocent for this world. “Daddy loves you,” he whispered, tasting the word for the first time. Daddy. It didn’t feel right when Steve stepped in as a father figure, but he could acknowledge it now. He was a dad. A momentous occasion followed by, “I’m so sorry you’re mine.” An apology uttered on a wet hiccup—borderline unintelligible—but after coming back to this trailer, and enduring his memories trapped between its thin walls, he promised, words slurring to a constricted squeak in his throat, “Daddy’s gonna get us a nice house, okay? Your own room. Your own bed. Daddy’s gonna do it. Just give me some time, okay? I’ll do it, I swear. Daddy loves you so much. So fucking much.” The promises bred dread even then, living in the pit of his stomach as future disappointments, knowing he would fail.

Perhaps sensing his distress, his little girl used the last of her energy to kick his arm in a fair warning before her face scrunched, and the wet coughs preluding her wail for food began.

He dried his face on the bedsheet. In this moment, it was hard to continue crying when he had another human relying on him. It was time to move on. Time to bury the pain, and move on. Time to neglect himself, and move on. Time to give up, and move on. Kiss her chubby cheeks so fucking much he feared he’d never be able to stop, and move on.

——Now——

Now, he checked the rearview mirror and Adrie was looking back at him, possessing a curious pinch between her brows at his reflection.

“You were kissing Miss Mouse,” she accused and questioned.

“I was,” he confirmed.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, ah,” he filled the pause with another ah while he searched, “It means we’ll be seeing more of each other. She’ll be coming around more, and stuff. Hanging out with us.”

Ever ponderous, ever candid, ever blunt, she asked, “Does that mean she’s my–”

Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasted their eardrums.

Eddie’s fingers slipped over the volume dial by accident—totally by accident—as he reached for the stick shift, turning the music on high and drowning out the last word of her sentence.

—Mom.

No way in hell was he ready for that conversation after the emotionally grueling night he’d had.

“Whoops,” he pretended, “Sorry, couldn’t hear you—but, uh! Hey, do you wanna start our bedtime story early? Should I go with the princess one, or the Sesame Street gang running their own bakery? Hmm.." He drew out his hum until he was in the clear of the Buckley's mailbox, swearing he wasn't the reason it was laying flat in a ditch. "How about we pick up where the princess one left off? So! The firbolgs have declared alliances with Toadstool Kingdom, and.." Throwing it into first gear, Eddie raced home as quickly, but responsibly, as possible, talking non-stop. His parched throat begged for a drink by the time he pulled into the trailer park—a scratchy pain made worse by his nervous chatter in the elusive quiet of his parked car.

He wrapped Adrie in her quilt as best he could while securing her on his hip and booked it through the rain, unlocking the front door and ducking inside right as an unlucky flash of lightning came.

And when nature’s nightlight died, he blinked and blinked at the spots in his vision.

It was unfathomably dark in his living room.

Stumbling over a small shoe in his way, he patted the wall for the lightswitch, and flipped it. And flipped it again. And harassed it some more. Sighing heavily in defeat, he grabbed the giant flashlight on the kitchen counter, and lit the way. "Looks like we're camping tonight." (Their codeword for when the power was knocked out.)

"Okie dokie," she said, ignorant to the cruel world of no pancakes for Sunday breakfast when the electric stovetop was out of commission.

In the meantime, he got them both ready for bed with the added pain of doing it by a single wobbly light source, ready to pass out the second his body sank to the mattress and his head hit the flat pillow—

But of course, Adrie rocked his shoulder incessantly, goading him into giving her attention at her whim, sanity be damned. "Mm?" he grunted, coating the noise in mild annoyance.

"Daddy?" she checked.

The wait for her question grew excruciatingly long.

He almost wasted an eye roll. "Yes, my child?"

"I wish Miss Mouse was here."

Surprised more so by his yawn than the request itself—and then surprised again when his heartbeat remained calm when confronted with the reality of Adrie noticing too much—he struggled to stay awake in his best interest, perhaps giving an inappropriate answer, and unwittingly feeding into her inner wishes, "I do too." He was fading, and quick. The hard rain had returned, droning white noise on the roof, soothing his eyelids closed over the dry sting they drew. Rolling, fighting the stiff sheets tucked around them both, he threw an arm over her before the doom-roll of thunder came. Sweet dreams greeted him in a pair of tiny arms folded to his chest. Brain shutting down. Night, night. Asleep.

"I wish she was my mom."

"Goodnight, Adrie," he stressed.

[rainylana]

“It’s just a cut.” Part two!

summary: part two of “it’s just a cut.” requested by @h-ness1944

warnings: physical abuse by readers mother, heavy description of injuries including dislocated jaw, broken nose and stomach wounds, so much angst, hospitals, vomiting, this is very much slow paced and mostly internal dialogue. let me know if you want part three! sorry for the cliffhanger, but i promise part three will be worth it! if you all want it!

You would look back on it as an adult and realize that it was the most peaceful moment of your life. The only time where you truly felt calm and free from anxiety. It happened just like it did in the movies. At least it did for you. And when each day would pass, you barely remembered it as the time went on. The only thing you could for sure remember was the outline of Eddie, or rather his foggy image in the corner of your eye. If you pressed your brain hard enough, you could almost remember hearing him, but you never knew what it was that he was saying.

The only thing you could really compare it to was being in the bathtub, slipping yourself underneath the water so all you could hear was the quiet roar of your own thoughts. You weren’t sure if you saw a bright light like people usually said they did, or if your guardian angel was helping you decide whether or not to stay on Earth. It all seemed very cliche, your experience, but that’s how it happened.

You remembered how heavy your body felt when they rolled you into the hospital on the gurney, the sound of wheels turning and creaking against the floor. It was like all of your senses were heightened. You could feel every bump and dip in the floor, the ding of the nearby elevator. Everyone was yelling at each other, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Their figures were blurry, but Eddie was beside you. That much, you could make out, running with the gurney and being ignored by the emt’s and nurses. It was his curly black hair that gave him away, the white hellfire shirt that stuck out in your memory. You could remember how loud he was, and later on, you had realized he was crying, begging someone to tell him if you’d be okay.

You knew that something bad had happened, you just couldn’t remember what it was. You knew you were hurt. You couldn’t feel a thing, and you’d watched enough medical dramas to know that wasn’t a good thing. You had barely stirred, trying to move your arm that had lead you to squeal, your eyes fluttering open and closed. The feeling of something very warm was coming down your neck and with each step they all took, moved you faster and faster.

Then Eddie was gone. Everyone was gone and you were left alone in the dark.

•

Just when he thought he’d cried every tear in his body, more came. Every time he thought he was done throwing up, he’d rush to the bathroom. He was sitting outside the operating room. No patients were allowed to do so, but with how upset he was, the doctors couldn’t get him to move. Wayne had snuck back there eventually when he had arrived at the hospital.

The hallways were so dark, he had observed. Why weren’t there any damn lights on? He was sat on the floor, knees to his chest and back to the very uncomfortable wall. Tears fell down his face, cheeks swollen, red and stained with heart ache. He was visibly shaking, every nerve ending in his body completely fried.

You weren’t going to make it. He was sure of it. You were going to die and it was going to be his fault.

It had been three days since you had left his place. Neither of you had spoken since. He’d heard the sirens first, and he knew deep down that it was you and something was terribly wrong. Then he got the call from Hopper, confirming that very thought.

He didn’t know what happened. Nobody would tell him. He had demanded from everyone he laid eyes on, but not a word had come out. Not even the police officers had showed up, except for Hopper, who would periodically stop in to see if you’d made it through surgery. Not yet. 

Hopper wouldn’t tell him anything, either. Soon, he’d said. It’s messy, son.

Eddie’s brain had never been so loud. Every cell and nerve ending was working overtime, thought after thought was going through his wires, possible outcomes of the night. You would wake up and forgive him. Wake up and hate him. You wouldn’t make it thought.

There wasn’t anything he could feel more than guilt. He’d abandoned you like you were nothing. He had told you he would call to avoid you getting seriously injured, was too afraid of loosing you to go through with it, and now you were in the hospital.

Your jaw was dislocated, that was the first thing. Your nose was broken and your right arm. All of that could be fixed. It was, however, the multiple wounds in your stomach that was the problem. You had been pushed down the stairs, smacking your face on the bottom step, breaking your nose and messing up your jaw in the process, before falling through the window right in front of the stairwell. You hadn’t went complete through, your body halfway outside and halfway in, your stomach directly impacted by the broken, jagged shards of glass that was causing internal bleeding.

Your mom. He’d demanded to know where she was. I’ll kill her! I’ll fuckin’ kill her! He’d banged on Hopper’s chest, sobbing like a broken little boy before he’d nearly collapsed and fainted. Wayne had showed up right as it happened, picking him up off the floor and guiding him to a more secluded spot.

All of that lead to now. Eddie stared at the same spot on the wall for almost thirty minutes, after he had counted every crack in the wall. It had taken him almost two hours. That’s how long you had been in surgery.

The door creaked open to reveal Wayne, holding two paper cups of coffee. He sighed sadly to see his nephew in the same spot, face still heavy in guilt and heart ache. He placed the cup down beside him, settling down on the floor next to him.

Wayne felt just as guilty as Eddie. The old man looked to the doors, hoping to God that you’d pull through, not just for your own sake, your father’s or your friends, but for Eddie’s. The mer idea of him loosing you? He knew that would destroy him in a way that he could never recover from.

“Ed.” Wayne looked over to his boy, shoulders heavy from tears and legs now kicked out lazily, like they were no longer attacked to his body. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Wayne knew your mom was an alcoholic. He knew she said hurtful things to you. But he didn’t know that she physically hurt you. He had been shocked to get the call from Hopper, instructing him he needed to get to the hospital to get his nephew under control.

“She made me swear.” His voice was hoarse, dead quiet. He couldn’t decide if he was more angry or guilty. Angry at you for making him stay silent? Or guilty for staying silent the moment he was free to speak? “I..I didn’t want to loose her.” But you may loose her now. His eyes teared up, glossing over once again.

“She was afraid she’d get moved to another family. Somewhere far away.” He stared at the same spot, recalling the memories of you crying in his arms. “She wanted to stay with her mom.” The last word came out hateful, full of venom.

“You know you could have told me.” Wayne said gently, trying not to cause him anymore guilt. “I thought we had an understanding? You can tell me anything, Ed.”

“I know that.” He finally shut his eyes, squeezing his fist tightly. “I know, Wayne, but I couldn’t. I was too afraid of loosing her.” He scoffed humorlessly. “And the moment I decide I can’t do it anymore, I can’t keep it a secret, I can’t do that either. Now look at her. She’s gonna fuckin’ die on me and It’s gonna be my fault!” He flung a jeweled hand out, batting at the air as he sniffled, tears rolling down his face.

“Hey,” Wayne grabbed his shoulder. “She’s going to pull through this, Ed. Have faith in er’. She’ll make it.”

He fell apart. His face crinkled up and he covered his face with his hands, coiling over and letting out a deep sob that reverberated off the hospital walls. “This is all my fault.”

Wayne wrapped a protective arm around Eddie’s shoulder. “No it’s not, buddy. It’s no one’s fault.”

“I love her so much.” His voice was muffled, face hidden in the fabric of his jean covered knees that he brought up to his chest. “I’ve lost her, Wayne. No matter what happens I’ve lost her. She’ll never speak to me again.”

Your mom was in jail. For how long she’d be he didn’t know. What he did know was that it would be a very long time before she would be free again.

“Eddie,” The old man began. “I’ve watched you two together. You’ll make it through this. She loves you, boy. You’ll be okay and so will she.”

The ache in his stomach made him breathless, the pain in his heart made him dizzy. He closed his eyes and squeezed them shut, willing his pain to go away. He hoped Wayne was right. Because loosing you was just not an option.

“I can’t.” Eddie gasped, crawling off the floor. “I can’t. I’ve got- walk, I’ve gotta talk a walk.” He tripped on his own feet, spilling his cup off coffee and cursing. Wayne had tried to follow him, but he was bolting out the door and into a new hallway.

He was choking on his own breath, hand going to hold his stomach as he coughed. He’d surely be sick again. He tried to breath deeply, but the panic that built up in his chest made him lightheaded. Once his eyes on were on a nearby trashcan, he was running, grasping at the circling object and vomiting the contents of his stomach. He’d thrown up everything already, so he was left with painful dry heaves.

“God.” He cried once he was finished. He looked around, tearful eyed and broken.

He walked until he found the chapel, the cross above the sign that hung high. It was ironic, the fact he was praying. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d prayed. He was in the front seat, hands folded over and pressed to his forehead. He begged any God that would listen to him, pleading that you would wake up. You could hate him, you could love him, either way, as long as you were okay, he’d take it.

Please. Please.

“Eddie.” Wayne had found him, placing a hand on his shoulder. It took him a moment before he looked up, and Wayne felt his heart shake. The boy was broken completely. He looked so young, so hurt. With wet, round eyes and a puffy face, his bottom lip quivered and he whimpered like he was a little boy again. He reached for his uncles arm, dropping it from the lack of energy and sobbed softly. Wayne sat beside him, pulling him to hold him close to his chest. They hadn’t hugged like that in years.

•

Your eyes were so heavy you could barely lift them, fluttering them open as best at you could. The first thing you registered was the pain in your nose, the way your jaw and teeth ached. Actually, everything hurt. You felt like you’d been hit by a train twice. You couldn’t remember anything, only the hurt you were feeling. You slowly peeled your eyes open, adjusting to the bright light of the room.

You knew it was Eddie, even thought you weren’t able to focus your eyes. You groaned, body sluggish and groggy. You felt his hands on yours, fuzzy and tingly, like you were feeling him for the first time. You could hear him, his voice sounded cloudy like he was under water. You gulped, trying to move your head. He was letting go of you, running out of the room, only to return with a doctor moments later.

Slowly, things came into focus. First it was your vision. Everything became clear, the room, the doctor. Eddie. Then you could hear the heart monitor beeping quickly, the doctors asking if you could hear them. Eddie asking if you could hear him.

Quick relief turned to panic, because everything seemed to click. Doctors were looking at you, and doctors usually meant that you were in a hospital. You whimpered, flinching when a nurse tried to touch you. You tried to speak, but your voice came was dry and hoarse, your sudden movement causing a horrible pain to shoot through your stomach.

Then it got dizzy again, your panic overwhelming you. They voices got foggier, your vision clouded, and you were out just as quickly as you had woken.

•

You’d been in and out for days. Eddie was with you every time you woke up, but it was the same every time. You didn’t know where you were. You were so groggy and confused. It scared him, but he didn’t leave you. The doctors said it was normal from the amount of anesthesia you had taken in, and that sometime it took awhile to get out of one’s system.

He was holding your hand, head laying on the blanket that covered you. He hadn’t been home since the doctor told him you would pull through. When he got the news, he fell to the floor in pieces, sobbing and thanking the universe, god, or whoever was out there, for answering his prayers.

He didn’t know what you’d say to him. Would you hate him? Blame him for what happened? What about your mom? Would you want to bail her out of jail. There was no bail. She’d be in there for a long time. Her court date hadn’t been decided yet. He wondered if you’d go and stand beside her. He hoped to god you wouldn’t.

His friends brought him clothes and food. Gareth had said hospital food wasn’t fit to feed a starving man, clapping his shoulder and giving him a plastic grocery bag full of snacks and drinks. Steve had brought him deodorant and a tooth brush, smoothing over a piece of your hair and kissing your forehead when he stopped by. Dustin had come by and cried, not knowing how to handle or process the situation.

The time finally came when you were ready to awaken fully, a few hours later when he had went to use the bathroom. You remembered everything. Falling down the stairs, breaking your nose. It was covered in gauze, a bandage holding it all in place. Your jaw ached something terrible. You had looked down at your body, hands feeling yourself to make sure you were still intact. It hurt to cry, but you couldn’t stop.

Your mom. Where was she?

“Y/n.” Eddie gasped when he opened the door, nearly dropping to the floor in a dead faint. He ran to you. “Oh, god, baby girl.” He grabbed your hands.

“What happened!” You cried. You knew, yet you asked anyways. “Eddie- what happened? Where’s my mom?”

He held your arms, a tear falling down his face as he relished in the sound of your voice. “Shh, just calm down, baby. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Mom, mom- where’s mom?” You blubbered, shaking your head through tears. “Is she dead?”

“No.” He held your shoulders, hand going to cup your cheek. “No, honey, she’s not. She’s detained, right now, okay? You need to calm down, angel. You’ll rip your stitches.”

“Stitches?” You asked confused, trying to sit up. “Why do I have stitches?”

You didn’t remember going through the window. You must have passed out. Your reunion with Eddie, however, was short lived. Once the doctors knew you were up, the police were barging in your room. Eddie stood up straight, standing at your side. You flinched, and Hopper offered an apologetic smile.

“We need to ask you some questions, y/n.”

[peppermintquartz]

canon divergence if Tommy didn't show at the bachelor party or the hospital in time because the fire was still raging and by the time he could go, it was late and Buck was just about to leave the hospital. Tommy still gets kissed, goes to offer his congratulations, and Buck drives him back to his station to get cleaned up and drives him home after, because Tommy's been fighting a fire for way too long and is barely vertical

So in this scenario only Eddie, Maddie and Chimney know for sure, and Chimney's still recuperating so he's not at the station.

--

"Flowers for a Mr Buckley," the delivery man calls out into the firehouse.

Several people look up. Many look curious. The delivery man waits. After a minute, Buck hurtles down from the kitchen and signs for the bouquet. It's not a ridiculously big bouquet but it's full of oranges and yellows and reds, geraniums and chrysanthemums and roses, even, wrapped in pale pink and snow white paper. There's a card that he sticks into his pocket but there's no hiding the smile on his face. He practically floats upstairs again with the bouquet, no doubt to put it in water.

Ravi nudges Eddie with his elbow. "What's with the flowers?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows. "How would I know? I didn't send him those." But there's a smug look on his face that says that he does know.

"No? But aren't you-" Ravi begins to say, when the alarm goes off, and everyone runs to do what they're supposed to.

By the time they're done extricating a handful of people from two buses that crashed into each other, Ravi forgets all about the bouquet.

-

The next shift has a delivery of chocolate muffins and a dozen donuts, and again it's for Buck. Except this time, instead of glowing happily, Buck rolls his eyes and his cheeks turn pink.

Ravi sidles up to Hen. "Do you know who this is from?"

"No clue." Hen snaps her fingers at Buck, who's engrossed with typing a message on his phone. "Buck, who are these from? They're safe to eat?"

"Yeah, yes they are," says Buck, distracted, as he snags a jelly and walks away.

Ravi isn't above baked deliciousness. The muffins are awesome.

-

Buck shows up for a shift after a 72 with a slight limp. No one says anything about it. Chimney's back and everyone is happy to see him around, and while there are a few gaps in his memory, he's pretty much back to normal.

And Cap gave them news about receiving medals for their daring rescue. Ravi is so proud of them, even though he knows he would never have the guts to do that based on a hunch. Probably not.

Buck winces as he sits like he's pulled a muscle, but he has been limping for most of the day anyway - not that Ravi stares a lot at Buck, they just had several tasks to do together today - and Ravi doesn't like to see his people feeling poorly.

Discreetly, Ravi hands him an ice pack when no one else is looking. "For your aches and pains," Ravi says, a little embarrassed. He's not part of them, he knows. He's gonna find his own people, eventually. But that doesn't mean he can't show care for someone who's one of his mentors.

Buck looks... touched? Shy? He smiles at Ravi and thanks him, then slides the ice pack over the base of his spine.

Ah, that explains a lot. Maybe he slid off some steps and hurt his tail bone.

-

Ravi doesn't expect to meet the Tommy at the firehouse a week before the medal ceremony. He's heard from Buck and Eddie and Chimney and Hen how cool Tommy is, and of course he remembers hearing Tommy fly Eddie out to Vegas to watch a fight.

What he really doesn't expect to see is Buck jogging out of the station, throwing his arms around Tommy, and kissing him. With tongue.

Ravi's eyes grow big and round. He's not the only one staring - Hen and Cap are both gawping. Chimney and Eddie are grinning and elbowing each other.

Captain clears his throat. Buck reluctantly pulls away from Tommy and says, in the dopiest tone Ravi has ever heard from him, "Hey."

"Hey," says Tommy, not letting Buck go. Then he smiles, big and bright, at the rest of the 118. "Hi guys. Mind if I steal him away five minutes before the end of shift?"

That smile, though. Ravi gets it now. Heck, he'd ask Tommy out if he were single.

Captain grins. "Only if you promise to bring him back."

Tommy releases Buck and slaps his ass. "Go get your stuff. If we hustle, we can have a leisurely dinner before karaoke trivia."

[loveshotzz]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

My Favorite Customer

Summary: You’ve been buying weed from your new dealer for a few months now. Always leaving it in your mailbox while you’re at work, you two never cross paths until one Friday night when you come home early.

word count: 3k

Warnings: None really besides some kissing at the end. This just a little meet cute with our favorite weed dealer. (Not meant to be a series, just a fluffy one shot) mentions of weed obviously.

A/N: I missed Eddie and this idea came to me based off my real life of buying weed from my weed man for over a year. Have yet to come face to face with him, but there’s always weed in my mailbox when I need it lol. For my twin @boomhauer and thank you @superblysubpar for helping me find my Eddie voice again.

Lifting up the lid of your mailbox, the smirk that tugs at your lips can’t be stopped when a fresh bag of weed sits inside, his usual hand written note attached making your face hot. You look both ways before snatching the eighth quickly scuffling back into your apartment like you were hiding a pound of cocaine and not just enough green to last you a few days.

It had been like this for a while with Eddie. You’d call him up by the number given to you from Robin who swore up and down that he was the best.

You remember thinking his voice was cute the first time you heard it, and you started to wonder if he thought the same after the third call. A flirty edge hidden behind his words every time he’d pick up and realize it was you.

“Ahhh my favorite customer.” He’d tease starting to get these calls multiple times a week.

It wasn’t your intention to never meet Eddie, it’s just how it always seemed to happen. That first time you talked he could hear the desperation in your voice. The stress from the move here and starting your new full time job fresh out of high school, he could tell you needed to relax. Rattling off times he could come by, none of them ever lining up to match with yours.

“You got a mailbox or somewhere I could stash it?” He finally gave in after exhausting almost every other option.

“You’d do that?” You couldn’t help but be embarrassed by the obvious excitement in your voice and he just laughed.

“If the money’s there sweetheart, why not?” The nickname made your heart skip a beat biting your lip to try and hide your smile.

You don’t even know what he looks like.

So this is how it started playing out after that, you’d call with your order and he’d make you blush every time he’d kick the flirting up to ten.

Instantly comforted by his mellow voice, you found yourself looking forward to those few minutes so much that you weren’t sure if the amount you were smoking was from stress or from just wanting to hear his voice again. Then he started adding little notes to your deliveries and now you were almost positive it was the second.

His sloppy handwriting started appearing on each bag with the word ‘favorite’ always scribbled at the top.

Cheeks heating up the first time it showed up, you couldn’t stop trying to imagine what he looked like. Too scared to ask Robin, you knew she’d just follow your intrigue with a line of questioning of her own.

Settling for the vague faceless man you’d conjured up in your clever mind. You let the memory of his voice be the thing that secretly encouraged the movements of your fingers between your thighs every night.

—

Friday morning had you waking up with a smile, your stash low enough to do the thing you’d been thinking about since you hung up the last time. Taking a deep breath you dialed his number that you now had completely memorized. It only rings three times before his voice fills your end of the receiver.

“Is this who I think it is calling me this early in the morning?” The grin in his voice is evident when he answers.

Shuffling your feet nervously, the smile on your own face was starting to make your cheeks hurt.

“Do you always answer the phone like this?” You wonder if he can hear yours too.

“Only if I know it’s you.”his tone sends a shiver up your spine, legs pressing together on their own accord.

“And how’d you know that it was me Eddie?” You draw out his name sweetly, silently squealing when you hear the hitch in his breathing from it.

“Because sweetheart, you’re the only one who calls this early for weed.” catching the way he almost whispers the last part, you hear a gruff voice in the background.

“Boy if you don’t leave soon!”

“Sorry, is that a problem? I just wanted to catch you before it was too late.” The urge to crawl in a hole is strong as you slap your palm on your forehead.

Your eagerness to talk to him becoming more than obvious, the man yelling at him in the background definitely wasn’t helping your new bashfulness.

“Pshh are you kidding me? I love it. Get to start the morning off talking to my favorite girl.” He lays his response on thicker than syrup. Your palms start to sweat noting the way he didn’t say customer for the first time.

Your embarrassment subsides for a split second before the voice from before cuts in again.

“If I get another call that you were late again, boy I swear to -“

The line shuffles on the other end and all you can hear is the sounds muffled arguing before another loud rustle, his voice returning with more irritation in it than you’d ever heard before.

“You want the usual?” He’s short when he answers and you know it’s not supposed to be directed at you, but you can’t help but squirm.

“Y- yeah if that’s okay?” You didn’t mean to give yourself away by stumbling over your words, but when you do Eddie makes a quick recovery.

“More than, listen you have a good day at work today Sweetheart. I really gotta go, but check your mailbox when you get home.” Hanging up before you get a chance to finish saying goodbye you hear Eddie yell “I”m leaving alright?!”

——

Work was exceptionally slow for a Friday night, the unexpected thunderstorm that rolled through killed any possibility of a dinner rush. Cutting you less than half way through your shift, your giddy excitement couldn’t be contained. Friday evenings had become non-existent since you started at Enzo’s. So when the opportunity to actually have one came around you couldn’t turn it down. Stopping at Family Video on your way home, Robin helped you pick out something she swore was good while you did your best to ignore the eyes her friend Steve was giving you.

Strumming your fingers against the steering wheel while you listened to Kiss a little too loud, the heavy rain turned into something less than a light drizzle as your tires splashed through puddles. Planning out your evening alone you didn't even think of what this could mean as you pulled into your parking spot hours earlier than normal.

Too caught up in trying to land the notes to I Was Made For Loving You, you didn’t see the van parked in front of your small complex. Head in the clouds with the possibilities of the night mixed with your bad habit of looking down when you walked, you didn’t see who was right in front of you. The sound of the voice you’d been daydreaming for months about cuts through your mumbled singing. Stomach dropping to the floor when you hear

“Son of a bitch.”

Freezing in place, your eyes slowly trail up towards your front door. Standing at almost six feet tall was a curly haired metal head. Mumbling profanities as he struggled against the lid of your mailbox, his jacket looked caught on something. Broad shoulders covered by a battle vest adorned with a giant Dio patch, you still couldn’t see what his face looked like as he struggled with the sleeve of the leather jacket beneath. Taking in his ripped black jeans and scuffed white Reebok’s, your heart was already threatening to beat out of your chest. If his face was cute, you knew you’d be fucked.

A few more violent tugs of his arm, he finally breaks free as your mailbox creaks dangerously close to coming unhinged off the brick wall. His zippers jingle as he shakes out his wrist, flipping up a ring clad middle finger he chuckles proudly to himself before turning around. Big brown eyes meet yours like a deer in headlights, so cute they punch the air out of our lungs.

Yeah, you were fucked.

Brows furrowed under messy bangs his eyes go from your stunned face down to the keys in your hand with your VHS tape before he takes in your frame. Catching the way they linger just long enough to still be polite. He meets your shocked stare as something clicks in his head. A dimple filled smile pushes past his plush lips, yours threatening to do just the same at the sight.

“Eddie?” Surprised you were able to get his name out of your mouth, his face seems to light up even more as his suspicions were confirmed.

“That depends.” Rocking on his heels he crosses his arms over his chest “Favorite, is that you? Cause boy, you’re even cuter than you sound.”

Blood rushing to your cheeks hearing your nickname in person like this, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth at his compliment.

“That depends.” Looking up at him from under your lashes the dimples in his cheeks deepen at your response.

Twirling one of his curls over his lip, you notice all of his rings “What if it’s your favorite weed dealer?”

Cuter than anything you could have conjured up in your mind you were silently scolding yourself for not meeting him sooner. Straightening your shoulders a little you take a few strides closer to him, watching as his eyes don’t try to hide as they take all of you in.

“I’m sure you call all the girls that, but yes it’s me Eddie.” Smiling bigger than you can help, it’s his turn to take a couple steps closer.

“Nah, that nickname is just for you sweetheart.” Standing close enough to catch hints of corner store cologne trying to cover up cigarette smoke, everything about him made your brain short circuit. Looking down at the movie in your hand his eyebrows raise in disbelief before meeting your eyes again. “Alien?”

“Robin suggested it to me for my unexpected night off.” Flipping it over in your hand to read the back, you could feel his stare on your face rather than on the tape. “Ever seen it?” glancing up at him, he doesn’t try to hide what he was actually looking at.

Nodding, he grins down at you “Buckley’s got great taste.”

Catching the double meaning in his words an electric current that could light up all of Hawkins dances between your bodies. Static vibrating from your fingertips, you couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped between your lips.

The raindrop that hits you between the eyes is jarring, you blink fast before more start a slow and steady decent splattering all around. Raising a large hand up to try and shield his curls he looks annoyed that Mother Nature was cutting his time short.

“I hate to deliver and dash sweetheart, but I don’t wanna keep you in the rain.” Doe eyes taking in your face like he was trying to commit it to memory he moves to step around you.

Panic rises and constricts around your chest as you watch his retreating form, biting the inside of your cheek you work up enough courage to do something you’ve never done. Make the first move.

“Doyouwannwatchitwithme?” Words jumbled together and almost yelled as they fell out of your mouth, your mumbled nonsense stops him dead in his tracks. Turning around, having his full attention like this was making it even harder.

“Come again princess?” The new nickname threatens to send you six feet under when you feel your knees shake. Clearing your throat you gather whatever confidence you can muster under the intensity of his stare.

“Do you want to come watch this movie with me?” Using it as a makeshift umbrella you start walking backwards towards front door “I actually just got this pretty good shit delivered you should try it.”

The smile that breaks across his face is infectious, feeling it in the way your lips stretch so much it makes your cheeks hurt.

“Oh yeah? I mean if you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, that guy’s got the best shit in town sweetheart.” The laugh he pulls from you, he swears it makes your face glow. “I’d be honored favorite, I thought you’d never ask.”

—-

Your living room lays in a blanket of haze from two joints successfully smoked, touches lingering more and more as you two passed them back and forth. Half way through the movie you were giggling through cupped fingers leaning into him as you both sank deeper into the cushions of your couch. His bad jokes and over the top commentary kept you both laughing with shoulders pressed together for support. Neither one of you making any effort to move when you both finally calm down.

Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you were mesmerized by how handsome he was this close. Your stare following the curve of his round nose to the fullness of not one but both his lips, a light sheen coating them from being freshly licked. The sharp planes of his jaw lead you to the thickness of his neck, catching the silver chain that disappears into his shirt.

Time is an illusion in your foggy brain - especially under his spell, losing yourself trying to remember every curve and scar on his face you stare long enough to to get caught. Chocolate eyes connecting with yours, the corners of his lips tug up and like looking in a mirror yours do you.

“Hey favorite”quiet enough for just you to hear, there’s a soft rasp in his voice from all the smoking.

“Hey Eddie”biting your bottom lip, his eyes watch the way your teeth scrape across the silk of it.

Leather creaking loud enough to hear over the sound of the movie and the rain outside, he drapes his arm over the back of the couch. The dip pulling you deep into the warmth of his chest.

“Is this okay?”for the first time you see a hint of nervousness in his eyes as he tries to read the expression on your face.

Nodding you slide a tentative hand up his chest feeling his muscle twitch under your palm, looking up at him you repeat his own question.

“Is this okay?”

His hand reaches up to cup the side of your face, the weed helping you melt into his touch as the pad of his thumb traces your cheekbone. Searching your eyes for any sign of protest he nudges his nose with yours. The heat of his breath fans across your parted lips as your eyes flutter closed completely overcome by him being this close.

“Sweetheart, if I’m reading this wrong please tell me now.” Your top lip brushes with his bottom when he asks the question and you think you might combust if you don’t close the gap.

Tilting your head just enough to get what you want, your lips move together like it was something they’d been doing for years. Each lazy drag setting your skin ablaze.

Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip he quietly asks you for more. Granting him access to something you’re sure you’ll never deny him, you don’t hesitate to let him deepen the kiss.

Tongues meeting each other in the middle, they battle for dominance as your fingers find their way into the thickness of his curls. Tugging slightly, you smile into the kiss when a groan erupts from deep in his chest.

With the rest of the world long forgotten, the two of you stay like this for longer than you can keep track of. Hands exploring curves and grabbing hips, it almost becomes too much when you nip his bottom lip.

Eddie’s the one who breaks away reluctantly when the need for oxygen becomes too much, and his body starts to react a little too strongly to your touch. The screen on the TV had gone blue long ago when the movie ended, leaving your dark living room in its pale bright light. The coloring of it all hitting his face just right.

Nudging his nose with yours he leans his head back against the cushions of the couch. Chocolate eyes looking at you through half closed lids, a lazy smile spreading wide across his kiss swollen lips.

“We should probably stop, and I should probably go.”jutting his bottom lip in a pout he catches the disappointment you try to hide flash behind your eyes. “Not that I want to, I just actually had other stops that I was supposed to make tonight, but it’s not like I was going to say no to you inviting me to hangout.”snorting like that was the craziest thing he could ever imagine, his face lights up when he earns a laugh from you.

“Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed if I was them.” Using his chest to try to push yourself up with your hands, he stops you from getting too far. Collecting your lips one last time, he only lets you pull away enough for your noses to stay touched.

“Besides having a few more drop offs, I’m hoping the next time I kiss you like that is after you let me take you on a date?”catching the nerves in his voice, you couldn’t actually believe he thought you’d say no.

“Bold of you to assume there’s going to be a next time.”raising a brow you do your best to remain straight faced as he narrows his eyes at you.

He brushes his lips lightly against yours again before asking “there’s not?”

Giving in almost instantly you add pressure pushing yourself closer, chuckling as he pulls away, you stop trying to fight the smile that’s threatening to spread across your own face.

“Fine, you caught my bluff.” Huffing in mock annoyance, this time he lets you push yourself up.

It still takes another thirty minutes for Eddie to work up enough willpower to get off the couch, your easy conversation and pouty soft lips making it a near impossible feat.

More stolen kisses and stumbled words fill the empty space on the walk to the front door followed by even more before he finally goes. Sweet just like the nickname he gave you, he couldn’t wait to make you his.

——

taglist: @munsonology @munsonmunster @elthreetimes

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: discussion of past parental death due to overdose, mention of drug use

Steve stumbled upon the article when he was helping Robin collect articles for a project for her Industry Studies course.

He didn’t think much of reading about another small time musician getting caught up with the wrong crowd, and overdosing or getting in a drunk driving accident. It seemed like a pretty common theme. It was terrible, sad, horrible, but he’d seen about 30 stories like that in the last two days and he was kind of getting numb to it all.

Until he saw the name Munson.

Until a picture of a woman with long, curly hair and Eddie’s smile stared back at him next to a headline that read: “Kentucky Country Queen Dead at 27.”

He read the article with tears in his eyes.

Elizabeth “El” Munson, a hopeful country singer and guitarist, was found dead in her home by her six year old son, Edward. The boy reportedly tried calling his father at work with no luck before finally calling his uncle, Wayne Munson.

Toxicology reports show that she overdosed on multiple illegal substances. At this time, it is believed to have been accidental and no foul play is suspected.

It has now been made clear that Elizabeth was seeking a divorce from her husband, Al Munson, but had not been successful as lawyers were unable to locate him until her funeral. Their son has been put in the care of Wayne until further notice.

Robin found him 20 minutes later, staring at the page with swollen, red eyes. She took the paper, read the article, and put it back in the files wordlessly.

“I don’t think he wants us to know,” she finally said.

She was probably right.

But Steve had grown pretty close to Eddie over the last six months, had opened up to him about his parents, his fake friends, his concussions and nightmares. Eddie had started opening up to him, too.

He thought he had, anyway.

He told him about how his mom died when he was young and his dad was awful so he moved in with Wayne. He told him about how his dad appeared every couple years looking for money or a place to stay and Wayne always turned him away.

But he never really talked about his mom, always said he barely remembered her.

Did he know what happened?

——

Steve asked Wayne the next morning.

He’d come by to pick Eddie up for a day with the kids, but Eddie hadn’t set his alarm and was still asleep.

Perfect opportunity to find out more.

“So. Eddie’s mom.”

Wayne tensed over his plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He didn’t look up, just took another bite of food.

“Does he know how she died?”

“Do you?”

“Newspaper said overdose,” Steve tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh. “Says Eddie found her.”

“Trauma messes with your memory.”

It was final, a statement that left Steve with more questions, but a certainty that he’d get no answers.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “I’ve heard.”

——

Steve doesn’t bring it up to Eddie for a while.

He figured Wayne’s reaction said a lot about what Eddie knew or would be willing to share.

But they were a little high and alone and Eddie’s hand was warm in his and his filter was broken.

“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find your mom.”

The air around them was thick. The silence was deafening.

“Me too.”

Eddie’s voice was quiet, nothing like his usual playful tone.

Steve immediately wanted to put this conversation in reverse, pretend his curiosity didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve, his arm a constant pressure against Steve’s. His head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.

“Wayne doesn’t know I know how she died. He doesn’t know I know my dad gave her bad drugs, convinced her all the up and coming musicians were doing a new strain of heroin. She’d kicked him out of the house,” Eddie’s breath caught. “She shouldn’t have let him come back that day. I heard them arguing before I left for school. She told him she was finding a manager and recording an album and that she was divorcing him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it was bad.”

“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I know, Stevie. But you know everything else.” Eddie’s face turned until his nose and mouth were pressed against Steve’s arm. “I went to school. Didn’t think about it. Figured my dad would be gone when I got home and might come back in a few days once they cooled off. But when I got home, he was gone and my mom’s bedroom door was closed. And I opened it and there she was.”

Steve turned so he was face to face with Eddie, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheek in encouragement.

“I don’t even know why I tried calling the store first. I didn’t even know if he still worked there. But then I called Wayne and it’s like he just knew.” Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “Don’t think he’d ever gotten to our house so quick.”

“Did he know all this?”

“He knew enough. I stayed with him and then my dad gave up his rights. Lied to the counselor about what I knew so Wayne wouldn’t freak. Kept it up for a while,” Eddie let out a small exhale that slightly resembled a laugh. “I read the article about eight years ago. A kid in my class made a joke about me being an orphan because of the drug problem in America as if he even knew what that meant and I decided to see what the newspaper reported.”

“Do you play because of her?” Steve asked.

Eddie blinked back at him.

“I play for a lot of reasons. But I started because of her, yeah,” he whispers. “You’re the first person to ask me that instead of give me that look of pity.”

“I’m sad about how it happened, but giving you pity doesn’t change it. I’d rather hear how it changed you,” Steve whispered back.

They were close, legs intertwined, hands touching bare skin under shirts and on faces and necks.

“It changed everything for me. Wayne packed us up and moved us here as soon as he legally could. Probably for the best. Well,” Eddie gave a small smile. “Definitely for the best. Wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t.”

“Do you ever go back?” Steve did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

“Her birthday every year. She’s got a nice spot near her mom.” Eddie bit his lip. “It’s actually coming up in a couple weeks. Maybe you could come with me?”

“Me? Are you sure?”

Eddie nodded. “If it doesn’t weird you out that I talk to her. I like to give her updates on my life, Wayne’s life, music. Think she’d find it quite funny that I bring the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years.”

It takes a minute for the words to sink in.

“Two years?” Steve’s lips curled up into a smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”

“I think she’d like you. She’d definitely make fun of me for having a boyfriend who wears polos though.”

“Is that how you’d introduce me?”

“If you’re okay with it.” Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I know we haven’t talked about what we-“

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, nearly knocking their noses together painfully in the process.

After the initial shock, they both relaxed into the kiss.

“I’d love to go. As your boyfriend,” Steve said after pulling away for air. “What was her favorite flower?”

“Gardenias. Always wore perfume that smelled like it. Why?”

“Because I have to impress her, right?”

“You realize she’s not gonna actually see or hear you? She’s definitely dead.”

Steve snorted. “I know. But she can still have nice things. Maybe us bringing her nice things in death is a way to apologize for the not nice things she had in life.”

“You’re a pretty incredible boyfriend, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the tip of his nose. “And you now know more than Wayne, so it’s time for a pinky promise.”

Steve giggled before holding up his pinky. “I swear I won’t tell Wayne anything.”

“And you’ll kiss me whenever I want…”

“That’s a guarantee.”

“And you’ll let me win at Go Fish…”

“Not a chance, Eds.”

Eddie laughed. “Worth a try.”

Steve curled his pinky against Eddie’s. “So do you think she’d like me?”

“Oh. Oh god. She’d love you. You’re exactly who she’d want for me,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve flipped his hair back confidently. “And she’d braid your hair every night while you gossiped and sipped tea.”

“And what would you do?”

“Probably just soak it in. Appreciate having her and you around. You’ll just have to gossip with Wayne.”

“Wayne doesn’t strike me as-“

“Oh, he’s got you fooled! He’s a worse gossip than the ladies at the hair salon. Just ask him about the mailbox at the end of the road sometime. Make sure you’ve got an hour to spare.”

“Really?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “Is he home now?”

Eddie pulled Steve forward until he was flush against his front. “No and I have much better plans than gossiping with my uncle.”

“Oh?” Steve’s brow raised.

“It involves my bed and handcuffs. You in?”

“Hopefully you’re in.”

“God, you’re ridiculous. C’mon, now I’m even harder from your stupid flirting,” Eddie sat up and tugged until Steve followed. “Can’t believe this is how my night’s going.”

“Believe it, baby.”

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eight ⭐︎ Say my name and everything just stops

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! jealousy, angst, low self-esteem (kinda?), mentions of the upside down. weed and alcohol consumption. I will not spoiler anything here, so read with caution

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You blindly began to follow your feelings, hanging onto a hope that died just as quickly as it came.

Word count: 10k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult and I came up with this whole idea and we kept talking about this moment for weeks and now its finally here, I hope you guys are gonna enjoy it as much as we did hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

The spring wind blows through the open windows in your room, touching your skin and slightly lifting the ends of your new dress. The smell of vanilla and the floral scent of your perfume lingers in the air. You’re leaning closer to your mirror as you apply your favorite gloss to your lips. 

A tingling, exciting feeling bubbles in your stomach, your heart jumping every few seconds or so at the thought of seeing him today. 

Steve’s reactions were everything you were hoping for when you teased him at the diner and in his car, yesterday. His blushing cheeks and the wide, darkened eyes filled you with victory after you had placed a kiss upon his flushed skin. You are still not sure what had caused you the sudden rush of courage, but you’re glad that it hit you because the way he looked at you, the way he reacted, the way his breath hitched in his throat finally gave you the last push to do what you had always wanted to do. Today, you’re finally going to give in to your feelings. 

The nervous, insecure part of you is telling you that there is still a big chance that he might reject you, that you will ruin this thing between you both by making the final move. 

And usually that weak part of your mind would win, it would fill you with enough humiliating images to pull back, to make you rethink your decision, to keep you hiding in the shadows, the way you always did. 

But you’re no longer letting it win. 

You will do this, even if you might lose your dignity. 

Placing the lip gloss back on your vanity, you reach for your favorite necklace, and put it on. You touch up your hair one last time, fixing your bangs before you take a step back, eying the red and white sundress, the little bows on the straps, the dainty flowers on the material, the shortness of it that exposes enough of your skin to drive him crazy… you hope. 

‘Just make your move, babe. Do you really think King Steve would reject you?’

Your smile falls a little when Billy’s voice echoes in your mind. 

Every memory of your best friend brings a hurtful pang to your heart. 

He was the only one who knew about your feelings for Steve and surprisingly he kept encouraging you to ask him out, to make your move. 

Would he be proud of you now? 

Or would he still make fun of you for liking someone like Steve? 

You step away from the mirror and walk over to the window, closing it before you leave your room and make your way downstairs. Eddie isn’t picking you up for once, even though he called you three times already, asking if he should come pick you up and if you’re truly feeling good enough to drive yourself again – you are. The headaches are gone, the dizziness is gone too. All that is left are the nightmares and the sudden rushes of anxiety but you are okay, you feel okay. 

You walk over to the dresser in your hallway, reaching inside the key bowl to retrieve your car keys when something else catches your eye. The one single key, lying in there, you reach for it, furrowing your brows as you trace your finger along the metal, letting it fall in your palm. 

You still remember the day when Max had showed up at your house, asking for you to take Billy’s car before Neil would destroy it in a moment of rage. 

‘He’d want you to have it anyway.’ She said as she handed you the keys. 

You remember how you broke down crying the moment you got into the driver's seat. You missed your best friend and it felt so wrong to sit in the place that once belonged to him. 

You got the windshield fixed and anything else that needed to be repaired, before you parked it in your garage, planning to never open the gate again and just leave the car there until Max would ask for it back. And, you did leave it there, for a few weeks at least. 

Your car broke down on a hot Friday afternoon and the mechanic at the local shop told you that it would take a few weeks to get it fixed. You walked and used the bus for a few days, and then the rain and the storms crashed upon Hawkins, giving you no choice but to take the blue Camaro.

Max even joked about it, she told you that it was Billy who caused your car to break down and who somehow let it rain and storm over the town so you would finally take his beloved car out for a ride because it’s just too pretty to be hidden and locked away in a dark, cold garage.

You’d sometimes drive around at night, when the streets were empty and no one was around. 

When you visited your sister in Indianapolis, you took his car. 

But now it’s been a while, the last time you sat behind that steering wheel was right before the apocalypse almost hit the town. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you stare at the key. 

“Not today,” you murmur as you place it back where it laid before and reach for your keys. 

The drive to Eddie’s new place isn’t a long one, he only lives a few streets away from you now, it would only be a ten minute walk but you desperately waited for the moment when you could finally drive again, and you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity today. 

You missed this, sitting behind the steering wheel, instead of the passenger seat, longing to be the one in control. You missed picking the music yourself – not that Eddie’s music taste is a bad one, you just need a mix of everything, not just rock and heavy metal, sometimes you just need a girly pop song – not that you would ever admit it to him. 

When you arrive at your destination and you pull up to Eddie’s driveway, you notice that Steve’s car isn’t there yet. Only Jonathan’s car is parked next to Eddie’s Impala. 

Steve is never late, yesterday being the first time that he was the last one to arrive, so he is either still waiting for Robin or… running late is his new thing. 

“There she is!” Eddie chuckles as opens the front door at the same time as you get out of your car, “and she’s here in one piece!” 

A laugh tumbles from your lips as you close the door and lock your car before you make your way over to him, eying the new shirt he’s wearing – which is just another band tee that you have never heard of before. His curly hair up in a bun and a can of beer in his hand.

“I’m a good driver, what are you talking about, Eds?”

He furrows his brows, lips curling into an amused smile, “are you?” 

You walk up the steps to his porch, greeting him with an eye roll, “you know what, next time I’ll pick you up.”

He smirks, using his index finger to point at your car. 

“What, with your baby Mustang over there?” 

You squint your eyes at him, “nope, I’ll take the hidden gem in my garage.” 

“Wait what… What hidden gem?” 

“You’ll find out,” you wink at him, trying to brush past him when he stops you, placing his hand on your arm, he pulls you back softly. 

“Wait.”

You raise your brows at him, “yes?” 

He’s got the twinkle in his eyes, the one he always has when he’s happy about something. His lip twitches, pale cheeks slowly changing color, he’s barely able to contain his excitement as he bounces on his feet.

“Guess who scored a date?” 

Your eyes widen, lips parting as you remember the pretty waitress from the diner. 

Eddie is blushing, lips now curling into a full smile. 

“Oh my god, really?” You ask as a grin appears on your face. 

“Yeah! I’m gonna take her out tomorrow night, I can’t fucking wait, sweets.” He says with a dreamy look in his eyes. “She was so sweet a-and fuck… she’s gorgeous, don’t know how she said yes to me.” 

You frown at him, reaching your hand out to pinch his cheek, “you’re a handsome, sweet boy, Edward, now shush. You’re gonna knock her off her feet. Any girl would be lucky to have you.” 

His eyes soften, he rubs the back of his neck before his fingers trace the scar on the side – you know that it’s now an insecurity of his, just like it is one of yours. Scars litter your skin from where a bat had left a gnarly wound on the back of your shoulder, from where Jason had hurt you, from where he had left reminders for you that he was the one who did this to you. 

But your scars aren’t nearly half as bad as all the ones on his skin. 

“I’ve never been on a date before,” he murmurs, eyes flashing with doubt. 

“So? It’s gonna be even more special then,” you shrug.

“I just don’t wanna mess it up.” 

“You won’t,” you smile at him, “you’ve got that special charm, one that makes others like you right away, you’re funny and you’re sweet, now stop doubting yourself or I’ll kick your ass and hunt down every asshole who ever made you feel otherwise.” 

He chuckles at your words, though his eyes are still soft as he looks at you. He doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you would actually hunt down every name on the list of people who hurt him. 

“Got it?” 

“Got it.”

“Good,” you say, sternly.

“Good,” he nods. 

You stare at each other for a moment before you both burst into giggles. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and he pulls you inside his house, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your dress.

“Who’d you dress up for, sweets?” He asks, “there’s no hot guys here.” 

“Well, aren’t you humble?” 

“No hot guys besides me, of course,” he corrects himself after clearing his throat, smirking at you. 

You only shake your head in response. 

You pass by the kitchen and the big shelf that was specifically customized for Wayne’s mug collection. Vinyls are on the walls in the long hallway that leads to the living room where you hear the chatter of your friends and the faint music that sounds through the house. 

The smell of weed already lingering in the air. 

The sound of Nancy’s giggle, followed by a voice you hadn’t heard in a while makes you furrow your brows.

“Argyle is back?” 

Your surprised voice along with the wide eyes you look at him with make him chuckle. He knew you weren’t paying attention when he told you about it days back. You were too distracted by whatever daydream you were stuck in as he let both you and Steve know that Argyle was coming back to spend the summer in Hawkins before going off to college in September – something that Eddie definitely won’t be doing, he won’t be going to college, he won’t be going anywhere, at least not now, not yet, maybe not ever, even though it’s all he ever wanted. 

He walked the stupid stage, he snatched his diploma and he finally flipped Higgins the bird, despite the glares, despite the whispers of the people who still blamed him for what had happened weeks back but it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. It doesn’t matter what they say or think because he got people who believed him, people who care about him, people who were willing to fight for him, people who are worth staying for. 

“Yeah, he’s here the whole summer.” 

“Ooh, means we’re gonna get high a lot, cool,” you giggle. 

“Like we don’t do that all that time,” Eddie rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at his lips as he pushes towards the living room, your feet carrying you closer and closer to your friends. 

Despite Steve not being here yet, you already feel the rush of excitement mixed with the nervousness of what you plan on doing, flushing through your veins. 

Your eyes first fall on Jonathan and Nancy who are standing by the door that leads out into Eddie’s backyard, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, a smile tugging at her lips when she sees you. 

“Hi!” She waves at you, a friendly look on her face. 

“Hey,” you smile at her before you look over at her boyfriend, greeting him as well. You then turn your head to your right, your smile widening when your eyes meet Argyle’s already very dazed ones.

He stands up from his seat on the couch, his hair falling in front of his face a little, he opens his arms, revealing his Bob Marley shirt to you. 

“Well look at what the cat dragged in,” he jokes as he steps towards you, “come here, chica.” 

You chuckle, leaving Eddie’s side to greet Argyle, who instantly pulls you into a tight hug. The smell of weed enveloping you, right away.

“I didn’t know you’d be back so soon!” 

“So soon?” He slurs, patting your head when you pull back again, chuckling when you swat his hand away. “You didn’t miss me?” He jokes as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, just the way Eddie did before, he pulls something out of his pocket, handing it to you, “here, got you a little gift from California.” 

Your eyes lighten up in amusement, a smile tugging at your lips as you look at the blunt he’s holding, you take it, holding it up as you look up at him with a grin, “why thanks.” 

“You gotta share that one with me,” Jonathan grins at you, lazily. 

“You’ve had enough already,” Nancy rolls her eyes, though not without a smile on her lips. She pats his chest, “come on, let’s go outside.” 

“Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’m gonna grab some more drinks,” Eddie says before he leaves the living room. 

You all step out into the backyard, walking over to the little fire pit where the flames are already glowing, surrounded by the comfortable seats. The sound of water flowing from the stream filling the air with a fresh scent, the smell of flowers and the trees giving you a sense of peace. 

Eddie’s backyard is comforting and nice, despite being close to the forest, it’s making you feel safe. He wouldn’t have this now if he hadn’t been dragged into a world of darkness – unlike you, he didn’t grow up in wealth, he didn’t have a fancy house, a fancy backyard with a pool. No. Eddie grew up in a lonesome house, one that certainly wasn’t as luxurious as yours or the one he lives in now. The house he grew up in was haunted by painful memories of his mother that he lost at a way too young age and his father who came and went as he pleased, it was the only thing that he had, the only thing he called his own, but that was taken from him too and he had no choice but to move in with his Uncle Wayne, who had done everything to give him a home – and now, Eddie gave him that back, he gave Wayne a home, a nice house with a nice roof over his head, a garden that he always wanted to have. Eddie had tried to keep the upside down a secret, he didn’t want to talk about what was out there, he didn’t want to worry him, he didn’t want to tell him where all the money actually came from but Wayne isn’t stupid and Eddie isn’t exactly the best at keeping secrets from the people he loves and cares about. 

You wonder what you would have told your parents if they were still here – would you have told them the truth about what actually happened at the Creel house? Or would you have kept it all a secret? You are certainly much better at keeping secrets hidden. Eddie couldn’t even look Wayne in the eyes when he told him that the bite marks on his skin came from a rabid dog and not from interdimensional bats. 

Something cold touches your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise. You tilt your head up, meeting the eyes of your best friend again, “where’s your head at, sweets?” He chuckles, holding the can of diet pepsi out to you. 

With furrowed brows, you look down at the drink and reach for it, “thanks,” you murmur, “and uh, nowhere. I’m just fascinated by your backyard.” 

His dimples show when a laugh escapes him, he takes a seat beside you, snatching away the blunt from your lap, he places it between his lips and uses his red lighter to light it up. He lets out a content sigh as he leans back, puffing out the smoke into the sky before he takes a look around, “it’s nice isn’t it?” 

You nod, pulling the tab on your pepsi, it opens with a pop. 

“It’s better than mine.” 

He turns his head to look at you, a bewildered look on his face, “you’re crazy, sweets. You got a pool.”

“You got one too!” You chuckle, pointing to the pool that has yet to be used, it’s warm out, not hot yet. 

“Yeah, well yours is fucking huge, and you got a hot tub too!” 

“You got a hot tub, chica?” Argyle gasps from your right, “oh, you’re rich rich.” 

“Correction, my parents were rich.” 

“Correction, we’re all rich now,” Jonathan adds, pointing at you with a dazed smile. 

“Rich isn’t exactly the term I would use,” Nancy mumbles as she takes a sip of her soda. 

“Then what term would you use, Wheeler?” Eddie asks, shaking his head at her, “enlighten us.” 

Nancy clears her throat, placing her elbow on the wooden armrest, “we’re taken care of.” 

Jonathan snorts, putting his hand on her thigh as he gives her an amused smile, while she already rolls her eyes at whatever is about to leave his mouth – there’s no annoyance behind her eyes though, no tension in her body from where he touched her, unlike with Steve, who she always looked tense and irritated with. Back then you didn’t understand why, there were so many questions in your mind when you watched them and when she left him – how could anyone be irritated with Steve? How could anyone be tense with someone that provides so much love and warmth to the people he so deeply cares about? How could she leave him? How could she break his heart? Who could ever hurt Steve Harrington? 

“Just admit it, we’re rich.” 

A groan echoes through the backyard, one that doesn’t belong to Eddie, Nancy or anyone else sitting in the circle. You all turn your heads towards the house, finding a very annoyed Robin making her way over to you, a six pack of beers in her hand, sunglasses perched on her nose even though the sun is starting to go down already. 

Eddie isn’t surprised at her barging into his home, she does it all the time, to him, to you, to Steve, he doesn’t mind it though. 

You straighten your back, holding your drink tighter as you look away from her, waiting for Steve to walk through the door. 

The feelings inside of you start to rise again, your heart picking up the pace as your skin starts burning from the excitement.

Robin plops down in the seat next to Eddie, placing the beers on the ground as she slumps back, sighing loudly. 

Everyone’s watching her, expecting a rant already but you’re still fixated on the door, waiting for him. 

“Buckley, why so angry?” 

She pulls her sunglasses up into her hair, turning to face him, “I’m glad you asked,” she murmurs as she reaches for one of the beers, “Dingus ditched me, so I had to walk all the way here!” She throws her arms up dramatically. 

You furrow your brows at her words, the burning on your skin beginning to die down just as fast as it came. 

Argyle and Jonathan chuckle at her. 

“You live 3 blocks away from here…” Nancy mumbles. 

“Not the point, Nance,” she argues, glaring at her friend. 

“Wait, so Steve isn’t coming?” Jonathan slurs. 

Your eyes are wide and hopeful, your hand clutching the can tighter as you dig your feet into the grass beneath you, a weird feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. 

“Wetting his dick with Heidi seems more fucking important today,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes as she raises the beer to her lips. 

Your heart drops. 

The burning in your skin disappears completely as the fire is replaced by ice, the coldness of it freezing your whole body, stopping your heart and taking the false hope away as it kills every feeling that had taken home inside of you just seconds ago. 

Your eyes are stuck on her like you’re waiting, waiting for her to laugh and say it was a joke, that he will be here soon, that he isn’t out with some other girl after what happened between you and him yesterday. 

“Whoa, what?” Eddie mumbles, holding his hands up, “so… he’s on a date with the girl he didn’t want to keep seeing?” 

“Yep.”

Every ounce of excitement is now replaced by the sickness in your stomach, the lump in your throat that makes you struggle to breathe. 

What were you thinking? 

That the game you played wasn't just a game to him? That it was something more than that? That he wanted you just the way you always wanted him? That he could ever feel something for you? 

You don’t know whether you want to laugh at yourself or cry. 

How saddening it is to long for someone who was forced to like you. 

While you were getting ready, making yourself look pretty for him, thinking that he might like you in this dress – he was getting ready to take out another girl, a girl that he chose to like. 

You slowly slump back in your seat when Eddie’s laughter pulls you back into reality. You blink, masking the shocked, pained look on your face with a relaxed one as you take a sip of your drink, hoping that it will get rid of the lump sitting in your throat – it doesn’t. Nothing does. 

Your friends move on to another topic, while you stay there, where you will stay for a while now. The pain of the rejection that has never even taken place, slowly sinking in and everything around you begins to suffocate you – the dress you are wearing, the necklace around your neck, even the presence of your friends. 

You don’t want to be here any longer, you need to be alone. 

But you can’t go, not now, not yet. 

It would be too soon, too obvious and they can’t know, no one can know about your feelings for Steve, about how much it hurts to feel that way for him. 

So you hide the pain as best as you can, you nod along to your friends' conversation, you speak and you laugh when you have to, even when everything inside of you wants you to cry both out of sadness and anger. 

You’re not even angry at him, you couldn’t be angry at him even if you tried to be. He doesn’t know about your feelings – if he did, he wouldn’t have filled you with false hope, you know he wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t string you along, you know he’s not the type of person to do something like that, not even to you. But you really thought that you had something, that there was something between you, that’s why you let your walls crumble, that’s why you started acting upon your feelings, that’s why you were ready to do more than just the subtle touches and the flirtations. 

You wait, you wait for the right moment to leave, when everyone is distracted enough, you get up, after whispering an apology, a lie into Eddie’s ear, knowing that he doesn’t believe you, that he will probably call you later or even show up to check on you. But he lets you go. 

And as you leave your friends, making your way back into the house, their laughter echoes in your ears, their happy voices and the cheerfulness they’re all feeling, that you were supposed to feel too. 

You blink back the tears, not wanting them to fall just yet. 

You make your way back to your car, not wasting a second to start it and drive home, your vision blurred and your throat hurting from how much you want to cry. 

How foolish it was of you to think that you could ever stand a chance – there was never one to begin with. You will always be the one in the shadows, the one to secretly watch him, the one to secretly want him, the one with the jealousy and the heartache, the one wishing to be anyone but herself because maybe then, he would want you too. 

The smell of smoke from the campfire is now lingering on your clothes and in your hair, tears are now falling freely, ruining the makeup that you have spent hours on, the makeup that you can’t wait to wash off now. 

You don’t even want to think about him. 

You don’t want to ask yourself what he’s doing now. 

He touched you so softly, so subtly, and yet it did everything to set your insides on fire, to make you feel special, even if only for a short moment. 

Now he is touching someone else, in far more special ways. 

A frustrated sigh falls from your lips when you step inside your home, it’s cold and empty, something that you have felt like for a very long time until he started the fire inside of you, only to make it die again… and all without his knowledge. 

You walk up the stairs and past your room, going straight into the bathroom, feeling the need to wash away the day, as though it could ease the aching in your chest. You start the shower before you turn to the sink, not even bothering to look at your reflection in the mirror, it would only make you feel more pathetic. 

You can feel the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, the quivering in your bottom lip. 

You hate this, you hate the sadness that you shouldn’t be feeling in the first place. 

You got no reason to be sad, you should have put your feelings aside, knowing that nothing would ever come out of it. 

It was all so obvious, it was just teasing, nothing more, nothing less. Nothing ever happened, so why would it happen now? He just found another way of messing with you, so that you two wouldn’t go at each other's throats like before.

You just have to go back. No more teasing like this. No more letting yourself get sucked into delusions. He is just having fun while you crave something more with him and get hopeful. 

You aren’t having fun. You wanted more.

You have no choice but to go back to how you were before this… thing started. 

Once your makeup is off and your dress is now laying on the bathroom floor, you step inside the shower, letting the warmth envelope you, hoping for a sense of comfort from it. 

Standing there for a moment, you let the water rain upon your skin, matching the pace of your tears that you’re willing away. 

You will hunt Billy in the afterlife for making you believe that King Steve could ever want you. 

You use your scented shampoo, hoping that it will get rid of the smell of smoke in your hair. You love campfire’s but you can’t stand the stench it leaves on your clothes and your hair. 

Your hands run over your smooth skin as you wash your body, reminding you of the fact that you even shaved this morning – you couldn’t feel more stupid than you do right now. 

Despite the loudness of your own voice cursing at you inwardly and the water hitting the glass, you hear the sound of your doorbell going off – multiple times. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur in confusion. 

It keeps ringing again and again – once, twice and it stops after a third time before it turns into rapid knocking. 

You know it isn’t Eddie, he wouldn’t even have the patience to ring your doorbell and wait for you to open, he’d just barge right in. 

You’d choose to ignore it if the person outside wasn’t so goddamn persistent. 

You turn off the shower, squeezing the water from your hair before you get out, and wrap a towel around your body. The mirror is fogged, as the rest of the room is, you open the door and step out into the hallway, that now feels colder than before. 

The knocking continues, filling you with anger. 

Who shows up at night, knocking like a mad man? 

Maybe you shouldn’t make your way downstairs now, maybe you shouldn’t open the door to whoever it is on the other side. It could be anyone or anything but you doubt that Vecna came back from the dead to knock on doors now and hunt you of all people – he could have done that weeks back, you went through enough trauma, he could have easily chosen you but even he didn’t want you. 

You rip open the door, ready to curse and yell at whoever is terrorizing you at this hour but every word gets caught in your throat and even your breathing halts for a second as your glassy eyes meet the hazel ones that you have been missing all day. Frustration and anger swirling inside them, blazing fire raging behind his eyes. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his chest rising up and down heavily as he stands on your porch, looking better than ever. 

“Steve?” His name tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it as you stare at him in confusion. 

He eyes you up and down, taking in the sight of your exposed skin that is still dripping with water before he clenches his jaw, raising his hand to run his fingers through his hair, tugging at it. 

Steve Harrington is fucked. He is utterly fucked. You have cursed him in every way possible, he can’t get you out of his mind, he can’t get you out of his system and the thought that you were only playing with him drove him insane. His hunger for you made him desperate, desperate for release. 

So in his state of frustration and desperation, he called up Heidi, thinking that a date and sex with a girl he had been with before would help him move on and stop thinking about you but who was he fooling. He couldn’t even kiss her when she leaned in to greet him with her lips, he dodged her. He couldn’t even listen to the things she was telling him after they ordered their drinks. He couldn’t care less about her. All he could think about was you. All he wanted was you. He wanted your lips to kiss him, he wanted your hands to touch him, he wanted your body under his and the more he thought about it, the more he stopped caring about a possible humiliation after he’d finally make a move on you, he needed you, and he needed to try – if you’d reject him, then so be it, at least he would know and not live with the what if’s in his head. 

He canceled the date in the middle of it, not caring about how messed up that was. He drove her home and without a second thought, he drove here, he came to you. 

And now, you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a towel, water rolling down your soft skin, big eyes filled with confusion, lips parted, lips that he wants to kiss until he grows breathless. 

The sight in front of him does little to make any of this easier for him. You look like you’ve just walked out of one the dreams he had about you. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmurs under his breath, surprising you when he invites himself into your home, brushing past you with an intensity that almost knocks you off your feet. 

You blink, turning around abruptly, a bewildered look replacing your confused one. 

As you take in the sight of him, your sadness begins to dissolve as the anger you started to miss floods through your veins the longer you look at him. 

You slam the door shut when the wind causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, you hold the towel tighter against your body as you glare at him, “what the fuck?”

“I have to be the one to say that!” He argues.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your face now burning with rage. Every second that passes now makes you forget about the tears you just shed over him, irritation sparking inside of you so wildly that you want nothing more than to kick him out of your house for behaving that way towards you for no reason. “Weren’t you on a date with… Heidi?” 

Steve clenches his jaw at the mocking voice, at the smirk now tugging on your lips. He chuckles, though not in amusement, he points a finger at you, “see, that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

Your brows knit together at his outburst, the fire in his eyes growing stronger and bigger. 

“Harrington, if you came to yell nonesense at me, just fucking leave!” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, making your way back towards the stairs. 

But his scoff stops you. 

“Oh, so you keep running away huh!? Didn’t you already get over that!?” 

You turn around with nothing but anger boiling inside of you, “running away!? From what!?”

This should have been enough to make him turn around and leave, because clearly nothing changed, clearly this is still just a game to you – but he has hope, and he is desperate enough to throw every bit of his dignity away and risk something. 

“Oh, don’t play fucking dumb right now. Acting like that for two weeks and pretending to be stupid is not a good look on you, Blondie.” 

You take in a sharp breath, digging your fingers into your towel as you frown at him. 

What does he want from you? 

Why did he come here? 

Was the date so bad, was the sex so awful that he had to come here to torture you? 

Without another word, you turn around and you stomp up the stairs, not wanting to see him, not wanting to hear his voice anymore. 

Your heart starts pounding in your chest again, and you can’t help but wonder – did he figure you out? Did he figure out your feelings? Is that why he is here? To confront you about them? To reject you?

You feel more and more stupid about what you had wanted to do when you woke up this morning. 

Just when your feet carry you up to the second floor, and you rush across the hallway to walk into your room, his footsteps echo behind you, making you more irritated than before. You turn around to face him, but before you can even say anything, Steve is suddenly right in front of you, and his hands reach out to grab your waist, he pushes you against the wall behind you, gently, careful not to hurt you. 

The gasp that falls from your lips startles you. His hands that touch the only thing that covers your body leaving your skin on fire. Your heart rate picks up so rapidly that it nearly steals your breath away. You look up into his golden brown orbs, the ones that are nearly black as he steps even closer, invading your space completely, making you breathe in the scent of his cologne, the one that has butterflies swirling in your stomach. 

He catches you off guard completely. 

You feel so vulnerable, so exposed as you stand there, caged in by his arms, his breath on your skin, his eyes that are filled with so much hunger. 

The words die on your tongue, and yet, after you breathe in more of his scent, you open your mouth to speak. 

“Shut up, Blondie… Just shut up for a second,” he murmurs, interrupting whatever words you had prepared to lie to him with. 

His right hand leaves your waist, inching closer to your stomach as his fingers trace the hem of your towel, drool already forming in his mouth at the sight of you, he is ready to take you, ready to devour you and make you scream his name before he fucks you for only this time. 

He notices the way your chest is moving, the way your breathing stutters. 

“W-What are you doing, perv?” You stutter as you watch him play with the opening of your towel. 

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at your insult. 

“Perv? Are you going to continue to play fucking dumb?” 

“Dumb? You are the dumb one if you think that I’m going to be the one to break into your teasing.” 

Steve’s eyes flash with satisfaction. 

This is what he wanted – to hear you admit that you were playing that game with him after all and not because you were playing him and stringing him along just to turn him down to gain something from it, whatever it might be. No. You were doing just what he was hoping for, all along. 

You want him just as much as he wants you and that’s all he needs to know. 

You roll your eyes at him, turning your head as you try to push your way out of his grasp but before you can even step away from him, his hands stop you but not on your waist this time. His large hands cup your cheeks, making you freeze. You stare at him wide eyed when he brings you closer, and you can’t even react before his whole body is suddenly pressed against yours, your heartbeat lurches into your throat. 

As though his touch wasn’t shocking enough, his next move almost causes you to collapse, because now it isn’t only his body against yours, his hands on your cheeks or his breath on your skin, now it’s his lips… his lips on yours, his lips moving against yours in desperation as he takes every last of your breath and makes it his own. 

You can’t do anything, you can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even blink as you stare at him – how his eyes are closed and his cheeks are flushed, the furrowed brows as he kisses you with a kind of passion no one has ever kissed you with before. 

Steve is kissing you. 

Steve Harrington is kissing you. 

His lips are moving roughly against yours, his hands holding your cheeks so softly, yet with an intensity. 

This is all you ever wanted, to feel his touch and his lips on yours but you are too stunned to move, too surprised to kiss him back right now, too distracted wondering if this is real or not.

Along with the shock, you feel the slightest bit of insecurity flooding through you because even though he is kissing you, you can’t help but wonder why. Why isn’t he with Heidi? Why isn’t he kissing her right now? Did she turn him down? Did he come here because he just needed someone? Because he knew that you would fall for this? Or is this just another way for him to tease you? 

Those questions prompt you to push him away, forcing him to break the kiss that he was so deeply lost in. 

You notice the way he begrudgingly pulls away, the way he seems so drawn to your lips, the way his brows furrow in confusion now, his face is flushed and his pupils dilated as he looks at you with nothing but desperation in his eyes – he isn’t teasing, he wants you, he wants you right now and isn’t that all that matters? That he wants you?

His eyes stare into yours as he is breathing heavily. A flash of rejection takes over his features and by the look in his eyes, you can tell that he is beginning to get lost in his anxious thoughts – thoughts that you quickly shut down by making the move that he just made. You cup his cheeks and you pull him down, closing your eyes as you slam your lips against his for the very first time. 

Unlike you, he wastes no second to reciprocate the kiss, a sigh of content leaving him as he presses you back against the wall. 

Warmth blooms in your stomach, one that doesn’t stay the same temperature for long because the moment he deepens the kiss, the moment his hands hold you tighter and his knee parts your legs, sliding his thigh in between yours as the kiss gets rougher and rougher, you feel the warmth evolving into a deeper, burning sensation – a fire inside of you that only he can mend. 

You can’t believe that this is happening, that something that you had been craving for years is now here. 

And Steve, he feels his heart pounding in his chest from the rush, from the adrenaline, from his desperation that grows bigger and stronger when he feels just how much you want him as your lips move roughly with his. 

You're hesitant with your touch, but when he grabs your face and pulls you even tighter against his body, his thigh pressing stronger against your core, you can’t help but throw your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into the hair that you’ve always wanted to touch. 

You can feel him smirking against your lips when you moan into the kiss, which prompts you to tug at his hair and press your tongue against his bottom lip.

He welcomes it into his mouth so eagerly, his tongue now clashing against yours as his palms slide down to your waist while your hands reach for the front of his shirt, fisting the material tightly as you begin to drag him into your room. 

You both know, you both feel where this is going, what this is leading to – what the past few weeks have been leading to. 

You want this, you need this, you need him, even if just for tonight. 

And you know, you already know that you will be done for, that he will ruin you for anyone else but you couldn’t care less, right now. Especially when he kisses you with so much roughness, everything about this setting all your insides on fire, leaving your skin burning and yet aching for more. 

Steve is careful not to step on your bare feet as you lead him backwards into a different room. Excitement bubbles in his stomach and he grows even more breathless than before, he pulls away and breaks the kiss but doesn’t hesitate to latch his lips onto your neck, kissing and biting your flesh, “I fucking hate you, Blondie. I hate that I want you so much.” 

Your lashes flutter as you close your eyes, tilting your head to the side as you feel your stomach and your heart fluttering at his touch, at his lips on your skin but especially at his words. 

Your knees grow weak and a needy whimper falls from your puffy lips. 

All that echoes in your mind now is I want you. I want you. I want you. 

You don’t even care about the other things he said to you, you only care about the three little words you have only ever dreamt of before. 

You almost fall when you feel the back of your legs hitting your bed, but he keeps you upright, not pushing you down just yet. He keeps nibbling on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking as he breathes heavily against you, growing harder against your stomach. 

“Couldn’t even finish the fucking date, couldn’t do anything cause I kept thinking about you, Blondie,” he speaks into your neck, fingers now dangerously close to your bare skin behind the towel. 

Your heart nearly explodes at his words and you can’t help but sigh in relief, knowing that nothing happened between him and Heidi. And all because of you. 

“You drive me fucking crazy, I want to rip the towel right off–”

“Then do!” You whine, not caring about how eager and desperate you sound, “show me how much you hate me, Stevie.” 

He pulls away from your neck after placing another wet kiss to your skin, strands of your hair getting caught in his as he faces you again, with flushed cheeks and almost black eyes he looks at you and takes in the sight of you, the pout on your lips, the flustered look on your face, big eyes that you are begging him with. 

He doesn’t even bother to look around the room, just caring about the bed behind you. 

He rips the towel off your body, letting it fall to the ground, his hands find your bare waist that he grips tightly as he throws you on the bed, smirking at the gasp that leaves your lips again. 

Without hesitating to, he reaches for the hem of his shirt and rips it off. 

Just like back then on the boat, when he took his shirt off before he jumped into the water, you stare at his chest, almost drooling at the delicious sight in front of you. His broad shoulders, the scar around his neck that makes him look even hotter, the hairs on his chest, the muscles in his arms that have visibly gotten bigger since high school. You bite your lip as your eyes move down, almost whining when you see the bulge in his tight jeans. 

You wish you could run your finger down his chest and his stomach, tracing every little scar that the bats have left behind, but instead, you push yourself up, blushing at the fact that you are completely bare in front of him. You reach for his belt, fingers beginning to fumble with the metal when he stops you with a simple touch and a headshake. 

“None of that,” he murmurs as he leans over, his hands digging between your ass and the mattress as he suddenly pulls you to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees before you, he throws your legs over his shoulder and looks up at you with hooded eyes, “I need to hear you first.” 

You nearly combust when you feel his breath on your pussy and his lips on your inner thighs. A whimper falling from your mouth as you try to close your legs out of instinct, blushing even harder than before. 

“You’re fucking soaked,” he smirks, holding your thighs open as he teasingly slips a finger through your folds, “all for me, huh?” 

You don’t answer but you don’t need to, the loud moan that you let out when he dives right into you with his tongue, gives him everything he needs to know. 

He moans in content as he grabs your ass roughly, eyes rolling back when he tastes you for the first time, he almost starts drooling over you, finding pleasure in this. 

He teasingly licks a stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling the tip of his tongue around your already aching nub as he uses his fingers to part your lips. 

You scrunch up your face as his tongue pleases you in ways your fingers never could, sighs and whimpers start escaping you as he now presses his thumb against your clit and he starts eating you out, his moans vibrating against you. 

Your mouth falls open as your back arches in pleasure, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as you fall apart completely. 

No words are spoken as you both just enjoy this moment of bliss, him getting lost in you, you getting lost in the pleasure he blesses you with. 

You focus on everything and also on nothing – his whimpers send shivers through you, his tongue that he fucks you with making you gasp and drool, and despite the heaviness in your eyes, you manage to open them, wanting, needing to see him. 

He eats you out slowly, yet desperately, fingers and tongue now working together to unravel you. His eyes are closed and he keeps moaning and whimpering as saliva runs down his chin. He looks so content, so pleased from only this. 

Steve curls his fingers inside of you as he keeps his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles on it. 

Tears of pleasure prickle in your eyes as needy sounds keep escaping you. You hold the sheets even tighter now, closing your legs around his head, caging him in between them. 

Steve finally opens his eyes, they darken even more now when he sees how you are falling apart for him, it only prompts him to fuck you even harder with his tongue and his two fingers. 

Your moans and whimpers are enough to drive him crazy, enough to make the erection in his pants feel painful but he wants more, he needs to hear his name falling from your lips and he gets what he wants only seconds later when your body grows tense and your back arches again as a tear rolls down your cheek. 

“Steve!” You nearly scream as you come undone, writhing beneath his touch. 

You tilt your head to the side, bringing your hand up to your face, you bite your teeth into your knuckles as hot tears run down your flushed cheeks. 

Steve laps at your pussy, moans still falling from his mouth. Only as you whimper weakly does he pull away from you, but not without giving your clit another teasing lick, causing you to spasm which only makes him chuckle darkly. 

He carefully removes your legs from his shoulders and lets go of you before he rises back to his full height. 

You instantly press your legs together, breathing heavily as you try to calm down from the orgasm he just gave you. 

What Steve didn’t do before was take in the sight of your bare body, and now as he does it, he has to swallow harshly, his dick twitching in his jeans, begging for release. He finds himself aching for you, even more than before, he not only wants you, he needs you in ways he can’t even describe. 

He watches the way your chest glistens with sweat, your nipples hard from the pleasure that curses through your body, your eyes are shut, your brows pulled together. He licks his lips before he bites down as his eyes trace every inch of your skin, the scars that make you look even more attractive. 

It takes everything in him not to drop to his knees and taste you once again. 

He needs you, he needs to feel you wrapped around his dick, he needs to hear your moans as he fills you to the brim, he needs to fuck you. 

Steve unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking against each other, causing you to open your eyes at the sound. 

You look at him through your glassy eyes, pushing yourself up on your elbows as you watch him unbutton his pants but before he pushes them down, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and you watch him curiously. 

He opens it to take out the condom he had prepared for a different… less exciting occasion. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his dick slaps against his stomach and he fails to notice the way your eyes widen or the way your lips part in surprise at the sight, at the size of him. He steps out of his shoes, cursing under his breath as he pushes them aside before he uses both hands to part your legs, getting on the mattress.

Before he rips the foil apart, he looks into your eyes, wanting your consent first but no words have to leave his mouth because you are the first to make the move, you sit up slightly, taking the tiny foil pack from his fingers, surprising him by bringing it up to your lips and ripping it open with your teeth. 

Despite the streaks of tears on your skin, the fucked out look in your eyes, the shakiness in your body, you look at him so dangerously. 

And he can’t do anything but watch you in awe for a moment, how you wrap your much smaller hand around his dick, pressing your thumb against his slit to tease him. 

“O-Oh fuck…” He shudders, eyes nearly closing at only that. 

You bite your bottom lip, trying not to drool as you roll the condom over his length. You look up at him again to find him staring at you with flushed cheeks and lust in his eyes. It’s dark in the room, but you can see each other just well enough, the moon shines brightly into your room tonight. 

You can’t even help yourself when you cup his cheeks and pull him down for a kiss, closing your eyes when your lips meet again. 

He grabs your waist, making you crawl back until you’re far enough on the mattress for your head to hit the pillows when he pushes you down. He presses his hands on your knees and you part your legs eagerly for him. 

His fingers trace your skin as he brings his hand up, passing your hip bone and your waist and grabbing your boob with roughness as he slips his tongue into your mouth, wanting you to taste yourself. He pinches your nipple with his fingers, smirking against you when you whine and writhe underneath him. 

You reach your hand down, not wanting to waste any more seconds, you wrap your hand around his dick again, jerking him off a few times before you line him up with your entrance, whining desperately again. 

Steve breaks the kiss and opens his eyes to look at you, “you’re so desperate for my cock, huh?” He breathes, still playing with your nipple. 

You raise yourself up a little, pecking his lips again as you nod your head. 

He can’t believe that you are this needy for him, that you are giving him those eyes. 

If only he knew how many times you have dreamt of this moment. 

“Please,” you whimper. 

“Please what, Blondie?” He teases you as his hand now slides down your stomach, fingertips brushing your clit, making you shiver. 

You blink and you breathe heavily as you place your hand on his shoulder, “please fuck me, Steve… Please…”

A satisfied smirk appears on his face, your desperation making him feel smug – but the smugness quickly dissolves into something else when he pushes inside you and feels your tightness around him for the very first time. 

You breathe in harshly and hold it, shutting your eyes when you feel him stretching you out. Nothing could have prepared you for this moment, not his tongue, not his fingers, nothing. The stretch is both painful and delicious, it makes you gasp but it also makes you drool as he inches deeper and deeper. 

Steve can only curse and whimper in pleasure as he watches his cock disappearing inside of you, he doesn’t push in fully though, too scared to hurt you. 

He bites his bottom lip, bottoming out again before he pushes back in, listening to the wet sound and the neediness in your voice as you moan. 

“M-More,” you whine, your eyes now watching him, “please…”

His dick twitches at the sound of that and at the look on your face. 

“Fuck me, Steve.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, he pushes in deeper than before, until he’s buried inside of you completely. Usually, he would take a moment to catch his breathe, to adjust to the tightness but he is too eager, too desperate for this. So he grabs your hips and he starts thrusting, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt you. 

You gasp, hands finding the sheets beneath you again as your eyes follow the movement of his hips, watching the way his dick slides in and out of you. You throw your head back and look at his face next.

Strands of his hair fall in front of his eyes, his lips are puffy from all the kissing, his cheeks are flushed. He is moaning, for you, because of you. You are in utter bliss, feeling pride swell in your chest when he moans even louder as you clench around him. 

He watches the way he fucks you, eyes growing darker and darker and then, he looks at your chest, the way your tits bounce from the movements, something that prompts him to move his hips even faster, fucking into you harder now. 

“F-Fuck,” you whine loudly. 

His eyes meet your face and the pleasure on it is suddenly not enough for him, he wants to throw you over the edge, he needs to hear you scream for him. 

He curses under his breath when you clench around him again. 

Steve’s knees dig into the mattress, his fingers now holding you even stronger than before, he is sure to leave bruises but you don’t mind, you would never mind. He fastens his pace, railing into you and thrusting in and out of you, making you fall apart in the matter of a few seconds. You can’t speak, even if you tried. All that you can do is moan pathetically, letting him use you. 

“You take me so well, holy shit, Blondie,” he whimpers, voicing out his thoughts, brows scrunching together as he watches you, your lips parted, moans that he only ever dreamt of leaving you. “L-Look at you, fuck. If I knew that my cock would shut you up, I would’ve done this a long time ago.” 

“S-Steve!” You whine with a high pitched voice, something that only leads him to pound you even harder even if a tiny part of him wants to mock you. 

Your eyes roll back, the tension in your stomach rolling back in, only stronger and hotter this time, and you already don’t know what to do with yourself, but when he suddenly reaches for your legs, hooking the back of your knees around his forearms, your eyes widen when they meet his again and a wicked smirk appears on his face as he starts fucking you from a different angle, snapping his hips into yours so wildly that you can’t help but cry out as your eyelids become droopy, tears now begging to be released, just like the drool that starts coming from the corner of your mouth. 

The room now filled with nothing but the dirty sounds of your skin slapping together, the squelching noises from your pussy and his pleasing moans. 

Steve watches you in awe, eyes growing wide when he sees just how cockdrunk you are for him. 

He fucks you recklessly, eagerly and as though it is the last thing he will ever do. 

Your tears fall freely, your whimpers turning into cries the moment his thumb finds your clit again. 

He feels your walls clenching around him, gripping his twitching cock tightly – and he knows you’re close, he knows that he is close but he doesn’t want to stop, he doesn’t want this moment to be over. 

Steve savors every second, pounding into you roughly and harshly, grabbing your face with his left hand when your head falls to the side, he needs to watch you, he needs to see you when you cum around him. 

“You wanna cum for me?” He asks breathlessly. 

You nod eagerly, without letting a word fall from your lips, you only nod and whine. 

You feel the overstimulation rushing through you, the fire in your stomach that is about to burst into something bigger. You can feel him everywhere, he is so deep inside of you that it makes your body shake like crazy, but it feels good, so good that it almost wants to make you cry for different reasons when you think about how this could be a one time thing. 

His hand leaves your face, he throws his palm into the pillow next to you, holding it tightly as his own eyes fall shut now, moaning your name as he picks up the pace of his fingers against your clit, his hips snapping faster into yours now. 

“I-I’m–”

“I know, I know…” He coos, letting his face fall into the crook of your neck. 

You feel the urge to feel him even closer, so despite the weakness in your body, you use every bit of your strength to lift your hand and press it against his warm back. 

“Cum for me,” he whimpers into your neck before he bites into your flesh, marking you up for anyone to see. 

A loud gasp tears out of you as his last thrusts grow rougher and his fingers move faster, you can’t help but dig your nails into his back, scratching him as stars blur your vision and the shockwaves grip your body so tightly as you cum around his cock, just as he spills into the condom, moaning into your neck. 

You can’t even feel your tears nor the drool still coming out of your mouth, all that you can feel is him. Your arm now falls back onto the mattress and your eyes shutting as the darkness starts to envelope you. 

“F-Fuck,” he whispers as he stops moving, pressing another kiss to your neck before he pulls out of you, hissing at the feeling. 

He can feel your trembling body beneath his, the sighs that keep falling from your lips, he smugly pulls away to take a look at you, only to see your eyes dropping as you start to lose your consciousness. 

“Shit,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks, “you okay, Blondie?” 

You nod as best as you can, slapping his hand away as you snuggle into the pillows, not even bothering with the blanket. 

He scratches the back of his neck, pressing his lips together as he watches you fall asleep so quickly. He can’t help but feel smug as he looks at the way your thighs are trembling still. 

He stands up, leaving the room to walk into the bathroom, where the light is still turned on. He steps inside, noticing how the mirror is a little fogged, the smell of vanilla and strawberries lingering in the air, making his stomach flutter ever so slightly. 

Discarded clothes lay on the ground, he picks them up and puts them on the counter before he rolls off the condom, tying it up before he throws it into the trash. He turns towards the sink and washes his hands before he walks back into your room, a smile tugging on his lips. 

He plops down beside you, pulling the cover over you and himself, scooting closer to you. 

He doesn’t know where this will go or what is going to happen tomorrow but as he looks at your stained face, and every single previous second replays in his head, he is sure of one thing. 

There is not a single fucking chance that this is going to be a one time thing. 

♡

tagging friends and mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles