#thetwelvedaysofpromptmas

[skeltnwrites]

Deck the Halls ⋆⁺❆₊꙳‧❅⋆࿔

With Eddie stuck in the hospital, the boys help you bring Christmas to him. 3k

a/n - for the amazing @littlexdeaths twelve days of promptmas! <3

“Mike, stop pulling so hard.” 

“You’re holding it too high!” 

Lucas scoffs. “It’s literally dragging on the floor.” 

“It’s literally not–” 

“Guys!” Your snow-slick boots squeal on the linoleum as you spin. “You’re gonna get us caught if you don’t stop arguing.” 

“But he–” 

“I wasn’t–”

“Both of you! Shut up!” 

The scowl Mike gives Lucas is met with equal disdain. But he rolls his eyes and heaves the Christmas tree in his arms up a notch. You resume down the hospital hallway, hauling the front end of the tree with four grumpy teenagers in tow. 

You can’t be that annoyed. Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike are all here with you of their own volition in this stuffy hospital very early on Christmas morning. And they all have a piece of your heart for doing so. 

You adjust your grip on the tree. No matter how you hold it, the bristles poke your waist, and the bark stamps itchy lines into your palms. But you remind yourself of Eddie. Of his hospital room with white walls, white sheets, white machines, white everything. And that’s just not right, not on Christmas. 

So you’re bringing the holiday spirit to Eddie this year. Between the five of you, there are three backpacks brimming with unused tinsel, lights, and ornaments, and a pine tree as tall as Lucas. 

You’d have decorated earlier if you could’ve. But Eddie procrastinated until Christmas Eve to fix the lights on your roof and in his haste, his heel skidded on a patch of ice, and he tumbled off the house in a rather cartoonish display. It wasn’t funny then, but you can laugh now knowing he’s passed out on painkillers and recovering just fine. Still, two broken ribs were enough to hold him for observation and visiting hours ended before you could scrounge anything festive together. So here you are, slinking through the emergency room past receptionists, nurses, and hospital security in the middle of the night. 

You raise a fist, prompting the boys to freeze. The click-clack of heels echoes from around the corner, growing louder by the step. “Back, back, back,” you order. 

Mike backpedals straight into Will’s chest and Dustin steps on Lucas’ foot. The tree lurches backward as they all grapple for balance. It’s a clumsy scuffle nowhere near quiet. If whoever’s there didn’t hear you before, they certainly have now. 

You try the nearest door handle and swing it open. By some miracle, the room’s unoccupied. 

The boys follow your lead, bags jingling loudly with each frantic step. They shove the tree through the doorway at an angle and a branch snags on the frame. 

“Wait– stop, stop!” Dustin whisper-yells. 

Mike rams it through again, a flurry of pine needles shaking loose and fluttering to the floor. 

“Stop,” you bark, “Turn it first.” 

They’re a smart bunch but they lack teamwork skills when you so desperately need it. Several pairs of hands fight to maneuver the tree in opposite directions. And all four of them squeeze through the doorway with it, snapping a branch in half and shaking another sheet of pine needles free. 

You sweep the tree remains inside with your foot– though there’s certainly still evidence in the hall– and pull the door closed behind you. The cheap window blinds crinkle as you steer them aside, just enough to see past the door. 

The heeled woman is either blind, deaf, or committed to minding her own business because she strolls by the door like it’s any other. You slump against the wall, turning to flash a thumbs up at the kids as soon as she’s out of view. You’re matched with a quartet of yawns, skipping from one frown to the next. 

“Almost there,” you encourage. It’s not a lie, per se, but it’s not very close to the truth either. This might be harder than you imagined. 

The elevator is too risky, so you take the stairs. But hauling a whole tree up four flights of stairs is no easy task. Mumbled complaints overlap and echo in the stairwell and by the top, your arms and legs are protesting just the same. 

The door whines as you crack it open, and you peer through the gap to scope out the area. There’s a nurse's station in the center of the floor manned by the same woman you’d seen earlier. Eddie’s room is on the opposite side; there’s virtually no way to sneak past without her seeing. 

You turn around, eyes locking with Dustins like they’re two bullseyes. 

He crosses his arms and cocks his head. He knows the look you're giving him and he doesn’t like it. “What?” 

“I need you to distract the nurse.” 

He says your name through a sigh, but before he can actually disagree, you yank him by the sleeve and thrust him through the doorway. 

The nurse’s head pops up from the desk immediately and Dustin shakes himself into character. 

“Help!” he shouts, promptly clearing his throat. “I need help– it’s my, my mother! You must help her,” he whips his head left and right. “Over here, in the elevator!” 

The nurse doesn’t move. She tries to speak but Dustin interrupts her.

“No! She won’t make it! Please– hurry!” 

The woman scrambles out of her seat and jogs after Dustin. He’s not very convincing, but he’s a better actor than the rest of you. And he’s very committed once he’s in it. Dustin’s cries persist, eventually distant enough that your adrenaline loosens its grip. You fling the door open, pinning it with your foot. The boys hustle through, following your pointer finger down the right corridor. You trot back ahead, escorting them right up to Eddie’s door. 

The sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant imbues the frigid air in his room. The machines are off so the quiet hangs heavy. It’s the opposite of warm in every sense possible. And the little bit of it still spilling in from the hall is quickly cinched as someone shuts the door. 

You grope around the darkness, staggering over to the inky shadow you recall to be a chair. Your fingertips brush the scratchy fabric, and you let your bag slip from your shoulder, landing softly on the seat. 

A splash of light from the window catches one side of Eddie’s face. His lashes kiss the hills of his cheeks and his mouth is hinged open, exhaling a string of soft snores. It’s very cute, though, the kids’ expressions don’t reflect the same fondness. 

“We don’t have all day,” Lucas mocks, parroting your exact words from earlier when you’d urged him to get in the van before all the heat escaped.  

Your gaze sours when it reaches the boys. “Shut up. Help me stand the tree up.” 

Lucas snickers, planting himself on the other side of the tree. You lift the trunk so Will can slide the base under and Mike goes prone on the floor to screw it in. 

“Hurry up,” Lucas complains. 

“I can’t see!” 

“Shhh!”

Will pulls a flashlight from his bag and points it at Mike’s hands. The final screws are tightened and the boys let go.  

You give the trunk an affirming shake before retracting your own hands. It remains upright, even after a few optimistic steps back. 

If you think decorating would be the easiest part of this mission, you’d be wrong. It’s much too dark to work, even after Will situates his flashlight so it’s highlighting most of the tree. And keeping quiet might be impossible when you’re forced to mediate petty teenage arguments every five minutes. 

Mike and Will are hunched over a wad of string lights on the floor, unknotting opposite ends when Lucas waves his much neater spool of lights. “Uhh, we can’t use those. I brought rainbow ones.” 

Will tuts at the other boy. “So? We can use both?” 

“No, it’ll look stupid.” 

Will beckons you over with a growing frown. You’d swear these kids never graduated middle school if you hadn’t gone to the ceremony. The older they get, the more they fight, it seems. But your patience is thinning with each wave of attitude you receive. You’d asked for their help as their friends, not their babysitters. 

“Use both,” you decide, hands pressed into your hips. 

“But it won’t match!”

“It’s fine, Lucas.” 

He rolls his eyes very blatantly at you. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to drive him home then and there. 

But the sound of the door handle rattling steals your attention. It jerks up and down but the door doesn’t open; one of the kids must’ve locked it. Your heart springs up into your throat, your eyes swinging around the room for an escape plan. The lock will only buy you so much time and there’s no way to safely exit through the window and—

“It’s me!” Dustin shouts, popping into the window frame. His lips are nearly touching the glass and he’s fogging up the pane with his breath. 

“Jesus,” you mumble, clutching your chest as you march up to the door. 

Dustin scrambles in, chest heaving with a glare aimed right at you. “You would not believe how much stamina that woman has! I mean she just kept going. I thought, I lost her, and then–” 

You slap your palm across his mouth. “Shhh!”  

His wide eyes follow yours to Eddie. 

Eddie sighs, lips smacking as he straightens a leg across the sheets. You’ve never been so thankful to be dating such a deep sleeper. 

“Sorry,” Dustin whispers. 

You shove him further into the room. “Go. Be quiet.” 

Dustin grabs the tail end of the lights in Will’s hands. Together they wind the cord around the bottom half of the tree. Lucas dresses the top half in rainbow bulbs, still sulking as he works. 

You squat beside Mike to help him sort the ornament pile. One you brought quickly catches your eye. It’s a clay guitar pick Eddie made in middle school art class, an instant favorite of yours. You take it and hang it front and center, filling the gap in the middle of the tree where they ran out of lights. 

One by one, the tree is stocked with a rainbow of mismatched ornaments. There's something from each of their homes– family photos and elementary school crafts and trinkets of every size. It’s a wild assortment but a very special one too. 

Dustin is determined to hang the star– puts up a case that he was used as bait and thus deserves it– though, no one was going to argue against him in the first place. He climbs onto Mike’s back, arms stretching as far as they’ll go.

“God, you’re heavy.”  

“Stop complaining. Get me closer.”

“I’m trying.” 

Mike staggers closer and Dustin snatches a fistful of the top. The entire tree lurches toward him, ornaments clinking in his wake. 

“Wait– careful,” you urge.

Dustin lists dangerously forward, jamming the star through the bristles. 

From beside you, Will hums disapprovingly, “It’s crooked.”

Dustin’s tongue curls over his lip as he adjusts it. “Now?”

“Still crooked.”

"Now?"

Your hands hover out in front of you like a net but you are not as prepared to catch him as you look. “No, it’s fine. Just leave it.” 

Dustin releases the tip and the whole tree reels back. His arm shoots back out to steady it, but a handful of ornaments swing off and onto the floor. Miraculously, none shatter, but they bounce away in a ripple of clinking. 

Your focus jumps over to Eddie. He’s squinting vaguely in your direction, head tilted off his pillow with curls plastered to one cheek. 

A breathy chuckle reverberates through your chest. “Merry Christmas!” 

“Wha…”

The kids mimic you in their own broken choir of wishes but with half the enthusiasm you delivered. 

Eddie’s eyebrows weave into one crooked arch. He attempts, and quickly fails, to prop himself up on his elbows, making a sullen sort of sigh on the way down. 

You stride over to the bed, landing on the edge by his sheet-wrapped thigh. Your hand slips behind his shoulders and you offer a half smile. “Surprise?” 

He winces into a sit, a hand flying to his chest. Pain folds back into confusion as his eyes flicker across each face in the room. “I don’t… Why?” 

“So you can celebrate, silly.” You hook a finger under the hair stuck to his face and tuck it behind his ear. 

His lashes flutter closed as he melts into your palm, slowly bending until his forehead meets your shoulder. “Sorry, ‘m so tired.” 

Despite the overdramatic gagging going on behind you, you accept the embrace, running a ginger hand up his spine where his gown has billowed open. “Don’t be. Didn’t mean to wake ya. It’s early.” 

His nose sweeps a cold line across your collar. “How’d you get in? Place is like a prison,” he mumbles. “Already tried to escape.” 

“No, you didn’t,” you snort. 

“No,” he admits, lips turning against your shirt. “You snuck in? Snuck a whole Christmas tree in?”

You lean away just enough to nod, pride softening the edges of your grin.

“And you managed to do that with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum times two.” 

“I’m sorry– Who face-planted off a roof again?” Dustin cracks. 

Your sudden laughter is corked with Eddie’s palm. He glares– or tries to anyway– but you know his tells. The way one corner of his mouth twitches through his frown. How he tilts his head when he’s secretly amused. “Don’t laugh at that,” he says, utterly unconvincing. 

The rest of your laugh is swallowed, but the levity doesn’t fade. You peel his fingers off, gently carrying them to your lap like they might be broken too. “It’s true. You did.” 

“Whatever.” 

“Don’t pout.” You tip your head, mirroring him on purpose. “Do you like it?” 

His gaze tapers back up to the scene behind you, eyes glowing with red, green, and gold. “No, I love it,” he says honestly. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. I can’t believe this. How’d I get so lucky? Hmm?” Eddie pinches your side, cutting off your giggle with a swift kiss. 

“God, gross!” 

You whip your head toward the source. “Lucas, you literally have a girlfriend.” 

“Yeah, but you’re kissing Eddie.”

“What? You don’t think Eddie’s pretty?” Your fingers clamp either side of his face, cheeks squishing into his puckered lips like a fish. 

Eddie stares blankly at Lucas, but the second his eyes bound to yours, you both burst into laughter. 

“Don’t make me laugh, babe. Fuck,” he hisses, doubled over in amusement and equal pain.

“Sorry, sorry,” you amend, hands gently sandwiching his. “Oh– Let me get your gift.” 

He’s curious but he still sulks as you leave, chasing the lost warmth as you slide off the bed. “A gift?” 

“Mhmm,” you say, unzipping the front pocket of your bag. You fish out a small box wrapped in glossy paper with a puffy, red bow. 

He gives it a good shake when you pass it to him and a knowing smirk at the noise it makes. 

“Open it.” You beckon the kids closer, taking your prior spot on the bed. “It’s from all of us.”

The paper falls away under Eddie’s eager hands, a smirk growing and growing until it suddenly falters. Pure shock washes over him as he gawks at the gift. A limited edition, glow-in-the-dark set of dice he’s been talking about for months. 

His eyes shoot between you and the dice several times before he asks, “Where’d you even get these? They sold out like immediately.”

You shrug, nonchalance slipping. “Know a guy.”

He rolls his eyes, giving your shoulder a good jostle. And his gaze shifts across every person in the room, thumb absentmindedly roving across the box's label. “Thank you, guys.” 

“They come with one condition,” Dustin says. 

“What’s that?”

“You have to resurrect Virehart the Vengeful.”

Eddie groans, burying his smile in his free hand and shaking his head. “I told you guys I’m not doing it.”

“Please, come on! That’s our only condition,” Will tries. 

“He literally had like two lines.” 

“And they were badass!” says Dustin. “A blade is only as sharp as the courage behind it,” he recites in a voice much deeper than his own. 

“Oh my God.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand. “Fine, fine.” 

The boys celebrate with a chain of cheers. Eddie steals your fingers back amidst all of the yelling, a doting little look in his eyes. Forget the dice, you’re the real gift to him. 

The fuss very promptly ends when someone clears their throat. You all turn in unison, finding the same nurse from earlier. She sighs, hands planted on her hips with a disapproving shake to her head. 

Eddie chuckles nervously. “Merry Christmas?” 

[joequiinn]

And You're Driven Like the Snow | s.h. x mall goth!reader

Summary | Just when you thought Christmas Eve couldn't get any more stressful at Starcourt, that pretty boy from Scoops Ahoy (that you did not have a crush on) walked into your shop and threw your whole night for a loop.

Prompt | You need a last minute gift, but man that sales clerk sure is cute…

Warnings & Notes | fem!reader, mostly fluff, sorta merry little meet-cute (?), mutual pining, post-S3 au in which nothing bad happens, nervous & awkward Steve, reader's appearance not described only parts of her wardrobe are referenced

Author's Note | This was an idea I had started only a couple of days before @littlexdeaths posted the Twelve Days of Promptmas list, so when I saw a prompt that fit the vibes, I made some little adjustments to the story! This is my first go at writing Steve, so I hope I've done him justice.

Recommended Listening | very merry gothmas

WC | 12.5k

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

Still night, nothing for miles // A white curtain come down Kill the lights in the middle of the road // And take a, take a look around

The guy in that stupid little sailor suit should not have ever caught your eye, not for anything more than a simple laugh at his expense before moving on with your day. And yet - as you entered the mall before hours, running late and knowing that your manager would chew you out for it - you caught yourself doing a double-take, looking from his gorgeous head of hair down to the near dangerous length of his shorts.

It only lasted for perhaps a few seconds, but nonetheless you had to shake yourself from the moment, utter confusion written across your face. Why the hell had you looked for even just that second, eyeing some pretty boy who most certainly wasn’t your type at all?

Once you had entered Spencer’s Gifts through the staff door and gotten the expected scolding from your manager who was on an authority high, you’d all but forgotten about your strange lapse in judgment on your way here. And so your day carried on as usual, your week carried on as usual, and that stupid looking boy from the ice cream shop wasn’t even a blip in your mind.

Until a week or so later, when once again you spotted him from afar as the two of you entered Starcourt for your respective shifts. This time, you couldn’t help but stare a little longer, looking him up and down with an insatiable curiosity as he walked far enough ahead of you that he was most likely unaware of your presence at all.

You tried to convince yourself that you were staring this time simply to figure out why he caught your attention in the first place - it had to be because of how stupid that Scoops Ahoy uniform was, right? There was no way you were oddly charmed by how well he wore it, or how his hair looked incredibly soft, or how his absentminded expression had an endearing quality to it. Nope, you weren’t staring out of any sort of interest in him at all, it was simply some morbid sense of curiosity about someone so clearly unlike yourself.

It was the third time you were staring, however, that made you kick yourself, because on this occasion the Scoops Ahoy guy caught you.

You’d been walking quite a fair distance behind - hoping that you didn’t look like a total creep watching how his long strides carried him - when his keys fell from his hands. When he turned to pick them up, the two of you met eyes across the expanse of the empty mall; you hadn’t even realized that you stopped walking until that moment.

You were instantly flustered by his brown eyes and the curious furrow of his brow, trying in vain to look around yourself and act as if you totally weren’t staring at all. Of course, you knew even as you did it that the act wasn’t going to work; when you nervously met his eyes again, you thought perhaps you saw something like amusement there. So, panicked and not knowing what else to do, you glared harshly as if to dismiss your staring and briskly continued on towards the escalators without daring to slow or look back at him one last time.

Why you’d been so caught up in him at all was a mystery to you, and so from that point you made a conscious effort to ignore him in the hopes that eventually your intrigue would be forgotten. So, you briefly found some guy cute? Didn’t matter, especially considering that you had no intention of ever speaking to him anyway.

Most days, that stupid Scoops Ahoy guy never even crossed your mind, but when he did, it was nearly an annoyance. If ever you visited the food court for lunch, it was almost aggressive the way you ignored the ice cream parlor, acting as if it wasn’t even there. During some of your morning walks through Starcourt you tried to keep your head down, but more than once the two of you had accidentally fallen in-stride with one another, which would prompt you to practically stomp forward and act as if you didn’t know he was there at all.

Then there was one day when you were convinced that your coworker was conspiring against you, because Shelley all but dragged you down to Scoops Ahoy despite your protests. Evidently, her ice cream craving took precedence over your arguments against accompanying her.

You could feel the tension in your body and across your face as you awkwardly stood there beside Shelley, your eyes trained on the floor as if that would keep you from doing something foolish. If your coworker was aware of your rigid demeanor, she didn’t draw attention to it, far too focused on ordering the most annoyingly intricate sundae you’d ever seen.

As luck would have it, you weren’t invisible simply because you wouldn’t look at the Scoops Ahoy guy, because he turned his attention to you and asked, “Anything for you?”

You looked up with a mean expression, which was somewhat unintentional - your nerves always managed to make you seem bitchy rather than anxious, which was a win depending on who you asked. You could see the exact moment that he recognized you, his expression faltering for a brief moment; you weren’t sure if his surprise was good or bad.

Your eyes bounced around his face for a moment, flicking down towards his name tag just long enough to read that it said “Steve” in bubble letters; shit, having his name made this so much worse somehow. But you found your voice quickly - although it felt like a lifetime - giving him a blunt and mildly rude, “No.”

You could see a bit of tension between his brows at your response, but he was able to mask it quickly, putting on that false customer service smile while turning his attention back to Shelley. That interaction was damn near mortifying for you, and for weeks after you avoided the food court like a damn plague.

Then, of course, there was that one time you were cleaning up shelves near the front of Spencer’s, minding your business and trying to zone out everything around you, when you felt as if there were a pair of eyes on you. So, you looked around quizzically, up and down the wide aisles of Starcourt, when finally you spotted Steve rubber-necking from across the way just so he could stare at you. Beside him was his fellow Scoops Ahoy employee, and under other circumstances, their matching uniforms would have made the sight of them comical to you, but in this instance all you felt was confusion and nervousness.

Now it was your turn to pull a bewildered expression as a flustered look flashed across Steve’s face. He abruptly pulled his gaze away, pretending to look at the mannequins in the shop window next to him, though he practically tripped over himself in his panic.

Despite your utter confusion, something about it made you smile to yourself while turning back towards your work, though you just as quickly shook off the expression. You were not about to get giddy just because some guy was looking at you - for all you knew, his stare was a bad thing. Maybe he was just trying to remember your face so he knew which store to avoid, or maybe - an even worse thought - he was confusing you with someone else. Regardless, you kept your head down until you were finally done with your task, whisking deeper into the store the moment that you were free.

You were a pretty far cry from Steve Harrington’s usual type - the all-black wardrobe, the intricate make-up, and the wild hair of the goth scene had never been of any interest to him before. In fact, a younger, more entitled and rude Steve would have probably mocked your appearance. The only time he would spare a second glance at someone clad in black was usually because their attire was garishly off-trend, but otherwise he’d never once spared any goth chick a second glance.

That is, until that one morning when he dropped his keys and caught you staring at him.

Steve was almost certain that he’d seen you around before, though only sparingly and in his periphery; he could have been confusing you with some of the other mall goths he’d seen lurking about, but he was pretty damn confident that he recognized you specifically.

He was taken aback by the fact that you were watching him so intently, his interest only amplified by the way your expression morphed from curiosity into a glare before you briskly walked off in the direction of your respective workplace. Steve couldn’t help but watch you go, an intrigue planted in his brain as he looked you up and down, perhaps trying to commit your appearance to memory. He wondered why you seemed so focused on him, which quickly morphed into wondering about you in general.

It was almost refreshing to have someone new to be curious about, considering that chicks seemed to abruptly lose interest in Steve over the summer. It bolstered his confidence to catch you staring at him, a confidence that he didn’t realize had wavered so much.

Oftentimes, Steve would go days at a time without thinking about the goth girl who gave him pause, but every time he thought he was free of you, you’d appear again like clockwork. He’d see you in the parking lot as the two of you rushed into work, on a lunch break trying to scarf down your food so you wouldn’t be late, talking with people who were maybe coworkers or friends. And even that brief, stinted interaction when you were in line at Scoops Ahoy managed to intrigue him despite your rudeness.

Again, it was usually only in passing, but Steve was becoming increasingly aware of your presence… and increasingly aware of the fact that he found you very attractive.

He didn’t know a damn thing about you - not your name or what your voice sounded like or your interests - but Steve was beginning to enjoy those random sightings of you around Starcourt, even looking forward to them as if you were a rare lunar eclipse. Watching you walk quickly across the mall and towards the escalators became a guessing game for him, wondering which shop you worked in - though, he didn’t want to be that guy who would swing by your workplace just so he could catch a glimpse of you. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that he was so drawn to, yet he couldn’t resist looking each time you were nearby.

Robin, of course, wasn’t stupid and caught onto the fact that someone was drawing Steve’s attention every now and then, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out who. Although they’d only been friends for a few months at this point, the two of them were practically attached at the hip, so it was strange that Steve wasn’t talking about whoever this new distraction was.

Considering that he all but gave up on flirting with girls at Scoops and hadn’t been on a date in months - so far as Robin was aware - it only made this scenario all the more intriguing to her. Now, Robin was committed to figuring out who had caught Steve’s eye and why he wasn’t saying anything about it.

She finally got her answer one day as the two of them were walking through Starcourt after work, Robin insisting on stopping into a couple of stores before leaving. She noticed Steve clearly focused elsewhere, and so she tried to slyly look around, hoping she’d pinpoint the chick that had Steve’s head turning. Evidently, he must have been caught, because Steve whipped his attention around rapidly, even stumbling over his feet as he tried to play nonchalant.

So, Robin looked back while stifling her laugh, eyes scanning the crowds for anyone who could be the culprit - she was expecting it to be obvious, to see a gorgeous girl in preppy clothes with equally as generic hair and make-up. But when no one instantly stood out, it made her pause, eyes focusing in on each and every face more carefully.

Steve hadn’t realized that she stopped walking until he was a few paces ahead, looking either side of him before turning around towards his best friend. His brows furrowed with confusion as he asked what she was doing, but Robin was too focused to answer; so, he walked back towards her, trying to follow her line of sight, still feeling a touch frazzled by the fact that you’d caught him staring at you so damn openly.

It took a minute, but Robin was still coming up blank - no one looked to be Steve’s type at all. She turned her attention back to him, eyes narrowing with a scrutiny that was making him nervous all over again.

“Who were you looking at?” Robin asked. Steve’s brow rose with worry that he’d been caught before he tried to put on a false show of innocence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.” Robin’s expression became even more scheming, eager to play detective and uncover what Steve wasn’t telling her, “Don’t play dumb, I know you’ve been distracted by someone recently, so who is it?”

Despite it being an uphill battle, Steve still tried to feign confusion, “I haven’t been distracted by anyone.”

“You’re not as subtle as you think.” Robin smiled devilishly, looking around Starcourt again, “So, why are you afraid of just telling me?”

Steve stared dumbly at her for a moment, heart drumming nervously as if he’d committed some kind of crime. With a deep sigh, he shook his head while looking down at the ground in defeat - he figured the worst Robin could do was pick on him a little, so there was no reason to be this secretive about it.

So, Steve looked back towards Spencer’s, half hoping you wouldn’t be at the front of the store, but you were still there directly in his sight. He pointed towards you, praying that you wouldn’t happen to look back up just like you did a couple of minutes ago. Robin followed his finger, her brow knitted together when the only person who fit the bill even slightly was you, the goth chick with the “don’t talk to me” attitude.

She looked between you and Steve, back and forth enough times that it was nearly slapstick; everything she knew about Steve up to this point hadn’t prepared her for the realization that maybe goth could be his type. Is that why he hadn’t mentioned it, why he hadn’t once discussed a new crush he was maybe developing?

Once the shock of it had passed, Robin’s eyes lit up with amusement, which only made Steve sigh in preparation for the inevitable annoyance she was about to be, “How the hell do you know her?”

“I don’t know her.” Steve insisted quickly, “I just started noticing her, that’s all.”

Robin’s expression grew giddier as she bumped her shoulder into his, “Then when are you going to try to get to know her?”

“I’m not.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Why?” Robin couldn’t help but grow invested in the scenario, especially because Steve was being so resistant to it, “What’s the harm in just talking to her?”

“I don’t know if I’m even into her, let alone if she’d give me the time of day.” Steve argued as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Only way to find out is to try.” Robin sing-songed, delighting in her best friend’s torment.

“And be on the receiving end of that glare again? Yeah, no thanks.” Robin shook her head at his stubbornness, prepared to keep up her taunts, but Steve spoke again before she got the chance to, “Look, drop it, I’m not gonna talk to her.”

“But aren’t you at least a little curious? Maybe she’s your soulmate.” Robin teased as Steve began walking again, all too invested in putting as much distance between you and him as possible. She had to jog a few steps just to catch up with him again, “Come on, Steve, just go for it.”

“I’m really not as interested as you think I am.” Steve argued as Robin looked back towards Spencer’s again briefly. She hummed with doubt, clearly not convinced by the disinterested front he put up; as Steve’s best friend, she decided it was her job to just give him the little nudge he needed, she just had to figure out how and when.

As if he could tell that she was scheming, Steve raised his brows with a warning look that was far from intimidating, “Robin, don’t.”

She continued to mull things over, quite intent on her new mission, but to appease Steve, she nodded noncommittally while rolling her eyes, “Sure, whatever, I’ll drop it…”

Eventually, Thanksgiving had come and gone; with the cold weather now a mainstay in Hawkins, you stupidly mourned the fact that Steve (and god how you wish you could just forget that name) was now wearing pants instead of those little shorts. Despite your best efforts not to think about him too much, you could no longer resist letting him cross your mind from time to time.

Around that same time that the shorts were retired for the coming winter, your manager had roped you into a supervisor role that you didn’t even want; it was more thrust upon you once they began hiring seasonal staff to help with the influx of holiday customers. This meant that you were constantly swamped with tasks, overworked and underpaid as you seemed to spend every damn day at Starcourt covering shifts or counting inventory or arguing with the delivery guys over damaged shipments.

And all for a minimum wage position at some gag store like Spencer’s freaking Gifts? You decided that you may have to do some job hunting once the holidays had come to an end.

To top it all off, you were now stuck short staffed for the closing shift on Christmas Eve thanks to two employees calling out “sick;” really, you thought it was ridiculous that Starcourt was even open on the holiday, but nothing was going to stop capitalism America from catering to those last-minute, needy shoppers.

Honestly, you didn’t celebrate the holiday, so it wasn’t as if being at work was keeping you from family or friends or parties - but you really weren’t excited to deal with argumentative customers and theft and the impatient crowds of people who simply couldn’t be bothered to do their shopping any sooner. That was the kind of shit that was bound to make you rip your hair out.

But, alas, here you were, trying to keep it together as shoppers crammed into the small store, ruining displays, asking for price checks, being rude and dismissive with the kids at the registers. It was exactly the kind of chaos you were expecting, and yet somehow it was even more insufferable than you had prepared yourself for.

Considering that you were the keyholder for tonight, you tried your damnedest to keep the ship known as Spencer’s afloat - you were all too happy to get confrontational with rude customers, get your fellow employees off the registers when it was clear shit was becoming too much, ran back and forth from the stockroom to the store floor in your best effort to keep the shelves full. The stress of it all dared to turn you into an addict of some kind, because right now you could definitely use a fix of something that you couldn’t even name.

The shop was only set to be open for another half hour, and although the crowd had thinned, there were still far too many customers here for your liking - at this rate, you’d be stuck at work half the night just trying to get everyone out of here and get the store closed properly. At least the staff looked less stressed than before, at least you had the chance to breathe between shopper complaints and demands, though that did little to alleviate your frustrations.

As you were busy putting out the last few boxes of He-Man figures that had been flying off the shelf all goddamn night, you could sense someone approaching you from the corner of your eye, a question hurriedly leaving their lips before you even had a chance to greet them.

“Would it be a little vulgar if someone gave this as a gift to the person they were interested in?” Your brow furrowed as you met the eyes of a girl about your age, her freckled face cute and friendly as she held out a pillow in the shape of tits. You looked back and forth between the gag pillow and her face a few times; although you were exhausted by the day you had, something about her question dared to amuse you, as if she knew that you needed some kind of pick-me-up.

And it had almost worked, too, until you noticed the man who had followed just a step behind her; he dragged his hand down his face uncomfortably, shaking his head while hissing her name frantically beneath his breath. His posture suggested he was exacerbated - as if he didn’t want to be here or as if they’d already had this conversation or as if he was embarrassed. It then took you another split second to realize who he was, as he wasn’t wearing that familiar uniform that you’d been trying and failing to ignore for months.

It was Steve.

Your expression instantly sobered as he looked between you and the girl, his panicky, apologetic gaze making you nervous instantly. Just like you had done nearly half a dozen times since learning of Steve’s existence, you impulsively glowered at him as if to dismiss your fears, although you immediately cursed yourself for doing something so stupid.

But maybe he didn’t notice, because his attention was already on the girl instead, brows raised with surprise at her behavior, his attitude akin to that of a scolding parent tired of their kid’s shit, “Jesus, Robin, really?”

Robin shrugged defensively, although there seemed to be some kind of knowing amusement in her eyes, a twinkle of mischief, “Well, I wanted a second opinion.”

“Oh yeah, sure you did.”

You looked between the duo awkwardly, not wanting to walk away considering that you were on the clock, but so wishing to be anywhere but here right now, as you could feel your face growing warm simply because Steve was standing right here in front of you.

In a measly attempt to calm your nerves, you returned focus to the box of figures you’d been unloading just a few moments ago. Beside you, the two bickered in hushed tones, just quiet enough that you weren’t really sure what the problem was or what they were saying to one another.

You took a deep breath through your nose, pressing your lips together as you put the last Skeletor up on the shelf; you had to decide if you were going to leave them to their squabbling or try to assist them. And for whatever reason, you chose professionalism over your selfish desire to get the hell out of dodge.

“Depends on how well you know the person.” You said plainly, cutting through their spat and quieting the both of them. You picked up the now empty box while looking from one pretty face to the other, your gaze tired from the long day that you’d had, “If they’re already a friend, hopefully they’ll laugh, but some fake tits probably won’t make someone interested in you.”

Your nose scrunched as you mulled over the girl’s question again, looking down at the stupid pillow that was dangling forgotten in her hand. A silent conversation was clearly happening between Robin and Steve, if their expressive faces were anything to go on. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes for a moment to compose yourself - it was damn near closing time, and the last thing you needed was to be stressing out over the guy that you did not have a crush on. He was just nice to look at, that’s all, though having him here just a few feet in front of you made you antsy as all get-out.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” You asked dully, drawing their attention back to you; you tried not to swallow nervously under the inviting warmth of those deep brown eyes.

Although he looked about ready to say something, Robin spoke first, her tone purposeful to the point that it was suspicious, “Actually, if you don’t mind, Steve here was looking at something behind the counter; could you show it to him?”

Steve shot Robin a look that seemed to be either a threat or a plea, and you continued to look between them with doubt, uncertainty, and trepidation; your shift had already been ridiculous as it is, and whatever shenanigans were clearly going on here was the last thing you wanted to worry about. Once again, you could see some kind of conflict happening even without any words being spoken between them.

So, you sighed decisively, shaking your head a little, “I’ll meet you up at the counter whenever you’re ready.”

You ducked into the storeroom to discard your empty box, taking a moment to breathe and relax before peeking out the door to see if your walking away had prompted Steve and Robin to leave or if they were still lingering around somewhere. A muttered “fuck” passed between your lips as you saw them clearly bickering near the front entrance, as if one wanted to go and one wanted to stay. You rolled your eyes up towards the ceiling because of course this would happen to you tonight, obviously the one person you’d been mildly attracted to recently would show up at your workplace when you were at your most stressed. So damn typical.

Collecting yourself, you walked from the storeroom towards the front counter, curious if they’d actually come up to look at whatever the hell Steve was supposedly interested in; really, you were hoping they’d just give up and leave, it would certainly make your night easier. You tried your damnedest to not look back over in their direction, letting the other customers serve as a much needed distraction, ringing up their purchases and trying to shoo them out and close shop as quickly as possible.

You were starting to think that the rush to lock up the store for the night had dissuaded Steve and Robin, because you couldn’t see either of them from your vantage point at the checkout counter. And by some miracle, you didn’t have any customers in need of assistance - at least for the moment - so you let your shoulders deflate, a relieved sigh escaping you. Less than ten minutes and you’d be able to lock the doors.

But your luck had run out almost immediately, because you saw someone coming up to the counter from the corner of your eye; preparing yourself, you took a deep breath and turned, though your confidence had withered away the moment you met their eyes.

Steve approached you alone, Robin nowhere in sight, which made your nerves even worse than before. His mouth was open as if he was about to speak, but no words were coming out, looking like he was frozen beneath your gaze; you had to resist that impulsive urge to glare, though you were certain you nonetheless didn’t look terribly approachable.

He leaned stiffly against the counter, trying his best to look easy and unbothered despite clearly feeling the opposite. You simply stared for a moment, unsure of yourself, before you managed to pull it together at least briefly.

“What was it that you wanted to look at?” You asked in your monotonous customer service voice, bracing your hands on the counter as if that could keep you calm and steady.

“There wasn’t actually anything,” Steve finally found his voice as he looked nervously between your eyes. Your brow curved up curiously, though a part of you had nearly suspected that answer.

“Yeah, I figured.” Your tone came off colder than you intended, and it caused apprehension to immediately flashed across Steve’s face. Realizing your mistake, you looked around yourself before rounding the counter, walking purposefully as if you had something else you needed to be doing, though all you were really doing was trying to escape. You could feel Steve following, the crowded shelves of merchandise forcing him into nearly too close proximity behind you.

“Sometimes Robin just says things, you know, she can be funny like that.” Steve explained as your expression furrowed, wondering what his deal was. You stopped walking abruptly, causing Steve to bump right into you, ill-prepared for the sudden halt. As he quickly apologized, he steadied his hands on your shoulders for the briefest of seconds, just as suddenly snatching them away as if he’d been burned by you.

You spun around to face Steve, his body so close to yours that you practically bumped noses in the process; your eyes widened nervously, taking in his handsome face as you tried to keep yourself composed. Steve’s string of repeated “sorry”s tapered off, his mouth ajar as his eyes grew larger, too, gaze bouncing around your face rapidly.

“Well,” You started in what you hoped was a confident, disinterested tone, “we close in about five minutes… so if you plan on buying something, you should probably go check out.”

Steve nodded dumbly as he looked between your eyes before he dropped his gaze towards the ground; you realized he had absolutely no merchandise in hand, “Uh huh, yeah, I’ll do that.”

You licked your lip, taking in the pretty way his hair fell in his face and the unsure look in his eyes. For a moment, you became engrossed in him, feeling your own expression soften the longer you stared. But just as quickly, you shook yourself out of it, trying to speak with an air of finality that simply didn’t land, “I… hope you have a good holiday?”

Steve looked up at you through his lashes, though you turned quickly to continue walking away before you could get caught up in his eyes. But apparently he wasn’t ready for the conversation to end just yet, because he followed after you and continued, “Sorry, wait--”

You paused with a deep, nervous sigh, getting more and more edgy as the moments ticked by. What could this clean-cut, vanilla guy possibly want with someone like you?

You spun again, crossing your arms comfortingly in front of you while raising a brow; you realized after you’d done it that you probably looked pissed and defensive rather than nervous. When you didn’t say anything, Steve tripped over himself while trying to find his words, cheeks tinged with pink as he looked anywhere but your eyes.

“Look, I know I’m holding you up and you probably want to get home to your family or a boyfriend or something, I mean, it’s Christmas Eve, of course you’d have plans,” he started quickly, and there was something so damn charming about it that you couldn’t help the way your eyes lit up, gaze softening as you studied him; even still, your heart beat quickly inside your chest, “but I just, uh, I’ve seen you around the mall and thought I’d… introduce myself.”

Steve finally looked between your eyes again, and it appeared that your expression only made him more anxious, because he began yet another spiel, “God, that makes it sound like I just go around introducing myself to every damn person in the mall. I don’t - honestly that would be a lot of work - I mean that I wanted to talk to you specifically, you know.”

You couldn’t help the surprised grin that tugged at the corner of your mouth, absolutely taken aback by the unexpected personality behind the handsome face. Considering that you’d only ever watched Steve from afar and barely interacted with him once before, you let yourself think he was some uninteresting, dull guy. That little assumption made it so much easier to ignore the desire to stare at him, to forget about him more often than not. Now that you were so close and seeing his actual personality come through, he was, unfortunately, winning you over far too easily for your liking.

“Oh, you’re smiling, that’s good,” Steve said, his eyes growing larger as if he hadn’t planned on saying that out loud. Pushing his hair back in a fluid motion, he looked around the store while trying to take a deep breath, “You’re kinda scary, you know that?”

An unexpected laugh escaped you, your rigid posture relaxing a hair more, “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Steve held up his hands as if he were approaching a skittish animal.

“I know.” You responded without thinking; once again, your goddamn nerves were making you come across like a total bitch, “Uh, usually it makes people less interested in talking to me.” 

There was something of a frenzied look in Steve’s eyes, and you realized that maybe your blunt attitude was causing him panic. His posture had grown a touch more tense than it already was, and your fear of fucking up was causing a chaos of butterflies in your chest.

But in that same moment, you remembered that you were still on the clock and desperate to close the store, your mind going back into work mode as you hissed a small “shit” beneath your breath.

“Look, I gotta close,” You started, catching the way Steve’s face fell in defeat. You quickly added in what you hoped was a more friendly tone than the one you’d been using all night, “but, uh… it was nice talking to you.”

Your expression furrowed with uncertainty, looking between Steve’s eyes as you awaited a possible acceptance or rejection to what you just said. Mirrored back to you was his own trepidation and doubt, as if he hadn’t quite understood what you said.

When he didn’t respond right away, you raised your brows questioningly, “Maybe… we’ll chat sometime?”

The question prompted Steve to nod quickly with a slightly improved look on his face, though he still seemed dumbfounded, “Yeah yeah, totally.”

You stared at each other for a long, awkward minute, neither really knowing what to say or do next. The tension between you filled your head with concern, and you were growing more and more confused the longer that you lingered.

“Well, uh… bye.” You said dumbly before awkwardly turning your back, walking deeper into the store so you could take even just a minute to calm the fuck down. You pulled a critical face at your own stupid behavior, muttering about how crudely you handled that pathetic excuse of a conversation. You tried to shake it off, knowing that you still had to get the rest of the customers moving so you could lock the damn doors, but you feared Steve would be a nagging little distraction in your mind until you finally made it back home.

Despite knowing better, you couldn’t help but look back over your shoulder apprehensively - you weren’t sure if you wanted to meet Steve’s eyes, or if you were hoping he’d already walked away. A jolt of anxiety shot up your spine when you found that he was still watching you, looking to be in deep consideration as if he was trying to make sense of that frazzling interaction. You both startled and turned away from each other at the same time, and all you could wonder is if you had fucked up enough that you’d scared Steve away.

When you finally had Spencer’s closed for the evening, you walked out in a group with your coworkers, everyone bracing themselves for the cold, teeth chattering and arms shivering. The parking lot was still littered with a couple dozen cars as you all moved together - clearly other Starcourt employees were stuck working even later than you.

You were barely listening to the eager conversation happening between the others, who were discussing their plans for the holiday; stupidly, you were still hung up on your conversation with Steve. Your day had already been stressful and shitty, so totally biffing that interaction was yet one more dumb notch in your belt. You really shouldn’t have gotten yourself worked up over it, but your nerves clearly had other plans, because now it was the only thing you could think about whether you liked it or not.

The group eventually all went their separate ways as you continued meandering to your stupid little car, not in any rush to get back home. Packed snow crunched beneath your feet as pretty flakes stuck to your face and hair; although it was cold, the night was still and the temperature almost soothing after the long day you’d had.

Unlocking your car, you carelessly tossed your bag into the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel, fumbling with the key as you tried to slot it into the ignition. But once you turned the key, all you got was a sad sputtering sound from the engine, which filled you with instantaneous dread. You paused for a moment before trying again, yet once more, the car wouldn’t start.

Really? One more goddamn thing to worry about tonight. Grumbling and huffing, you kicked the door open again and popped the hood of the car, though what you were looking for you had no idea - you knew absolutely nothing about cars, hell, you could barely put air in the tires without it becoming a whole goddamn ordeal.

With your hands braced on the lifted hood, you stared down into the old engine as if you’d miraculously figure out what needed to be done; you tried to take deep, calm breaths so that you wouldn’t freak out unnecessarily, but you could feel that impulse slowly bubbling up inside you.

To let out some of the frustration, you kicked the front bumper, your heavy boot protecting you from feeling any pain on impact. Your arms fell with defeat to your sides, because, unfortunately, simply staring at the engine did nothing to resolve the problem.

Around you, other cars left the parking lot slowly, but no one made an effort to stop and offer you assistance, not that you were really expecting any help to begin with. Headlights reflected off the glistening snowy surfaces, frost and ice crackled under tires, and you stood there like some sad, pathetic ghost of Christmas whatever-the-fuck.

“Need a hand?” A voice called from behind you, taking you by surprise, considering that you assumed the driver was simply going to pass by and ignore you. You sighed deeply to get your stress under control, because without looking you already knew exactly who it was that offered you assistance; at this rate, it was damn near ridiculous and ironic that he’d be the one to show up to your rescue.

You turned slowly to face Steve, hoping you didn’t look too pathetic as a small glare settled in your eyes. He hung out the window of his car, brow knotted with worry as he looked between you and your shitty vehicle; you leaned your rear against the front of your car, crossing your arms to protect yourself from both the cold and Steve.

“You’re not following me, are you?” You jested with little amusement, because what else were you supposed to do after the shitty day you’d had?

“Not on purpose.” Steve answered simply, pulling in next to you and putting his car in park, “Battery?”

You shrugged with a melodramatic sweep of your arms, a defeated, sad laugh escaping you, “Who fucking knows.”

There was a decisiveness to Steve’s expression as he climbed out of his vehicle and popped the hood, opening the trunk and digging out some jumper cables. The focused look on his face helped to ease you despite the way your night was going, and it very nearly made you smile through your frustrations.

“Well, let’s hope this works.” Steve said as he hooked up the cables, double checking his work along the way to make sure he didn’t blow up either engine. Eventually, he pointed towards your driver door, “See if we can get this started up.”

You nodded quickly as the two of you slid into your respective driver's seats, Steve starting his car up first; but after three attempts, your damn car still wouldn’t start, and you slumped back into the seat, groaning loudly while tugging at your hair in frustration; god, what kind of shit luck were you dealt?

Steve came up and leaned in the open door frame, eyes sympathetic as he gazed down at you; you didn’t even have the energy to be nervous about his close proximity or the gentleness of his gaze. A weak laugh escaped you as you shook your head, “As if tonight couldn't get any worse.”

You met Steve’s eyes, looking between them pitifully as the cold of the evening began to seep into your bones. He stared back sympathetically, his expression troubled by the fact that he couldn’t fix the problem for you. Despite all your earlier nerves and awkwardness around him, all you felt right now was amity between you two.

“Thanks for trying.” You sighed, resting your head back and staring absently at the ripped and tattered ceiling. You swallowed down the upset lump in your throat, “I meant what I said earlier - about wanting to chat sometime, I mean.”

A faint smile graced Steve’s lips as he glanced down at his feet a moment, meeting your eyes again kindly, “Bet you weren’t expecting it to go like this, though.”

You shook your head while closing your eyes as a smirk dared to tug at the corner of your mouth, “Not in the slightest…”

Steve wet his lips as his brow furrowed again, looking around at the parking lot that was growing emptier as the minutes ticked by. His face was contemplative for a long beat before he brought his attention back to you while taking a deep breath, “Let me give you a ride.”

You balked at the suggestion, shaking your head quickly, “You really don’t have to do that, I’ve caused you enough trouble--”

“What else am I supposed to do, leave you stranded here?” Steve interrupted, raising his brows for emphasis, waving his hand in a “follow me” motion as he stepped back. You stayed planted in your seat, watching him with uncertainty; Steve gave you another look when you didn’t follow, “Come on; gives us a chance to chat some more, right?”

You hesitated a couple moments longer, but eventually you scooped up your bag and stiffly climbed out of the car; Steve was already in the process of unhooking the cables and closing your hood. As you awkwardly stood there waiting for him to finish, he studied you from the corner of his eye, which prompted your brows to furrow as you went on the defensive.

“You better not be kidnapping me.” Your statement caused Steve to laugh and shake his head at how ridiculous that notion was; he closed the hood of his car next and rounded to the driver’s side.

“You’re scary, remember? I don’t have the balls to kidnap you.” You couldn’t help but smile gaily at his response, which seemed to please Steve, as an equally delighted look crossed his face, “Oh, another smile, good.”

You rolled your eyes, though you were nonetheless still fascinated by how nervous Steve seemed to be around you. As you stared at him for a brief moment, he chewed the inside of his cheek and made another hand gesture before ducking into his car, “Come on, it’s getting cold.”

So, you followed his lead and slid into the passenger seat, though once you closed the door it was like another wave of tension washed over you - stupid as it seemed, you found there to be something so personal about being alone in a car with someone you barely knew. Your posture grew stiff almost instantly, eyes staring straight ahead into the snowy night as Steve cranked up the heat and began a slow crawl across the parking lot.

“Where am I heading?” Steve asked while glancing over at you; you kept your eyes forward as you told him your neighborhood. For a very long minute, the two of you were silent as the strangeness of this scenario dawned on you both. Steve cleared his throat, “Sorry about earlier.”

You glanced over at him with a confused look, trying not to shrink nervously when he turned to face you, “What do you mean?”

“I was bothering you at work,” he started with a shrug, “kinda wasted your time.”

Timidly, you looked back towards him again, thankful that his eyes were back on the road, “You weren’t bothering me.”

Steve made a face as if he didn’t believe you, “Yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

You hummed in acknowledgement of your earlier attitude, forcing yourself to be a little more communicative so he couldn’t misinterpret you again, “We didn’t really get the time to talk much… and I was nervous.”

Steve laughed, an inviting sound that drew both an amused and confused look across your face. He glanced at you again, shaking his head humorously, “You, nervous? That’s not the impression I got at all.”

The corner of your mouth tugged up as your eyes looked about his face, “Then what impression did you get?”

Steve took a breath, searching for the right way to phrase this, “That you didn’t want to talk to me in the slightest.”

“Oh.” You answered dumbly; when Steve shot you another look from the corner of his eyes, you tried to find your words, “No, I did want to talk to you… just didn’t know how.”

A far too charming smile spread across his lips as he turned to you again, “Didn’t know how?”

“You’re a little scary, too.” You shrugged with a faint grin, which grew larger at the amused twinkle in Steve’s eyes; again, he laughed, a sound that you could easily get used to.

“Never been told I was scary before…” He focused on the road for a long beat, fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel as he mulled that thought over. Evidently, it prompted another question, because he gave you another curious glance, “Why were you scared of me?”

Your brows rose as you opened your mouth, but you hesitated before any words could come out. Nerves started to drum in your chest again as you felt heat rising up your neck and into your cheeks; and with the way Steve patiently kept looking over at you, the heat became even worse, “I, uh… no reason.”

Steve’s face twisted with suspicion at your lack of an explanation, narrowed eyes shooting a critical look in your direction. Feeling the intensity of his stare, you kept your unblinking gaze on the road, watching the snow falling gently in front of you.

Steve mulled your answer over, recalling that first day he caught you staring, the time you came to Scoops, and finally your first conversation earlier this evening; of course he could suspect reasons for why you would be nervous or hesitant, but he also wasn’t stupid enough to assume anything about you either.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, drawing on all that confidence he once harbored back when he was still King Steve, when he could land any girl he set his sights on. Though that was a side of him that he hadn’t seen nearly this entire year, he figured he had to shoot his shot eventually, “I can tell you why I was scared…”

The way he trailed off made you curious, although there was something dubious about it. You looked back towards him with a knot between your brows, and now that he had your attention, Steve’s face lit up, his smile almost causing you to drop your guard.

“I’ll tell you, but then you have to tell me why you were scared.” You shook your head with an unamused laugh, knowing that when the other shoe dropped it would be something like this. Despite yourself, you grinned, still falling for Steve’s charm even when he had you backed into a metaphorical corner.

“Oh, you wanna know real bad, huh?” You teased, because really that was your only defense between Steve and the nervousness that was crawling over you again. He gave you a short nod, his expression taunting and challenging.

“I mean, the least you could do is tell me, considering that I’m giving you a ride and all…” Steve’s unexpected playfulness took you aback, causing you to gape for a moment, which only seemed to amuse him even more. You tried to relax your expression, to put up a front of disinterest, but it was far too late for that, “So?”

You rolled your eyes and smirked, even as your heart stuttered; shit, you did not want to tell Steve what you thought of him. Maybe you could come up with a convincing lie, or maybe you could just intimidate him again until he gave up. But admitting to the fact that maybe you were crushing on him, that this ordinary pretty boy was somehow winning you over? Nope, that was something you did not want to do.

And yet… why had he come to talk to you in the first place? Why did he want to introduce himself, why was he so willing to help you on Christmas Eve when he should be off somewhere with family or a partner? Your curiosity was growing by the minute.

“Fine.” The word left your mouth before you could second guess it. Steve looked at you almost in disbelief, as if he had convinced himself you wouldn’t take the bait; you stared back, hoping your eyes didn’t give away your hesitation. Despite the warmth in the car, you shivered with nerves and apprehension.

Steve swallowed while looking back towards the road, nodding faintly to himself as he considered whatever the hell was going on in his head. You waited, impatience making you fidgety as your eyes practically burnt a hole in the side of his head.

“How much further to your place?” Your expression twisted with surprise, anticipation put to an abrupt halt thanks to the whiplash that came with the question. You studied Steve for a moment before realizing that maybe he was trying to buy some time or simply avoid the subject all together. Now, you were growing evermore curious, opening and closing your mouth smally as you considered whether or not you’d play along.

“Um, five minutes up the road.” You answered, trying to shake yourself from your mild stupor. Steve simply nodded, and you couldn’t help the way you leaned towards him just a little as if you were studying a newly discovered species, “What, you scared now?”

“No.” Steve looked back at you, “Just wanna make sure I don’t miss your house.”

Your faint smile and narrowed eyes made it clear that you didn’t believe him, though he tried to remain convincing. Slumping back into your seat a little, you kept your eyes locked on Steve, studying him and looking for evidence of hesitation. Considering it was per his suggestion that you agreed to admit anything, you couldn’t help but suspect that it was nerves that got to him, regardless of what he said.

Realizing that your brief time with Steve was soon to come to a close, you frowned forlornly, gaze dropping from his face. Considering that this whole night had been a little weird, you weren’t sure why you were so disappointed that it would end, but… perhaps that was because it felt like something was only just beginning, cheesy as that sounded. A part of you felt that if shit stopped now, it wouldn’t get to start up again - whether that was true or not didn’t matter.

Your heart picked up speed in your chest as you turned your eyes back towards Steve, words spilling from your lips before you could even realize what you were saying, “Can we just drive for a bit?”

Steve’s brows rose in surprise as he looked back over at you, his lips parting as if he had a question to ask, though no words came out. Suddenly embarrassed by your silly request, you raised your hands up as if in surrender, though your tone ended up being defensive.

“I mean, only if you’ve got nothing going on. Stupid of me to ask considering it’s Christmas Eve, but I’ve got nothing to go home to so I just thought…”

You weren’t sure what you thought, that was the whole problem. The look on Steve’s face was tough to read as he considered what you said, and, feeling foolish, you melted into your seat a little as your face twisted self-consciously.

“Let’s drive.” Steve finally said with a certainty to his tone, taking you aback as he gave you a winning look, “Where to?”

You shrugged dumbly, still trying to fend off your chagrin. Steve took you in for a moment before returning his eyes to the road and driving towards an unknown destination.

Only a minute later, he broke through the silence again, “So, is no one home?”

You shook your head, though you realized he almost certainly didn’t see it, “Dad works nights.”

Steve opened his mouth to add something, but stopped to mull it over first, “My parents are out of town. No one’s waiting for me at home, either.”

Although your brows drooped down, you gave a good humored smile as you two met eyes, “Hm, and they didn’t take you?”

“They never do.” Steve smirked and rolled his eyes, though you suspected that a part of him wasn’t nearly as okay with that as he led you to believe.

For a long beat, you studied him in silence, enjoying his profile as he focused on the road; you took in the thoughtful look in his eyes, the inviting shape of his lips, the downturn of his brows. God, you shouldn’t have been feeling all these butterflies thanks to some guy you only just met, and yet they became harder to ignore the longer you stared at Steve’s pretty face.

He, too, looked towards you when he had the chance and took you in closely, making you squirm as his dark eyes trailed from your eyes to your lips, down your neck and body before jumping back up. Lucky for you, he still had to drive, otherwise you may have melted under his intense, deliberate gaze.

About a minute into the silence that settled between you two, Steve turned up the radio, just enough to have background noise but not too loud to be disruptive. Coming through the speakers was some classic Christmas song that made you cringe; as if he caught your averse reaction, Steve switched stations, though the pop rock that took its place was no relief to you. You tried to ignore the music, not wanting to be sour about something as unimportant as that.

Although you still felt tense given the quiet that was stretching out between you and Steve, there was a certain comfort in the silence; driving down an empty road, snow falling gently, and a cute boy to keep you company wasn’t half bad.

Again, you found yourself studying Steve’s features, questions and inquiries coming to mind as the minutes passed - what were his hobbies? Was he from Hawkins, or was he a transplant like you? What were his friends like? Hell, what even was his last name? So many things you could ask, and you didn’t know where to start.

Well, there was one place to start, if you were feeling a little mischievous, but even the thought of it made you anxious and antsy all over again.

“Why were you scared earlier?” You blurted out, your own brows rising in surprise; maybe you had to get a better hold of your nerves, else you might keep saying things without thinking.

Steve shot you an apprehensive glance, though he tried to mask it with a smile, “Ah, so my distraction didn’t work.”

“Not in the slightest.” You grinned even as your nerves made it appear sheepish and noncommittal, “And don’t just say it’s because of the whole goth thing.”

“Well, not the whole goth thing,” Steve teased, pleased with himself when he caught you fighting back an amused look. After a moment, though, he sighed smally, looking around at the neighborhood he was driving through; apparently knowing where he was, he took a turn with some destination inevitably in mind.

You pulled a curious face when Steve didn’t elaborate, when his face settled into a decided look; you considered asking again for fear that he was going to find a means of distracting you once more from the question. But quickly enough, Steve pulled into the lot next to a park - it’s playground covered in snow - and you started growing nervous all over again.

With the car in park, Steve finally turned his undivided attention to you, causing you to unintentionally shrink back in your seat a little; there was a sort of safety that had come with him being preoccupied by driving, but now that his eyes were locked on you, your confidence began to diminish just a bit.

The look on his face held a sincerity that took you aback, and even in the relative dark of the night you could see the unsure gleam in his eyes. He took a deep breath before admitting plainly and assuredly, “I was scared because you were cute and intimidating.”

You blinked at him a couple of times as you processed his words, though they made your heart drum loudly enough that it was damn near distracting. As the seconds ticked by and you didn’t respond, briefly stuck in a dumbfounded look, Steve’s expression slowly fell into a look of dismay.

Getting antsy, he fumbled to elaborate, “I was interested in you, is what I mean. I wanted to get to know you, maybe flirt and see if we were compatible, you know, that sort of thing.”

Stupidly, you blinked at him again, feeling heat rising in your face - fuck, he thought you were cute, too. That should’ve been a relief, so why the hell did it make you even more nervous than you were before? You forced yourself to look away from his face as your eyes got big, because shit the butterflies in your stomach were going absolutely crazy right about now.

“You… were interested in me…” You muttered like a total idiot, but at least you finally found your voice again. Gazing up at him through your lashes, the look on Steve’s face was damn near worried as if he were preparing himself for rejection. Chewing on the inside of your lip, you finally smiled, bashfully dropping your gaze even as you tried not to sound as nervous as you felt, “I thought you were cute, too. Never had the guts to talk to you, though.”

A relieved little laugh leapt from Steve’s throat, his posture relaxing as he stared at you wide-eyed, almost as if he didn’t entirely believe you. Looking back up at Steve made your face and ears grow even hotter, his excitement at your response unexpected but nonetheless encouraging, even as you picked at your nails nervously.

“Oh, thank god, that makes this so much easier,” Steve breathed out, causing you to giggle, a delighted sound that was so unlike you.

As Steve continued to stare at you with disbelief, you tried to stop fidgeting with your fingernails, tried to relax the nervous energy in your chest because yes, this should be easier like he said, yet your body’s reaction would lead one to assume you were in all-out panic mode.

“You didn’t have the guts?” Steve asked with a laugh, “You saw how nervous I was to talk to you, right?”

You rolled your eyes with a fond shake of your head, “At least you did it; I figured a pretty guy like you wouldn’t be interested in me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t be interested in me.” Steve found himself staring at your lips, the temptation to lean over and kiss you coming over him abruptly, though he tried to shove it aside and ignore it, “So, I guess maybe I should ask you out now, right?”

You nearly giggled again as you looked between his eyes with a pondering expression, “I mean, we’re already here - alone, getting to know each other…”

Steve laughed smally, his eyes taking you in, “Oh, so this is a date now?”

You raised your hands in a vague, unsure motion, a faint knot between your brow, “Could be?”

Another charming smile crossed Steve’s lips, and you were still astounded at the fact that you could make him grin and laugh so damn easily. The look on his face was sweet as his gaze swept gently over your face, looking between your eyes and your mouth like he was studying you closely; when he finally drew his attention away, it was to stare out the windshield and watch the snow fall.

“You're not what I expected,” he started as you absently began to fiddle with your nails again, “I was worried you’d be mean, or that you’d laugh at me.”

An embarrassed smile drew across your lips as you took the opportunity to enjoy his profile again, “If I didn’t like you, I would’ve been mean… and I did laugh at you, once, when I first saw those stupid shorts you used to wear.”

A chuckle leapt from Steve’s throat as he looked back at you, “Yeah, they’re kinda ridiculous, aren’t they?”

“Your entire uniform is ridiculous.” You laughed gleefully, “But I… liked it.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed teasingly, “Oh, so that’s why you were staring.”

Easily flustered, you diverted your gaze down towards your hands, focusing on the chipped nail polish that you’d been fussing with, your face growing hot yet again,“Well, I just… yeah, okay, that’s why I was staring.”

Steve leaned in close towards you, dipping his head to try and catch your eyes, “If you hadn’t been staring, I wouldn’t have noticed you.”

You glanced up through your lashes, a faint grin on your lips as you met Steve’s attentive stare, “Then I guess we’re both lucky you have nice legs.”

Steve laughed again with utter amusement, something almost like wonder alight in his eyes; you thought he may have leaned in a little bit closer, but you weren’t quite sure. He glanced down at your hands briefly, watching the way you continued to gently scratch at your nail polish before meeting your eyes.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you’re a little strange.” Your brows rose at the comment, and so Steve continued, “Well, wait, don’t get mad about that. What I’m saying is that your energy is really nervous, but you don’t come across like you’re scared at all, you know what I mean?”

You looked between Steve’s eyes, wondering how he had managed to clock you so damn easily. Your nail picking became a little more aggressive as you came to your own defense, feeling jittery as you spoke quickly, “Yeah, I know I can come across pretty bitchy when I’m nervous, it’s landed me in trouble before. I don’t always think when I speak or I don’t know when to shut up, because my head gets all messy and loud, so it’s impossible to think clearly anyway--”

“Can I kiss you?” Steve blurted out with awe in his voice, disrupting your train of thought and causing you to look back at him with large eyes. He even looked surprised at the question, as if it leapt from his mouth without warning or thought; his expression was much like your own, taken aback and confused. He quickly tried to course correct, raising his hands defensively, “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, that was totally out of left field--”

“Yes.” Steve paused and looked as if he didn’t hear you correctly, brow furrowed while trying to read the look on your face, which was torn between sheepishness and eagerness, “I’d like it if you kissed me, actually.”

Steve, admittedly, had not anticipated your approval of the idea, especially considering how it was asked. He just got so hung up on how damn cute your rambling was that it drew him like a moth to a flame; he wasn’t thinking when the question left his mouth. Shit, you said “yes” and it made his nerves spike, heartbeat eager in his chest as he took in your features a little longer, biding his time so he could calm down.

From where he leaned over the center console, Steve moved in a little closer, looking between your eyes and lips. You mirrored this as if in a trance, body drawing towards him; when you paused, a smile graced his lips as he said firmly but quietly, “Come here.”

You felt a chill up your spine thanks to the simple yet wanton direction, Steve’s delivery of it far more enticing than he probably realized. Despite wanting to kiss him, you felt momentarily frozen as you took him in, hooded eyes becoming enraptured by his lips.

Coming back to yourself, you took a calming breath and moved in closer, and once you were but a few breaths apart, Steve carefully cupped the back of your neck, fingertips grazing through your hair. The touch made you sigh longingly, your body melting in response; a knowing smile graced Steve’s face.

There was a moment’s hesitation between you as Steve’s warm breath brushed across your lips and cheeks; you swallowed down the lump in your throat just before Steve leaned in, closing that short distance between you to capture your lips with his own.

Your body jolted at the feel of his kiss, so soft and tentative, and yet charged with your combined pining for one another. As your body relaxed despite the frantic beating of your heart, your fingertips trailed up Steve’s arm, gently grabbing at his shoulders through the fabric of his coat. His mouth was tender and explorative against yours, touch gentle on the back of your neck as he pressed forth more confidently; you met him with equal need and curiosity, your body growing eager for more as your nerves slowly dissolved away.

When Steve tried to pull back and catch his breath, your grasp became assertive, fingers tightening on his sleeve as your other hand moved to cup his cheek. You felt a small, surprised laugh in his throat, taken aback by your eagerness, though he was just as enamored by it.

He carefully gripped your jaw with both hands, pulling you back just enough for him to take in a gasp of air; you, too, took a deep breath, delighting in the way his lips grazed against yours, the way his thumb lazily trailed along your cheek.

After a beat of consideration, Steve kissed you again needily, fingertips firm along your jawline as a fire lit up inside you. Your lips grew feverish as you leaned in closer, curling your fingers in his soft locks while an eager sound rose in your throat. As you kissed him with zeal, Steve matched your desire, mouth growing urgent against yours, grip becoming increasingly possessive while his tongue trailed along your lower lip. With another hungry sigh, you opened your mouth to him, tongues swirling together impatiently, desperate for one another.

You pushed closer to Steve, though the center console pressed irritatingly into your stomach, causing a faint sound of annoyance to rumble in your chest. Wanting to be so much closer, you broke away from the kiss abruptly, though his lips chased yours, gently nipping at your jawline as goosebumps broke out across your skin.

Finding your voice, you managed to instruct breathily, “Move your seat back.”

A huff of a laugh escaped Steve as he muttered against your neck, “What?”

You gave his hair a tug, directing him to look you in your lusty eye while repeating slowly, “Move the seat.”

He looked between your eyes for a moment before your reasoning dawned on him; he nodded quickly, pulling away so he could slide the seat back, creating enough space between him and the steering wheel for you to slot into. And you did just that, gracelessly crawling over the center console, careful not to crush Steve with wayward limbs or unsteady knees.

Once situated in his lap, you laughed smally at yourself while resting your hands comfortably on either side of his neck. Steve smiled at the way you bit your lip, hands firm as they settled on your hips; his hooded eyes took you in adoringly. Impatiently, your lips crashed onto Steve’s once more, feeling his fingers flex against you, eager little sounds escaping your throat.

Hooking your arms around Steve’s neck, you kissed him yearningly, his hands creating a hot, greedy trail down your back, pressing you flush against him as if he couldn’t get enough. The movement caused your hips to roll against his, making the both of you moan into the other’s mouth from the friction. The way your lips moved together was aching and salacious, tongues explorative and hands grabby as if trying to consume each other whole.

Even as he kissed you and groped at your body lewdly, there was something undeniably tender about Steve’s touch; his lips were endlessly hungry for yours, he held you close as if fearful of letting go. It caused a knot of arousal to twist in your stomach, your body blazing and impassioned after all these months of watching him and wondering what he tasted like.

Steve’s hands roamed your body in a slow, amorous crawl, teasing down your spine and grabbing at your ass, sending an eager shiver through you as if there weren’t all these layers of clothing keeping your skin separate from one another. Your mouths became even sloppier, kisses ravenous as you breathed each other in and tasted each other’s tongues, keen moans passing between your lips to his.

Your own grip at Steve’s neck and hair was growing possessive and domineering, tugging at his locks and scratching his skin enough that he whined shamelessly. Emboldened by the heat scorching between you, your hips rolled once more, slow and deep, making Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he groaned; the sound was far too encouraging, causing a coil to tighten in your center. You moved to hold his jaw softly in either hand, breaking away from his lips hastily with a big gasp for air.

For a long beat, you stared at one another through lusty, hooded eyes, watching the way Steve licked his lip as he watched the rise and fall of your chest. His lips were so damn inviting, and you wanted to lean right back in for more, yet you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself, didn’t want to be greedy for more than you could take. Steve’s hands gently trailed up your back again, finding a comfortable resting place at your waist, where his fingers drew absentminded circles into the back of your coat.

While staring at Steve’s handsome face, an airy laugh fell from your mouth, your eyes lighting up softly; his brow furrowed in response, leaning forward to tease at your lips, nose gently bumping yours.

“What?” You could hear the grin in his whispered question, causing you to laugh again, your smile causing your lips to brush gently; the intimacy of the moment dared to give you butterflies as you nearly shivered.

You bit the inside of your cheek in an effort not to giggle again, pulling back from Steve so you could trail your thumb along his jaw and to his plush lower lip, “You got a little something…”

Steve looked as if he was about to ask you to elaborate, but the gentle way that you cleaned his lip with your thumb stalled him as a captivated sigh left his throat. He realized then what you meant, noticing the way your near-black lipstick had smudged around your mouth; he laughed, too, while trying not to moan from how much he enjoyed your sweet and careful touch. Once you were certain you’d gotten most of your lipstick off of him, you delicately held his chin as if to inspect your work.

“Is making out with you always going to be messy?” He teased, bringing a hand up to help you with a smear of lipstick that was under your nose. Your cheeks warmed as you fondly rolled your eyes, half-tempted to lean back in for another kiss as if to prove a point.

You hummed smally in your throat, “Only if it becomes a regular thing.”

Steve’s brows rose cheekily as a large smile spread across his face, “Oh, I plan for it to.”

Heat rose in your cheeks again as you bit your lip, laughing faintly while looking away from his eyes as if bashful, “Do you?”

He leaned towards you again, trying to catch your eyes with his, “Well, I’d still like to take you on a real date, so, yeah, I’m counting on this becoming a regular thing.”

Another uncharacteristic giggle left you as a swell of excitement filled your chest, “Then maybe I have to do something new with my lipstick so you’re not wearing it by the end of every date.”

Steve shook his head, hands gently sliding down your neck and to your back as he stared at your lips again, “Don’t change it, I like it too much.”

You leaned in close again, lips grazing with Steve’s as you whispered flirtatiously, “Good, because I think I like kissing you.”

Steve’s nose brushed gently against yours, his lashes tickling your skin as you felt a faint smile on his lips, “You think?”

“Might need to do a little more of it just to make sure.” You planted a teasing kiss against his lips before pulling back, which made his hands grip tight on you as if you were something coveted.

“Well,” Steve’s lips were gentle as they grazed against yours, his voice low and sweet as his fingertips trailed along your back, “should we make sure now? You’ve got me all night, if you want.”

You hummed as if you were mulling the suggestion over, hoping that you were making Steve antsy from the wait. You smiled fondly as your hands wove into his hair, tugging gently as your lips hovered just centimeters away from his; when he tried to kiss you, you pulled back tauntingly, causing a faint sound of impatience in Steve’s throat. Unable to resist the laugh that escaped you, you caved to his desire and you pressed your lips longingly to his.

.

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Addt. Author's Note | I'm currently working on a follow-up to this oneshot because I just can't get enough of these two! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for that, please let me know, I hope to get it out soon!

Tags | @doomsdaybby @eddiernunson @k-yurieee @mediocredreams @raven-hawkins

@thecreelhouse @viviennemcgloine

[thecreelhouse]

I love the way you decorate my heart ♡

Paring: Steve Harrington x chronically ill!Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: A medical mishap leads to you and Steve spending the holiday in the hospital, and discovering maybe you’re more alike than you once believed. || this is for the twelve days of promptmas! day twelve: spending christmas/christmas eve in the ER

WC: 4k+

Includes/CW: angst, hurt/comfort, idiots to lovers, misunderstandings, chronic illness (left vague to be more inclusive), some symptoms are mentioned (syncope, temp. intolerance, fatigue), language, special appearances by some pals, pathetic pining, the rest is fluff and silliness!

A/N: hi! I left the details, aside from some symptoms, of the chronic illness reader has vague so more folks might be able to relate. Thanks @littlexdeaths for the fun lil holiday prompts! I’m so stoked I was able to come up with something last minute lol. Hope y’all enjoy if you read this one <3 title is from glittery - kacey musgraves & dividers are from @strangergraphics!

Waking up from a syncope episode isn’t the same as waking up in the morning.

Your limbs feel heavy, body tingling on pins and needles all over, and you only wake up more exhausted; you’re used to it by now.

What you’re not used to, is waking up next to—

“St- Steve?” You groggily rub your eyes, feeling a slight tug in your hand.; blinking a few times to focus, you notice the IV needle attached to it.

Ah, shit.

“Hm…?” Steve, crumpled in a heap on a nearby chair, begins to stir. His legs are hung over the arm of the chair, using a balled up gown under his head as a makeshift pillow, resting on the other arm. “S’goin’ on?”

“Um,” You’re coming to, more alert as the seconds pass. “You tell me?”

He blinks sleepily, sporting a disheveled, bed head, without the bed. Stretching his arms over his head, his shirt rides up enough to see his tummy, makes a soft noise that builds into a yawn; instinctively, you stare, wondering what it’s like to actually wake up next to him. It’s cute. He’s cute. You hate him for that.

You hate him for a lot of things— so why the fuck is he here?

More importantly, why are you?

Reality catches up to Steve, and he fumbles trying to adjust himself in the chair, wobbling it a bit as he swings his legs back to the floor. “I shoulda’ just gave myself a concussion or something to get a bed too.”

You quirk a brow, “Don’t ya’ have a few racked up already?”

He grunts, waving the concern away with his hand. With a gravelly voice, still in a daze, he asks, “How’re you feeling?”

Now you’re scrunching your brows together, confused. “I’m sorry, am I dead right now?”

Steve snorts, “Huh? No, you’re not. Thought you were for a second, though. It was—“ He pauses, dragging his chair closer to the bed. Muscle memory forces you to scowl and scoot back on the bed, keeping the distance. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t— that’s— I should’ve asked first.”

You’re lost, not totally lost, but still lost enough. 

“… S’okay, I guess.”

He still pushes the chair back a few inches, but he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. Your eyes meet his, filled with concern. It fills you with shame— why?

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?” Steve’s voice drops to a whisper, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door, then back to you; it’s a genuine question, not one out of malice or anger. “The whole… you fainting, thing, I mean.”

“Didn’t think it was important.” That’s only partially the truth. Why worry anyone when you have it under control? 

Well, you had it under control, until today.

You see the right doctors— though, god, did that take for-fucking-ever— you’re finally on the right meds, after trial and error, time and time again.

“You didn’t think it was— I’m sorry, but that’s pretty important to people who give a shit about you.” He scoffs, sinking in his chair. “One minute, you’re running around in the snow with the kids, the next, you’re on the ground, out cold. That’s not important?”

“Not to you, it isn’t.” Regret instantly swallows you whole, dragging you down further at the look of offense flashing across Steve’s face. He shoves his hands in his hoodie pocket, averting his eyes to the window with a heavy sigh.

“Not true, but that— that’s not my concern right now.” His voice cracks a bit— is he genuinely bothered by this? It’s not like it’s breaking news; the two of you have never seen eye to eye, barely getting along for the party’s sake.

It was just a difference of personalities and backgrounds that kept a permanent gap between the two of you. Which, of course, only made less sense once Steve and Eddie became friends. 

In fact, you know Steve isn’t one to flaunt the life and wealth he was born into, at least, not anymore. He hates it, hates how people see him because of it, but you can’t see him any other way. He’s long distanced himself from the ‘King Steve’ persona, hardly forgiving himself for it, even years later. You always thought he began to care for everyone but himself first to absolve himself of any past guilt— that turned out to be wrong; he’s the first one to offer rides for the kids, whether to hang out with one another, or take Max to physical therapy, and even allowing Dustin to use his car to practice driving (despite how stressed out he is as a passenger).

Since his home is usually empty, Steve’s gotten used to everyone just walking in, or staying over, like they live there; you might be the only one who still awkwardly rings the doorbell before movie nights with the party. Gatherings usually happen at his place, because he has the room for everyone to hang out comfortably. The pool is just a bonus on the hottest days of the summer.

And Steve looks happier, despite all the inner turmoil regarding his past, and the sea of trauma he’s fighting to stay afloat in. It must be nice to fill a house with the people you love, who love you in return, and don’t just use you for shitty parties and a well-stocked liquor cabinet. 

You still can’t help but resent him for the life he was born into, though, but you try to keep the specifics to yourself, for the sake of everyone else. Everything handed to him, everything that came easy his way, you had the opposite.

The unknowingly ableist, backhanded comments never helped, either. Steve probably had no idea, but any time you needed a break from exerting any energy, he’d make little jabs about how you couldn’t keep up.

“Why didn’t you take your medication?”

His question clears the fog of your overwhelming thoughts away, leading you back into the present.

Brows furrowing, you scoff a laugh, confused. “Wh— I did.”

“You didn’t,” He states firmly.

“How do you know?”

“From the bloodwork they ran.”

Something warm blooms in your chest, hearing how invested he is in your well being, but the ice in your heart quickly freezes it all over.

“Why the hell do you have access to that shit?”

Steve presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, groaning in frustration. “I don’t, but the doctor asked us all while you were out, and none of us even knew what to say.” His hands fall away, but he starts talking with them in frantic motions. “Then that sent the kids into a panic, and Dustin— you know how he gets— starts asking if you’re dying, then the others started to shout thousands of questions at the doctor, demanding explanations, but that’s where it stopped, I promise.”

“Oh.” You sink against your pillows, the weight of remorse heavy on your heart. “I just— okay, I’m not dying, so let’s get that off the table.”

You don’t miss the way Steve’s shoulders relax, wondering why he’s tense over this.

“But… ?”

“It feels like it, sometimes.” Shrugging, you hope he stops asking questions. “I’m fine, I think my body just grew a tolerance for my medication, and I keep pushing off calling my doctor.” He doesn’t need to, not yet, when you’re beginning to word vomit everywhere. “‘Cause that shit is expensive, and I don’t want to drop that kind of money on a visit that they’ll only say ‘hey, your meds aren’t working, so let’s try something new’, as if I didn’t know already. Then it’s the whole process of trial and error, and getting used to side effects, weighing out the pros and cons of sticking with one kind, or starting all over to find something else that might work, but who knows.

“I probably forgot to take them, ‘cause honestly, what’s the point if it’s not helping?” You bring your knees to your chest, resting your head on them with a huff. “But I guess they were still helping somewhat, so I fucked up.” You tilt your face away from him, staring out the window at the glum, grey sky, wishing it’d bring some snow, at least. “It gets so old being sick all the time, watching everyone else have fun, live their lives, while I have to be cautious in how I live, but I can’t really afford that, either.”

Steve doesn’t respond, nor do you expect him to after unloading all of that frustration and grief. You turn to him to find himself pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut.

“Sorry for all of th—“

He jolts up, shaking his head wildly, hands in tandem. “Don’t apologize, this shit’s out of your control. I just— I’ve said some… really stupid stuff to you, and I had no right to.” He locks eyes with you, stare glassy and full of regret. “All the times I made comments about you sitting stuff out, or being boring— that— it was fucked up, even if I didn’t know. If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me.”

Hugging your legs tighter, you’re conflicted.

“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself to prove anything, or try to— I don’t know— look, I wish I knew, but even if you didn’t have a- this— um, condition,” He clears his throat, nervous to use the wrong terminology. “It wouldn’t be my business to ask why you’re taking time for yourself.” 

Cautiously, he brings his chair a tad closer, sliding it across the floor. This time, you don’t move away, but your hand twitches in surprise when he reaches out, fingers brushing against your own. He doesn’t push it. “I really am sorry, and you don’t have to accept that, but it’s not right letting this shit go without apologizing to you.”

Over time, you’ve grown to read people pretty easily, especially in moments of vulnerability like this— you know he’s sincere, and you hate that. You hate it, and he said you don’t have to accept the apology, but you hate yourself for wanting to.

Fatigue overcomes your pride, and you whisper, “Thank you.” One last attempt at shielding yourself arises, yanking your hand away from his. “You don’t have to stick around, Steve.” Plucking loose threads from the scratchy hospital blanket, you feel your emotions come undone in time with them. “M’not sure if it’s out of guilt, or you trying to do one last good deed for the year, but I’m not a charity case.”

Steve doesn’t chase you, gives you physical space, but softly counters, “You’re not a charity case, I’d never think that about you. I just didn’t want you to be alone when you woke up.”

Guilt just seems to consistently flow back and forth between the two of you, filling the room with nothing but. 

Crossing your legs under the blanket, you relax a little, still fidgeting with the blanket’s threads.

“That’s… thank you, Steve. That’s really nice of you, but I don’t wanna take you away from any plans you have for Christmas Eve.”

He snorts softly with a loose eye roll. “Yeah, right. You’ve seen how empty my place is without you guys. My parents went on some cruise, or some shit.” His smile fades, earnestly adding, “I’ll leave if you want, but no one should have to be alone during the holidays without a choice, at least.”

 I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him— for… being a decent human being.

What the hell’s my problem?

A smirk tugs at one corner of your lips, visible enough for Steve to notice. “I think it’s you who doesn’t wanna be alone for Christmas Eve.”

Playfully, he rolls his eyes again. “What gave you that impression?”

“The kids aren’t up your ass tonight?” Little by little, you can feel the tension fizzle out. It’s slow, but it’s better than nothing.  

“Nah, when I told ‘em I’d stay, Eddie offered to drive them home, since they all had plans.” Though the tension is on its way out, you notice Steve biting his lip,  like he’s holding himself back from saying something.. He opens his mouth to speak, but hesitates, choosing his words with caution. “You scared the hell outta us. Before you collapsed, you looked over at me— and I don’t think you meant to—” He teases, trying to keep the conversation easy for both sides. “But you started to say ‘I’m gonna pass out’ and did, mid-sentence. The kids thought you were just being dramatic, but I… I’ve seen that look before… usually it’s never good.”

This was what you wanted to avoid the entire time.

“I should’ve been upfront from the start, but I didn’t wanna worry anyone. There’s so many triggers, and the cold’s one of ‘em.” He frowns with a knowing look. “It’s hard talking about it, ‘cause most people try to coddle me once they find out. I want to be understood when I need to take care of myself, especially with flare ups, not treated like some fragile doll.”

“You’re anything but fragile, let’s be real here,” He teases, earning an eye roll-chuckle combination. “Seriously! I thought the snowball you hurled at me was gonna be the big concussion to do me in for good.”

It’s a lighthearted comment, but it’s enough to make your heart ache.

“Is it really that bad?” You ask in a whisper. He shrugs lazily, like it’s no problem at all.

“Maybe not that bad, but I get migraines pretty often now, and chronic pain, just kinda… everywhere,” He admits, shoving his hands back in the front pocket of his hoodie. “Some days are harder than others, too. Makes sense for all the shit we went through, though.”

A mirthless laugh slips out. “They don’t even know where I got mine.” Contemplating, he purses his lips, looking down to the floor. “You okay?”

“I don’t think we’re as different as you believe,” Steve dares to observe. “Sure, we’re different in a lot of ways, and I don’t know your pain exactly, but you’re not alone. We’re both on the same plane.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Same boat, you mean?”

 “Eh,” He grins lazily at you, “Same thing.”

He’s right, about your differences— and you don’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

“Oh, shit, hang on—“ Steve jumps out of his chair, startling you. “— I forgot the nurses wanted to know when you woke up. Fuck.” What startles you even more is the way he leans down to kiss the top of your head. It’s fleeting, without thought, only reacting on buried feelings. He doesn’t even realize it until he reaches the door, frozen mid-step.

Heat rises to bloom across your face, emotions rolling through you without mercy as your heart thumps through your chest.

“Um, sorry, I- I’ll be—“ Steve clears his throat, terrified to turn back to you, slipping out the door, “—yeah.”

Weirdest Christmas yet.

The nurses come and go, checking your vitals and asking basic questions, informing you that you’re staying the night, maybe even tomorrow night, too— which, you figured; this isn’t your first hospital rodeo.

Steve, however, doesn’t come back, and it leaves you perplexed. And weirdly enough… bummed out?

If he left out of embarrassment, though, you don’t blame him.

Snow’s finally falling in fluffy handfuls, so that gives you a good distraction. However, it doesn’t last long when the door creaks open. You glance over your shoulder, hoping to see Steve, but you don’t.

Not alone, that is.

It’s Steve, and Eddie, Robin, and Dustin, sneaking into your room well past visiting hours, snickering as they accomplish their mission. Eddie’s decked out in a Santa costume, hair from each side of his head clipped under his chin for a makeshift beard. He’s got a sack— a garbage bag— over his shoulder, with a wide grin slapped on his face. Dustin and Robin have matching elf hats, and you’re shocked to see Steve does, too.

Your face lights up at the sight of more friends, pulling a smile out of Steve, too.

“How’d you get in?!” 

“Okay, so, I lied and said we were going to the children’s ward, to bring gifts for the holiday—“

“Eddie!”

“What? We’ll say we got lost, or something.” He shrugs, plopping the bag onto the chair Steve slept in. Rummaging around, he adds, “Besides, I grabbed a few old Happy Meal toys I had still lying around, so I’ll just… leave those on the desk upstairs, or something.”

Robin rolls her eyes with a huff, then grinning your way. “We heard you’re stuck here tonight, so we thought we should bring Christmas to you!”

“But you gotta close your eyes!” Dustin rushes out, and when you don’t immediately do so, he scolds you, “Close ‘em!”

“Jesus, Dustin, you’re too mean to be an elf.” Steve grumbles, making his way over to you. He leans down to your ear, whispering, “Okay, but really, close your eyes.” You do, ignoring how nervous the close proximity is making you.

A minute passes while noises surround you of giggling, cursing, scolding at one another, and some you can’t decode.

“Can I open—“

“Nope,” Steve’s hand covers your eyes, but he freezes. “Shit, I’m sorry, I keep doing that—“ He’s about to pull his hand away when you grip his wrist, keeping it in place with a sly smile. He’s grateful you can’t see how hard he’s blushing.

“Oh my god, Steve, you’re the worst elf in the world,” Dustin chides. “What happened to helping?”

“This is helping! I’m making sure they don’t peek!”

“Santa’s gotta do all the work around here, huh?” Eddie gripes. The banter fuels your giggles, while the warmth of Steve’s hand weirdly feels comforting. It ends far too soon, though. “Okay, okay, you can open ‘em.”

His hand falls away as your eyes pop open, taking in the sight around you.

Gone are the bleak, fluorescent lights, turned off and replaced by strung Christmas lights— some warm, others colorful. Illuminated on the dresser is a vintage, ceramic Christmas tree, with the tiny plastic bulbs. There’s tinsel everywhere— oh boy— with random holiday knick-knacks on every surface available, probably lovingly borrowed from everyone’s homes. Candy canes are hooked on anything they can hang from, and bows are stuck everywhere, too.

It’s as if the spirit of Christmas threw up all over the damn place.

This is probably breaking so many rules, but that doesn’t matter right now. 

“We had window clings too, but that’d block the view of the snow, so,” Robin flip-flops her hand, waving away the thought.

Tears well in your eyes, adding a soft, bleary glow to the twinkling lights around you. Soft laughter laced with pure joy is all you can respond with.

“We gotta go before someone finds us, but real quick—“ Dustin sets a poorly wrapped present on your bed— it’s large, and lumpy, wrapped with three kinds of paper. “This is from all of us, and the others.”

Eagerly, you tear into the paper, finding a soft, plush blanket, one in your favorite color, and it’s so warm. While you squish the fabric to your face, humming happily, Steve clears his throat, grabbing your attention. He holds up a remote, and your brows knit together.

“And the best part— it’s heated.”

“‘Cause you’re always so cold!” Dustin exclaims, as if that’s something to be happy about, but the sentiment has heart.

“Don’t worry, we checked and it can reach that one outlet near the loveseat you always take when we’re at Steve’s.” Robin reassures with the observation.

“And it’s that fabric that doesn’t make ya’ all blegh’ed out.” Eddie adds; he’s right, it’s actually not a sensory nightmare, but buttery soft instead.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dustin snorts.

The effort, the love and care put into this wholesome mischief, the tiny observations about your personality that even you don’t give much thought to— it warms your heart and brings tears to your eyes.

“I- I don’t know what to say… thank you doesn’t seem like enough, but… this might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” You hug the blanket to your chest happily. “Wait, what am I doing—“ You drop the blanket on your lap, throwing your arms open, “Y’all, get over here!”

One by one each friend adds to the hug while you murmur, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”  They squeeze you tight— a respectable amount, nothing to hurt you further, of course.

“Feel better, we’ll all hang out when you’re home!” Robin pinches your cheek, and you swat her hand away playfully. Dustin fist bumps you, expressing well wishes, too, adding, “Glad you’re not dying!”

Steve hisses, “Oh my god, Dustin—“

“I’m going, I’m going!”

Eddie’s the last to leave, garbage bag over his shoulder again, ruffling your hair lightly. “Merry Christmas, kid.”

“Eddie, I’m your age, you dork.”

“Not while I’m Santa!” He waves, then salutes to Steve on his way out, who shakes his head, chuckling.

The excitement dies down once it’s only you and Steve left, but the air of holiday cheer lingers, as does the awkward energy from the unexplained kiss. Steve tosses his elf hat aside, sitting on the edge of your bed when you pout.

“Aw, man,” You pout. “You looked good with that hat.”

“Don’t— I can’t tell if you’re joking or not—“ He blushes, kicking one foot across the floor while keeping his eyes fixated down. “Hope all of that was okay. I know it’s not as good as Christmas at home—“

“Steve, are you kidding me? I meant it when I said this is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me. Best Christmas in a long time, honestly.” Your hand reaches out to rest on his arm, a move of reassurance, but it sends warmth through you. Judging off the red shade deepening on Steve’s face, you assume he’s feeling something, too. “But I gotta ask... Why’d you kiss me?”

“Oh— that?” His free arm reaches behind his back hand rubbing the back of his head as he shyly smiles. “It— I— that was— I didn’t think, I’m sorry. It just felt… normal? Like in the moment— I don’t know how else to explain it. And sorry I left like that, I wanted to call Robin while I had the chance, and wait to sneak them in—”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” You assure him softly, throwing the blanket over yourself. “You wanna try this out with me?”

Steve glances around, then points to himself, like a total goof. “Me?”

“Oh, no, I was asking the elf hat— yes, you.”

“Um… you sure? The bed’s kinda small for the both of us.”

You shrug, handing over the plug to the blanket’s remote, “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t cool with it.”

Steve studies your face, expecting you to falter, but you don’t. He plugs the blanket in, cautiously sliding in next to you. Once he’s all settled next to you, uncomfortably trying to give you space, he asks, “What changed so suddenly?”

Taking a risk, your arm slides over his torso to hook around his back, tugging him closer. “This okay?” He nods eagerly. “I thought you were different, in a bad way. I don’t know why it took a hospital trip to realize we’re on the same page, even if our lives are practically opposite, but it did.” 

He gives in, relaxing against you while enveloping you in his embrace, too. 

“I always thought you were cute, by the way,” You mutter into his sweatshirt-clad shoulder. 

“Huh?”

“Yeah, but I… man, I don’t fucking know. I’ve been dumb, when I could’ve had a friend who gets it.”

“I could’ve been nicer, so… it isn’t all you. But we could start over.” He glances down to catch the dopey, exhausted smile you’re giving him, “This is exactly why I made sure we found a blanket that shuts off automatically. I knew you’d immediately get sleepy.”

Another detail you never expected him, or anyone, to notice. A powerful duo of sleepiness and fatigue— two you’ve learned over the years are different from one another— crash over you like a wave, pulling you under. 

“Shit…” You mumble, cheek squished against him. “Wanted to watch the snow.”

“Only thing you’re gonna watch is the inside of your eyelids at this point,” Steve teases, fingers wandering to brush along your face, blushing as you hum, nudging your face into his touch. “‘M’glad you’re okay.”

Your silence makes Steve wonder if you fell asleep, until you lean in, leaving a kiss on his cheek, while half-awake.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

When you curl up into him, he kisses the top of your head— intentionally, this time— and is left confused as you drift off, but content.

It’s not like the mistletoe he had stashed away behind the bed would help the confusion, but that can wait until tomorrow. All he knows for certain is, this is his best Christmas yet, too.

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Very Merry Munson Christmas (Fluff)

@littlexdeaths shared some festive prompts for the twelve days of promptmas and I really wanted to try and write at least a few short fics for some of the prompts.

Day 1:Snowed in/Caught in a blizzard.

When a snow storm sweeps across Hawkins, and your plans to fly out to visit your family for the holidays are thrown out of the window, Eddie does his best to bring his family to you.

Word Count:835

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

*divider by @strangergraphics

“I just don't want to upset your parents babe, I mean, this is the first Christmas we're spending together and we were supposed to be staying with your family!”

It's true, you had made plans that this year you would be flying out of Indiana with Eddie to be with your parents for the holidays. It would be the first time that you were going to introduce Eddie to your parents. Of course, they already knew about him, given how much you talk about him whenever you're on the phone to them. But this was going to be the first time they had met him.

Or at least it would have been.

“Eddie, there is a blizzard sweeping through Indiana and the rest of the midwest right now. There are no flights. The only way we're getting out of Hawkins is if Santa flies us there on his sleigh.”

“But your parents are going to-” he starts, already worrying about what your parents are going to think of him.

“-But nothing. I’ll call them and I’ll tell them everything. We can speak to them together. They’ll understand, I promise.”

“But-” he tries again, but you’re quick to silence his worries with a soft kiss pressed to his lips. 

“Eddie, stop worrying, and who knows! We might be able to reschedule it and fly out to see them on new year's!” 

Sure enough Christmas day rolled around, and despite knowing you weren't going to be able to see your parents for Christmas this year, calling them just wasn't the same. Sure,  they were so completely warm and understanding, and reassured you that if the weather held out, you and Eddie were more than welcome to stay over new year's, but it didn't stop you from missing them. 

You rolled over in bed to find Eddie’s side of the bed empty. Touching your hand to the empty space where you expect to find your boyfriend, you're met with the cold press of the mattress. 

Just as you're about to sit up in the bed, the bedroom door swings open, and Eddie, dressed in a soft grey tank-top and red plaid pyjama bottoms, his wild hair pulled back into a little bun at the nape of his neck with a few soft strands falling down around his face, steps into the bedroom holding two steaming mugs.

He hands one of the mugs off to you as he places a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” he says with a lazy smile pulling at his pink lips. 

“Merry Christmas to you too, Eds.”

“Drink up that coffee and come with me to the living room, we’ve got presents to open!” he smiles with that happily wild smile.

You let him lead you through to the living room, where the rainbow fairy lights illuminate the room in a soft colourful glow, and the tree in the corner of the room stands proudly, adorned with your’s and Eddie’s combined collection of unique Christmas tree ornaments. The scattering of a few presents sat underneath the tree, ready for you and Eddie to exchange them between yourselves.

You reach underneath the tree to give Eddie one of his carefully wrapped presents, but he lays a soft touch to your arm, as if asking you to wait for just a moment.

Looking down at his watch on his wrist quickly before his eyes flick over to the front door.

And then as if perfectly choreographed there’s three distinct knocks to the front door.

“You should probably answer that.” Eddie says, giving you a soft smile.

You go to answer the door, and immediately you are met with the weathered, yet kind expression of Eddie’s Uncle Wayne. 

Wayne was someone who you felt an immediate kinship with when Eddie had introduced you to him, something about his hard on the outside, yet soft on the inside demeanour reminded you very much of your own father, and when he saw how much Eddie loved you, and you loved Eddie, it seemed only right to welcome you into his life with open arms.

“Ed told me you were missing your family this Christmas, and whilst I may not be your family, you’re in my boy’s life and you make him happier than I’ve ever known him, and  I’ll be damned if I let you be sad on Christmas day, missy.” and although he wasn’t know for his physical affections, he wasted no time in giving you a warm hug.

“I couldn't take you to your family, but what I can do is bring my family to you.”  Eddie smiles brightly, happy to have two of his favourite people surrounding him this Christmas.

“Come on in, we were just about to start opening presents, and there’s real a big one right here with your name on it, Mr. Munson.”

It may not have been the Christmas you had planned, but it ended up being the one of the best Christmases you could ever have hoped for.

@penguinsandpotterheads @abitchyouhate @mrsjellymunson

@userchai @rebelfell @ali-r3n @eddiesxangel @seatnights

[undead-supernova]

High Tolerance Masterlist

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie decide to have a calm day before your Christmas party. and, for the first time since you met this year, you find clarity.

cw: cannabis consumption, nicotine indulgence, a dash of spice, gentle angst

wc: 3.2k

note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series, as well as my submission for @littlexdeaths's Christmas Event, choosing prompt 10: ghosts of Christmas past. I love you, Mari. Merry Chrysler <3

This is a Christmas present for one of my lovely best friends, @jo-harrington who has made a huge impact in my life, my heart, and my writing. Thank you for all the love you've shown me. I don't take any of it for granted.

“No, what I’m saying is that I think a man is lame if he won’t let a woman peg him.”

“That’s over dramatic.”

“What, you don’t agree with me?”

“No, I just think you’re simplifying it.”

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t let a woman peg you?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Ha!”

Eddie shook his head, carrying the last of the Kroger bags to your kitchen. “Listen, all I’m saying is that I don’t think you can judge someone like that. What if they’re straight?”

You took two of the heavier bags from him before placing them on the counter. “Well then I have more incentive to judge.” He rolled his eyes. “Would you go close the door?”

“You’re ruthless. Absolutely not,” he responded before doing exactly what you asked.

Eddie had been a big help, prepping for your Christmas party the following night as co-hosts. The decision on where to hold it was easy: your apartment was slightly bigger than his, not to mention Eddie was still figuring out how to decorate his new apartment.

Steve and Robin offered, but Eddie had been adamant that it was him and his Weirdo who would do the best job. The A-List guest list consisted of you two, Steve, Robin, Gareth, Grant, and Jeff. 

While you’d gone home to see your mom and sister for Thanksgiving, Eddie’s bandmates had surprised him with the news that they were officially planning to move to Atlanta after college graduation in May. Thus, you'd been left to your own devices until now.

Eddie had made the first few weeks of December as festive as possible, surprising you with peppermint hot chocolates and the worst Christmas movies you’d ever seen. You’d begged him for a classic, like Elf or It’s a Wonderful Life, but he’d strategically saved those for the week of Christmas itself. 

Without any explanation, Eddie pulled something out of his tote bag. It was a small box, wrapped in red and white striped wrapping paper with a ridiculously big bow on top.

You scowled at him. “Eddie. No.”

He grinned. “Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Shaking your head, you stated, “We said no presents.”

An overdramatically apologetic expression filled his face. “My fingers crossed unexpectedly when we said that.”

“That’s very convenient.”

“I thought so, too.”

He was insufferable.

You sighed, raising your hands. “Eddie, I can’t accept it.” Before you could think to move, he grabbed your hand and shoved it into your palm. “It’s already in your hand.”

Groaning, you conceded. “Fine! Fine.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed before shoving his hands behind his back, failing to hide his smile.

Rolling your eyes, you tore the paper and delved inside.

“It’s…oil,” you stated.

Eddie raised his pointer finger, catching your attention. “A very specific kind of oil. Delta-8.”

“Did you give me drugs for Christmas?” you asked.

“There’s no better time.” He wasn’t wrong. “Besides, you’re making that beer cheese and I thought it’d go great.”

“That’s perfect, actually,” you said seriously. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“You know, I have a secret.”

Pages ripped from your latest notebook rested in your pocket. Actually, they weren’t exactly restful. They felt quite restless, burning a hole in your pants and your mind. The ink clogged your throat, the words swirling together in your head, preventing any clarity from forming. 

“Which is?”

Here this guy was, your certified best friend standing beside you after a year and a half of silence. His presence in your life came with open arms and a struggle for pure vulnerability. You’d had your moments over the last seven months, what with your pasts coming up and all of the memories that felt like stories the moment they were shared. 

Give it to him, you thought. Come on, do it.

“I actually had all of my toes crossed when we said no presents,” you said finally, fingers reaching toward your back pocket. 

His eyebrows lifted. “That’s very convenient.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.”

The pads of your fingertips grazed the paper gently before you reached around him to grab a tiny cardboard box resting on your kitchen table.

Coward.

“How did I not notice that?” he asked, taking it from you.

You shrugged. “I’m the master of disguise.”

“Clearly,” he muttered before opening the top of the box slowly. He made a show of it, closing one eye and trying to peer into the darkness. You giggled as soon as he saw what was inside.

“A joint, huh?” You nodded, biting your lip. “All for me?”

“All for you.”

He placed a hand on his chest, giving you a big smile. “That’s extremely heartfelt, sweetheart. Thank you.”

You tried to keep your smile from faltering, that note starting to singe your skin through the denim. 

Give it to him, you thought again. Do it. Do it now.

“Do you want some beer cheese?” you asked.

“Under one condition,” he said, holding up a finger. Your eyebrow quirked up. “You can’t down it like you did last time.”

You scoffed. “Oh, come on! That’s not fair!”

“Those are the rules, Weirdo.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “Fine. Come on.”

Eddie had been shocked when you picked him up. Your face was nearly bare, wearing neutral eye shadow fading into a charcoal gray with thin-winged eyeliner and maroon lipstick. It was the first time he’d seen you without eyes completely coated in darkness. 

It was startling.

You were dazzling.

Donning a black turtleneck, jeans, and combat boots, you flitted around your kitchen as you measured how much oil you’d pour into the cheese. 

And, okay. Eddie didn’t mean to look at your ass. Scouts honor. However, you bent down to grab a pot from your cabinet and he couldn’t help but look. He could admire how well your jeans fit you, couldn't he?

In the midst of his perusing, he noticed paper in your back right pocket. He found it curious. It couldn’t have been your grocery list—you’d used your Notes app for that. What were you hiding?

“When do the boys come in?” you asked.

Eddie blinked, tearing his eyes away just in time to meet yours. “Oh, the band?” You nodded before turning the burner on low. “Uh, yeah. They come in at nine-thirty tomorrow.”

“And you’re sure you wanna sleep over tonight?”

He shrugged. “Only if you want to.”

“We’ll see if I get sick of you by then.”

Eddie snorted before moving past you to grab some Pringles from your cabinet. “After my killer present? Nah, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Don’t sweetheart me, mister,” you said playfully before gasping. He jumped back just in time as you thrusted a cheese-covered wooden spoon in his direction. “Damn, Eddie, get your own Pringles! Those are for the party!”

He moved to the back corner of the kitchen, quickly shoving a Pringle in his mouth. As he held the can like it was the Ark of the Covenant, he grinned at you before giving a chip a rather loud crunch.

“That fucking does it!” you exclaimed, leaping towards him.

The two of you fought to claim the Pringles can for yourselves. Eddie couldn’t help but giggle the entire time, loving each touch you shared, even if it was so you could hit him. 

He was grateful he’d met you. There was something extraordinary about the way you fell into each other, effortless in nature. The hesitation you once held with one another had dethawed, replaced with a promise that you’d catch each other when you fell. Even now, after you nearly slipped onto the floor.

Eddie caught you, arm scooping under your waist just in time before your head met the tile.

Maybe there was a time and a place to say how he felt. Maybe it could be today or tomorrow after the party. Christmas morning or New Year’s Eve. But when he gazed into your bewildered eyes, he reflected on everything you’d opened up to him about over the last seven months. The pain, the betrayal. You needed a friend, not another messy situation that would ultimately hurt you. 

So, for now, he focused on the here and now. And by the end of the night, he’d solve the case of the mysterious note.

The south didn’t do snow. 

It was a made up concept, some nearly forgotten folklore created when a hint of ice formed along mountainsides and frozen faucets. When it came to winter, the grass resembled wheat and the spindly trees towered above the cities. 

And there you were with Eddie, out on your tiny balcony as you had your nightly cigarette and waited for spiked cheese to kick in.

Eddie had been rambling about a few lines of his latest song that he couldn’t quite make right, needing a better word than beaming that still held two syllables.

You’d stared out at the street, but something happened the moment you looked back at him. He was leaning against the railing, going back and forth from placing his unlit cigarette between his teeth and removing it so he could talk. Your gaze fell to his lips, watching his constant back and forth.

For a moment, perhaps in a trick of the light, an image flashed in your mind. Eddie on his knees, hands curling around your thick thighs, smirking up at you with a look of mischief. His eyes, alight with darkness that swirled into something magnificent before dipping his head under your skirt and pressing a kiss against your— 

Then it was gone, replaced with Eddie’s final attempt to put the cigarette between his teeth and light the damn thing. The second he let out his first wave of smoke, you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

Because you were starting to think about his mouth around something else.

“Flaring?” he pondered, taking another thoughtful drag. 

The chill of forty degree weather did nothing to stop the fire rushing to your core. His unoccupied hand bounced along the railing as he thought. There was a crude kind of desire in you to grab it and place it against the ache, relieving the tension that was starting to twist inside you.

“Flooding?” 

The wetness sat in your underwear, diabolically abandoned by the man in front of you who continued rambling on. The wind rustled his hair, sending wisps into his mouth that he had to pull away. Why weren’t your fingers tugging at the strands, claiming his lips with your own?

Your impulse control felt, well, out of control. 

“Surging?”

The racing of your heart was made worse the harder you pulled on that cigarette, the clouds you created only growing. But there was an emotion billowing in that smoke, signaling to you that something had shifted.

You had shifted, as quickly as the season. 

Seven months. Three seasons.

Not nearly enough time to catch your bearings or build a stable foundation. However, you were starting to notice more and more that there was something else hiding behind every sleepover and good morning text. 

This was an awakening.

An awakening that was surely going to ruin everything.

But when he asked what you thought of blazing instead of beaming, your heart fluttered and you answered without hesitation, “It’s perfect.”

Eddie watched with amusement as you floundered over the kitchen table like a fish, definitely feeling the effects of the beer cheese. You were starting to look like an inflatable balloon man on his final wave.

“We…” you trailed, holding up your pointer finger. “Weeee need to put up decorations.”

He laughed, leaning over to boop you on the nose. “Yooou need a timeout, Weirdo.”

You let out a sound resembling a growl. “Noooo.”

“Did you just growl at me?” he asked.

Shrugging, you poked him repeatedly before letting out another growl. “Bark, bark,” you said, lowering the pitch of your voice. “Hiss, hiss.”

“You’re fucked, sweetheart,” he commented, grabbing your finger and placing it back on the table.

Your eyes widened slightly before you snorted and waved your hand around. “Get your head out of the gutter, Munson.”

Before he could respond, your fingers were moving back to him, snatching his hand and holding it firmly. Seemingly without thought, you brought it up to your mouth and pretended to bite him. Eddie tried to yank it back, but you were surprisingly strong, lips hovering over his skin.

In a quick flicker, Eddie found himself lost in an image of your teeth clamping down on his throat, wrists caught in your grasp as you pinned him to your bed. You, grinding your hips against his in a frenzy, chasing friction as he bucked in an attempt to reach the same release. 

What he wouldn’t give for you to draw blood.

“Oh, so now you’re a vampire?” he asked with a cough, trying not to let the pink meet his cheeks. Or his poor dick.  

Without a word, you gave him a smirk and bit him.

Eddie jumped with a yelp, almost knocking his chair over if it hadn’t been for your death grip.

You let out one of the loudest guffaws he’d ever heard, warming his heart as he settled back into his wobbly chair. He couldn’t help but laugh along, but he unfortunately couldn’t keep his cock from getting hard.

What was it about you that drove him fucking insane?

“You’re so easy to freak out,” you said with a toothy smile, running your thumb over the bite mark you’d left behind.

Or just easy to turn on, he thought.

In the minutes that passed, you sat in silence, mutually gentle as you enjoyed your shared high. He studied your mark on him, the curve of each individual tooth imprinted on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. If only he could keep it from returning to normal. 

If only he could tell you how he felt.

“You’re holding my hand,” he observed quietly.

“Oh! Sorry,” you replied softly. But you didn’t release your grasp.

Eddie chuckled, face growing hot as he tried his hand at bravery. “You’re all good. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” you asked, lifting your head from the table. 

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“I like your hand. It’s warm,” you mumbled. Your tracing became languid, slow and gentle.

“Yeah?” His breath was starting to go ragged, entirely blown away by your forward nature. Of course, he knew it was because of the weed. That’s all it was to you. But, to him, it meant everything. He never wanted you to stop.

You nodded. “Yeah. It feels really nice. Softer than I expected.”

Then a thought bloomed.

“Can I ask you a very stupid question?”

“Always.”

The knuckles on his unoccupied hand drummed against the table as he asked, “What’s in your back pocket?”

Your head snapped up. “Eddie…”

“Is it bad?” You avoided his gaze. “You’re making it sound like a ransom note or nuclear codes.”

“No, that’s not…” you trailed before sighing. “That’s not it.”

Eddie watched as you deflated, shoulders hunching forward. What was going on?

“Then what is it?”

You barely gave him a glance before averting your gaze again. “I wrote you a note but I’m too scared to give it to you.”

“Why?”

“It’s cheesy.” Your hand retreated from his, leaving his palm to freeze instantly. “But sometimes if I’m not sure what to do for presents, I like to write notes. It’s just, after a while, I decided not to give it to you.”

“You could read it to me.”

Scoffing, your tone grew sarcastic. “Read it? Right. Sure.”

“Come on, Weirdo.” You bit your lip. “Do it for the spirit of Christmas.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If not for Santa, then for me.”

That’s when he finally found your eyes, pooling with indecision. 

Without a word, you stood up and pulled the paper out of your back pocket.

“Eddie,” you started, sending flutters to his chest immediately. “I know that we haven’t been friends for a year yet, but you’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had.” He watched you take a deep breath, desperate to see what was settling in your eyes. “I don’t say this to put pressure on you, but to tell you that your…” another deep breath, “friendship has changed my life.”

Your glossy eyes lifted. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I can’t finish this,” you replied. 

Eddie felt his heart crumble the second you crushed the paper between your fingers. He jumped up immediately, quick to try and grab the note. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he whispered, shaking his head. You took a step back, mirroring his action. “Come on, it’s not stupid. I wanna know what else you have to say.”

“It’s cheesy.”

“It’s genuine.”

He went to take it again, but you moved your hand away.

“It’s unoriginal.”

“It’s authentic.”

One more attempt at snagging the note resulted in you taking three steps back. “I hate Christmas,” you whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie found your hands shaking. “I can’t control the passage of time and whether you’re going to be here next year or not. What if I give this to you and then in six months you realize how stupid I am and you just go?”

He said your name gently, but you shook your head.

“I can see it now, you know? You’ll find the note lodged in some pocket somewhere and wonder how it got there. And you’ll be so livid that you’ll go and set it on fire and light your cigarette with the flame.”

Before you could continue your dark forebodings, Eddie fingers wrapped around your trembling, tight-knuckled fist. The contact set him ablaze as he felt the tension build. Here you two were, connected by a bittersweet tug of war.

“Hey,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. But how could he? You were searching his eyes, crestfallen and confused. He could say the same for himself. “I know it sucks to open up to people you don’t know are gonna stay.”

He heard the catch in your breath before tears fell down your cheeks.

“I’m here to stay,” he said, more confident now. “You’re not sick of me yet, are you?”

You suddenly chuckled, shaking your head as you wiped your tears away. “Anything but.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, okay?” You nodded, tucking your crimson lips inward, disappearing into your mouth as if you were ridding yourself of speech for his sake. “Let this Christmas be this Christmas.”

“Okay.”

“And then we’ll get super cross-faded tomorrow night and then we’ll get cross-faded on New Year’s—” A watery laugh rippled through you, piercing the air and his heart. Finally, his favorite sound. “Then we’ll just keep going and figure shit out along the way. Sound cool?”

“Yeah. Sounds cool.”

Eddie didn’t know what to do next, refusing to think before he enveloped you in a tight hug. Your arms quickly squeezed him back, exchanging heartbeats under thick sweaters.

“You know what?” Eddie asked, resting his chin on your head. “I think you’ve earned a good holiday movie.”

“Which is?” you asked, voice muffled in his shirt.

The edges of Eddie’s lips quirked up as he said, “When Harry Met Sally.”

[littlexdeaths]

𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕝𝕝…

below the cut you can find all the lovely submissions for the twelve days of promptmas 2024!

this will be updated with new submissions up until midnight on december 24th! thank you so much to everyone who has participated so far!

each submission is categorized by the prompt and character! go show these amazing writers some love ♥️

character key:

⋆⁺₊❅. - eddie munson

⋆⁺₊❅. - steve harrington

⋆⁺₊❅. - robin buckley

⋆⁺₊❅. - argyle

⋆⁺₊❅. - no specified pairing

day one: snowed in or caught in a blizzard

⋆⁺₊❅. a very merry munson christmas by @jamdoughnutmagician

⋆⁺₊❅. real love baby by @mediocredreams

⋆⁺₊❅. baby, it’s cold outside by @keeryhours

⋆⁺₊❅. snowed in by @bangaveragewhitewine

⋆⁺₊❅. stuck with you by @doomsdaybby

⋆⁺₊❅. let it snow by @eiightysixbaby

⋆⁺₊❅. moodboard by @rebelfell

day two: whatever you do, don’t feed it after midnight

⋆⁺₊❅. (un) silent night by @writhingg

day three: you’re stuck chaperoning the annual snow ball with your nemesis

⋆⁺₊❅. belle of the snowball by @jamdoughnutmagician

⋆⁺₊❅. moodboard by @rebelfell

⋆⁺₊❅. the snow ball by @bangaveragewhitewine

day four: mistletoe mayhem

⋆⁺₊❅. mistletoe mayhem by @bangaveragewhitewine

⋆⁺₊❅. all i want is you by @mediocredreams

⋆⁺₊❅. naked in manhattan by @keeryhours

⋆⁺₊❅. under the mistletoe by @punkrockmlchael

day five: meet the parents…with a twist

⋆⁺₊❅. meeting the parents by @uglypastels

⋆⁺₊❅. moodboard by @rebelfell

⋆⁺₊❅. meet the parents by @keeryhours

⋆⁺₊❅. meet the parents by @bangaveragewhitewine

day six: battle of the christmas decorations

no submissions

day seven: you need a last minute gift, but man that salesclerk sure is cute

⋆⁺₊❅. and you’re driven like the snow by @joequiinn

⋆⁺₊❅. moodboard by @rebelfell

⋆⁺₊❅. a holiday meet cute by @eiightysixbaby

day eight: snowball fight

⋆⁺₊❅. the snowball 1984 by @ga6aghoul

day nine: a very merry hellfire

⋆⁺₊❅. untitled by @thewayitalknj

day ten: ghosts of christmas past

⋆⁺₊❅. budding evergreen by @undead-supernova

⋆⁺₊❅. caught somewhere in time by @theold-ultraviolence

day eleven: you find mysterious tracks leading away from your window in the freshly fallen snow

⋆⁺₊❅. moodboard by @rebelfell

day twelve: spending christmas/christmas eve in the ER

⋆⁺₊❅. i love the way you decorate my heart by @thecreelhouse

⋆⁺₊❅. deck the halls by @skeltnwrites

bonus prompts:

⋆⁺₊❅. a crowded room, friends with tired eyes… i’m hiding from you and your soul of ice.

⋆⁺₊❅. i’ll be so blue, just thinking about you…

⋆⁺₊❅. just thinkin’ about you by @punkrockmlchael

[thewayitalknj]

Merry Christmas Everyone! I decided to participate in @littlexdeaths 's #thetwelvedaysofpromptmas 🎄

You can find all the prompts here and join in yourself! / Divider Credit

Hope you all have a wonderful holiday season and I hope you enjoy! :)

⋆⁺₊❅. day nine: a very merry hellfire >The flu hits you at a rough time, but your friends find a way to make you feel better ; Word Count - 615

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…”

“No the fuck it’s not.” You slam your car radio off - “ACHOO!!” This time you hit your steering wheel. What is supposed to be the most jolly and joyful season is becoming more tragic and uneventful. 

First, your parents’ flight got canceled because of a snow storm. Second, your packages were running late due to delays. Third, you woke up feeling like absolute shit and had to take yourself to urgent care ; only to find out you have been blessed with the flu.

After the long and dreadful drive home, you laid out your medications and put on your comfiest PJs, ready to hit the sack and try to forget about how horrible the last few weeks have been. As if anything could have gotten worse you realized you wouldn’t be able to hang out with your friends for their holiday festivities, including your D&D groups finale of an epic campaign you have been on the last few weeks.

“Shit, I gotta call someone.” You pick up your phone and find Eddie’s contact, putting it on speaker knowing if you put the receiver to your ear he would just be screaming and would, or could, possibly blow your eardrum in that second.

A few rings pass, but no answer. You sigh waiting for the voicemail’s final beep, “Hey Eddie, it’s me. I’m so sorry but I’m going to miss Hellfire tonight. I-*COUGHING UP A LUNG* have the flu. I’m so sorry I can’t make it but I’ll be there in spirit. Give everyone my love, let me know how it goes tomorrow if you can. Thanks, bye.” 

Hanging up felt like a relief. You sigh and flick on the TV to find a Harry Potter marathon.

***********************************************************************

One pack of crackers, one bowl of soup, one glorious shower,  two movies and half way through the Prisoner Of Azkaban later and you still felt like shit. It honestly felt like the end of the world at this point. Just as Hermonie punches Malfoy your phone goes off. A text, from Dustin. 

You thought maybe Eddie got your voicemail and he was just checking in himself, but were confused when it read ‘ Join my Zoom Link! … ’

“Huh?” You walk over to your laptop that was left in the kitchen. Wrapping yourself in a blanket and taking a seat at the island you click on the link, finding Eddie, Dustin and a few other friends from Hellfire in the meeting waving at their cameras.

“Hey! How are you feeling?!” Dustin asks.

“Like shit. Thanks for checking in on me everyone but, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean what’s going on? We got an evil yeti to slay and take down!”

“Wait, you’re…having Hellfire…over Zoom?”

“Of course,” Eddie speaks up. “I may be kicking your ass within the world of D&D with this campaign but we’re a team on the outside. We couldn’t do this without you.”

You shake your head in disbelief, they went through all of this planning for you?

“Wow guys, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes we did! Besides, it’s the holidays! It’s meant to be spent with friends and family!” Lucas answers. 

Eddie’s box lights up green, “We won’t be starting for another 10 minutes. Garth is running a bit late, can you get your notes and shit together?”

“Sure! That’s plenty of time! Thanks guys really, this means a lot more than you think-*ACHOO.*”

“BLESS YOU!” “GESUNDHEIT!” "YOU'RE SOOOO GOOD LOOKIN!" They all smile and laugh as you head off to find your things.

This was defiantly the pick me up you needed, just maybe the holidays wouldn’t be so bad after all.

And it’s all because of your best friends.

***********************************************************************

Quick Notes - just because I can, here's my fav bands Christmas Song :)

[keeryhours]

baby, it’s cold outside - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x Best friend! female reader

Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

2024 Promptmas Masterlist

Summary:

A planned movie night with your best friend turns into more when you get trapped in a snow storm.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, accidental creampie

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

This is my first fic for the Twelve Days of Promptmas event by @littlexdeaths ! Prompt: “snowed in”

—

The Hawkins forecast was calling for snow. A lot of it, in fact. You weren’t worried about it. In fact, you had planned a fun night in with your best friend in the world.

You had everything all ready. The house to yourselves while your parents were visiting family for the weekend, plenty of hot chocolate, and the fireplace roaring comfortingly. It was perfect.

You were dressed in your coziest PJs - you and Steve had picked out matching pairs. What can you say, you loved making an event out of things.

The snow was falling heavily outside and you were just pulling the cookies you had baked out of the oven when the front door opened and you heard footsteps heading into the kitchen.

“Hey hey,” Steve greeted, still dressed in his uniform from Family Video and holding a bag in his hand. “Smells good.”

“Hey Stevie,” you greeted with a smile. You sat the hot tray on top of the stove and turned the oven off. “Whatcha got for us?”

Steve pulled three VHS tapes from the plastic bag. “I got A Christmas Story, Gremlins, and Die Hard.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Die Hard?”

“What? It’s a Christmas movie!”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Wanna go get changed?”

“God yes, I’m so ready to get out of these clothes.” Steve sat the movies down on the counter and headed down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You examined the movie choices as you waited. When Steve returned, he was dressed in pajamas that mirrored yours, cozy red flannel bottoms and a black sweater-like top with a reindeer on it.

“It’s really coming down out there,” he pointed out as he glanced out the window. “I had to drive like 20 under the speed limit to get here.”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be too crazy,” you said, grabbing A Christmas Story. “It should calm down by the time we’re done with our movie night. I wouldn’t stress about it. Wanna watch this one first?”

“Sure.” Steve grabbed it from your hand along with the other two movies as you plated the cookies and poured two mugs of hot chocolate. When you entered the living room, Steve was putting the movie in the VCR, then falling back on the couch.

You sat the treats on the table and gathered the bundle of cozy blankets before sitting next to your best friend. The blankets spread over both of your laps, you dug into the treats as the familiar movie played on the TV screen.

Despite the house’s heating, the warm drinks, and the blankets shared between you, it was cold. You found yourself shivering, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“Are you cold?” Steve asked quietly, noticing your shaking against his arm.

“Freezing,” you admitted. Your hands were ice cold, as if the snow from outside was invading the warm safety of the house.

“C’mere.” Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly against his side. You froze for a moment - this was more intimate than you and Steve usually got. Sure he was your best friend, and he was also gorgeous, but there was nothing more between you. But god, he was so warm and cozy, like a heater. He warmed your body immediately.

As the movies played, you found yourself cuddling closer and relaxing into Steve’s side. At some point he began rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb. The electricity his touch was sending through your skin was unfamiliar - you’d touched Steve plenty of times, but it never felt like this. You’d never thought about what it might feel like to hold his hand, or what his lips might feel like on yours. But now you were. Now it’s all you could think about, to the point that you weren’t even paying attention to the movies anymore.

When your last movie of the night, Gremlins, ended, Steve removed his arm from around you, much to your dismay. He stretched, letting out a wide yawn.

“I guess I’d better get going home before it gets too bad out there,” he said, although neither of you really wanted him to.

“Yeah, I guess so. I had fun,” you smiled, even though you wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay, to hold you longer.

What was up with you?

Steve gathered his stuff, his clothes from work in the bag he had brought with him. You followed him to the front door.

He pulled it open, and you were both greeted with a rush of freezing cold air and snow. The forecast had not been lying - the storm was intense. It covered the yard, the unplowed road, even Steve’s car was buried in the glittering white snow.

You and Steve both gaped at the spectacle. Steve shut the door and turned to you.

“Uh…I’m not sure I can leave.”

“You can stay,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “Just spend the night. It’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Steve breathed out in relief. “Damn. I really wasn’t expecting it to actually get that bad.”

You followed Steve back into the living room, where he sat his bag down again. “You can pull out the couch,” you told him. “It’s pretty comfy. I have an extra new toothbrush you can use.”

“Sounds good.” He smiled at you gently. Tenderly.

As the two of you got ready for bed, your mind was racing. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about how it felt to lay against Steve? How good he had smelled, like honey and his fancy cologne. How warm his body was against yours. How it had felt like you fit right in beneath his arm. How kissable his plush lips looked, how expressive his brown eyes were when he looked at you.

You were panicking.

Steve didn’t feel that way about you, you were sure of it. And you didn’t want to change your friendship by catching feelings. This was dangerous territory. You could only hope the thoughts would fade by morning.

You walked back to the living room to find Steve attempting to figure out the sofa.

“Here, let me help,” you said, moving over and grabbing the other side. Together you pulled the bed out. It was pretty comfy, as far as pull out couches go. You had spent many a night camped out on it during sleepovers with Carol Perkins growing up, before she grew up and decided to turn into a bitch. Now it was mostly unused.

You gathered some blankets and sheets from the hall closet, taking some pillows from your own bed for him. You helped Steve make the bed up, and when you were done, it looked perfectly comfortable. The fireplace still burned in the room, filling it with a comfortable warmth, although you still felt the chill.

“Thanks for helping me get all this set up,” Steve said, gesturing to his home for the night. “I had a great time with you tonight.”

You felt yourself blush, and looked down to hide it from him. “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

Steve smiled again - how did you never notice how charming his smile was? “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you smiled back, and then turned to walk into your own bedroom for the night.

A firm hand on your arm stopped you, pulling you to spin around and crash into something hard. Before you could process it, soft lips were pressing onto yours.

You wrapped your arms around Steve’s neck, kissing him back just as passionately as he kissed you. Your lips worked together in perfect harmony, they were just as soft as they looked. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you let him in freely, your own pressing against his as he explored your mouth with an urgency, like he’d been waiting to do this for years.

You melted into his kiss, Steve’s hands caressing over your hips and sides. They trailed up beneath your pajama top, feeling the smooth skin beneath. He led you backwards towards the pull out bed, and you fell back onto it with Steve crawling on top of you.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly when he finally broke the kiss.

“More than okay,” you answered, equally breathless and just wanting him to kiss you over and over again for the rest of the night. He smiled before he leaned in, trailing kisses along your jaw. You giggled as he moved to your neck, placing gentle kisses all over the skin.

“Good,” he said between kisses, “because I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea.”

His words made your breath hitch in your throat - or maybe it’s the way he started sucking on the spot between your neck and shoulder. “Steve…”

“Yeah?” He started pushing the sweater top up your body. He moved down to kiss over the exposed skin of your stomach, which made you gasp, his lips sending chills across your skin.

“I love you.”

Steve looked up at you from where he had been exploring your body, smiling that same familiar smile. “I love you, too.”

He pushed your top up the rest of the way, and you leaned up to help him remove it. You shivered as your body was exposed to the air, no bra so your nipples peaked in the chill. Steve drank in your bare chest before him, before moving back up to your eyes.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted, but you didn’t want this to stop, either.

“I can warm you up…” he offered, “…from the inside.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

You laughed, your head thrown back. “Oh my god. You’re so lame.”

He was smiling as he stood up next to the bed, pulling his own pajama top over his head. His bare chest was exposed to you and you sat up and reached forward, rubbing your hands over the taut skin of his stomach, up and over the thick hair on his firm chest. He hummed as you did, his eyes falling closed.

He was gorgeous. You always knew he was, but seeing him like this for the first time, it was something else entirely. He was ethereal.

Your eyes drifted down to the large bulge pushing against the front of his flannel pants, straining against the material. You rubbed over it, feeling how hard he was already, and causing Steve to hiss as it twitched beneath your hand.

“Can I…?” You asked hesitantly, fingers grasping the waistband of his pants.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, a breathless laugh coming from his lips. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Pleased with his confirmation, you pulled his pants and boxers down in one go, his length surprising you as it sprung up, already incredibly hard. You gasped, which made Steve chuckle.

“I did not expect you to be hiding all that,” you commented, eyes wide as you took in the sight of him.

“Yeah? You like it?”

You looked up at his eyes. “You really don’t need your ego stroked.”

“I’ve got something you can stroke-“

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Steve looked like he was about to say something else but you shut him up yourself by wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, licking a long stripe along the underside to the tip. Steve let out a strangled groan, hand grasping at the back of your hair.

“Shit, babe-“

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue running over his slit and circling around his tip. You began to take more of him, relaxing your throat as you took his girth. He was bigger than any guy you’d been with before, and you were a little intimidated, but you were going to try your best. You gagged as you neared the entirety of him, and Steve’s hand tightened in your hair, although he didn’t force you.

“Feels so good baby, please don’t stop,” he rasped, encouraging you to take more. Your eyes were watering, your jaw aching as you took more and more of him.

He hit the back of your throat and your nose pressed against the soft curls at his base. His eyes widened as he looked down at you, his hand shaking. “Shit, no one’s ever taken it all before,” he remarked, as if he were in awe. “You’re incredible.”

You began to bob your head along his length, taking him as deep as possible every time. Steve groaned loudly above you, his eyes never leaving the way your lips fit around his cock.

When you felt his thighs start to tremble you lifted off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick. He muttered a low “Fuuuuck.”

Steve gently pushed you back to lay on the bed, then crawled back over you again, placing a kiss above the waistband of your pajama pants before he was pulling them and your panties down your legs.

When you were bare before him, he spread your legs, taking in the sight of you. Before you knew what he was thinking, he ducked down between your legs, licking along your glistening folds. You gasped, hands tangling in his long locks.

“Oh, Steve-“ you gasped out, and you could feel him smile against your core.

“Taste so good,” he said, licking over your sensitive clit. You resisted the urge to close your legs around his head, the pleasure overwhelming as he focused on pleasing you with his mouth. He slipped a long finger inside of you, causing you to pull on his hair, which made him groan against you.

He pumped his finger in and out of you slowly a few times before adding another, stretching you in preparation to take his cock - although his fingers were nothing in comparison.

As Steve continued to work his tongue and lips expertly against your core, you felt your high building rapidly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to drive you crazy, to bring you straight to your peak.

“Steve…’m gonna cum…” you whined, body writhing beneath his mouth, thighs trembling around his head. Every thrust of his fingers was so deep, the curl of them hitting that perfect spot inside.

“Cum on my tongue, angel,” he murmured between sucking on your clit, running his tongue around it. “Wanna taste it, wanna make you feel so good.” He added a third finger, pumping into you slow yet deep.

“You are,” you said breathlessly, “God, Stevie, feels so good.”

Your high hit you intensely, your back arching up off the bed and grinding against his mouth for more. You could feel his smirk against you as he lapped up every bit of your slick, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths as he pulled away, trailing kisses up your body until he reached your lips. He kissed you far too sweetly for what he had just done to you, but you found yourself melting into it once again as you tangled your hands in the soft hair at the base of his neck. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you deeply.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked as he pulled away to look down at you, something like love and adoration in his eyes.

“Uh…shit, no,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “I didn’t really expect anything like this to happen.”

You giggled. “Me, either.”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked you seriously. “We can stop. We don’t have to do this.”

You shook your head immediately. “No…I want to keep going.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Stevie,” you assured him, pulling him closer once again. “Now fuck me, please?”

He groaned at your words. “Of course, baby.” He kissed along your cheek, down your jaw, to your neck. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He reached between your bodies, rubbing the head of his cock through your soaked folds, gathering it on his length. He lined himself up at your entrance, and looked you in the eyes as he pushed inside.

Your mouth fell open at the intrusion - way bigger than his fingers - it was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure as he filled you. He groaned loudly as he filled you completely, your hands trembling on his strong shoulders.

“You’re my favorite person,” he said, looking you in the eyes like he’d never meant anything more in his life.

“And you’re mine,” you promised him back, which made him smile and place a gentle kiss on your lips.

He slowly pulled out before pushing back into you, the hottest moan you’d ever heard spilling from his lips. “God, you feel amazing. So tight and perfect. Better than I imagined.”

Even through the intense pleasure of Steve fucking you, his words broke through the haze in your brain. “You’ve imagined?”

“Well yeah, of course,” he laughed. He buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking the spot that drove you crazy earlier. “So many times.”

“Me too,” you admitted, feeling the blush on your skin.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Steve said, as he leaned up to look down at you again. “You blush with your whole body, you know that?”

That only made your skin heat further.

Steve sped up his pace, thrusting into your tight heat faster as he chased his own pleasure. “Do you like it like this? Or should I go slower?”

“That’s perfect,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping onto his back for support. “Oh fuck, Stevie, feels so so good.”

He dropped his face back into the crook of your neck, moaning unashamedly as the sounds of your skin meeting filled the quiet living room. The only other sound was the crackling of the fireplace, and you could see the snow still falling hard outside the sliding back door. But just as he promised, Steve was keeping you nice and warm.

In a moment of unexpected boldness, you had an idea.

Grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders, you pushed him over so you were on top. His eyes went wide. “Woah.”

You giggled as you started grinding on him, the angle rubbing against your clit as you did, building your second orgasm of the night. “God, Stevie, you’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he gasped out, hands gripping tightly to your hips as you began to bounce on him. “Oh fuck honey, you feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You threw your head back as you rode him with everything you had, his eyes glued on your bouncing tits as he felt his own release approaching. “So fucking sexy,” he muttered to himself, hands sliding up your sides to grab your breasts, kneading them in his hands before moving back to hold your hips with a bruising grip.

“Baby, I’m getting close,” he warned, his fingers digging tightly into your skin.

“Me too,” you moaned, and you reached down to rub circles on your clit, watching the way his eyes widened again as he watched you pleasure yourself.

“God- cum on my cock, baby, wanna feel your pussy clench around me.”

His words pushed you over the edge. Your cunt spasmed around his cock as you came even harder than before, crying out and calling his name over and over. “Steve, Steve, Steve…!”

“Oh, shit-“ The muscles in his neck went taut as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, groaning and shooting his load deep inside you as he bucked his hips up wildly beneath you, pulling you down against him.

Once you had both come down to earth, the reality of what had just happened hit you both. “Oh, fuck, angel, I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay, Stevie,” you assured him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. “I’m on the pill.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Thank god.”

You laughed as you lifted off of him and laid down on the mattress next to him. Steve wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to cuddle against his chest. “That was incredible,” you finally said.

“Hell yeah it was,” Steve agreed wholeheartedly. “Why didn’t we do this forever ago?”

“Because we’re idiots?” you giggled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel,” Steve said, his hand caressing your cheek before he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Sleep in my bed with me?” you asked sheepishly, feeling nervous of his rejection despite what you’d just done together. “To keep me warm, of course.”

“Of course, baby. Where else would I be?”

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ mistletoe mayhem

Steve Harrington x Reader 

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: My third contribution to @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas is best described as ‘meddling and mistletoe’

Content: Sneaking around and secret relationships. Yearning! Flirting! Ghosts of sexy-time past. Supportive but annoying friends! Loverboy Steve Harrington. 

✨ bang average festive fics ✨ Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨ 

Sylvia Harrington loved Christmas. 

She loved the bright gold lights, regal red baubles and gifts wrapped in shiny paper topped elegant bows. She loved playing hostess at the Annual Harrington Christmas Soiree, when her dress always matched her husband’s tie and her son’s sweater. She loved the spectacle of it all, the champagne and the meticulously put-together canapes. She loved the praise for her perfection.

Every year, their house in Loch Nora had the best decorations in the neighbourhood - she would wager the best in town - with a huge tree on the front lawn, adorned with bright lights and a shiny star the same hue as her favourite champagne. Sylvia Harrington loved her golden life, her successful husband and her gorgeous golden son. 

But the very thought of coloured Christmas lights and non-matching tree ornaments made her stomach churn. Chintzy, tacky decor gave her hives. 

Steve had always been in awe of them, the way multi-coloured string lights danced and popped in the dark winter light. He liked how the colours blurred behind his eyes when he gazed out the car window. When Steve was eight his father called him ungrateful for asking if they could get coloured lights that year, snapping unfairly at his son before Sylvia could let him down gently. He quickly learned not to bother asking again.

Tonight, the Harrington house is an explosion of colour, and while Steve misses his Mom - he hopes that she is enjoying her shiny gold Christmas in New York - he would much rather be here, watching Max and El wrap tinsel around their scrunchies and hang bright baubles from their ears like earrings, listening to Mike bitching that this was slave labour, that Steve could decorate his own damn tree.

He would much rather be here, watching how the colourful lights shine on you as you perfect the garland running along the mantlepiece. How you throw your head back at something Lucas said, your laugh melding into the cacophony of noise and Chrismas cheer.

“Oooh, mistletoe!”

Robin’s voice cuts through his dreamy daze, louder than teens laughing and squabbling and the Christmas music drifting from the speakers. She holds a sprig aloft over her head and shares a grin with Vickie, whose cheeks heat up beneath her rosy blush. 

“Who brought mistletoe?” Dustin asks, looking up from where he has been methodically planning the most efficient use of the extension chords and outlets. 

Shrugs and shaking heads ripple around the room. No one owns up to it. It’s not like Vickie’s aunt owns a florist that she works in at the weekends. Everyone seems to have conveniently forgotten that, even Vickie herself. 

Steve catches your eye and smiles a little before you turn back to the garland, adding one more silver bauble before backing up a few steps with your hands on your hips.

“Is it too much?” you ask, seeking out Steve’s opinion.  It’s his house after all, and although he has given his friends free reign it is only fair he should have his say now that he is the man of the house. 

The garland is a little lopsided and homely, far from the primped-to-perfection monstrosity his mother would insist on.

“I love it,” he says, smiling. He joins you by the fireplace to take in the masterpiece. “You’re a natural.”

Your cheeks heat up as you feel the warmth of his body next to yours. 

Behind your backs, your friends share secret smiles. The plan had spread quickly and quietly before they arrived, weeks of planning how to get you and Steve together. All you two needed was a little push, right? It was going to be a cakewalk. (Max had full-on screamed into a pillow when Dustin called it a ‘Christmas Cakewalk’ with that shit-eating grin of his).

“Let’s hang some,” Lucas says, taking a sprig from Robin. “Max, wanna help me?”

The couple (back together after their post-Thanksgiving fight) peel away from the group with mischievous smiles, partly because of their genius plan and the rest because it’s a perfect excuse to make out a little bit in Steve’s big house. 

“I’m going to hang some over your mirror so you can kiss your reflection without shame,” Robin teases, messing up Steve’s hair as he goes back to placing mismatched ornaments on the tree. 

As everyone returns to their tasks, you catch Steve’s eye again and share another little smile. 

Within the hour, the decorating has been completed, with the addition of the mystery mistletoe strategically placed around the house. Friendly kisses have already been exchanged - Dustin kissed Vickie’s hand in the most gentlemanly way, and Steve earned himself a wet smacker on the cheek from Eddie when he arrived just as the hard work was done. 

Everyone has drawn a name for your Secret Santa gift exchange, another get-together in Steve’s house on the day before Christmas Eve. There have not been many obvious swaps, but a few whispered “who did you get?’s”

There is far too much pizza, and laughter rings throughout the cozy house. Steve looks around, sees his friends bathed in colourful light, and feels the joy that had been missing from all of those other Christmases. The big empty house is no more, lived in and adorned with reminders of each of his friends even when they are not there; character sheets and forgotten dice, scrunchies and sweaters and guitar picks. Robin has all but made one of the guest rooms her second home.

He thinks about how his mother’s eye would twitch at the explosion of colour, the noise and chaos that comes with The Party. Steve loves it. He thinks of how she would plaster on a smile and pretend it’s fine, and play hostess with the mostest while gritting her teeth so hard that her teeth might crumble.

He does not let himself think of his father’s barely contained hatred of it all, or how he would hurl insults at his idiot son and his degenerate friends. Richard Harrington was worse than the Grinch, who at least had the capacity for love in his heart. Steve was not about to let the memory of him ruin tonight. 

“Hey.” 

Steve smiles when feels the warm press of your arm against his. 

“Hey yourself.” 

Your voices are loud enough for each other, squished side by side on the sofa with your friends crowded on either side and on armchairs and the floor. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask.

Steve looks fond, still a little far away. “Just thinking. It looks good, huh?”

You look around the room with your own enamoured smile before looking back at Steve, the lights reflected in his cocoa-coloured eyes. “It looks like Christmas threw up. I love it.” 

“I love it too.”

You hear your friends quieten just enough so they can try to eavesdrop on your quiet exchange, and you both smirk. They’re not as slick as they think. 

“I’m getting a drink. You want anything?” you ask him.

His eyes sparkle with recognition before he says, “Yeah. I’ll come with.”

There are a few calls for extra sodas and more pizza, and even more furtive whispers as you leave the room.

“He likes her, it’s so fucking obvious!”

“Mike, shut up!” Erica hisses. 

And Robin hisses, “Max, did you put any mistletoe in there?”

You both manage to hold your laughter until you reach the safety of the kitchen, down the hall and out of sight. Your shoulders shake silently as you try to hold it back and not make a noise. 

“These fucking kids!”

“I know,” you giggle, warm-cheeked, “It’s kinda sweet.”

Steve double-checks that the coast is clear before taking your face in his hands to kiss you like he has been wanting to all evening. 

You need not be goaded by a plant to kiss Steve Harrington.

Beyond the taste of pizza and soda, the kiss is a sweet relief. It is a lungful of fresh air after holding your breath beneath water. It’s a blissful sip of a cool drink after a day in the sun, or hot chocolate after sledging. It’s perfect. All those hours without each other, since you left his bed this morning to help your Mom with groceries and gift wrapping, since you stepped back into his house with Nancy’s arm in yours in your cute skirt and sweater, have been absolute torture.

Your hands settle on his ribs, almost creasing the forest-green knit with your grip, and you smile against each other’s mouths. 

“One more,” he begs, whispering, “One more.” One more is never ever enough. 

You squeeze his trim waist and bless him with another kiss, much less frantic than that first one. His tongue against yours makes your body zing; you are hooked on him and finally, you have got your fix.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whisper, fighting back the urge to nip his jaw and run your tongue along the barely there stubble. The urge to mark him above the collar and let the secret slip.

“I missed you more.”

Steve’s thumbs brush your cheeks, marvelling at you like the most precious treasure before you both prise yourselves apart with bone-deep reluctance.  

“I think you’re going to need to kiss my cheek or something to shut them up,” you say, piling pizza on paper plates for the teens—Margarita for Dustin, Hawaiian for El, and Pepperoni for Eddie and Max. You take another slice for yourself to keep your mouth busy, though it aches for Steve’s lips.

He gathers sodas, resisting the urge to shake up Mike’s for the hell of it - he would be the one to clean up, and his bitching is not worth it. 

“I guess I can do that,” Steve says, “I’ll try to restrain myself.” 

It pains him to keep his hands to himself, to not kiss your face and play with your fingers, to see your knee bare without his hand to keep it warm. He is beginning to ache from carrying the weight of not telling everyone how fucking in love with you he is, even though they all know it, they see it.

It was never supposed to be more than a late summer hook-up, a once-off. But then neither of you could quit each other, or bear to not spend time together after everyone else had gone home or gone to bed, back to school. Neither of you could push your long-held crushes back after they had breached the surface. So you committed to each other and keeping it quiet until you knew it would not ruin your friendship and threaten the group dynamic. But by then sneaking around was too fun to stop, too exciting to almost be caught. The fizzy feeling of keeping a secret was addictive, and you were both too good at lying. Not to each other, but to your friends. You both suppose you should feel a little bit bad about that, but being together, alone, is a balm for the guilt.

You feel the warmth of Steve behind you, his chin on your shoulder and his hips pressing snuggly against you. He is a tease, a temptress, reminding you through touch alone of the other day when he had you over the kitchen island, a day of playing house together.

“Who do you have for Secret Santa?” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. Steve smiles when you roll your eyes at him. He bites his lip and wishes it was your mouth instead. 

“It’s not a secret if I tell you, is it?” 

You turn your head and peck the corner of his mouth. He feels seared and branded as you slip away from him, too far away to pull you back in. You can tease too. 

You wink at him, balancing plates of pizza with the skill and poise learned from your shifts at the diner. 

“C’mon, big boy. We’re going to miss the start of Gremlins.”

Steve watches the swish of your skirt, how it brushes your thighs as you walk back to the living room. The extra swing in your hips is for him, another tease. You’re staying over tonight; you will circle back to Loch Nora after bringing El and Will home. Steve has no idea about the red wine lace surprise beneath your clothes. An early Christmas gift.

Neither of you clocks the mistletoe strategically placed in the living room door (it was definitely not there when you left). The living room is swollen with baited breaths and bubbling silence as they wait for your reaction. They are on tenterhooks to see you both kiss (which should be fucking weird) and realise that you would be perfect together. 

Little do they know.

The weirdness of it all directs your eyes up to the green leaves and white berries above, slapped onto the doorframe with scotch tape.

They watch you present your cheek to him, and Dustin mutters ‘on the lips, dummy’ before getting smacked with a cushion. 

“You’re all perverts,” Steve says simply, before closing the gap to press a kiss to your warm cheek. His lips are still buzzing from how you kissed each other in the kitchen. Pizza and soda in your hands stop you from touching each, fingers itching to gently stake your claim.

You rock up on your toes to press a matching kiss to Steve’s cheek, making it shimmer with what is left of your lipgloss (there is already some on his mouth if anyone were to look close enough).

Exasperated by you both, there is a deflated feeling in the room. As if they expected an earth-shattering realisation prompted by meddling and mistletoe. 

“Can we sit down now?” you ask, undeterred by their disappointment. 

The lights are dimmed and your friends make room for you and Steve on the big squishy sofa. The opening credits of Gremlins roll up on the television as popcorn and candy are passed around and shared, soda cans are cracked open and they fizz quietly alongside the sound of chewing.

Pressed up close, with El’s feet in your lap and Robin and Vickie curled together on Steve’s other side, you have never felt so comfortable, so loved. After a little while you rest your busy head on Steve’s shoulder and feel him release a held breath. You are both sugar-crashed and tired of hiding. 

He offers you his hand, palm up on his thigh, and wears a private and pleased little smile when your fingers slot between his. You pull your joined hands into your lap, holding his big hand in both of yours. He squeezes three times and you squeeze four back, though neither of you has said it yet. 

It does not take long for your friends to notice, a ripple of nudges and mouthed ‘look!’s’ around the room, silent celebrations and barely-contained excited laughter.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Eddie murmurs, smiling to himself.

You let them have it, their faux victory. 

You will figure out how to answer their questions, how to break the news that you have been a few steps ahead of them all this whole time, and how to apologise for lying and keeping secrets. 

But for now, instead of the film, you look at how the coloured string lights shine on Steve’s face and share one of your secret smiles with him when he catches you looking. You share it with your friends too and bask in the warm glow of it all. 

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs and likes are all like little christmas gifts to me! I love you, byeeee!

[punkrockmlchael]

Under The Mistletoe

Masterlist | Eddie Munson Masterlist | Corroded Coffin Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Modern AU (Both Eddie and Reader are in their 20s)

This fic is for: the twelve days of promptmas event by @littlexdeaths ; the prompt is “mistletoe mayhem”

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Pre-Established Relationship, Smut with plot (kinda, mostly smut), Smut: Oral (Fem and Male Receiving), Cum eating, Fingering, afab reader

Synopsis: Eddie is in the Holiday mood, decorating the apartment left and right. His newest fixation is mistletoe, it’s in every room of the house, in every corner; it’s literally everywhere. He just loves to kiss you as often as he can. However, when you both surprise each other with the same gift, things get heated quickly.

Word Count: 1.8k

You were a giggling mess as you made your way through the front door of your apartment, holding onto the red shopping bag from Victoria’s Secret. You had just finished a mall trip with Robin, and were beyond excited to show Eddie what you had picked out and purchased.

It was the perfect surprise for him.

At least, it was the perfect surprise in your mind.

You kicked off your shoes at the front door, hanging up your coat before you closed the front door and locked it. You walked into the kitchen and smiled at Eddie as he stood at the sink, finishing up some dishes. “Hey, Eds,” you smiled, walking towards him. You stood next to him and looked up, seeing another piece of mistletoe he had hung up while you weren’t looking. “Another one?” You asked, giggling as you placed a kiss on his lips.

“Hey, beautiful,” he smiled, “yes, another one. How else am I supposed to get kissed every moment of the day?” He asked, leaning down to kiss your lips again. “Have fun with Robin?” He asked, looking down at your hand. “Is that a bag from Victoria’s Secret?” He asked, smirking up at you. “Got anything in that bag for me?”

“Yeah, actually! I do.” You giggled, leaving another kiss on his lips. “I’ll be right back, I cannot wait to show you what Robin helped me pick out.” You said in a sing-song voice as you skipped, literally skipped, towards the bedroom.

Eddie smirked, watching you walk away before he rolled his eyes playfully. “You know, I hate that Robin helps you pick what to wear in the bedroom for me,” he called after you, “it’s weird to me that she sees this stuff before I do.”

“Who else is supposed to tell me if it looks good?!” You argued back with a giggle as you shut the door and changed into your new goodies.

You looked in the mirror and smiled, turning around once. The black lace panties with a picture of mistletoe on the front of them was definitely your favorite pick of the day, and would definitely make Eddie go crazy with his mistletoe obsession (and please you in the process).

You decided against wearing anything else, letting the underwear really speak for itself. Grabbing your robe, you slid it on your body and tied it in the front to keep your new pair of panties a surprise.

You walked to the bedroom door and opened it, rolling your eyes and stifling a giggle as Eddie stood outside the door, holding a piece of mistletoe up above you both.

“You seriously have a problem,” you sighed, leaning in to give him another kiss on his lips.

“Mhm,” he hummed against your lips. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he replied, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Are you in your robe because you have something to show me?” He asked, smirking as his kisses moved to your neck.

You giggled at the feeling of him kissing your neck before you bit your lip, sighing softly. “Maybe,” you replied, looking at him. “You wanna see what I bought?” You smirked softly.

“Is that even a fucking question?” He asked, pulling away from your neck. “Seriously, like, you went to Victoria’s Secret. And you’re asking if I want to see what you bought? Baby, if I ever say no to that question, make sure to take me to the doctor’s office, because I would be sick and not myself.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand before you pulled him into the bedroom with you. You closed the door behind you both, locking it quickly. You pushed him on the bed gently and smirked as you slowly undid your robe, revealing your bare chest and brand new mistletoe lace panties to him.

You stood in front of him, smirking as he looked up and down your body, stopping at the pair of panties you were wearing. “Is that… mistletoe?” He laughed, as he held your hips, smiling as you lowered yourself into his lap.

“Yeah, I bought them just for you,” you giggled, “I know how much you’ve been loving kissing me under the mistletoe, so now, you get to really kiss me under the mistletoe.” You added, kissing Eddie’s lips softly. He hummed into the kiss, kissing you back as his hands made their way to your ass cheeks. He squeezed them gently, pulling away to place more kisses on your neck and chest.

“I love the way you think,” he said against your skin. “Now, be a good girl and lay down for me,” he smiled, squeezing your ass cheeks again as you giggled, standing up before falling back against the bed.

Eddie smiled, crawling over you. He kissed your lips before he left soft and sweet kisses down your collarbones, chest and stomach. He kissed over your clothed core gently, looking up at you as you squirmed beneath him slightly.

He tugged your panties down, throwing them to the side before he placed his hands on your thighs, holding you down.

“Look at you,” he said with a smirk, looking up at you. “Soaking wet, already. Are you that eager for my tongue?” He added, licking a stripe up your folds.

You moaned softly, closing your eyes as you lifted your hips up in the air. Your hands moved down to his head, curling your fingers around his hair gently as you tugged along his locks.

“Yeah, princess?” He hummed, licking up and down your folds before he left soft kisses on your clit. “You like that?” He asked, sucking on your clit as he looked up at you.

You moaned again, biting your lip before you nodded, tugging on his curls again. “Mhm, yes,” you whined, moving your hips up into the air again as your hands pushed his head down.

“Damn, okay,” he mumbled, sucking on your clit as his fingers teased your entrance. Slowly, he pushed two fingers into you, pumping them in and out as his lips continued to attack your clit.

Your moans grew louder as you pulled on his hair so tightly that he was groaning against you. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of your core, curling them gently as he pulled away. He left sloppy kisses up and down your thighs, looking up at you as he did.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whined, closing your eyes as he continued to pump and curl his fingers inside of you. You continued to moan and groan his name as your back arched off the bed, feeling your orgasm grow closer and closer. “I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, looking down at him.

“Come on, princess. Cum for me,” Eddie smirked before he went back to kissing and sucking on your clit. He pumped his fingers faster, adding a third one as he ran his tongue over your clit.

You moaned his name loudly, your back completely arching off the bed as you clenched around his fingers, your hands continuing to hold his face down as you released on his fingers. He continued to thrust his fingers, helping you ride out your high until you were laying back on the bed, breathing heavily.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, sucking your juices off of them before he moved back to your core, licking up and down your folds as he collected all of your juices on his tongue.

“Mm, baby, you always taste so good,” he purred, making you blush. He left soft kisses on your thighs again before he kissed up your body, kissing every inch of it. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before he smiled, looking down at you. “My turn now, right?” He asked.

“Your turn?” You breathed, looking up at him.

“Oh, come on,” he stood up, sliding his shirt off. “You don’t think I didn’t think of this too, did you?” He asked as you sat up slowly. He undid his jeans and pushed them down, stepping out of them. You giggled, shaking your head.

“Where did you get those?” You asked, laughing as you looked at his boxers that had a picture of mistletoe on them.

“Internet.” Eddie replied, crawling back on the bed. “Now, come on, baby. Mistletoe means kissing, so, maybe… get to work.” He joked as he sat back against the headboard, placing his hands behind his head.

You rolled your eyes, crawling towards him. You sat on your knees in front of him as you placed a soft kiss on his lips before you pulled his boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free.

You looked up at him, smirking as you wrapped your hand around his cock. You pumped it slowly as you licked the tip, looking up at him. He groaned softly, looking back at you with a smirk.

“Such a good girl, you’re so good with your mouth,” he said as you licked up the base of his cock. You wrapped your lips around his tip, bobbing your head slowly. He moved his hands to the back of your head, collecting some of your hair into a fist as he pushed your head down.

You gagged on his cock, moaning around Eddie as he continued to push your head down. You bobbed your head up and down, groaning as you looked up at him.

You pulled away from him, pumping his cock in your hand as you left kisses up and down his cock. “Fuck, yeah, princess,” Eddie groaned, pulling your hair as you continued to leave kisses on his cock. You giggled, winking up at him before you kissed the tip, bobbing your head up and down again.

“Shit, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum,” he said as you continued to bob your head up and down. You hummed around him, taking all of him in your mouth as you gagged. He moaned loudly, pushing your head down as he thrusted up, releasing in your mouth. The hot, white liquid spilled into your mouth and onto your tongue.

You swallowed all of it, pulling away as you licked him clean. You smirked up at him and kissed up his body, leaving some kisses on his face before you kissed his lips softly, sitting on his lap.

Eddie groaned into the kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. His hands found their way to your hips as he pulled away and smiled at you. “I love you, you know that?” He asked, looking up at you as his thumbs rubbed circles on your hips.

“I know,” you smiled, “and, I love you, too.” You added, kissing his lips again.

[eiightysixbaby]

a holiday meet-cute

robin buckley x fem!reader

another fic for @littlexdeaths 12 days of promptmas 😌 prompt: you need a last minute gift, but man that salesclerk sure is cute…

The mall is packed.

You can’t really be surprised, what with Christmas being in two short days. Turns out you aren’t the only person in town who waited until the last second to buy a gift.

You’d thought you had all of your gifts in order, until one of your friends decided to mention they got you an unexpected gift, and now you felt obligated to return the favor.

You loosen the scarf around your neck, unbuttoning your coat now that you’re safe from the elements. You glance around the mall somewhat aimlessly, letting your feet carry you. Your gaze snags on the bookstore, eyes lighting up at the sight.

Bingo.

Trailing inside, you’re met with shelf after shelf of books. You don’t really know where to begin looking, you just hope that you’ll know when you find the right one. You brush past other shoppers, eyes roaming over the spines and covers of various novels.

“Did you need help finding anything?” a voice asks, breaking you from your shopping trance.

You turn, fingers still gently grazing the spine of one of the books on the shelf before you, and when you meet the face of the salesperson, your heart skips a beat.

She’s gorgeous. Stunning, bright blue eyes and freckles sprinkled over her face. Dirty blonde hair with bangs that suit her well. She looks at you expectantly, but there’s an almost nervous edge to her demeanor. Your eyes catch her name tag. Robin is written in blue marker, squiggles and dots and other designs littering the blank space around her name.

“Oh, um, no,” you stammer awkwardly. “I’m just looking for a last minute gift for a friend,” you tell her, feeling your cheeks grow warm under her stare.

“That one is actually one of my favorites”, she says, motioning with a nod of her head to the book where your fingers rest.

You follow her gaze, looking back at the book to pull it off of the shelf, though you find you don’t really want to stop looking at her.

“I-I’ve recommended it to all of my friends,” the salesclerk continues. “My friend Steve — he literally never reads — finally read that a couple months ago and he loved it. Talked my ear off about it afterwards. I almost regretted recommending it in the first place,” she laughs kind of nervously, chewing at her lip as if to keep herself from saying more.

You find the personal anecdote adorable, taking her recommendation seriously.

“Hm,” you ponder, staring at the cover of the book now in your hands. “I think you’ve just convinced me,” you tell her, watching as her eyes visibly brighten.

“Really?” she asks, her voice suddenly so quiet.

“Mhm,” you nod. “My friend, the one I’m buying for, hasn’t read in a while and they’ve been looking for something to get them back in the groove.”

The girl lights up, smiling so big. It takes all you’ve got not to reach out and trace the little laugh lines on her face. Instead you smile back at her, and maybe you hold each other’s gaze for a minute too long, but maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m so glad I could help,” she says finally, cheeks turning pink as her eyes dart away. “Do you want me to check you out?” she asks, before her eyes go wide. “I mean, like, ring you out. Not check you out like, check you out. Oh, god,” she trails off, but her embarrassment only makes you more smitten with her.

“That would be great,” you tell her, giggling softly to yourself as she nods and turns, skittering away like a mouse.

You follow, weaving through the shelves and up to the checkout counter. She takes your book, scanning it for you, and you find yourself tracing the freckles on her cheeks as she works.

“So, are you excited for the holiday?” she asks you. The small talk is welcome — anything to keep you here longer.

“I’m more excited now that my shopping is all done,” you reply. “Do you have any plans?” you ask, handing her the money for your purchase.

“Ah,” she says, expression turning kind of sad. “Not this year. I usually go back home for the holidays, but I couldn’t swing it this year between work and school.”

“Oh,” you frown, giving her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I know how that feels.”

There’s a pause, her pretty hands placing your book in a small paper bag, your eyes already on her when she looks up to meet them.

“You know, my friends and I are having a little get together. On— on Christmas Day,” you start. “Everyone always has a date and, well, I don’t have one.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth.

“I know we just met and you don’t even know my name or literally anything, but… if you wanted to come with me—” you stop yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

But the look in her eyes is so hopeful, it encourages you to go on.

“We’d love to have you. I’d— I’d love to help make your holiday less lonely. Since you helped me so much today, with the gift.”

“Am I attending this party as your date?” she asks, emphasizing the last word cutely, her voice gone so soft you have to lean forward to hear her.

Your face warms, fingers fidgeting on the countertop.

“If that’s okay with you, Robin,” you say, and the smile that crosses her face at the use of her name makes you certain you’ve made the right move.

The line of customers behind you grows, people in a hurry to get out and on their way. You both recognize this at the same time, and you shoot her an apologetic glance.

“I’d love to come,” Robin says, flipping your receipt over and scribbling something down. “That’s my number,” she says, handing you the slip of paper. “I’m off at 7 today, if you want to call. Or anything.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

With the receipt clutched in your hand and the book tucked under your arm, you give her a small wave before leaving the bookstore.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you look down at her writing, the glittery gel pen’s ink making each number sparkle.

Christmas can’t come fast enough.

[joequiinn]

yes my first draft for the twelve days of promptmas IS 12k words and 23 pages, what about it?

i've got a taglist open, so let me know if you'd like to be added!

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Belle of The Snow Ball (fluff)

here's another fic for @littlexdeath 's twelve days of promptmas, because I wasn't about to let this pass me by with also writing a little something for my beloved Stevie

Day 3: you’re stuck chaperoning the annual snow ball with your nemesis.

The last thing you wanted to be doing on a cold December evening was chaperoning your school's winter ball, and it's only made worse by the appearance of high-school’s resident Mr. Popular, Steve Harrington. Only time will tell how this evening is going to go.

Word Count:2,014 (this was only supposed to be short oops)

Masterlist // Steve Harrington Masterlist

*divider by @strangergraphics

It wasn’t really your choice to be stuck in your old high-school’s gym on a cold Friday, December evening, but as it stands your younger sister had signed you up to be one of the chaperones at the school’s annual snow ball, practically begging you because your parents wouldn’t let her go unless you went with her. Your sister was a freshman, and you had just completed your senior year the year before, so that left your circle of friends and her circle of friends to be two sides of a venn diagram that never dared to interact. You fought against this decision, of course. You’d much rather be at home in your room, watching some dumb Christmas film in your pyjamas, but no, once your sister had got your parents on her side, there was no escaping this personal hell that you had been forced into. 

So here you were, dressed up in your nicest formal dress that you had to dig out of the back of your closet. A deep, wine-red crushed velvet dress that hugged every curve of your body so perfectly, before skirting out around your hips before falling just below your knees in a twirling swoosh. 

As you walked into the school’s gym with your sister by your side, she made an immediate beeline for her friends, whilst you sauntered over to the table in the far corner, set up with plastic cups and a punch bowl. Pouring yourself a generous helping of mixed fruit juice you sipped it quietly as you watched everyone begin to filter into the gym.

With your eyes on the door, your stomach drops as you see the last person you would expect to see here. 

Steve Harrington.

In your schooling years, Steve had been Mr. Popular. The king of Hawkins high school. The rich guy with the big house, flashy car and a gaggle of loyal subjects surrounding him at every turn, and a new girl under his arm every other week.Oftentimes hanging around with the likes of Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, which the duo saw it fit that it was their job to regularly make your school experience nothing short of a nightmare. 

Carol would always turn to Tommy and whisper and give a high-pitched giggle in the way that girls like her did, whenever you would pass her in the hallways. You weren’t stupid, you knew that she was talking about you, or even laughing at your expense, and most of the time you could brush it off, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t also hurt.

And then Tommy would join in on her antics, by trying to trip you up or to topple your class textbooks from your arms as your reach for them out of your locker. 

And so by extension, King Steve Harrington wasn’t the sort of guy you ever really interacted with. Having decided long ago that his tiresome stuck-up, jock behaviour was too much to stomach for you. 

But as you see him sweep through the doors, waving off a young curly haired boy with a thumbs up and an nearly award winning smile, you can’t deny that he looks good. Really good. Annoyingly good. 

He’s wearing a relaxed fit button up shirt that stops just shy of the first two buttons, offering the slightest peek of golden tanned skin and the suggestion of chest hair, and a pair of dark denim jeans that fit him in all the right ways. His dark hair is streaked with warm caramel highlights, it’s perfectly messy, toeing the line between just woken up bed-head, and off duty male model. 

Taking another sip of your drink you accidentally catch his eye. You flick your gaze away from him, hoping that he maybe didn’t see you, but it seems as though once again, the universe was not on your side. He quirks his lip in a friendly smile as he makes his way over to you.

This was it, you were going to have to make uncomfortable small-talk with King Steve. Taking one more sip of your drink, you swallow it down to stop your mouth from drying up, desperately wishing there was alcohol in the punch just to make things that little bit more bearable.

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Harrington.”

“Dustin roped me into chaperone duties, he told me he would rather it was me than his mom and I couldn’t argue with him.” he says with that annoyingly charming smile. “So, what brings you to this exclusive party?” exaggerating his point with a raised tone in his voice and a quirk of his eyebrows.

“Funnily enough I’m on chaperone duty too. My sister kind of begged me to do it.” 

“The things we do for the kids, eh?” Steve laughs, reaching to ladle himself some punch from the bowl.

“So you decided to get dressed up for the occasion?” you jab.

“Could say the same about you. That dress is really fancy for someone just chaperoning.”

“Didn’t think everyone would take too kindly to me showing up in my pyjamas, so this is what you’re getting.” you snark, smoothing down the wrinkles in your dress.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you look nice.” he says without any ounce of irony in his voice that catches your attention immediately. 

“Ha-ha, yeah, funny joke Steve” you say defensively, because of course he was going to poke fun whenever he could, that’s what he always did.

“No, really I think you look really good..beautiful, actually.”  he corrects himself with a faint blush rising to his freckled cheeks.

 Wait. Was King Steve Harrington actually being sincere for once.

“Look, if you’ve come here to make fun of me, save your breath, because I don’t want to hear it, okay?” You tell him bluntly.

“Have I said something to upset you?” Steve asks, with confusion drawing across his face, his dark brows knitting together as he tries to understand your sudden change in tone towards him.

“I get it, okay, you’re the cool guy who everyone loves, and you’re just here to embarrass me for whatever stupid reason-”

“-Woah, woah.” Steve babbles, stopping you in your tracks. “I don’t know what gave you that impression, but I’m not here to try to embarrass you in any way, like, at all.”

“But you were always hanging around with the popular crowd, y’know, like with Tommy and Carol-”

“-Yeah, back in high school.” he says. “But I guess I had a bit of a fall from grace, and made a few new friends who knocked some sense into me and helped me to realise that being Mr. Popular isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

You feel bad for having judged him so harshly at first glance, feeling as if you were no better than how bullies like Carol and Tommy judged you in your high-school years.  

“Look, I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like I didn’t like you or anything, because if I'm being completely honest here, the truth is quite the opposite.” Steve says admittedly, with the faint brush of a pinkish blush scattering across his freckled cheeks.

You watch him with a careful and considered gaze as you give him the space to explain himself.

“I’ve always really liked you, actually more than like, I always had this massive crush on you, but back then I was young and dumb and didn’t know how to deal with my emotions very well I guess.” Steve says. “You made me really nervous actually, and I think in some fucked up kind-of way, I thought that hanging around all the popular kids would be the best way to get you to notice me.”

“You know, you could have just talked to me. I promise I’m not as intimidating as you might think.”

“Look, I know that an apology does very little to make up for how shitty I’ve been to you -”

“Steve, it’s okay. I know it was just Tommy and Carol-”

“No, but I never said anything to stop them, and that’s just as bad. I stood by when I really should have stood up. I should have said something, and I’m so sorry that you got hurt along the way. I wish I could just take it all back and make it up to you somehow.”

You look out to the sea of young kids all dancing in the school’s hall, and an idea begins to come together in your mind.

“I know a way you can make it up to me, if you’re up for it?”

“Anything, anything at all. Just say the word and I’ll be there.”

You hold your hand out for him to take.

“Make this worth my while and take me dancing, Harrington.” you smile.

He leads you out to join the bodies of students swaying to the bouncing, upbeat music. 

Just as you're both about to get it, the pace of the music changes to something softer, something slower.

and then in a sweeping, grand gesture, Steve takes you by the hand with a hopeful look in his eyes. 

“May I have this dance?”

“You may.” you smile softly, taking Steve’s outstretched hand in yours and letting him lead you into a gentle sway. He pulls you close to him, one arm snaking around your waist whilst he falls into step with you, waltzing to the flow of the music. 

Everything else fades into the background as Steve holds you close. You feel so safe in his arms as he twirls with you on the dancefloor with practiced ease.

“Where did Steve Harrington learn to be such a good dancer then?” you giggle, doing your best to keep in time with him.

“I did ballroom dancing classes as a kid, my teachers told me that I could have been a professional.” he laughs gently with a scrunch of his nose, “but I was just about to go to middle school, and I guess I was worried about looking un-cool or whatever, so I never went back.”

“Well, it seems as though you’ve never lost your dance skills. Steve.” you smile as you twirl with him to the music, the skirt of your dress flowing out around you with a gentle swish.

Initially you had dreaded going to your old high-school’s winter formal dance, to be dressed up amongst a sea of young kids in your school’s gym hall, but now to be dancing so freely in the arms of Steve Harrington, you couldn’t find it in your heart  to care about anything else.

The music comes to an end and you find yourself wishing for the song to go on for just a beat longer, just so that you don't have to part from the warmth of Steve’s welcoming arms. But you do. You separate, but as you look down you realise that he’s still holding your hand. His fingers still laced hesitantly between yours as if he wasn’t sure if he was crossing some line.

“Thanks for the dance, you sure know how to show a girl a good time, Harrington.” you beam before boldly rising up on your toes to press a kiss to his flushed, freckled cheek. You can’t help the sweep of pride that blooms inside you when you feel his heated cheeks smile under your affections. 

“Whadd’ya say about ditching this party and having a little fun of our own elsewhere?” Steve grins cheekily.

“I thought we were supposed to be chaperoning?”

Steve looks out to the sea of young students, and there in the corner is Dustin who is happily slow-dancing with your younger sister under the sparkling disco ball.

“I don’t think they’re gonna miss us too much.” he smiles, before tugging you by the hand out of the school’s gym, laughing all the way at his charmingly smooth antics.

This may not have been the way you envisioned your evening going, but with Steve’s hand in yours, you couldn’t wish for a more fun and exciting turn of events.

@penguinsandpotterheads @abitchyouhate @mrsjellymunson

@eddiesxangel @userchai @rebelfell @wroteclassicaly @ali-r3n

[keeryhours]

meet the parents - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

2024 Promptmas Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie meets your parents on Christmas Eve in the worst way possible.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, exhibitionism?, reader’s parents walk in on them

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N:

My third fic for The Twelve Days of Promptmas event by @littlexdeaths ! Just a short little smutty one today :) Prompt: “Meet the parents…with a twist”

—

“You’re sure your parents won’t be home?” Eddie asked, nervous as he tiptoed into your living room, as if your mom or dad might pop out and scare him at any moment.

“Yes I’m sure, they’re at their company Christmas party,” you told your boyfriend, waving off his concerns. Your parents always spent forever at these company parties, and usually showed up back home much later and completely drunk. “They’ll be entertained for a while, believe me.”

It was Christmas Eve and the snow was falling heavily outside as you both sheltered in the warm house, closing the door behind the both of you. Eddie was supposed to come over for dinner tomorrow to meet them, anyway. “Plus, I know my parents are gonna love you. They’re chill.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I want to meet them while I’m doing the things I’m about to do to you,” Eddie teased, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you off the ground, causing you to squeal and kick your feet wildly.

“Oh my god, put me down,” you said through your laughter as Eddie tickled you, but he ignored your cries, carrying you to the couch and dropping you down on the soft material.

“You look so hot in that sweater with that cute little skirt,” Eddie hummed as he leaned over you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You kissed him back eagerly, arms sliding around his neck as you pulled him down over you.

Eddie peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck, then he was moving down to push your sweater up and kissing up the soft skin of your stomach. “So beautiful,” he praised, pushing your sweater up until you were leaning forward to help him remove it entirely.

You pulled at his Hellfire t-shirt, and Eddie slid his leather jacket off his shoulders before pulling the shirt off. You admired his shirtless chest, hands trailing over his body. “After your present early, princess?” He asked.

“We can’t have sex on the couch,” you said with a giggle, half heartedly pushing at Eddie’s chest.

“Aw, come on, just a quickie?” He asked, burying his face into your tits and covering them in sloppy kisses. “Like you said, your parents won’t be back for a while.”

You thought about it - he was right, you were in the clear, and the thought of it was exciting. “Just a quickie.”

Eddie muttered a triumphant “Yes!” before he was pushing your skirt up, sitting up on his knees to unbuckle his belt and undo his jeans.

“Eager?” you teased, watching as his fingers fumbled with the button in his excitement.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed a laugh as he finally got them undone, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his already rock hard cock. “I’ve got my pretty girl all spread out for me, letting me fuck her out here where anyone could see us? It’s a dream come true.”

“No one’s gonna catch us,” you reminded him. If you thought they might, you wouldn’t be doing this. Honestly.

“Just pretend with me, baby,” Eddie said, pulling your panties down your legs slowly, watching as he uncovered you for his hungry eyes. “I like the danger.”

You laughed, watching Eddie pull a condom out of his wallet in his back pocket. He ripped it open, sliding it over his length. “You ready for me, princess?”

You nodded as Eddie lined himself up, before pushing into you with a low groan. “Fuck, baby, always so tight.”

You moaned as Eddie filled you, pushing in until he was fully seated inside of you, his face buried in your neck to hide his pitchy moans as he began thrusting into you. You dug your nails into his back, and he hissed at the pain - but he loved when you marked him up just as much as he loved doing it to you.

“No visible marks tonight,” you reminded him just as he started sucking at your neck. “I have to do Christmas with my whole family tomorrow.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie said, moving down to suck at the skin on top of your breasts instead. He was determined to mark you one way or another. “I just like seeing you wearing the proof of what I did to you.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, helping him thrust even deeper into your tight pussy. “Feels so good Eds, you always feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah, princess?” He asked, loving when you praised him like that. “I make you feel that good?”

“So so so good, Eddie,” you moaned. He was fucking you just right, just hard and fast enough to be perfect.

He was fucking you so good that neither of you noticed the car headlights pulling up in the driveway outside the front window. You almost didn’t even notice the front door opening, until you heard it slam the way your dad always did.

“Oh shit!”

Eddie was totally oblivious. “Yeah, me too baby, feels so fucking good-“

He was cut off by a loud shriek as your mom caught sight of what was going on on her living room couch. You thought your dad was going to have a heart attack, his face turned bright red as he searched for something, anything to say.

Eddie’s head whipped around, and he muttered an “oh, fuck,” as he quickly pulled out of you, pulling his jeans back up and tossing his shirt over your body to cover you.

“Um, uh, nice to meet you, I’m Eddie,” he finally said, standing up from the couch shirtless with his belt buckle still hanging undone. He went all out, hitting them with the “Mr. and Mrs.”, even though he fumbled and said your first name instead of your last name the first attempt.

Your parents were in shock. You quickly pulled Eddie’s t-shirt over your head and your skirt back down as everyone stood around awkwardly.

Finally, your dad spoke up. “Eddie, get out.”

Eddie nodded - “Yes, sir-“ then he was grabbing his van keys and kissing the top of your head. “See you tomorrow, princess.” He turned back to your parents. “Nice to meet you!” Then he was sprinting from the house, nearly knocking over the Christmas tree and leaving his shirt behind.

You sat there, unsure what move to make as your parents looked at you, disappointed.

“We’ll talk about this later tonight,” your dad promised - you didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“Yes, sir,” you agreed, gathering up your discarded shirt and panties from the floor as you stood to go back to your own room (and hide for the rest of your life).

Your dad watched as you went. Out of the corner of your eye you caught your mom walking out of the room, shaking her head.

“Really, on the new couch?”

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ the snow ball

teacher!Steve Harrington x teacher!Reader 

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: My second fic for @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas takes us back to 1996. At the annual Snow Ball Dance, Girl Power is supreme and the English teacher is standing very close to Mr H… 

Content: The tension is high. 90’s nostalgia, teacher puns and passing notes. Redefinition of the word nemesis, now to be read as ‘that one colleague you have a lethal crush on’ (the girls who get it, get it)

✨bang average festive fics✨ Steve Harrington masterlist ✨

December 1996

The opening bars of Wannabe are cut by the sound of thirty-odd teenage girls squealing with excitement as they crowd onto the dancefloor in threes and fours. The too-cool-to-dance girls bop and bounce their heads, the popular girls perform like they are at home in their bedroom mirrors or the Superbowl Half-Time Show. Geeky and quiet girls sparkle joyfully under the disco ball, any lack of confidence forgotten by utter glee. Girl Power reigns supreme over Meadow Hill Middle School as the world-ending pettiness and hormonal squabbles of thirteen and fourteen-year-olds are soothed and solved by the bouncy vocals and practiced choreography. 

You watch the boys stand and stare from the sidelines, buoying each other up as they whisper about who they might ask to dance with later and playing down their nerves. You have seen first love and first heartbreak tonight, watching Andi Cooper sway with Brian W to Always Be My Baby as Danny D looked on with tears in his eyes. Poor kid. 

“D’you think they’ll riot if Just A Girl comes on next?”

Your head tilts back against the streamer-covered wall behind you and you can’t help a little smirk at the thought of Female Revolution fuelled by Gwen Stefani and the Spice Girls. 

“Mm, imagine the headlines. Ballroom Blitz - Meadow Hill reduced to ruins by festive female rage.”

He laughs and places a cup of punch into your hand, keeping an appropriate distance between your bodies as you survey the Snow Ball in full swing. 

“And that’s why you’re the English teacher. Such a way with words.” 

“Mm, nice use of sarcasm, Mr Harrington. Gold star.” 

The punch is not spiked, but your words sound a little barbed to the unfamiliar ear. All part of the fun. 

Speaking of the punch, there’s a hipflask in his jacket, full of some strong spirit that he will share with you once the kids have been picked up, while the DJ is packing away his kit. 

“Thanks, you’ve taught me well...” 

You look up, meeting his cocoa-coloured eyes, caught staring. His tone is less barbed, more sincere, and when he says your name - your teacher name - you feel fizzy and warm all over. 

Steve feels it too, a swirling spiralling drag low in his gut. 

It’s fleeting, too quick and far too much for where you are. Too heavy for a gym that smells like sweat masked by Tommy Girl & Victoria's Secret body spray, and looks like an explosion of blue and silver and glitter, festooned with polystyrene snowflakes.

You’re the first to look away, breaking his stare to make sure that revolution is not in fact being stirred up by girls in sparkly dresses and frosted lipgloss. 

Across the dancefloor, you watch Coach Farrell mouthing along the words as he keeps an eye on the aforementioned untainted punch. A perfect distraction from that moment of too much.

“Look at Farrell. Be subtle.”

Steve can just about hear your voice over the scream-singing and chances a glance at the veteran of Physical Education.

“Maybe he’s mellowing.” There’s the sarcasm again. He sips his punch and murmurs, “Asshole.” 

Your shoulders shake with laughter as Wannabe reaches its peak. You are more tickled by Steve’s candour than the spectacle of it all. So here’s the story from A to Z… Neither of you is immune to its catchiness as you watch your students create core memories.

If you wanna be my lover…

You catch each other’s eye again as the proclamation of Girl Power bleeds out. Your face feels hot, the fluttering feeling returns. 

Steve is the one to break it this time, sipping his punch to cool down what is threatening to boil over. 

It’s not just tonight, not simply because he looks hot in his navy blazer and slacks with his stupidly perfect hair. Not only because he helped you re-stick the streamers that had started to sag and fall before the night even began. Not because you caught him looking at the way navy velvet hugged your body, or because he told you looked ‘a million bucks’. 

This has been simmering for two years since he walked into the teacher’s lounge full of confidence and charm, sent searching for you by the administrator who promised the new History teacher that you would show him around. Two years of teaching next door to each other, pretending to be competitive about how your homeroom performed in the Readathon, using the playful rivalry to feature ‘nemesis’ as your word of the week with a picture of Mr H pinned to the board. 

Two years of sharing gossip and frustrations about the district and asshole parents over teacher’s lounge coffee and ungraded papers. Coming in early and staying late to help each other decorate your classrooms for the holidays, just because. Two years of pretending you were not stoking the fire of a crush bigger than the sun, and brushing off teasing questions from students and teachers alike. 

You were just friends, but it stung when you overheard he had a date planned for the weekend. You were just friends, but when you saw his arm around a pretty blonde at a bar one Friday night, you headed home early and hoped he had not seen you. You were just friends but you understood again why teens and poets were so dramatic about matters of the heart. 

You tried to close yourself off, became spiky and quiet to protect yourself from inevitable heartbreak. But Steve was persistent. When you stood him up for coffee for the third time, he delivered it to your desk with a homemade maple pecan muffin with ‘Drink Me’ and ‘Eat Me’ tags as a nod to your seventh graders' reading assignment for the term. 

You let your friends set you up on dates with colleagues and cousins and made yourself unavailable. You found it harder and harder to pretend not to want to spend your shared-free periods shooting the shit with him. To see him looking a little bit lost without his work bestie for company, even when he fit in just fine with the other teachers.

So you gave in. 

You had seen first-hand how crushes ruin friendships; you saw it every day in your classroom and the hallways. You were too old for that and felt like a fraud standing at the top of your classroom teaching kids how to identify themes and literary devices and formulate an objective summary of a text while you were stuck on how Steve's hair looked today and the way he smiled at you in the parking lot.

You could get over yourself, choke down your feelings and mask the bitterness with his baked treats and teacher’s lounge coffee.

The olive branch came in the form of a mug festooned with the face of Abraham Lincoln and the words ‘That’s so four score and seven years ago’. There was also a whole box of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies to sweeten the deal. 

His smile was brighter than the sun and his laugh echoed around the empty classroom. Friends again.

Things went back to normal but your crush could not be overcome. It only got worse as Steve became more charming, opened more doors for you and opened up a little more when you graded papers together. You found it easy to open up to him too. The simmering of something more than friends was threatening to bubble up and boil over.

This afternoon, you found a gift on your desk. Beneath blue and white snowflake patterned paper was a mug. 

‘Though she be but little she is fierce.’ 

Inside the mug was a note in Steve’s handwriting. 

Will you dance with me at the Snow Ball tonight? Yes / No. 

The note feels like it is burning your skin, tucked beneath your bra strap. He has been playing it supremely cool all night - you would expect nothing less from Mr Harrington - but you have caught him staring all evening, fleeting glances that the kids are too excited and distracted to see.

Wannabe is followed by the Macarena. You both watch on as the boys standing around the edges of the gym are herded onto the floor by Mrs Willis, who has hogged the mic and insists that ‘everyone knows this one!’

Shared laughter is smothered and hidden by cups of untainted punch, and it’s only a matter of time before both of you are pulled onto the dancefloor to join in. 

Over the music and Mrs Willis’s encouragement, you hear him mutter “Not what I had in mind,” as you fall in step with the student body who are totally mortified that their teachers are dancing.

You both endure almost four minutes of in-sync choreography before the DJ pulls the plug and transitions into All I Want For Christmas and you are free to shuffle to the sidelines again, side by side against the streamers.

The myrrh and amber notes of Steve’s cologne tickle your nose as you stand close. 

You have to do it now. 

Before you can chicken out, you quickly slide the note from its hiding place and into the pocket of his blazer and pray that no one saw. 

“I love the mug. Thank you.”

His eyes light up with more than the reflections of the silver streamers and his fingers wrap around the body-warm slip of paper. 

“Yeah? You’re welcome, I thought it suited you. And, y’know. Shakespeare.”

Steve’s back to playing cool, but beneath the surface the bubbles fizz and rise and the butterflies flap their wings. You can see it, feel it too. 

“And,” he continues, “I’ve seen you in action at those district meetings so ‘fierce’ felt appropriate. And I’m taller than you so…” 

His lips curve into a smile as you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah yeah, big guy. I can still change my answer on that note…” 

Mirth and mischief are replaced by relief, pure joy and a little hint of a scowl. 

“I’ll play nice. Promise.”

There’s an unspoken, “Will you?”

“I’ll play nice too. Just don’t step on my tiny girl-feet.”

Another look that is both too much and just right is held between you for just a few moments. 

“Find me later, Mr. Harrington.” 

Steve watches you swish away, swathed in deep blue velvet and your dancing shoes. 

Later on, when the hall is clear of students and chaperones, when the hipflask has been opened and shared, he will spin you under his arm and watch you glitter beneath the disco ball.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed!! Comments, reblogs and likes are loved, adored and stored in my heart!

[rebelfell]

🎄❄️🧣⛄️⛸️🔥

𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣…

hello everyone! i wanted to throw together a fun little writing game to get everyone in the holiday spirit! ❄️

anyone is welcome (and encouraged) to play!

this game will begin on december 1st!

rules: please pick one (or as many as you’d like!) of the prompts from the list below. it can be with any character in the stranger things universe. you can spice things up, keep it fluffy or make us cry, whatever your heart desires! all i ask is you finish and post all of your works by midnight on december 24th!

and the most important rule of all, have fun!

i can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with, so please tag me in all your lovely creations!

and use the tag the #thetwelvedaysofpromptmas 🎄

also a little shout out to both @undead-supernova and @uglypastels for helping me come up with some of the prompts ♥️

⋆⁺₊❅. day one: snowed in or caught in a blizzard

⋆⁺₊❅. day two: whatever you do, don’t feed it after midnight

⋆⁺₊❅. day three: you’re stuck chaperoning the annual snow ball with your nemesis

⋆⁺₊❅. day four: mistletoe mayhem

⋆⁺₊❅. day five: meet the parents…with a twist

⋆⁺₊❅. day six: battle of the christmas decorations

⋆⁺₊❅. day seven: you need a last minute gift, but man that salesclerk sure is cute

⋆⁺₊❅. day eight: snowball fight

⋆⁺₊❅. day nine: a very merry hellfire

⋆⁺₊❅. day ten: ghosts of christmas past

⋆⁺₊❅. day eleven: you find mysterious tracks leading away from your window in the freshly fallen snow

⋆⁺₊❅. day twelve: spending christmas/christmas eve in the ER

i will make a masterlist of all the promptmas fics as they are posted, so be on the lookout for that.

happy writing! ♥️