Latest Posts by dekus-fellow-crybaby - Page 3

So amazing! 👏🏼😭💛

𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

pairing: a series about three roommates… steve harrington x female!reader x eddie munson

summary: living with eddie and steve was everything you could have hoped for while living with roomates, and you’d thank robin endlessly for bringing the three of you together. they were kind, respectful, and unfairly attentive.

except somewhere along the way, you found your relationship changing from just roomates to just friends to… something more. it’d felt like you’d know them your entire life, as though an invisible string had been pulling you toward them before you even felt it unravel.

as you try to navigate falling in love with the two people closest to you, you don’t realise that eddie and steve might be dealing with the exact same thing.

series warnings: 18+ content, eventual smut, flirting, reader is roommates with eddie and steve, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, lots of fluff, mild angst, feelings of guilt and other complicated feelings, reader is sexually and emotionally involved with steve and eddie, eddie and steve are sexually and emotionally involved with each other, and for all of you who need to know, there will be a happy ending

authors note: i am beyond excited to announce my first series! its been a long time coming and im so happy that im finally sharing it with you all! ive wanted to write a series forever and finally feel like ive found a good idea to do so with. this series means so much to me and i truly hope you all love it as much as i do! i want to give a very special thank you to the talented @moonmistt or creating the header for the series and for helping me plan and edit my work so far, s, you are an angel and im so thankful for your help. another thank you belongs to the amazing @petal-veined for listening to me rant and talk about this series more than they probably wanted to, im endlessly grateful for you and for all your help. this would not even be here if it weren't for the both of you. again, i hope you enjoy what is in store and thank you all for giving me a place to post and share my work.

⋆*｡ chapter one: one single thread of gold tied me to you

⋆*｡ chapter two: can we always be this close

⋆*｡ chapter three: wherever you stray, i follow (another copy)

⋆*｡ chapter four: maybe we got lost in translation

⋆*｡ chapter five: the great war

⋆*｡ chapter six: speak now

⋆*｡ epilogue: i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck

Master List update: 6/16/23

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Masterlist of Manda-Panda-Monium Fics

AO3

Current Series:

Steddie:

Mirror, Mirror. Part 2 . Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8.

Steddie X Reader:

Two for the Price of One. Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

Steve X Reader:

Accidentally in Love (Ongoing) Chapter 7 Coming soon!

One shots: Steddie Master List

Steve X Eddie series of one-shots (Same universe): find the master list here for kinky fun!!

Steddie Series:

Experiment 019 Click here for the master list COMPLETE

ROCK STEADY.

WE GOTTA GET OUT OF THIS PLACE

You deserve happiness

You Really Got Me Now

Mirror, Mirror (ongoing)

Eddie x Reader

FOR THE RECORD

My Beloved Eddie part 2 | Part 3 Complete

One Night Stand. Part 2 Complete

Closer

Worth it

Hey, Sugar

Gibson Girl

A Real Night Out

Snow in the Spring

Steve x Reader

Hot Pink

Accidentally in Love. Masterlist

The Wedding Pact

My ex's Wedding

Jim Hopper fics

Dinner with Jim

The fruity four

Holiday fun.

A Kiss at Midnight A NYE ficlet

30-Day Writing Challenge

Other one-shots:

Wayne's Love

Wayne leaves. New

The Thunder Rolls- Robin x Fem!Reader

Dressed to Kill- Platonic Stobin

Eddie puts Dustin's kid to sleep

COMING SOON:

Current WIPs

The Prop

We're going low, low, low, low...

Amazing 🥰

it’s golden, like daylight

dilf!neighbour!steve x babysitter!neighbour!reader

summary: when moving to hawkins the last thing you expected to find was any sort of love. especially not from the single dad who lived with his daughter two doors down. after offering to babysit for steve when he’s in a bind, it becomes a regular thing. through weeks of stolen glances and secret whispers, your feelings for each other bloom into something more. with both of you unsure of how the other feels and wondering if any of this is right, things are bound to get tangled up. after a particularly confusing night, you and steve find yourselves with no where to look but at each other.

word count: 17.4k

warnings: 18+ content,singledad!steve and his daughter whose name is daisy, age gap (reader is in her early twenties and steve is in his early to mid thirties), lots of back and forth pining and flirting, so much miscommunication, minor angst that gets resolved, mentions of blood (reader cuts her hand on broken glass, nothing serious), steve patching up the reader ( but it is not described graphically), steve being the sweetest, smut, dirty talk, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, reader struggling to take steve, reader getting teary eyed during sex, happy ending

authors note: hello again! i know some of you are wondering where the third chapter of invisible string is, and i promise it’s coming, but this is what i’ve been working on the past three weeks. this is the longest fic i’ve ever written and so i’m feeling very proud of it and of myself. this idea is one i’ve had for months but finally got inspired enough to finish. i want to announce here that because the love i feel for this fic is so strong, i am making this an au! here on my blog! that means you can request fics or send asks about this story as well as i will be writing more for it in the future! i hope you all love it even half as much as i do! i need to give some attention to some amazing people as i post this. a big thank you to @mysticmunson for creating the header for this and for listening to me talk through every idea i had. another big thank you to @bejeweledmunson @petal-veined and @moonmistt for putting up with this being all i’ve spoken about for week! i love you all so so much. also… @loveshotzz here she is, the glorious dilf fic i promised and i’m so sorry it’s probably a lot softer than you were thinking!

The quaint town of Hawkins was nowhere near as bad as you had prepared yourself for it to be. Moving into small towns like this could be difficult, considering everyone knew each other and most inhabitants had lived there for their entire lives. 

Living in the city you were used to most people being relatively rude to strangers, everyone always having somewhere to be with no interest in small talk of any kind. You were pleased to see that the few people you had met were nothing short of kind and made you feel right at home. 

The weather of the town was much nicer than you were used to. The sun beamed down brightly, the sky a bright blue with fluffy clouds scattered throughout it. This fact had you forgetting about your unpacked boxes on your first day there. Instead you rushed to the nearest florist, buying different already bloomed flowers to plant in the front, making the rental home feel more like your own. 

You had only been living there for a week, your boxes all finally unpacked and you were comfortably settled. The neighbourhood you lived in was cozy, green grass on each lawn, mailboxes all looking freshly painted, and sidewalk chalk covering every other driveway. 

You were seated in your front window, enjoying your morning coffee as you flipped through a few pages of a book. Your mind was wandering to what you needed to get done, jotting down a few things as you spotted something out of your window. You looked once more after the first time, realising that it wasn’t something you were seeing, rather someone, a small someone. 

There was a small girl in your garden, looking around it as she carefully walked beside it. She couldn't have been older than seven, her steps still wobbly despite the attentiveness to each step she took. 

She had dark brown hair that was in one french braid along the back of her head, a few small clips holding any loose pieces of hair back. A pair of denim overalls sat on top of a light pink t-shirt, her little white shoes covered in dirt all over. 

You were unsure of what to do. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, but truthfully you didn’t want her destroying the garden that you had just planted days ago. You got up off the windowsill, making your way out your front door quietly, not wanting to startle the tiny girl. 

“Hi there.” You said sweetly as you walked down your front steps, watching as she slowly walked over to where you were. 

“Hi!” She lifted a hand close to her body, waving it shyly. Her voice was slightly frightened, but she was putting on her bravest face. You didn’t look all that intimidating, a fact that you were hoping would play to your favour in this situation. 

“I like your overalls.” You pointed to them, kneeling down next to her. “They’re very snazzy.” 

She giggled at your words, freckled nose scrunching up as she smiled. Her cheeks were a little red from the sun and what you assume playing outside in the heat. 

“I like your flowers.” She replied, looking back at them before turning to you again. “They’re very snaz-snazzy!”

You laughed at her attempt to use the word you just did, making her laugh a little harder this time. You wondered if it was normal for kids here to approach strangers the way she did, if the parents of Hawkins just trusted that no one here was a bad person. 

She held out her hand, a pile of beaded bracelets on her wrist. You took her hand in yours, her whole hand nearly fitting into your palm. 

“I’m Daisy.” She hummed, aggressively shaking your hand. “I live down there.” She pointed down your street at a big white and blue house. 

“Like the flower!” You gasped excitedly. “I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you Daisy.” As she let go of your hand she began to play with her fingers, her mind searching for the correct words to say. 

“I was wondering…” She trailed off, looking everywhere but your face. “If-If I could have a few of your flowers…but they aren’t for me!” She exclaimed as if it would make her question sound more believable. 

“Who would they be for, sweet Daisy?" You inquired, lifting one of your knees from the ground, the hard pavement beginning to make it hurt. 

“For my dad!” She said happily. “It’s Father’s Day a-and I forgot to get him a present.” She winced, squinting as you copied her facial expression. “He never forgets my presents, and I feel not good.” 

Your heart was aching so hard your teeth were hurting. You were positive you had never met a kid this cute, nevermind this thoughtful. There was no way you could tell her no and send her away, knowing that it would weigh on your chest for the rest of your life. 

“I’ll tell you what.” You whispered, standing up fully but still bending so she could hear you. “I’ll help you put something together for your dad if you let me have one of those pretty bracelets.” 

It was not a fair trade in the slightest, but you weren't about to tell her that, not when she squealed with excitement, jumping up and down on your grass. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” She sang, grabbing your hand and dragging you to your garden. 

You let her pick whichever flowers her little heart desired, not surprised when she chose a few daisies as her final touches. You grabbed some newspaper and ribbon you had inside, putting the arrangement in the middle of it and tying it up to look somewhat presentable. 

“Do you know how to write?” You asked her, taking a pen and a small piece of construction paper. 

“Not very well.” She grumbled, making you let out a breathy laugh. “My dad lets me write while he helps!” You take her word for it, placing the paper on the wood of one of your stairs, leading her hand along the paper with yours as you write. 

“To dad.” She mumbles to you, telling you what she wanted the note to say. “I love you, from Daisy.” You see her nodding her head, content with her word choice. 

You finish the poor attempt at a note up, it being painfully obvious that she helped you write it, the words being barely legible. You were sure her dad wouldn’t care, you weren’t even positive he would care as much as she thought he would, a thought that made you worry this might have been a bad idea. 

As you finished putting it together, you watched her reach behind her neck, unclipping the beaded necklace and showing it to you. It was pink and white, with a flower charm sitting in the middle of it, a daisy. 

“Do you like that one?” Her eyes were hopeful. “It’s pink like your dress but you can pick a bracelet instead! No mean feelings! It matches so I thought it would be a better choice for you!” 

You assumed she meant ‘no hard feelings,’ which made you bite back a laugh. She was great at speaking for someone her age, but still struggled to pick the right words.  

It had a childproof clip on it, the odd one that you sort of just push together which really did make it easy for you to put on. It sat right between your collarbones, the size of it not quite being big enough for an adult, not that you minded. 

“This one is even more perfect than a bracelet, thank you, Daisy.” You tell her, handing her the bouquet. “Think it would be okay if I walked you home?” 

You thought it might be a good idea to take her home. You didn’t want her dad to think she was with a freaky stranger, but rather a neighbour, who was also a stranger, but one with no harmful intentions. 

“That sounds very okay to me!” She smiled at you, nodding her head as she reached for your hand. “I think my dads gonna love this with all his heart.”

“I sure hope he does.” You followed behind her, eyes widening as she began to run.

“Dad!” You heard her yell as she disappeared onto the property. 

The house was only two down from yours, their driveway being one of the many with chalk all over it. As you stepped onto the driveway you saw a man kneeled in front of her, his back turned to you. 

“They're beautiful, sweetie.” You could faintly hear his voice over the sound of someone mowing their lawn. You watched her explain something, hands flying all over the place. “Yes, I love them so much, best Father’s day ever.”

You walked up the driveway a bit further, still keeping a healthy distance. 

He engulfed her in a hug, holding the flowers behind her so that they wouldn’t get squished. When they separated he whispered something to her, the question making her look over his shoulder, pointing to you happily. 

His head turned to look at you, staring for a moment before he handed the flowers back to her, muttering something. She ran off into their backyard with the flowers, giving him a moment to stand to his full height. 

You had no idea what you were expecting Daisy’s dad to look like. Maybe someone much, much older than you, someone who wasn’t very attractive and who was possibly going to curse you out for talking to his child without him present. 

You were dead wrong. 

He wore a faded grey t-shirt, the words on it so worn out that you couldn't read them. His blue jeans had grass stains on them, only getting dirtier as he rubbed some dirt on the thighs of them as he approached you. He looked like he had been doing yard work of some sort, throwing the gloves he was wearing by the stairs that led to his side door. 

His hair was a pretty shade of brown, dark in most places but lighter in areas where the sun was kissing it. It was clearly long, but styled in a way that made it lay perfectly on the top of his head. The gold rimmed glasses that sat on his nose suited him well, complimenting the colour of his skin in a way that was extremely flattering. 

There was no way around admitting that the nameless man in front of you was the most handsome person you had laid eyes on in a very long time. 

The two of you stared at each other for longer than normal, not a word being exchanged as he stood in front of you. Each time you went to speak your words escaped you, only being able to smile brightly at him. 

It wasn’t everyday Steve found himself staring at anyone as breathtaking as you, nevermind having someone that enthralling standing on his driveway. 

The powdery pink dress you wore hugged you in all the right places, going all the way down to your ankles. The straps on the top of it were barely there, leaving the top part of your chest exposed. 

Everything from the bridge of your nose to the ends of your hair was radiant, leaving him speechless. He didn’t know if it was the sun's fault your skin looked so glowy or if you always carried such beauty with you. 

He wasn’t ignorant to the fact that you were seemingly younger than him, hoping that his staring wasn’t coming off in a way that would make you feel uncomfortable. 

You weren’t ignorant to the fact either. The only firm indication you had that he was somewhat older than you was the scruff that adorned his chin and the beginnings of wrinkles that formed when he smiled. 

“I’m so sorry about her.” His voice was as thick and smooth as honey, the sound sweet to your ears. “We were outside together and she wandered off… and I didn’t even realise until a moment ago, and now you probably think I’m a horrible parent.” 

His lips curved into a smile, freckled cheeks pressing into his eyes. 

“No! No…not at all.” You shook your head. “She didn’t stray too far anyway, I live a few houses down.” You pointed with your thumb before holding your clammy hands in front of your body. 

Your voice only made you prettier, a powdery pink haze filling his mind. 

It really was the best Father’s day ever. 

“She didn’t cause too much trouble did she?” His voice was slightly panicked, his fingers combing through his hair. 

“There was no trouble, she’s honestly the sweetest kid I’ve ever met.” You beamed. “I found her in my front garden, she thought my flowers would make a good gift for you.” 

Peeking behind his shoulder you checked to see if Daisy had come back. There was no sign of her as you looked back at the tall man in front of you. 

“She felt terrible she didn’t have a present for you, so there was no way I could say no to her.” 

He shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. As much as he didn’t love the thought of Daisy hanging around strangers, he was happy that she was at least sweet about it. 

“That… uh, that was very kind of you. Thank you for being so sweet to her.” He spoke, placing a hand in his back pocket. “Is there any way I can repay you?” 

You held your hands up, disagreeing immediately as you reached to grab a hold of the beaded necklace. 

“She already took care of it.” You could tell by his expression he was slapping himself internally. “Think I might’ve ripped her off though.” 

Steve couldn't remember the last time someone made him genuinely smile this much. He felt a bit stupid considering the fact he had been smiling from the moment he laid eyes on you, but he could and would blame that on you and the fact that you were wearing the necklace his daughter loved most. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” He shrugged. “I was worried her cuteness might’ve looped you in. Happens to me more than I’m willing to admit.” 

“Almost.” You tilted your head. “Her sob story nearly got me, but I toughed it out.”

He took his hand from his back pocket, once again wiping it on his jeans before holding it out to you. As you took his hand it was apparent his hand was much larger than yours, his hand feeling much firmer than your own. 

“I’m Steve.” He told you, shaking your hand gently. 

“Y/n.” You replied, letting his hand go after a moment. 

“Y/n.” He repeated your name. “Pleasure to meet you, thank you again for taking care of her.” 

As the words left his mouth he realised that was exactly what you did. You took care of her and looked after her, even making sure to walk her the short distance home. His chest was consumed with an unfamiliar feeling, like something was twisting and pulling at his heart. 

“It was nice to meet you too, Steve.” You backed away slowly. “I’ll see you around I’m sure.” 

“Yeah.. yeah I hope so.” He commented. “Welcome to Hawkins.” 

You walked away wearing a saccharine smile, trying to not let him catch sight of your face as you turned off his driveway. 

Steve knew for a fact you weren’t just new to the neighbourhood, he would have definitely remembered your face if he had ever seen you in town. 

Turns out, you’d be running into Steve more often than you thought. 

The first few times were when you both were crossing paths. He was leaving as you got home, or you were both heading out at the same time. 

This cycle of small talk and running into each other continued for a few weeks, neither of you daring to push the conversations much further. 

That was until one early morning around 5am. You were sitting on your front steps, a blanket wrapped around your body, a steaming cup of coffee keeping your hands warm. You were tossing and turning all night, finally giving up and deciding to start your day early. 

The sky was halfway painted with a pastel orange colour, the clouds and run rising with it. The air outside carried that crisp freshness that only the morning could bring. The grass had been tricked with dew overnight, the droplets of water beginning to clear up. 

The silence was enjoyable, the sounds of birds chirping made you feel less alone, their presence being welcomed by you. You didn’t expect anyone to be awake this early, mainly because you would never willingly wake up this early. 

Your silence was interrupted by the sounds of feet hitting against the ground. Your eyes searched for the source of the sound, not finding it right away. Turning your head a little further to the left, you were met with the sight of Steve. 

His face was flushed, a light shade of crimson sitting on top of his cheeks. He was wearing nothing but a pair of running shorts, his grey shirt hanging from his arm. Your eyes dragged down to the patch of thick hair that rested on his chest, the view of it making you pull on the skin at the back of your neck. 

Everything he did, every move he made, every piece of him you got to know more was only making him more attractive. You couldn’t fathom how you happened to move in two houses down from a man who invented the concept of dads being hot. 

You considered running into the house before he saw you, painfully aware of how you looked this early in the morning. Your hair was a bit of a mess, eyes dressed with bags, and you knew for a fact your face was still swollen with sleep. 

There was no time left to put that plan in action as he looked over at you, pushing the headphones off his head. 

“You really shouldn’t be out here all alone at this time.” His husky voice spoke as he stopped at the bottom of your stairs. 

“I could say the same about you.” You replied, clearing your throat to try and make your voice sound better. 

It was then, from the close proximity you noticed the deep spots under his eyes. He had the look of someone who was stressed out beyond belief, a certain rigidity to his whole body. 

“I’m clearing my head.” He yawned, leaning onto the wood. “What’s your excuse?” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” You told him honestly, catching his yawn after you spoke the last word. “Is something going on?” 

It might have been weird to ask him that, but you hoped he wouldn’t be taken aback by the question. 

“Ah.” He let out a deep sigh, licking his lips. “I’m gonna have to call off work for the second time this week, which you can imagine I’m not thrilled about.” 

Steve had mentioned in passing he was a paramedic. The job normally would have come with unforgiving hours, being called in at any time of the day or night. However, in a town this small, that wasn’t the case. He explained that he rarely got called in, telling you how happy he was to have a job he loved so much with hours that worked well for him. 

“Are you not feeling well?” You sounded concerned, raising your brows with worry. 

“No no, I’m okay.” He reassured you. “Daisy really hated daycare when we tried it. So usually I get one of her aunts or uncles to take her or come over and watch her, but…” Running a hand over his face he continued. “Everyone’s been so busy lately which puts me in a bit of a bind.” 

“Your wife works when you do?” Your question was genuine for the most part, an ulterior motive may have been present. Steve’s eyes widened before he smiled slowly. 

“It’s just Daisy and I.” He spoke. “Her mom’s not in the picture anymore.” 

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head, feeling embarrassed but relieved at the same time. “I had no idea.” 

“That’s okay.” He chuckled, kicking your stair with the tip of his shoe softly. “I’m sorry for dropping this all on you, I’m sure it’s the last thing you wanna hear this early.” 

The idea swirled around your head before it left your mouth. 

“I could help…if-if you wanted, that is.” Your suggestion did make his ears perk up, mouth falling slightly open. “I’m always home anyway, don’t really have a lot going on.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Y/n.” There was a tenderness to his voice, one you had never had the pleasure of hearing before. 

“You didn’t ask me.” You quipped. “I offered, Steve.” 

You could tell he liked the idea, he was just contemplating whether to admit it or not. It would make his life a lot easier, and you had proven that he could trust you with his child. 

“Are you gonna let me pay you?” He asked. “Because if you try and do it for free I might just lose what’s left of my mind completely.” 

Babysitting Daisy was a breeze. 

She seemed to like you a lot which made the time you spent with her a lot easier. The two of you got up to everything from playing outside to sitting on her bedroom floor while she showed you her books for what felt like the tenth time. 

At first, Steve only called you when he exhausted all other options, not wanting to burden you constantly. 

That quickly turned into you watching her each time he worked.

Daisy had expressed to him how much she enjoyed being around you one night when Eddie showed up to watch her instead of you. 

Eddie was incredibly offended by his niece's words, not understanding why her and Steve both seemed more keen about you coming over. That was until he had the pleasure of meeting you as he came to pick Daisy up from your house one evening. 

You opened the door a few seconds after someone had knocked on it. On the other side of the door was a man who looked extremely rough around the edges, his face and clothes covered in oil. 

“Eddie, right?” You asked him, voice a little hesitant. You wanted to make sure you weren’t handing Steve’s daughter to a complete stranger and by the looks of the man in front of you, you weren’t entirely sure this was the right guy. 

“I must have the wrong house.” He froze. You were way too pretty to be Steve’s babysitter, at least much prettier than he was anticipating. Even if you were actually the babysitter, he had no idea how Steve managed to get out more than one word to you. “You’re Y/n?” 

“In the flesh.” You tried to hide your confusion at his reaction. Daisy came to save the day, running into Eddie’s legs hard enough for him to let out a groan. 

“Uncle Eddie!” She screamed, hugging one of his legs. “Are you here to get me?” 

Her little mind was going a mile a minute, not even saying goodbye to you as she walked down the front stairs. She was young so you understood how her mind sometimes flew from one place to the other with no regard. 

“Thanks.” He nodded in your direction. The longer he thought about it, the more he understood why Steve was such a fan of you. Eddie imagined if he had such a pretty babysitter he’d want her around all the time too.

As you closed the door you could hear the pair bickering. Eddie let out a laugh, telling Daisy to stop pretending like she was happy to see him. 

You hoped not all of Steve’s friends were as strange as Eddie. 

Slowly, you began watching Daisy at Steve’s house more often. It was easier for you to be there so she didn’t have to bring a bag and all her toys with her. 

You had begun to pick up on housework while you were there. Doing the dishes, keeping everything tidy, and making dinner every night you were there, leaving more than enough in the fridge for Steve when he retired home. You usually only washed Daisy’s laundry, but on occasion you found yourself washing the dirty laundry that he was too busy to get around to. 

He was paying you way too much for you to just sit around and watch her anyway, so you insisted this was how you made things even. 

Steve would make a fuss about it sometimes, but he would be lying if he said he had a problem with it. It was nice to not have to worry about certain things after long days or nights at work.

He liked having you around, probably more than he should have. 

There was a tension growing between you and Steve, one that could only be ignored for so long. It was the kind of tension that was created when two people were obviously and painfully attracted to one another. 

It started with Steve having to watch you move around his kitchen, knowing where everything was placed, knowing exactly how he liked it. It progressed with the pride you felt each time he commented on how well you did something, your body burning with a sensation that only Steve could bring to you. 

Many stolen moments shared between the two of you continued to make the tension thicker. 

The short dresses you wore around him made it hard for him to breathe, his eyes not being able to leave your figure no matter how hard he tried. When you bent over to grab something the dress would rise up the backs of your thighs, exposing your body to him more than he thought he deserved. 

Reluctantly, he’d drag his gaze away before you turned back around, focusing on calming himself down and getting rid of the twitch in his cock. Part of him hoped you did it on purpose, that these moments weren’t a series of accidents that he happened to bear witness to. 

Steve didn’t make it easy for you either. 

He would always place a hand on your hip as he squeezed behind you, his front brushing against your ass as he moved. His hot whisper of ‘sorry, honey.’ played through your mind for hours each time he said it. 

You never missed the way he stared at you when you arrived at his house. His eyes examining you for a moment too long, making their way back up to yours where he would smile at you softly. 

You weren’t much better, the sight of him in his clothes for work had you in a tight grip, making it impossible to look anywhere but at his arms in that shirt that was a size too small. 

These moments were why you were shocked and hurt in a strange way when Steve called you one afternoon, asking you if you could come watch Daisy. 

“I thought tonight was your night off?” You frowned a bit, hating that he kept getting called into work last minute. 

“It is.” He felt a lump in his throat, the hand that wasn’t holding the receiver was on his hip. “I uh…I have a date tonight.” 

You never thought that four short words could leave you feeling so many things at one time. There was a pain biting at your heart, its teeth sinking into your skin hard enough to make your entire chest throb. 

The root of the pain was unidentifiable. There was jealousy and betrayal present, playing their roles together to leave you feeling like a fool for thinking that a man like Steve would ever want anything to do with you. 

You were his babysitter, nothing more. 

“Oh.” You sounded surprised. Steve could picture the ways your lips were curling in, a hand coming up to smooth your shirt down to cover up the fact that something was bothering you. 

Steve was only doing this as a poor attempt to resolve whatever feelings he was having for you. He thought there was a chance seeing someone else could work out and he would maybe be able to stop thinking about waking up next to you on slow mornings and kissing you each time he walked through his front door. 

Through this all, he found himself refraining from thinking about how things could have been between the two of you if this one small detail had been different. He knew there was no good in dwelling in what could have been, but he wondered if these thoughts ever crossed your mind. 

“Yeah, yeah I can come watch her.” You cleared your throat. “What time did you want me over?” 

He had never heard you like this. Choked up. Like there was something wrapping around your vocal chords, not allowing you to say what you really wanted to. 

“How’s seven?” He asked, the thought of cancelling the date bouncing around his head. 

“Whatever you need.” You tried to sound happier, but you failed miserably. Your remark came off caustic, leaving Steve with a sour taste in his mouth the rest of the day. 

You wanted to cancel on him last minute, ruining any prospects of his date going well. However, you didn’t have it in you to do something cruel to Steve when he was the last person in the world who deserved it. 

So, you went to watch Daisy at seven. 

Steve told you he would be home by ten and he didn’t lie. Right at ten he unlocked the door, seeing you sitting on his couch watching some random movie. 

He was relieved to see you, a faint feeling of happiness lingering within him as he stepped into his house. His date was nothing short of horrible and he had spent the majority of the time counting down the minutes until he could return home again. 

“Hey.” He whispered. “Is she asleep?” 

“Of course.” You hummed, standing up and gathering your things. You didn’t want to have to be around him for longer than you needed to. Pushing your feelings down was only going to work for so long, and looking Steve in the eye would have been what made them come right back up. 

“Thank you, I know it was short notice.” He walked closer to you, sensing this new kind of tension, one that he wasn’t so fond of. Steve grabbed his wallet, reaching for what he owed you plus a little bit extra. 

“It’s not a big deal.” You smiled softly, grabbing the money from him and putting your shoes on. “I’ll talk to you soon.” 

And with that you left. There was no goodbye, no asking him about his time out, and for the first time since he met you he didn’t get to hear your laugh as he made some stupid joke.

With that, he couldn’t help but notice the dishes weren't done and Daisy’s toys still scattered around the floor, left for him to clean up. It wasn’t like you had to do those things, but you always did. The fact that you didn’t do them should have had Steve running out the door after you, begging you to tell him what was wrong. 

But he didn’t. He stood there alone in his living room, frozen in place. 

For the first time in months, Steve’s warm and lively home went back to feeling like a cold and lonely house. 

Steve going on dates became a regular thing. At least once a week he was taking out some woman who he barely had any interest in, hoping he might like her more than the last. He felt like he was fresh out of highschool again, looking for someone to mend the hole in his heart that Nancy Wheeler had left behind. 

Only this time, he wasn’t trying to fill the hole someone else put there, he was trying to heal the wound in his heart that came from the knife he twisted. The job to fix it this time wasn’t easy, not when the women he was seeing were all dull and boring, not being able to make him feel a fraction of the way you did. Steve felt old again, like the single dad that couldn’t land more than a shitty one night stand. 

Part of you felt bad that all of his dates were going terribly.

He never went into the details much with you but you could tell by the way he looked that he was happy to return home after each one. He looked more drained than he did before he left, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he hung his jacket up. 

Steve was always home before 10pm, walking in either a few minutes before or right as the clock struck the hour, he was never a minute late. You were caught between thinking he did that to leave the dates earlier and to keep his word true, not wanting to make you feel like your time was something he would throw away.

Slowly, you grew to tolerate him going on dates. Swallowing down the poison that threatened to spill out of your mouth and stopping the tears that sometimes burned the back of your eyes. 

You both noticed that everything shifted back to how it was before that first date. From the extra work you did for him to the stolen intimate moments the two of you shared like a secret, whispering in the late hours of the night under the covers of a bed.  

That was until one gloomy Friday night. You made the short walk to Steve’s house, pulling the baby blue cardigan you wore over your body further, the wind being extremely unforgiving.​​ The white dress you wore was bright looking compared to the dark conditions outside. The clouds were a mean shade of grey, preparing to let out their anger in the form of cold droplets and cracks of thunder. 

You rarely knocked on the door anymore, letting yourself in with a faint greeting to anyone who may have been close by. As you walked onto the carpet at his front door you weren’t met with the usual sounds of Steve and Daisy singing, or the television being a little too loud as she sat in front of it, barely watching it as she played with her bead kit. 

Daisy was sobbing her little eyes out, whole body shaking in Steve’s arms. You were immediately panicked, heart dropping to the floor as you tried to understand what was happening. She didn’t cry often at all, in fact this was only the second time you had ever seen it happen. 

“Sweetie.” Steve sighed defeatedly, his white button up covered in her tears. “The sky is only a little dark, I’m sure it’s only gonna be a little rain, I promise.”

“Don’t go.” Her voice wobbled with fear, small hands clinging to the collar of his shirt. “Daddy I-I don’t want you to go.” 

You knew that might have just done him in completely. Daisy had that man wrapped around her tiny little finger, knowing exactly what she needed to say to get Steve to give in. She never did it in a bad way, only ever using her power to guilt trip him when absolutely necessary. 

Steve lifted her up, rubbing her back in soft circles as he turned around to see you. He gave you a sad look, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’. You only shook your head, coming closer to him and craning your neck to look at her tearful face. 

“Sweet Daisy.” You frowned, wiping one of her tears. “What’s going on?” 

“T-there’s gonna be a storm.” She breathed. “I don’t like thunder…I need Dad to stay and protect me.” You nod your head, thinking for a second. 

“I see.” You hummed. “That’s a real shame…because I had a really important secret to tell you once he left…” You sighed dramatically. “But I guess if I can’t protect you from the thunder…” 

“No!” She gasped, leaning off of Steve’s chest. “You promise you’ll save me from the thunder?” Her eyes were wide with excitement, the idea of getting to know a secret taking over whatever bad thoughts she was having. 

“I promise!” You held your hands up, “Wouldn’t let anything hurt you.” She squirmed in Steve’s arms, shouting something about changing into her pyjamas so she could be comfortable while you told her the secret.

He let out a painful noise as she ran up the stairs to her room. 

“I should stay here.” He shook his head. “If it actually starts to storm I’m going to feel like the worst.” 

“Steve.” You smiled sadly. “You’re far from the worst and she’s really lucky.” You whispered, noticing how handsome he looked right now. His hair was pushed back, one single strand of hair not getting enough gel, hanging in front of his face. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, releasing his pink lips from the tight line they were in. 

“I’ve got her if anything happens okay?” You hum. “She’s gonna be just fine with me here.” 

Steve was looking at you with nothing but adoration. His friends who he considered family all loved Daisy and cared for her greatly. But he was yet to find someone outside that circle, someone whom he wanted in a different way who cared for his daughter as much as you did. 

The way he was looking at you was making the lock that kept your feelings away come undone, letting them trickle out of their hiding place slowly. 

“Okay.” His voice was soft. “I trust you.” 

“Good.” You bit back a smile. “Because your collar looks absolutely horrendous.” Without thinking you reached up for it, smoothing the stiff fabric down. 

“Are you nervous?” You were trying to calm him down from what just happened, really not caring to know much about how he was feeling about a date that was with someone who wasn’t you. 

“Not really.” He watched as you fixed his shirt for him, your eyes focused on what you were doing. He noticed the way your nose twitched when you were focused, scrunching up when you were really trying to get something right. “I haven’t seen her since highschool, so it should be interesting.” 

You tried to avoid thinking about the fact that this person might not have been a total stranger to Steve, making the chances of this being a good date slightly more probable. 

Reaching behind his neck you smoothed the fold of his collar down. He didn’t know what to do with his hands as you worked at making him look presentable. Did he hold them in front of his body? Did he put them behind his back? Did he rest them on your hips like he so badly desired to? 

“Oh my, since highschool?” You breathed. “That was what? Forty years ago?” 

Your eyes flicked away from his shirt to look at him. He was still looking at you, nodding his head as he chuckled. 

“Forty years!” He laughed, making you let out the giggle you had been holding in. “I see how it is!” 

You lost track of what you were supposed to be doing, your hands resting flat on his shoulders as you both shared a playful string of banter through fits of laughter. Steve had more fun in those three minutes than he had on the hours he had spent out on dates combined. 

Your touch, your smile, your laugh, they filled his body with so much joy that for a second he forgot that you weren’t the woman he’d be seeing tonight. 

Once the sounds of laughter died down you removed your hands from his body, backing away a bit as you gestured to his shirt. 

“You’re all ready to go.” You told him, looking towards the stairs as you heard Daisy trampling down them as fast as she could. “And I think she’s ready for you to leave.” 

Your suspicions were proved correct when Daisy began basically shoving Steve out the door, saying goodbye to him as fast as she could. His exit was a rushed mess of him trying to bargain with her for a hug, but not being surprised when she barely gave in.

Next came the part of the routine that never changed. 

“I’ll be back before ten!” He shouted as he closed the door. 

11:47pm. 

You had been staring at the clock that hung in the middle of Steve’s living room for so long that you could barely read it anymore. 

You checked it once, then twice, then finally you ran to the kitchen to check the clock there, not believing what you were seeing. 

11:49pm. 

“What the…” You whispered under your breath, a hand making its way to your head. 

Steve was never late, nevermind nearly two hours late. Your mind ran rampant with terrible thoughts, anxiety serging through your veins as each new idea formed. You tried your hardest to not let yourself think that something bad had happened to him despite how badly you wanted to believe it. 

Daisy had fallen asleep a half hour ago, but not after she asked you a plethora of questions about where Steve was. It felt impossible to try and calm her nerves when your own were burning at the ends, the sparks catching on each dendrite, setting everything on fire from synapse to synapse. 

The worry you felt was intense, making your jaw tense, your teeth grinding together. Your nails dug into your palms, the dread trying to claw its way up your throat and take you under completely. 

As you searched through the notepad that was hung on the fridge for Robin’s phone number, the phone that sat on the end table by Steve’s couch began to ring. The buzzing of the phone scared the life out of you, putting you even further on edge. 

Your shaky hands grasped the receiver, bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?” You tried to sound a bit more lively than you felt, not wanting the person on the other end to know something was wrong. 

“Shit, Yn.” He uttered. “I didn’t even realise the time, I’m so sorry.” 

Your heart felt heavy, like a large rock that had been thrown into a body of water. You were relieved to hear his voice, to know that regardless of what happened he sounded like he was okay.

“Steve.” Your voice trembled, your fingers squeezed the coiled wire of the phone. Before you could ask a question, he was speaking again, obviously being rushed for a reason that was unknown to you. 

“I called Robin, and she’s gonna come and pick up Daisy.” He spoke. 

“What? Why?” Your confusion was like a thick fog, covering everything around you and making it hard to see. 

“It’s late and I feel bad for not calling.” His speech sounded distracted, as if he was trying to listen to the chatter behind him as he spoke. “I don’t want you to be waiting around for me.” 

You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing, waiting for his voice to fill the silence again. 

“Steve! Let’s go!” You heard the voice of a woman from his end, all high-pitched and filled with giggles. 

You felt sick to your stomach. 

You thought that something bad had happened to him. You were genuinely worried that the reason he wasn’t home and hadn’t called was because some unfortunate event took place. Not once did you consider the notion that Steve might have just been having fun and for once enjoying himself on a date. 

You felt so stupid for believing any of the lies you were feeding yourself. You got worked up over nothing, your worry turning into a burning feeling of betrayal. 

“I’ve gotta go, okay?” His voice was a little louder now. “I’ll come by tomorrow to pay you.” 

The line went dead. 

Steve was never this short with you, nevermind not doing as little as saying goodbye to you. 

It hit you slowly, putting together the pieces that told you exactly why Robin was picking up Daisy and why Steve insisted you head home. 

He probably wasn’t going to be returning home alone. 

The house felt dark, the ghosts standing in the room with you were the only things keeping you company. Everything was too quiet in contrast to the beating of your heart, throbbing against your chest like it never had. 

Robin showed up not long after, helping you peel Daisy from her bed. Luckily her sleep was enough to stop her from asking too many questions, her little eyes barely being able to stay open as Robin carried her downstairs. 

You had met Robin on a few different occasions, and given the way she was looking at you, she knew something you didn’t. 

Truly, she was sick of listening to Steve talk about you and do nothing about it. So, to see you in his house looking like a sad puppy made her want to kick him right in the ribs. 

After she had left you felt even lonelier than before, the absence of Daisy allowing you to experience your emotions even heavier. You decided to quickly clean up before you left, thinking that this might be the last time you babysit for Steve for quite some time. 

This tug of war with your heart was getting hard again, slowly becoming unbearable. For the first time in the months you knew him, the flirting and moments you shared didn’t seem intimate at all, they seemed like a really good way for him to string you along and win himself more favours. 

You refused to cry about something like this, not here, not in the four walls of his house. 

The sound of the water running as you washed dishes almost covered up the sound of the front door opening. Your ears perked up, listening to hear if he was alone or not, getting ready to awkwardly excuse yourself. You didn’t expect him to be home within an hour, not by the way he was talking over the phone. 

You didn’t hear any voices, no noises that would have signified someone was with him. There was only the sounds of him kicking his shoes off, feet padding to where you were. You kept your back turned to him, focusing on finishing up with the four items you had left to wash. 

“Honey…” His voice was thick with regret. He didn’t think you would have bothered to stay a moment longer than you needed to. 

But of course you did. 

You didn’t respond, not even acknowledging his existence. Your silence was deafening as well, causing a ringing in his ears the longer he listened to the sounds of water hitting the bottom of the sink. 

“Y/n.” His voice grew closer, his feet taking a soft step in your direction. 

You placed a plate in the dish rack, reaching and grabbing a dirty glass. 

Steve felt a lump growing in his throat, a lump made up of worry and fear, similar to the one that lived in your throat as you waited for him to come home. He would understand if you were mad at him for not calling, maybe you had plans after being here tonight and he ruined them, or maybe you just wanted to go home and- 

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” You seethed, wiping the outside of the glass, not turning to look at Steve. 

His face grew softer, the wrinkles on his forehead smoothing out. 

“You’re never late and that would have been fine if you just called sooner.” He could see how tense you were, shoulders moving ridgeley with every syllable. 

Oh. 

“I thought something happened.” Your voice cracked. “I thought you got into an accident or got hurt.” The cloth slid into the glass, your hand cleaning the inside of it. “Do you know how fucking scary that was?” 

Oh. 

You weren’t mad at him, not in the way that he was anticipating. You were worried about him, the kind of worry that made you anxious and restless. He had to fight every urge to come and grab your face, to kiss you so softly that you forgot why you were worrying, being blissfully reminded that he was standing right in front of you. 

“God, Steve.” Your eyes close, head tilting back slightly. “I was so relieved to hear your voice for a second.” You looked at him, hurt etched into your usually glowing irises. “But then you made me feel like an idiot for worrying in the first place.” 

“Hey now.” He stepped toward you, reaching a hand out to hold your shoulder. 

“Don’t!” You barked, going to step away from him. Encapsulated in your sadness, you forgot about the glass around your hand, slamming it against the sink. 

The glass shattered, the debris flying all around the sink. The sound of it was loud, louder than the frustration that was booming in your head, pulling you back down to earth. A gasp fell from your lips as you felt something tearing at the skin of your palm. 

You pulled your hand back from the sink, your other grabbing your wrist and holding it tightly. 

“Jesus, Y/n!” Steve bellowed, grabbing the kitchen towel from by the stove. He reached for your hand again, unhappy to see you pull away from him. 

“It was an accident!” You trembled, the blood dripping from your hand onto the wood floor beneath your feet. You hated how upset he sounded, your face burning with embarrassment over what you just did. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft spoken, his warm hand finding safety on your forearm. “I didn’t mean to raise my voice, but you’re hurt and you need to let me help you.” 

His hazel eyes searched yours for forgiveness, not only for yelling, but for everything that had gone wrong tonight.

“Okay.” You put your guard back down, letting him in again. He took your injured hand and wrapped the towel around it, placing your other hand back on top to hold it there. 

Steve guided you upstairs and into the bathroom, rinsing your hand off as gently as he possibly could. He stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back as he made you keep your hand under the water. 

The close proximity made it hard to breathe. The smell of his cologne filled your nose, notes of cedarwood and bergamot dancing around you. The scent was one that over time you began to associate with him, goosebumps growing along your skin with each whiff of it you got. 

What nearly pushed you over the edge was the way he was whispering words of encouragement to you as he poured alcohol onto your wound. 

“Just a little longer, okay? You’re being real strong.” “Breath for me, you’re okay.” “I’ve got you, honey, I’m right here.” 

The winces you were letting out weren’t all from the pain of your cut, but rather the sting that each thing he said was leaving behind.

Once he got the bleeding to stop enough, he took you into his bedroom. You had been in his room only a handful of times, coming in to grab his laundry without taking time to really look around. 

It was exactly what you expected his room to look like. The walls were all a plain cream colour, nothing on them. The floors were carpeted unlike the hallway, the brown material feeling nice on your feet. All of the furniture in the room was wooden from his bed frame to the thick walnut desk in the corner. The desk and the shelf next to it were covered in framed pictures. Most of them were of him and Daisy but the other few were of his friends whom he considered family. 

“Sit up here.” He tapped the desk lighty. You manoeuvred your way onto it the best you could without putting much force onto your palm. Steve opened a few different drawers, grabbing the various supplies he needed to help you. 

“My job comes in handy a lot more than you’d think.” He set everything down next to you, turning the lamp on the desk on. A yellow glow illuminated his face, extenuating his features in a way that made him somehow look better than he did before. 

“I can imagine.” Your voice was softer than before. You felt yourself retreating, opening the curtains again for him. He slipped himself between your legs, fixing the end of your dress so it was covering your knees. 

Steve was doing everything he could to make you feel comfortable, like he always did. You were hurt by his actions, but felt like a child for how you handled the situation. A swift feeling of regret filled you, making your gaze shift to his face. 

“Gonna bring your hand up, yeah?” He waited for some sign of you agreeing before lifting your hand closer to his face. “I can see a few pieces of glass in there, so I’m gonna take them out and then we can wrap it up for you.” 

“Okay.” You were trying to keep calm as he grabbed a pair of tweezers. His eyelashes fluttered as he plucked out a small shard of glass, dropping it into the small bowl of water he placed beside you. 

Steve looked so focused, barely breathing each time he brought the tweezers to your hand. The feeling was bearable at first, but the stinging quickly became a lot to handle. You let out a sharp squeak as he had to push the tweezers a bit deeper. 

“I’m sorry.” He glanced up at you, staring at you as he let you settle from the pain. “You should try and distract yourself, it’ll hurt a lot less.”

“How should I go about doing that?” You asked. 

“Talk to me.” He offered plainly, raising his eyebrows for a second. 

You knew he wanted to discuss the events of the night, so you decided to dip your foot into those waters hoping they weren’t going to be as cold as you anticipated. 

“I take you had a good time tonight.” The comment was seemingly genuine, but there was something bitter about the way it rolled off your tongue. 

Steve avoided eye contact after you said it, not replying as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“No, I really didn’t.” He spoke finally. “I had a pretty terrible time.” 

To say you were confused was an understatement. Nothing about the way the evening played out implied that he had a bad time from returning late to the laughter of the woman who was rushing him off the phone. 

You tilted your head quizzically, watching every small twitch on his face. 

“What happened?” You blurted out, wishing you had taken an extra second to think of something better to say. 

He continued picking the glass from your skin, glancing up at you for not even half a second. 

“We went to dinner, and it was fine.” He mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she suggested going to this bar.” His voice trailed off as he shook his head slightly. “And we ran into a few people…Eddie and Dustin and a few other people from highschool.” 

There’s a hint of pent up frustration in his voice, a tone so deep that its thickness was built up by an ongoing feeling of resentment. 

“She got really drunk.” His nostrils flared. “And by that point the date was more than over. She found someone else to entertain her. When I called you I was about to drop her off at home, which was probably the best part of the whole date.” 

He wasn’t rushed on the phone so he could run off with his date. He was rushed because he was uncomfortable, wanting nothing more than to leave and be home. 

Steve was a lot of things, but most of all he was a really good person. Of course he wasn’t going to leave her drunk at a bar, he was going to be the one to take her home and make sure she got in safe. Even if she made his night horrible, he wasn’t the type of man to storm off and leave her to fend for herself. 

“I’m so sorry.” Your words dripped with guilt. Steve wouldn’t meet your stare, keeping his eyes directed on your hand. 

“Don't be sorry…the dates are always the same.” He muttered. “I show up and they talk about themselves the whole time.” A sigh falls from his lips. “They have no interest in me or at least it dies off pretty quickly after they find out I have a kid.” 

After his fourth date with a different woman, you began to wonder why he never made it to a second date with any of them.

“But I guess I'm no better.” He pushed his glasses off his face, letting them sit on his head where they look like they’re about to fall off. You felt the burn of the alcohol seeping into your cut, the sensation making you bite back a wince.

“What makes you say that?” You reached with your free hand, taking his glasses off his scalp, placing them on the top of the shelf next to you. 

“Because the whole time they’re talking I’m thinking about someone else.” His gaze flicked up to yours, eyes locking like magnets. 

You felt paralyzed, not one part of your body daring to move in a way that might be even a little bit noticeable. Trying to process what you heard, you remained speechless. You thought you were out of the woods for a brief moment, the guilt you felt being accompanied by selfish relief. 

“Someone else?” You blinked rapidly. 

Steve couldn’t help but to be amused at your innocence regarding the subject. His lips were being tugged at the edges as he fought off the smile he so badly wanted to show you. 

“Someone else.” He confided. “Someone who listens to me, and cares about what I have to say. Someone who cares about my daughter almost as much as I do.” 

Your heart was working incredibly fast, beating in large thrums as it pumped your blood through your veins. The blood rushed through your body, making a pulse appear in every place where one could form. 

Steve cut and measured a bandage, the metal scissors making a clicking noise as they hit the desk. As he wrapped it around your hand, he kept talking. 

“I can’t stop thinking about her.” He released, securing the bandage by placing it around your hand a few times. “

“I can’t get the smell of her vanilla perfume out of my head and I really can’t stop wondering if that lipgloss she loves so much is anywhere as sweet as she is.” His voice was as soft as the silk of your pillowcase, keeping your face and hair safe as you slept. 

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it, the sound filling his ears the same way it filled yours. 

He was talking about you. He was talking about the vanilla perfume you sprayed on each morning you left your house, making sure to put it in places it would stick. He was referring to the lip gloss that sat on your lips as he spoke, the strawberry flavour filling your mouth more than it ever had. 

“And sometimes I think about those nights when I come home and find her asleep on my couch…” Steve places your hand down in your lap, never letting go of it. 

“I never wanna wake her up.” His fingers reach out, pushing a small piece of hair from your face. “I wanna put a blanket over her and let her sleep soundly… or carry her up to my bed and let her sleep comfortably next to me.” 

Steve looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever set his sights on. Your beauty was intoxicating, making it hard to concentrate on anything but the way your smile was visible on your entire face. 

Steve thought he would have noticed the day that his innocent fondness for you grew into something more, but he didn’t. 

Maybe he would have if he was paying more attention, but he was too busy loving every moment he got to spend with you. He was hypnotised by how much he liked you to realise how hard he was falling for you. He was too distracted by the constant voice in his head telling him this was wrong to notice that you felt the exact same way. 

Your stomach contracted, nerves forming there and balling together. The hairs on your body stood on end, the air in the room feeling ice cold. 

Though it was obvious who he was talking about, you played along with the idea that you had no clue. 

“Why don’t you take this someone else out?” You put forth, not moving your hand from where it rested in his. There were freckles on his cheeks, spreading down his neck like the stars in the sky, making you want to reach out and touch them. 

“I’m not sure she sees me like that.” He said honestly, looking from your lips back to your eyes. 

“You won’t know for sure until you say something to her.” You hum, the pain that lived in your hand faded into the background, along with the hurt you were feeling earlier. 

“It’s more than that.” He shook his head. “I’m worried she might find this whole thing inappropriate and think I’m a terrible person.” His face held a genuine concern, one that you had yet to see from him. He was afraid of disappointing you and making you think of him in a way that was all too familiar with his younger self. 

“I promise you.” You sat up further, a begging look on your face. “She could never think anything negative about you.” 

Steve wanted to accept what you were saying as the truth, but a small part of him was still ridden with some kind of worry. 

“I’m still not sure it’s the best idea.” He whispered, his large hand cupping your cheek like it was a snowflake, delicate and light, melting if he touched it too roughly. 

“Steve.” You begged, his heart aching so strongly he felt it in his back. You pushed into his touch, rubbing your cheek on the palm of his hand. 

Slowly, you moved further to the edge of the desk, pressing your thighs into the sides of his. Your dress rode up, the edge of it sitting in the middle of the doughy part of your leg. You felt him move closer, pressing himself into the wood. 

“Tell me this is okay.” He whispered, both hands holding the base of your jaw up to your cheeks. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you either…no matter how much I try.” You breath, your hands wrapped around both his wrists. 

The longer he stared at you, feeling your breath fanning his face, the softer his expression got and the closer he got to giving in. 

“Please.” You say so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. It was the final push he needed to allow himself to give in to the thing you both so badly wanted. 

Steve rested his forehead on yours for a second, resting there as he attempted to ground himself. You stayed there peacefully, soaking it up just in case it was the first and last time you were going to be this close to him. 

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, he tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss so sweet that happiness threatened to spill from your eyes. 

Steve took his time with you, kissing you so slowly that it felt like your heart was going to give out on you. His lips moved against yours like they had been there before, knowing each curve of them and exactly what to do to make you feel like you were floating. 

Your lips were softer than he ever imagined, and your lip gloss was just as sweet as he was hoping it would be. Everything about you from the tickle of your breath to the smell of your hair was making a warm sensation blossom in Steve’s chest, taking over all of his senses. 

Every inch of you was lit up with an incandescent glow, a garden blooming in your stomach, its roots travelling to intertwine around your heart. Steve’s hands on your face, his lips on yours, they were lighting you up in a way you never experienced before. 

Your hands travelled down his arms, curving down his neck to rest upon his chest. Right there, a little adjacent to where his heart lived, you could feel it beating against his chest so hard it felt like it was trying to escape from his ribcage. 

“You okay?” You grinned against his lips, not being able to stop it no matter how hard you tried. The feeling of your hand resting on his chest made Steve dizzy, making him feel like he was a lovesick teenager again. 

“Barely hanging on here.” His smile was impossibly large, causing a giggle to fall from your lips. 

Hesitantly, he moved a hand, pressing it onto your chest, over your dress, and above your left breast, holding it there flat. Your eyes were inviting him in, a silent and unspoken way of telling him this was still okay. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered with a smile, feeling your heart beating against your chest. 

“Hanging on.” A whispered giggled was pushed from your diaphragm. “By a thread.” Your comment was meant to be a playful push back at what he said, only it was the truth. 

He rubbed the tip of his nose on yours, the back and forth motion sending a tickle straight through you. The action was filled with care, but within it there was the promise of something more, telling you this wasn’t where he planned on leaving things. 

“Have you thought about this before?” He asks. The question would have been innocent if it weren’t for the heat emitting off his body, making the knots of sexual tension between the two of you come undone. 

“Many times.” You admit, your fingers playing with the top button of his shirt. Steve leaned into your touch, his hands moving to rest on your covered thighs. 

“Is this how you imagined it?” Though his breath is hot against your face, the chill that creeps down your back is cold. 

“Sometimes yeah.” Your eyes meet him as you pull the button out of the fabric, fingers carefully moving to the next one. “Usually there’s a lot more kissing.” 

Steve laughs softly, planting a kiss on your cheek, then another, and one more after that. He leaves a chaste kiss on your lips, one that has you longing for more. 

Another button pops undone, dark brown chest hair peeking out at you. 

“Have you thought about this?” You ask him, leaving a sticky strawberry scented kiss on his freckled cheek. 

His fingertips glide down, coming in contact with the bare skin of your knee as they creep under the fabric of your dress. 

“Many times.” He whispers, his own body suffering from the pain that anticipation brings. 

“Is this how you pictured it?” Your voice is gentle as you take out the fourth button, leaving Steve’s chest exposed. 

“Normally I’d have you in my bed by now.” He smiles at the noise you let out, a mix of a hum and a whine. 

There’s a syrupy smile on your face, a kind of smile you wear when you finally get something you want and are able to hold it in your hands finally. 

His hands are up on the dough of your thighs now, thumbs rubbing soft back and forth motions there. The whole thing is intimate and sweet, confessions being spilled between two people who yearn for each other. 

As you undo the final button your hand pushes against this bare torso, encouraging him to step back. 

Of course he does, letting you know that you’re in control as much as he is. His blood runs cold for a second as you slide off the hard desk, careful to not put much pressure on your hand. 

His brain runs crazy with the idea that something is wrong, like the reality of the situation just settled into you and you’re about to go home and never speak to him again. 

Steve is too stunned to speak, body turning slowly as he watches you for the first time ever rest your body against his bed. The white of your dress stands out against the darker colours in his room. Your being there added a lightness to the room, a gentle beauty that he alone could never bring into the space. 

“Now I’m in your bed.” You mused. The way he was staring at you was making you nervous, palms growing clammy as you waited for him to make a move. 

He hides a smile as he nods, walking over to where you’re laying. You feel the bed dip beside you, one of Steve’s knees pressing into the mattress between your legs. He rests a forearm onto the pillow beside your head, his face inches from yours. 

“And now you’re in my bed.” He beamed, kissing you slowly. 

The kiss was a bit more rushed this time but still as gentle as it could possibly be. Your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slot his tongue into your mouth, earning a soft moan from you. 

You pushed the wrinkled fabric of his shirt off his shoulder, pleased as he tried to work it off his body without removing his mouth from yours. Once it was off you ran your hands along his naked shoulders, ending your movement at the back of his neck where you scratched his skin kindly. The sound that leaves his throat is a groan that he tried to swallow, the noise getting caught in his throat. 

His palm smoothes over the skin of your thigh, fingers bringing the light fabric of your dress up, exposing your panties to him. He doesn’t break away to look at your body, instead letting his fingertips explore the new land that was your skin. 

Steve’s fingers trace where the lace rests on your hip, making his way around to where it rests below your tummy. There’s butterflies growing everywhere he touches, fluttering their wings against you where the feeling of his fingertips linger. 

There’s an ache that starts in your stomach, extending down to where you need him most. 

Right when you think he’s about to give you the satisfaction of a small touch, his hand makes its way back around to your thigh, squeezing your skin. 

“I’m gonna take these off, baby.” It’s both a statement and a question as he hooks a finger under the band of your panties. 

“Okay.” You say, reeling at the sound of him calling you something so sweet. You lift your hips for him, making it easier for him to slide your panties down your legs. 

He rewards the action with a kiss to your knee, a silent ‘thank you’. 

You didn’t realise how wet you actually were until the sticky lace was pulled from your core, a string of slick falling onto the sheets below you. You would have been embarrassed in any other situation, an apology forming on your tongue but quickly fading as you hear a guttural moan from Steve. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” He spreads your thighs open, leaving you on full display for him. His thumb runs along the edge of your dripping cunt, his mouth ajar as he watches how easily you open up for him. 

“Steve.” You whine, his mostly unintentional teasing becoming unbearable. Your hips jerk up off the bed, searching for his touch. He firmly presses them back into the bed, his hand holding them down as he eases down to lay beside you. 

“I’m right here.” He hums, holding your thighs open. “I’ve got you.” 

Before you can take another breath you feel his fingers gathering some of your slick, dragging it through your folds up to the bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. He rubs your clit slowly, circling it with just enough pressure. A sharp sound of pleasure falls from your parted lips, eyebrows knitting as you relax into this feeling. 

Steve’s face is above yours, his elbow propping him up over you slightly. He’s watching every move of your face, enjoying every small sound you’re making while he strokes your cunt. Your body is still slightly rigid, he can see how hard you’re trying to stay still. 

“Sweetheart.” He whispers, moving toward you so that his body is resting against your own. He lets himself rest on his forearm again, pressing it above your head. “Breathe for me.” 

You move as close as you can get to him, turning your body so you’re facing him, a leg resting over top of his. You let out a shaky breath, holding his face loosely with your hand. His fingers and moving down every so often, the tips of them dipping into you before pulling back up to your clit as if he was playing an instrument. 

He kisses you delicately, pink lips moving against yours with tender care. His middle finger slides into you with ease, your body accepting it greedily. You keep kissing him, small hums vibrating through your body as he works his finger in and out of you. When he slips in a second finger, you break the kiss, moaning right into his open mouth as he curls the digits deep inside you. 

“That feel good, honey?” He asks with a smile, lips ghosting over yours as he continues the exact same motion. 

“Uh huh” You mewl, letting your swollen lips brush on his. You can barely think with his fingers inside you, the feeling of them blurring your thoughts almost completely. 

“You wear such pretty dresses when you come over.” His voice is deeper than before as he looks from the material back up to your eyes. “Are they for me?” 

There’s a new confidence in his voice, comfort and trust settling in, allowing him to say everything he’s wanted to for months. 

His fingers physically can't get any deeper, so he brings his thumb up to brush against your clit. You’re giving him the sweetest sounds he has ever heard and he hopes he can remember them forever. 

“They’re for you.” You manage to say at the end of a deep breath. “Wanted…” A whine rips through you. “Wanted your attention.” 

“That’s real sweet, baby.” He presses a long kiss to your forehead. The kiss is filled with love rather than lust, your words making Steve burn with the urge to care for you. 

He moves his hand a little faster, the sticky sounds of your cunt hitting against his hand filling the bedroom. He’s still managing to curl his fingers inside of you, your nails scraping against the slope of his shoulder. 

“You always have my attention, hm?” He tells you truthfully, feeling you arch into his hand. You can’t reply, only gasping at the feeling blooming in your lower abdomen. 

“Think about you the whole time I’m out.” He murmurs. “Come home early just to see you again, I can never help myself.” 

Your head is leaning against his shoulder as you sob out an obscene noise, your eyes shut tight. You’re clenching around him hard, your walls closing with every word that leaves his mouth. 

“S-Steve.” You swallow, breath ragged as the feeling below grows stronger. “I want you…I want you inside me.” 

Your words make his cock harden in his pants, straining against the black material uncomfortably. He so badly wants to let you have him, but he knows better than to try and fuck you without making you cum atleast once. 

“Need you to cum for me.” You’re rolling your hips against his hand, searching for more friction. “You’re so fucking tight, honey. You won’t be able to take it if you don’t cum for me.” 

“Can take it, Steve.” You pull your face from his arm, a weepy look on your features. “Please let me have it.” 

You’re desperate for him and you’re desperate to cum, the combination making you relentless to get what you want.  

“You gonna be good for me?” He looks at you, eyes gente but stern as he speaks. “Be good for me, sweetheart, come on.” 

The thrusting of his fingers keeps up, giving extra attention to the skin over your clit. Your thighs are shaking slightly, the muscles getting tight as you try and focus on letting yourself go. Steve whispering something to you that you can’t make out over the ringing deep in your ear. He’s doing everything he can to help you get there, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly. 

There’s a high pitched whimper of his name as you tip over the edge, unable to control any of the noises you make. Your body feels heavy then light again, toes curling and calves aching as a delightful feeling spreads through you. You know Steve is gonna have red marks on his shoulder from how hard your nails are digging into it. 

“That’s it.” He praises. “There’s my good girl.” You can feel him smiling on your skin, his voice dripping with pride. 

Slowly he moves his hand from your cunt, your face pulled together as you adjust to the uncomfortable emptiness. You close your thighs around his hand, trying to make the shock waves of pleasure slow down.  

“Steve?” You breath raggedly, suddenly aware of how hot you are, your dress feeling suffocating. He can sense that you’re uncomfortable, a few lines of worry forming on his forehead. 

“Yeah, honey?” He looks at you sweetly, noticing the thin layer of sweat on your forehead. 

“Can you take my dress off?” You request, leaning into him so that you can kiss his stubbly chin. 

“I can do that.” He says, pulling his hand from your wet thighs. “Think you can stand up for me?” 

Steve’s making his way across the bed and onto the floor beside it before you can answer, reaching out a hand for you. He looks incredibly handsome right now. His tan skin is glowing more than you had ever seen in the past, styled hair now a bit rustled up but you know he could care less right now. The thick patch of hair on his chest makes you throb with need again, your eyes unable to look away. 

He sees you staring, a breathy laugh leaving him as he watches you slowly getting off the bed with your eyes attached to him. 

“You’re really handsome.” You whisper as you settle in front of him with your back turned to his chest. It makes his cheeks glow a soft pink as he kisses your shoulder softly, happy that you can't see his face. 

“And you’re the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” He hums into the shell of your ear, thick fingers working to pull the zipper of your dress down. 

“I am?” You ask as he pushes the fabric down your shoulders, watching it cascade down your body. His hands are rubbing your back soothingly as the dress finally falls to the ground. He kisses your naked back a few times, a gesture that makes everything ache from your lungs to the space between your legs. 

“You are.” He confirms, his touch running down your sides before pulling your body into him. “Too beautiful for this world.” 

You feel something hard against your ass, pressing into you with need. You moan quietly, placing your hands over his as he moves them around your body. 

He urges your head to the side, tilting it so that your neck is on full display for him. 

“Too beautiful to let just anyone touch you, honey.” The first few kisses on your unclothed neck are innocent, starting by your ear and travelling to your shoulder.

To let anyone but me touch you. Is what he really meant, afraid to let the words fall out.

The kisses that follow are darker, his lips sucking on each spot of your neck they stop. He finds a spot he likes, biting at the skin there tenderly, his tongue running over the spot after each bite that is harder. 

“Feels like a dream to be this close to you, can’t believe it’s real..” Your mouth is open but there's no sound coming out, jaw slack at the bliss you feel. 

His hand runs over your tummy, greedily trying to get a feel for every inch of your body as he sucks and bites at your sensitive skin. The urge to touch him is overwhelming, it was completely tangible, yet it took everything to pull yourself out of the moment. 

“S-Sit down.” You request, secretly wishing he would never stop kissing you. “Please, Steve.” 

He reaches to hold your hand, not wanting to be away from your touch. Backing up slowly he sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes alight with elation as he pulls you closer to him. You couldn’t help but notice how much softer his eyes got whenever he looked at you, the golden hazel colour becoming a comforting light brown that felt like a warm drink on a cold day. 

“What’re you doing, baby?” He’s amused but curious, hands grabbing the backs of your thighs once you get close enough for him to do so.

You stand between his legs, bending down so you can kiss his toned shoulder. 

“Showing you this is real.” Your voice is angelic, light and golden as you whisper in his ear. 

You kiss along his tan shoulder, taking the time to kiss each freckle that adorns his skin. Your breath along his skin was amiable, heating him up both physically and mentally. The open mouth kisses you trail up and over his Adam's apple are wet and a little sticky from what barely remains of your lipgloss. 

His hand moves to the back of your neck, not to hold you there but to massage you and remind you that this was all okay. Somewhere along his neck your kissing turns into a gentle nipping, biting into his skin enough to make his pulse quicken. 

When you pull away you look at his skin, the beginnings of broken blood vessels present, but nothing that will leave much of a mark, unfortunately for you. 

“I don’t know how all of those women didn’t fall at your feet, Steve.” You run your fingers down the hair of his chest, your thumb running down to above his belly button. 

You duck your head down again, kissing the soft skin of his tummy. 

Steve groans like you’ve never heard. It starts out as a choked out word, transforming into an inaudible sound of disbelief. He sounds like he’s stuttering, trying to form a sentence but the pleasured noises from his diaphragm keep cutting him off. 

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, the sight above you is so intense you have no choice but to kneel into the ground between his legs. 

His chest is heaving heavily, cheeks a burning red colour, beginning to look the way they did that morning when you saw him on his run. The way he’s looking at you is something you had never experienced. It’s hungry and sinful, but at the same time it’s gentle and beautiful, two things you were sure only lovers experienced together. 

Humming softly you close your eyes, continuing to leave feather-like kisses on his stomach.

Steve felt as if he was about to have a heart attack. He didn’t find himself in bed with people often, and when he did he was always left emotionally unsatisfied, even physically sometimes. 

But this was putting him into overdrive, all of his senses being overloaded at the same time to create a feeling that was burning him to his core. He feels energised but completely weak at the same time. He wants to give you everything right now, but for the first time since the fall of 1984, he’s okay with the idea of letting someone, you, love on him for a moment. 

“Steve.” You whisper, the sound causing his eyes to blink open again to look at you. Your hand is on the button of his pants, thumb rubbing over the small details on the front of it. “Can we take these off…” 

“Of course.” He sits back up from where he was leaning, cradling your chin in one hand. “Go ahead, my girl.” 

My girl. 

Your stomach twisted into a knot, heart beating in your ears so persistently that you were sure you must have misheard him. His words are so gentle, stare so intense, but instead you decide not to dwell on words that were most likely created by the heat of the moment. 

The button pops open, the zipper coming open slowly. You can’t pull them down anymore without help, looking at him with the beginnings of a pout on your lips. 

“Come up on the bed, honey.” He kisses you once you stand to your full height, guiding you onto the bed. 

You kneel into the middle of the firm mattress, shamelessly watching as he starts to take his pants and boxers off. He shakes his head as you make eye contact one last time, your lips turned up into a soft smile.

He pushes them down completely, stepping out of his pants and coming onto the bed next to you. You aren’t even looking at him, gaze caught on how his hard cock rests on his stomach when he lays down. 

The tip is bitten pink, one thick vein running down the side of it, he easily has the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, the size of it alone makes your stomach twist with need. The longer you looked at it the more you understood his persistence on making you cum before he fucked you. 

“Steve.” You swallow thickly, face struck with disbelief. There’s a hint of fear in your voice, a sound that he doesn’t like. 

“What’s wrong?” His eyebrows twist along his forehead, placing a hand on your thigh. 

“I’m not…I can’t.” You shake your head and place your gaze back to him. “I can’t do it…you’re too big I can’t take it.” 

Steve can’t help but smile, clicking his tongue in his mouth as he rubs your thigh. 

“You can do it, sweetheart.” He whispers, pulling you into his lap. “You’re such a good girl, I know you can do it.” 

“I can try.” You whine, melting in his arms like it’s nothing. “But I’m sorry-” 

“None of that, no sorries.” He kisses your cheek gently. “We’ll go so slow, yeah? Stretch you open nice and wide for me.” 

Your uneasiness fades into nothing, being replaced by the need to be close to him. You can feel yourself dripping on his abdomen, the slick connecting your cunt to his body. You feel hot, like if you don't get him fast enough you might just start crying. 

“Can I be on top?” You ask him, hands already locked around the back of his neck. 

“Yeah? You wanna fuck yourself onto me, baby?” He teases, managing to sit up a little bit with you on top of him. “Are you sure you can do it? Be a big girl for me?” 

Steve takes notice of how hard you whine when his words are a little condescending. Your focus drifting away, eyes closing as you smile gently and nod your head, trying to find the words to say to him. He never would have expected you to like it so much, but he’s not complaining whatsoever. 

“I can do it.” You nod, trying to find a stronger voice. “Need to feel you.” 

You placed your knees on either side of him, your hurt hand holding onto his shoulder. The feeling of the gauze there makes Steve feel it off him, checking that the bandage was still okay. 

He only looked at you, checking in on you silently the same way he did when your car broke down and he took it to Eddie’s shop for you. The room was loud and busy but even through it he gave you that reassuring look, reminding you he was right there if you needed him. 

“It feels okay. I promise.” You say quietly, earning a squeeze on your arm as he places your hand back down on his shoulder. 

You reach a hand between your bodies, taking his cock in your hand. It feels even bigger now that you’re holding it, one of your hands not being enough to wrap fully around the top half of it. Steve hisses when you rub your thumb over the slit, pushing the clear liquid leaking out around his burning skin. 

“Lift your hips a bit for me.” He suggests, opting to hold the back of one of your thighs to support you through it. You guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, the mere prodding of it against you makes you moan. 

You sink down slightly, letting his cock into you just enough to catch him there. Already your cunt is burning from the stretch, the wind being knocked out of you as you manage to fit the tip of his cock into you. 

“Look at you, baby.” He praises. “Already takin’ me so well, aren’t you?” 

The noises you were trying to conceal break free after that, a loud shaky whimper that has you opening your eyes to see his reaction. He’s staring at you the same way he always does, like you’re what makes the world turn on its axis, causing the sun to set and rise again. 

You try to sink down further, the burning sensation only getting worse. Steve can feel how much you’re stretching around him, your walls so tight around him that he’s moaning pornographically. He’s about halfway inside you now and you already feel full, having no idea how you’re meant to fit the rest of him inside. 

“Oh god.” You whine, pussy clenching around him tightly. “It’s s’big, you’re so big.” 

“I know, honey, I know.” He was rubbing your skin in any way he could, doing anything to ease the pain you were in. 

Your voice is almost as weepy as your cunt, dripping down his shaft more with each huff of air you let out. 

A little bit more of him pushes in, making your whole body tense in a way that has you pouting in discomfort. Steve knew this was bound to happen, never in his life had anyone taken him with ease on the first try. He hated knowing that this was hurting you, and by the choked up sounds you were making, he knew it was becoming a lot for you to handle. 

“I can’t.” You say, feeling embarrassed. “It’s too much, I can’t.” 

You had never had anything this big inside of you, your walls not knowing how to with it. The frustration bubbled up with the realisation that you wanted to move, to take him fully, but it felt impossible for a second. 

“Hey hey.” Steve whispers quickly, sitting up so he can tug you into his chest a bit. Firm hands rub your naked back, trying to calm the repeated whimpers you let out. 

“So brave, hm?” He tells you, letting you tuck your head into his shoulder. “Why’re you embarrassed, baby? I’m so proud of you, doing such a good job.” 

He feels you relax into him, shoulders untenseing, your gummy walls opening up for him once again. Steve chuckles as he hears you whine, pulling your face from his neck and looking at him again. Even though it's the first time you’re having sex with him, he knows you well, he knows what you want.  

“You were so sure of yourself with my fingers in you.” He taunts, feeling you sliding down his cock at a painfully slow rate.. “Not so tough anymore, huh? My cocks too much…what did I tell you, honey?” 

Your head falls back, a loud sigh escaping you when you’re able to take more of him, making Steve groan. He reaches to tug on one of your nipples, the sensitive bud hardening under his fingertips almost immediately. 

“I can do it.” You argue, walls fluttering around him with need. “Want it all.” 

You let out one last shaky breath, relaxing your body as you take the last bit of him. The fullness you feel is overwhelming, making it seem as if he was in your stomach. You’re gasping as you let him sit in you fully, trying to remember how to breathe properly. 

“That’s it, there you go, sweetheart.” Steve grunts. “You feel so good for me, your pretty pussy keeping me nice and warm.” 

“Oh my- mmm” You pant, fingernails scraping the back of his neck. Your head is a mess, thoughts floating around so fast that you can’t catch them. 

The burn of the stretch begins to fade slowly, clit aching with how much you need to move on him. He’s so big, but you know it’s gonna feel heavenly when you start to bounce on his cock, letting him really split you open. 

You try to move, try to lift your hips and move back down onto him but you can’t. Your thighs are shaking, buzzing with a cramping sensation with every move you make. Your hands move to his chest, trying to get leverage but they end up clenching into fists. 

“Oh you poor thing.” He teased. “Never been fucked this well have you? Don’t even know what to do with yourself.” 

“N-No.” You shook your head. “I need you to help me, Steve, please.” 

He’s grabbing one of your legs and untucking it from where you kneel, telling you to wrap your legs around him. It’s a bit awkward trying to manoeuvre your body when he’s inside you, every movement making you wince. The new position has the tip of his cock hitting deep inside your channel, rubbing on that sweet spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back into your head. 

It’s a sticky mess between your bodies, your slick coating everything below it from your inner thighs to Steve’s balls. Once you're seated fully on him, you can't stop moaning, feeling every single inch of him pressing into you. His thick arms wrap around you, practically hugging you as he kisses you over and over again, letting you whine into his mouth. 

Slowly, he begins pulling your body into him, moving his cock inside you for the first time. It’s sinful how easily your bodies slide together, the motion happening with no struggle at all. His chest hairs are brushing against your breasts, tickling your nipples each time you’re pulled back into his body. 

“O-Oh.” It’s a high pitched whimper. “You’re so…you’re so deep.” The way his cock is nudging against your cervix has you reeling, toes curling harshly. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, honey.” He murmurs, his nose nudging against your throat. “Feels so good around me.” 

His hair is a mess now, sticking out a few different ways, his lips are swollen a mean red colour, cheeks stained with a rosy blush. You wondered if he only looked this good when he was inside you, something you intended on putting to the test in the future. 

You move against him, not caring how much your legs hurt. The way his cock is sliding in and out of you is too good for you to not try and chase more of it. His fingertips are digging into your hips, holding you there as if he was afraid you were going to try and escape. 

“You hear that?” He whispers, looking at you with soft hazel eyes. “Hear how much she likes me?” 

He’s talking about your cunt, and it makes you dizzy. The lewd sounds from it are intense, a sticky squelching that fills the room every time his cock thrusts in and pulls out again. It’s delicious, and fuck does it feel good. 

Your moans have turned into sobs of pleasure, they’re desperate and breathy, begging him to not stop. It’s too late before you realise how fucked out you are, your emotions getting the best of you as you begin to mumble something that Steve can’t quite make out. 

“What is it, baby?” His fingers trace your spine, scratching lightly. 

“Am…Am I..” You choke out. “Am I your girl?” 

Steve’s face softens, pulling you back into his chest as he shushes you sweetly. Practically hugging you he starts whispering to you, not wanting you to be embarrassed for needing reassurance. He thinks you might be overwhelmed with pleasure, needing to hear him talk to you. 

“I’m right here.” He breathes. “You have me, I'm right here.” 

He can feel you shaking your head on his neck, fighting his biceps to let you look at him again. There’s a hollow feeling in your heart, a worry that he avoided your question for a reason. 

“Steve…Am I your girl?” Your eyes are glossy, lip caught between your teeth. “You called that earlier and…” You trail off, looking at him as you try and fight off the moans that threaten to spill. 

“Shh.” He whispers, one hand leaving your back to hold your face. “You’re my girl, honey. Ever since I saw you on my driveway you’ve been my girl.” 

He watches your expression soften into relief. 

“You’re so sweet and so perfect.” He tells you with confidence. “I don’t want anyone else.” 

With your bodies intertwined like this and the words leaving his mouth, Steve can’t stop feeling like maybe he had been wrong about love all this time. Maybe it wasn’t hot and cold or black and white. 

Loving you was warm, it was golden, like daylight. 

Both of your arms tighten around him, hanging onto him like your life depended on it. His fat cock is still dragging in and out of you, only adding to the immense love you’re feeling for him. He knows you’re content with his response by the long whiny sigh you let out into his ear. 

Steve can’t help but to reach down and search for your clit, rubbing the still sensitive bead as delicately as possible. The feels makes the pressure in your stomach grow faster, all the pain you felt before dissolving into a sugary sweet bliss. 

“Feels…feels good.” Is all you can get out, making Steve chuckle. 

“I bet it does, my pretty girl.” He growls, his cock twitching inside you. The same feeling is growing within Steve, his balls begging to drain with each thrust of his hips. “Can feel you tugging me in, know it must feel good.” 

You know you’re done for when you reach down and press a hand into the space above where your pubic hair would grow. You can feel the head of his cock against your hand, tapping it each time Steve pushes into you. 

“I-I…oh my fucking god.” You sob out. “I can feel you…” 

Steve’s hand is replacing yours before you can think to show him, licking his pink lips as he laughs. 

“Shit, baby.” He mocks, pressing his hand into it. “Can feel me in your tummy, huh? Pretty pussy…she's swallowing me whole.” 

Everything feels snug right now, from the fit of Steve’s cock in you to the space between your bodies. The bliss growing in your stomach is nearly tipping over the edge, making it hard to breathe in a normal pattern. The sound of Steve moaning and growling your name is making it impossible to keep off your orgasm, teary eyes dragging to look at him. 

“S-Steve.” You vibrate, body shaking again as you try and blink the tears away. 

“Yeah? Crying over my cock, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you again, knowing the impact it carries. “Just so bent out of shape, huh?” 

You don’t get a moment to think before you’re cumming again, white hot pleasure pulsing through your veins. The sob you let out is a scream, followed by several smaller ones back to back to back. You swear your ears are ringing, only being able to hear the small whispers from Steve. 

“There’s my good girl.” “Cum on my cock, that’s it.” “So sweet for me aren’t you?” 

As you come down your fingers tangle in his brown locks, letting him bite on the skin of your neck again as makes it to the finish line himself. He goes stiff against you with one final hard thrust, staying there as he paints your walls with his release. He thrusts a few times after that, letting his cock cool off from the overload of bliss. 

You stay tangled together for sometime after, catching your breath while you draw patterns into his skin. There’s a lingering fear in the air from both of you, not knowing what’s gonna happen when you lift your heads and see eachother again. 

He feels you move a hand over his heart once again, feeling it beating. 

“Are you okay?” You smile softly just how you did earlier. 

“Never been better.” He places a hand over your heart once more, feeling it for a few seconds. 

“Are you okay, honey?” He asks you. 

“Hanging on…by a lot more than a thread.” You whisper, letting your forehead fall against his before kissing him with the same gentleness as the first kiss you shared tonight. 

You felt at peace for the first time since you met Steve, not having to guess how he felt about you through shared glances and stolen touches. He was finally letting you in the way he dreamed of, feeling less scared of the idea of being loved by someone in this way. 

“Stay the night.” He whispered as he broke the kiss.

Your chest burned with happiness, your eyes smiling as well as your lips. 

“Is this to make up for all the nights you didn’t let me sleep here?” You asked with a light laugh. 

“Mm, yeah.” He nodded, pulling you closer. “And you know…you are my girl after all, right?” 

“Yeah…yeah, I am.” You whispered, looking at him fondly.

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse + text posts

friends

Too adorable not to repost 🥹🥰

I drew this one because someone on twitter asked if someone could draw Joseph specific face in the recent photo of the joes reunited as Eddie and here is my attempt! ehehe also wanted to add Joe as Steve staring right into your soul 💥😼

The tweet ✨

classified | eddie munson x reader

summary at your wits end, you put an ad in the classifieds for a special kind of tutor. Eddie finds it and takes you up on the offer. (nsfw) [13k]

contains smut (18+ minors dni!) – p in v sex, oral (f receiving), lots of praise, virgin!reader, fem!reader, hurt/comfort. eddie's a sweetheart, fluff, first time turned something more (?).

author's notes this one's a long one! the idea made me laugh and then it took on a life of its own. I want to say this is meant to be somewhat lighthearted and is not a suggestion that anyone should be having sex if they haven't already – your body's yours, baby, do whatever you want! no one should ever make you feel rushed into anything!!! anyway Eddie is an angel and I want one. bye!

-

Eddie's not sure why he's reading the newspaper. Boredom, perhaps; he's been waiting for Wayne to get home from his shift for over an hour. He's thought about calling the plant, but the walk from the couch to the phone seems to be the perfect amount of time to convince himself that he's probably on his way home already.

It's the Hawkins Post. It gets delivered by a snot-nose boy on a bike every week, thrown far too hard at their tin front door. Wayne reads it some weeks, others it gets used to wrap his lunch. Apparently this one he'd read it, flicked through the pages half-heartedly before leaving it open on a centrefold about the local elections. Trust Wayne to get bored of small-town politics, Eddie thinks.

So he picks up where Wayne left off, slowly pulling the pages apart, skimming stories about the endemic of teen pregnancy, or columns about the rejuvenation plans for downtown Hawkins. 

Finally, he reaches the only bit of the newspaper that Eddie has ever found interesting: the classifieds (and, on the back of the classifieds, the call-girl ads).

He skims them, eyes brushing past ads for cleaners, dog walkers, nannies. Finds the ones hidden at the bottom – the letters written in code, ads for attractive female friends and women seeking younger men. He's never actually interested in them, but they provide a glimpse into the underbelly of Hawkins, a small town that is, for all intents and purposes, entirely normal. But nowhere is ever truly normal, and Eddie likes to seize the opportunity to pry into the scandalous goings-on of his boring hometown.

He's reading one about swingers when the one beside it catches his eye. It's plain – whoever paid for it kept their costs to a minimum. All it says is:

WOMAN, 23, SEEKING FIRST TIME.

He stares at the bold ink, the statement in all caps that, despite being maybe the lowest cost ad in the whole paper – it's in a box about three inches tall in the very corner of the page – jumps out at him anyway. Underneath the title, it reads: young woman looking for judgement-free first time. Min. age 22, max. age 28. Must have experience. At the very bottom, in almost imperceptible print, is a phone number.

Eddie hadn't realised how close his face was to the page until he hears the familiar sound of Wayne's car pull up outside. He throws the paper down onto his lap and sighs before scrambling around to at least try to look casual, and not like all the blood has rushed to his face. In the few seconds he has between the sound of Wayne's car door closing and him coming up the stairs, Eddie tears the page out, folding it quickly and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans as he stands.

The door opens just as he gets to his feet, and Wayne comes trudging in with his steel lunch pail and heavy boots.

"Hey, Wayne," Eddie says, breathless, trying his best to sound level. Wayne eyes him as he closes the door, before turning to dump his stuff on the table.

"C'mon, kid, you promised me a burger."

-

The piece of newspaper stays in Eddie's pocket for three more days.

Wayne had been late getting home – something came up, but Eddie wasn't listening too hard, brain on that stupid ad instead – so their weekly trip to Benny's had run until the early hours of Friday morning.

And then Friday was work and Hellfire, which Eddie still leads despite having graduated two years ago, and this time the kids kept him going for hours. By the time he got home he hadn't even thought about the page before crashing into bed.

And then Saturday is family day, as Nancy puts it. Eddie had woken up late, rolled out of bed into the freshest clothes he could find, and into his van to act as bus driver for the morning. His little gaggle of unruly teenagers crammed into the back of it one by one, laughing and teasing and shouting. Steve's home became louder and still, Eddie relished in that feeling of peace he gets once a week with all these misfits he calls friends.

By Sunday morning, the newspaper had been long forgotten in the pocket of his jeans that he'd left in a pile on his bedroom floor. He's laid on his back on his bed, head dangling off the edge, puffing mindlessly on a spliff he'd rolled for himself two days ago that had also been forgotten. The room's a little fuzzy round the edges, just the way he likes it, the sunlight creeping warm paws up his arms. It smells funny in here, he thinks, so he turns over, pushes himself off the bed, and reaches up to open his window. On his way back to his bed, he trips on something, landing with a huff as his ribs hit the corner of the mattress.

"Fuck," he hisses, reaching down to pull the culprit off the floor. It's just an old pair of jeans, so he throws them into the corner, out of the way, and resumes his position, splayed out across the bed.

From this angle, with his head hanging upside down, he spots something by the pile of denim he'd just discarded.

His brain's ticking over slowly under the haze of being stoned, but after a second he realises what it is, and clambers all too quickly off the bed and across the room.

Maybe it's that haze, coating his brain with thick fog; maybe it's the fact that, in the year since he graduated, he's had to settle for quick fucks behind the Hideout after a gig; or maybe, just maybe, it's dangerous curiosity.

Whatever it is, something motivates him to move through his room, down the narrow corridor into the kitchen. There's something hijacking his limbs, and it reaches up to the phone on the wall. With eyes on the page in his hand he spins the dial, listening to the tone as it rings, rings, rings.

The longer he stands there, the more convinced he becomes in his intoxicated miasma that this is some kind of prank; he's going to be met with a stupid kid on the other end, laughing at him for bothering to call at all. 

When he finally decides that this is just that, a practical joke, the line clicks. There's a low buzz on the other end, so low he thinks maybe the line just went dead, but then a voice.

"Hello?"

He's taken aback by the sound of it, but not so much that he doesn't notice the sleep coating it. Despite his stupor, he can't help but apologise.

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?"

"Who is this?" You're sharper now, coming to, and he kicks himself for fucking this up already.

"Oh, shit, uh, sorry. I called about… I got this number, uh, in the paper."

"Fuck," he hears you whisper. He's not sure if he was supposed to hear it. He feels bad.

"Sorry, I'll go, this was-"

"Look, I put that age range in the ad for a reason. I'm sick of gettin' calls from middle aged men, I-"

"I'm twenty-three."

You're silent on the other end for a moment, but he can hear your breath hitch.

"Well, shit," you finally say. "Y'don't sound it."

He laughs an awkward, stilted laugh, unsure what to say.

"Sorry, I've had so many guys – men, old men – callin' me up, tryin' to flirt with me down the phone, I just… The ad was a mistake, clearly."

He likes the way you talk. You've got a pretty voice.

"Uh, thanks," you say.

Shit.

"Fuck, sorry, did I say that out loud?" Moron.

You laugh, the sound fizzing down the telephone line, and it eases some of his insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he says, starting fresh. "I'll leave you be, have a good-"

"Wait," you bite, and he can hear you shuffling around. "Wait just a sec, I- fuck, where the fuck is it? I… Sorry, can you just wait for a second?"

"Sure, sure," he murmurs, trailing off when he realises you've set the phone down. He listens to the faint sounds of you rummaging around and swearing under your breath. He must look like an idiot, stood in his kitchen, smiling at his phone, waiting for a stranger he found in the paper.

He hears you coming back, footsteps getting louder, before you pick the phone back up.

"Y'still there?"

"Yeah," he laughs. You speak to him like he's an old friend and it keeps catching him off guard.

"Okay," you say. "Here's the thing. I put that stupid ad in the paper because I was sad, and my life has been a misery since then, because literally every guy who's called me has been, like, at least forty, which some people are into I guess but I'm not, and- Sorry."

You're rambling, stumbling over your words even though he can tell you're trying to be professional or something. He stays quiet and hopes you'll keep going.

After a beat, you say, "I guess, 'cause you called, you'd be up for it?"

"Uh, well," he stammers. "That's kinda why I called. Care to explain what it is you want, exactly?"

He's not sure where the sudden confidence has come from; maybe the weed's wearing off.

"Okay, yeah," you breathe. "So, uh, my plan, I guess, was that I'd… You'd take, uh, my virginity."

You almost whisper the last part, like it's some kind of slur, and Eddie can't help but laugh on the other end.

You start to sound exasperated, frustrated, so he tries to claw you back.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just so… frank."

"Well, bein' all coy about it hasn't really worked out for me so far."

Can't argue with that logic.

"Okay," he says, trying to ignore the excitement bubbling inside him. You're a stranger, he's a stranger, and this whole thing is kind of weird. Shit, he thinks. Am I a perv?

"How do you want to do this?"

"Well," you start, sounding like you've got this part planned out. "First I need to know you're not gonna murder me or something, so I'll give you an address near my house but not at my house, and we can meet there whenever… and, uh, what year were you born?"

"What?"

"Just… So I feel a bit more sure you're actually twenty-three."

"Hah, okay. 1965."

"Okay, sweet. You got a pen?"

"Shit, yeah, one sec."

His eyes dart around the room. With the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he moves as far as the cord will let him, to a drawer by the front door. At the back there's an old pencil and some scraps of junk mail.

"Got it!" he declares, too enthusiastic but it makes you giggle so he laughs too.

"Okay," you start, and you tell him an address he vaguely recognises, closer to the nicer side of town, halfway between here and where Steve's house is.

"It's a park, kind of. It's pretty public anyways, so if you were, y'know, planning to kill me or whatever, don't bother."

"I'll take that off the to-do list," he tells you through a smirk.

"Very funny," you say, your sentence half-formed like you can't find the words to finish it. "Wait, what's your name?"

"Eddie. Munson."

"Okay, Eddie Munson," you say before telling him yours and deciding that you'll meet him later that day. You tell him it's easier that way, that you can't bear to have to wait all week, sitting on the nerves that might make you change your mind.

That's exactly what Eddie does all afternoon. You'd decided on six that evening, when it's still light but late enough that you both have time to back out, and so he sits, stoned out of his mind on both weed and the phone call, feeling something he's rarely felt before.

It's like cola in his gut, bubbling and frothing every time he tries to move. Is this what people feel when they say they have butterflies? Because it doesn't really feel like that; it feels instead like the madness inside him is floating upwards, fizzing around his heart, prodding and poking at it at uneven rhythms. His mind is reeling, too; he hadn't really thought this through at all. What if, even after that call, you're still planning on playing some kind of trick on him? What if this is an elaborate scheme to publicly humiliate him? Maybe you get a kick out of that kind of thing.

There's another thing, creeping around at the back of his mind, lurking. It's that horrid hopefulness, the what if that feels so far from likely that if he lends too much time to thinking about it, he feels stupid.

What if you're great?

He shakes himself out, standing up off his bed. He'd been lying there for the past two hours, sobering up, dwelling on every detail of the call, lingering in particular on your voice and your laugh and the way you say sweet so often.

He doesn't know who you are. He didn't recognise your name when you told him, even though you're his age. He didn't recognise your voice either, but he likes it, and he wasn't lying when he (accidentally) told you it's pretty.

He looks at the clock beside his bed. The red numbers flicker as they change to 16:52.

One hour.

-

He's early.

It's ten to six, and he's early.

The sun's low but not gone yet, and the park you sent him to is actually kind of nice. He's in his van, waiting until it's a socially acceptable time to get out and wait for you. What is the socially acceptable time to get out and wait for the girl you've got an agreement like this with?

Before he can decide, he sees someone. They're in jeans and a jacket, red Chucks and hair lifting up in the breeze.

Without thinking about it too hard, he opens the door and hops out, slamming it a little too hard. The person looks over, catches his mop of hair over the top of the van, and stops walking.

"Eddie?"

He hears you call his name over the sound of his boots crunching on the ground as he rounds the front of the van. He looks over to find you, the person he saw walking over, looking at him with your hand at your brow, blocking the sun.

You're pretty – really pretty. He still doesn't recognise you, but he has decided that's surely for the best.

You don't recognise him, either, but he's hot. He's not what you expected; truthfully, you really had expected someone older, lying about their age to get in your pants, someone you'd have to turn down in this very public space, going back to your apartment alone and unsatisfied. This is not what you had in mind at all, but you're not mad about it.

As he comes towards you, you watch the way he walks, chest-first like he's exactly where he should be. His hair's long and a bit wild but it matches his style – ringer tee, messy black jeans, obnoxious denim jacket. He's got his hands in his pockets but when he lifts one out to wave at you awkwardly, you see the rings and know you're a goner.

You wave back, laughing lightly as he nears you. He's taller than you so you really have to squint to see him against the setting sun.

"Hey," he says softly. His voice is even nicer in person; he does sound older than he is, and he has an air of maturity about him, like he's too sure in himself to be 23, but there's also a boyishness somewhere underneath that endears you.

"Hi," you reply. "You're Eddie, right?"

He looks around himself, head whipping back and forth.

"No, doll," he says, looking at you with a blank face. "I'm Keith."

"Oh," you say, trying to hide the flush in your cheeks and the way your face drops, but then he laughs and reaches out to hold your shoulder.

"Sorry, that was a bad joke." He squeezes. "Yeah, I'm Eddie."

You choose to ignore the overly familiar touch and the way it sends your knees all funny, and instead you laugh, a little awkwardly, and hold out a hand.

"Nice to meet ya," you say, firm.

He looks down at your hand as he drops his own from your shoulder. His eyes move between it and your face, but he shakes it anyway.

"Well?" he asks, and you watch as he smirks, staring you down, his hand still in yours.

"What?"

"Do I look like a serial killer? Scared I'm gonna murder you?"

With those final words he pulls on your hand, bringing you closer to himself. His confidence is only making that funny feeling in your knees worse, but what you don't know is that he's bluffing; before you stands a terrified boy struck dumb by a pretty girl.

"Hm," you hum, dialling up the dramatics to ponder his appearance. You take the chance to scan your eyes up and down his body, taking in the scuffs on his shoes and the pretty silver chain around his neck. From here you can smell weed and cigarette smoke, pretty aftershave and something deeper. "I don't think so."

"Damn," he quips, finally releasing your hand to run his own through his wild mass of hair. "I was really tryin' to look scary."

"You didn't do a very good job," you tell him, laughing softly, and he looks at you with a smile.

"Oh well," he says. "Maybe next time."

Ignoring the way that makes you feel, you take his hand again. It's your turn to pull him, dragging him behind you. The move startles him and he drags his feet for a moment before catching up, refusing to let go of your hand when you try. He swings them between your bodies theatrically as you walk him across the park, through a line of tall oak trees and onto the street on the other side.

"So," he says, drawing out the word. "We goin' to your parents' or somethin'?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head slightly with your eyes on the ground. You drop his hand and stuff yours back in your pocket. "I have an apartment, up by Main Street. This's just a shortcut."

"Oh."

You don't say much more after that. The walk is short; you were right, this is a shortcut to Main Street, one even he didn’t know about. It takes you past Steve's house, and Eddie prays he doesn't happen to be looking out the window at this precise moment.

You live above the pharmacy. You scramble with the lock for a moment, so he stands behind you, bouncing on the balls of his feet and looking around; it's quiet, the usual lull of a Sunday evening, the sun lower than before. He looks at the back of your hair and the way the light catches in it, hears the low curses under your breath as you struggle with the door. And then it's open, and you're inside in the dark, and he has to bring himself back down to Earth.

Your apartment is small. Behind the door there's a narrow staircase, and at the top another door. It brings him into your living space, which is cramped but clearly well-loved. You offer him a drink and step into the kitchen when he says yes.

He lets his eyes pass over the room. The ceiling is low, reminiscent of his own home, though the walls are more solid than the trailer. They're painted a muted, pale blue, a colour he's sure you didn't choose because you've covered as much of them as you can in things: paintings, framed photographs, postcards. The furniture is more to your taste, he assumes. It's all soft, rich greens and pinks.

You bring him a beer as he sits on the couch, sinks into the cushions, toes off his boots.

"Thanks," he says as you pass him the bottle and take a swig of your own. You take your own shoes off and leave them by the door, hanging your jacket on a hook there too.

"So," you begin, padding back over to him and sitting on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't know how this works."

"Well," he says, turning to you with one arm up on the back cushions, "I can talk you through it, but I need t'know where you're at."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, how far have you gone before? How far do you want to go today?"

"Uh-" You shuffle, squirming into the couch, clearly looking for the right words. "I've never… This is as far as I've ever got."

He breathes a gasp though he's trying to hide it, trying to stick to the agreement of judgement-free. "You've never been kissed?"

You just shake your head and the way your face creases, brows turned down, makes him ache.

"Okay."

"And I want to go all the way," you say quickly, all in one breath, finding your words. "Not too far, no extra shit, like, kinky shit, but the standard."

"O-kay," he says again, smiling this time. "So you know it's not as easy as… As in and out, right?"

"Yes," you spit. He flinches. "Sorry, it's just… It's hard not to feel a bit, like, insecure about all of this. Makes me a bit defensive, I guess."

"It's okay," he soothes, and his tone really does make you feel better. "No judgement here. I'm not new to sex, but I'm just as new to this whole… situation as you are."

"Okay," you sigh.

"Why don't we just chat for a bit? I'm not in a rush if you're not."

"Yeah," you agree. Eddie is easy, you're finding; no dancing around the point, but you feel you're being handled gently. Exactly what you want.

"So did you grow up here?"

Okay, so maybe the 'chatting' suggestion was a bit of a façade for the fact that Eddie has found himself fascinated by you, even in the short time he's known you. Sure, it's only been ten minutes if you're not counting the phone call, but there's something about you that piques his interest. And, if he's honest, he's not sure why he wouldn't recognise someone his own age in Hawkins.

"No, no," you say, leaning over to put your beer on the table. You wipe your mouth quickly with the back of your hand. "I'm from Illinois."

"Why are you here then?" He takes your que and puts his own beer down too, deciding that being intoxicated probably isn't the best idea.

"I dunno," you say, sighing again. Your shoulders go lax as you let yourself sink backwards and look up at the ceiling. "I wanted to go somewhere new, but not somewhere big. And the middle school here was hiring a tech assistant, so I applied."

"And you got the job?"

"Uh-huh. I start in September, figured I'd just move here early, try to find my feet."

"How's that going?"

"Alright, mister questions." You laugh as you say this and sit up, looking at him again with a smile. "It's going okay so far. People are friendlier here, but I haven't exactly found my people yet."

He hums, nodding, and you say, "My turn."

He looks up at you. "Do your worst."

"Did you grow up here?"

"Kind of. Somewhere near here, til I was eleven."

"Why'd you move here?"

"Hah." He goes all rigid and awkward at your question, shrugging his jacket off with his eyes on the ground. You take note of the ink you can see crawling up to his neck under the collar of his shirt. There's something else there, too; something pale and stretched, like a scar.

"It's complicated." That's the answer he settles on, keeping his cards close to his chest. "But I moved in with my uncle when I was in middle school. Been here since then."

"Is that why you're still here? Your uncle?"

"Kind of, but that's also complicated."

"Wow, okay, is everything complicated with you?"

"It doesn't have to be," he says. It throws you for a loop, the way his voice has dropped, fried and kind of… sexy?

You find him looking at you, and suddenly he feels really close. You feel this urge to climb out of yourself, away from this situation that isn't for you; it's never for you. No one has ever wanted to get this close.

"You okay?" he asks, his friendly tone back.

You're grateful he seems to be able to read you so quickly.

"Yeah, sorry."

"It's okay. If you want to, y'know, stop this at any point, just let me know, okay?"

"We haven't even-"

"Will you?" he presses.

"Yes," you promise him. He looks back at you like he's waiting, yearning for something and you don't quite know what.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

"Mm-hmm."

"Why are you so far away right now?"

He's gone soft, leaning forward toward you, his arm still up on the back of the couch. Your eyes flicker to his fingers and the rings on them, the way they're sparkling slightly in the dipping sun coming through the window.

It fills your mouth with glue. The combination of his proximity and the question leaves you breathless.

"I just…" he continues. "You're hiding from me over there."

He's got a sticky smirk on his face, like he knows the answer and knows you don't want to tell him. He shuffles forward ever so slightly, letting you breach into his space if you want to.

You do, you really, really do – he's a kind stranger, doing a kind thing for you, even if it is a bit odd. You want nothing more than to relinquish yourself to him, and yet you can't.

There's a momentary staring contest between the two of you. The couch feels miles long and yet he's closing in. You feel suffocated.

"I'm gonna come to you," he says after a minute. "Is that okay?"

All you can do is nod at him. It's like your body's on fire, affronted at the idea of being touched by him and yet harbouring some primal urge, deep under the surface, to let him do it anyway.

He pushes his jacket onto the floor with his elbow as he moves himself down the couch toward you. Your eyes follow his arms and the way they stretch, and then the way one of them lifts. He plants his hand firmly on your knee and it burns through the denim of your jeans. You can't tear your eyes from it, staring blankly at his fingers, the way the tendons flex when he squeezes.

"We don't have to do anythin' you don't wanna do, okay?" he tells you. He's watching you, how you're watching his hand, how your hair still lights up in the sun. You're sweet, and pretty, and most of all he longs to know more.

"I'm gonna talk you through it," he continues, "kinda like a teacher, if that's what you want."

When you don't reply, he calls your name softly, and says, "Is that what you want?"

You look up at him and nod again.

"I need to hear it, sweets."

You tell him yes, that is what I want, trying desperately to keep your voice as level as possible, not letting on that it kills you every time he uses a petname like that.

His fingers dance up your thigh and back down to your knee, a repeating pattern that sends you dizzier the closer he gets to you.

"Eddie?"

His hand stills and he looks at you.

"Yeah?"

When he responds, you feel his breath on your face. He's close enough, now; you can really look at him, at the crow's feet by his eyes, the freckles across his cheek, the bend in the bridge of his nose that looks like maybe he broke it once. His eyes are really pretty, browned sugar and syrup, flitting around as he tries to read you.

"I've never been this close to anyone before."

He's watching your eyes as they move over his face, admiring the slight sense of awe in them.

"That's okay."

There's a sudden absence on your leg where his hand leaves it and it aches, like the bone is realigning. You swallow a whine and close your eyes when his hand finds your cheek.

"I'm gonna kiss you now," he whispers. "That okay?"

You nod again and he lets the pads of his fingers smooth backwards into your hair where they take root, his thumb beside your eye. You feel him pull you in and his breath on your nose and then the strange sensation of his lips.

It's new but not unwelcome. He's soft with it, light as anything and quicker even, gone before you really know it's happened. Some kind of sudden urge takes over, though, because you don't like how quick it was, so you chase him. You plant your lips back on his, firmer than he had, your nose nudging his as you get the angle right. This one's longer and it startles him; you have to pull back when he starts laughing.

"Alright, alright, slow down," he says as you sit back, deflated. "You liked that, huh?"

You nod, giddy, desperate to feel it again.

"Can I show you somethin'?" His hand is on your neck now, burning its fires once more, and you can barely concentrate on him.

"Yeah," you breathe, a sigh of relief as he comes closer again. But as you close your eyes, expecting his mouth on yours, you can't help the whine that escapes when he misses, landing beside it. You feel him chuckle, a puff of air out of his nose, before he dots more kisses along your jaw. It feels nice, gentle and slow, like he's scared to break you if he goes too fast or comes on too strong.

The whine, lingering in your throat, moulds into something like a sigh – or even a moan – when he makes it onto the column of your throat. You swear you feel his teeth graze the skin there, lips following them over your pulse. His kisses turn hotter, heavier, and you can't help the way you keen into him. Without thinking about it, you paw at his shoulders and let your back arch as you breathe thick pants into the air of your living room.

When he pulls back again, you whine his name, gripping tighter where you've pulled his shirt into your fists. He laughs at you, head tipped back, as he smooths his hands up and down your arms; the gentle touch makes you relax and your hands unfurl.

"Good, huh?" His words are viscous, thick with want, but he daren't go too fast.

"Mm-hmm," you agree, nodding, breathing quick. Now that he's stopped, you have time to consider that, actually, you might be a bit overwhelmed; without thinking about it you sit back, returning to your comfortable distance by the arm of the couch, watching as his face falls.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, yeah, I just-"

"Yeah, take a second."

"Mm-hmm, just need a minute."

You watch him stiffen, awkward in the wake of the moment, and take the chance to admire him a bit more until you sense his eyes are back on you, and suddenly you feel very small.

"You alright?"

You nod, looking back at him, finding his face all soft and concerned, turned down so it makes you twinge.

"You're being so nice to me," you say. It comes out more as a breath, a string of words tied together with insecurity, all in the same exhale. You're not even sure you said it at all, but his face twists into something like shock.

"What do you mean?"

You sigh. "I dunno, I… You're just being very… kind. Are you always like this?"

He seems taken aback by the question. His hands are in his lap where his left fingers toy with the rings on his right. He looks away from you to stare instead at the beer on the table and the drop of condensation running a race down the neck of the bottle.

"You've really never done this before, huh?" he asks you, and now it's your turn to be taken aback.

"I'm not lying, if that's what you're getting at," you say with perhaps a bit too much venom.

"No," he responds, stern. "I'm just… Finding it hard to believe. I'm sure it's true," he says quickly when you open your mouth to fire something quick at him again, "like, I know you're not lying, but it's so surprising."

"How so?"

He sighs this time. He twists in his seat to face you, bringing one leg up under himself, the other dangling off the edge of your couch. "I'm gonna be honest with you right now, if that's okay."

"Okay."

"'Cause I feel like that's the best way to do this whole… thing, right? Nothin' in it for you, really, if we're not honest, or whatever…"

For the first time since you met him in the park, he's showing his nerves. It gets him all wound up, stumbling through sentences like the words are quicker than he can keep up with. It's endearing, really; nicer in some ways than confidence.

"When I saw that ad it obviously caught my eye, I mean, I called, but I just didn't know what to expect, obviously, and you're… Well, you're… normal? So far, anyway." He huffs the last three words out in a laugh, but you don't return it.

"What does that mean?"

"I just think I expected someone who puts an ad like that in the paper to be weirder, or something."

Your gut twists. Red flares of anger lick up your insides, popping and wheezing in your throat.

"What the fuck, dude?" 

You stand, backing away, feeling that familiar creeping isolation; distance, walls up, get away. His face has dropped to something wider, fear in his big stupid brown eyes and mouth agape.

"I didn't-"

"I'm not weird for being a virgin. And just because you think I'm 'normal' doesn't mean this-" you gesture between the two of you with both hands, "-should be surprising."

"No, shit, sorry," he pants, desperation oozing, "fuck."

"I think you should go," you finally say. Your arms are across your middle, hands gripping your forearms. You don't dare look at him, even when he says nothing.

You flinch when you feel him come nearer. He steps over the threadbare rug on your floor and over to the corner where you've parked yourself.

He calls your name and you despise the way you soften at the sound of it.

"I'm gonna touch you, 's'that okay?"

You scoff, turning away from him.

"Stop fucking patronising me, Eddie."

"I'm not patronising you. You wanted me to talk you through it."

"Yeah, that. Not this."

"This is part of that."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Well this isn't getting me very turned on," you spit, turning back to look at him, your arms still crossed over your chest and the rising fire of anger flares when you find that cocky smirk on his face.

"Will you come sit down with me? Please?"

His hands are hovering awkwardly between the two of you, forbidden to come any closer but refusing to give up completely. You offer him an olive branch, dropping your own arms and taking his hand in yours.

He walks you back to the couch and sits beside you, turning your hand over in his on his lap. You both watch it, the way his thumb grazes your palm, tracing the lines up and over.

"Sex isn't just sex, you know," he says frankly. "Even when it's like this."

"I know," you whisper, eyes transfixed.

"It's about all the emotional shit too, and I'm gettin' the feeling there's a lot of that to get through."

"Mm-hmm." It irks you, the way he seems to know you without really knowing you. "You sound very wise."

He laughs at that, and you find yourself grateful for the reprieve, for the way the tension seems to lift just a little.

"I'm just being honest," he admits through a laugh. And then he turns to look at you, dipping his head to meet your gaze because you won't look up. His gaze on you is oppressive, unfamiliar, but you don't dislike it.

"You're really pretty, you know."

You just look at him.

"Hm?" he tries, dipping even lower to catch your eye properly. "It's true."

"A boy's never called me pretty before," you admit, words too quick for you to call them back. This is dire, this hole you're digging; after all this time, being honest is still so difficult, though it seems to come so easily to him.

"That's a crime" he says. And then he does that thing, the one you've read about in books, daydreamed about, thought about late into the night. He brings his hand to your face and holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a light pressure but enough to move you to look up at him, sat upright, with your mouth dropped open in shock.

It's just as electric as you'd imagined; more so, even. Two points of contact. Who'd have thought it?

"I'm sorry I said something stupid," he tells you. "It was dumb."

You giggle as his fingers shift across your skin. Soon enough he's holding you in his hand again and you feel yourself leaning into it, again.

"Thank you for apologising," you say. "I think I can forgive it for now."

"Good," he says. And then, more coy, the act dropped for a moment, "Can I kiss you again?"

"Yes, but…"

Just like before, the words stall in your throat.

"You can tell me what you want, you know. It's why I'm here." Christ, his voice is like honey when he's this close to your face.

You pull a long breath in through your nose and close your eyes.

"I have this… fantasy," you begin, and you hear (and feel) him chuckle.

"Go on."

"I guess it's not really a fantasy, just something I've always wanted to try…"

"That's the definition of a fantasy."

"Hey," you scold, opening your eyes and swatting him on the arm softly. "You wanna hear it or not?"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, laughing again. "Continue."

"Can I sit on your lap?"

"Is that it?" he asks, laugh lingering, threatening to fire up the heat in your cheeks.

"Yes," you say pointedly. "I wanna try it."

"Go for it, baby."

He doesn't miss the way you gasp at the nickname; in fact, he smiles, grins almost. He moves his hands down, leaving your face for now so he can hold your waist as you move onto your knees and lift one over him.

It's funny, you think, how hard all of this feels; really, this is a very normal thing for two 23-year-olds to be doing, and yet something within you makes it feel mechanical, intentional. Perhaps you just need practise.

"Okay," he says as you settle, your hips halfway down his thighs. "You gonna get any closer, or am I gonna have to lean over an' break my back?"

"Am I okay to get closer?" you ask, not taking much notice of how your fingers are dancing around his chest, toying lightly with the chain around his neck. Maybe it does come naturally after all.

"'Course you are, here-"

His big hands pull you in by the waist so that you're seated on him, hips to hips. Your faces are closer now, too, so you can admire those lovely crows feet again and the bend of his nose.

"Gonna kiss me, Munson?"

"O-kay," he says, smirking again. "I like the attitude."

"Oh, for fu-"

He shuts you up with a kiss, takes your breath away like they all say in the magazines; this kiss brings the fire up to the hilt, pulls on the smoke and the kindling and sets everything ablaze. His lips move against yours like molten gold, hot and rich and bright, quick but tender all the same. You feel the heat of his stuttering breaths on your cheek and lean inwards, arching your back slightly, until you feel him moan.

It's a sensation you could get used to, for sure. It's fizzy vibrations on your lips, makes them tingle, all electric. And then, before you can really know it's happening, you feel his tongue on yours.

You're not even sure when you opened your mouth for him. But it's there, the new feeling. It feels wetter, less familiar, but it pulls an involuntary moan out of you and you arch your back even more without thinking.

You get into it, into the rhythm, and let your mind wander to the friction between your hips and the pressure of his fingers under your ribs. They're skirting the hem of your top, his ring finger dipping beneath it onto the skin of your waist. And then you think about it too much, take notice of it too acutely, and you're pulling back and panting, looking down at where his hands are.

"All good?" he asks in a voice that's new to you; it's lazy, his words fuzzy, like he's just woken up. You look up at him and his eyes are hooded, lids low, and he's wearing a dopey half-smile.

"Yeah, just… Feeling lots of things," you say; it's all you can think of to explain this.

"That's kinda the point," he reminds you, and then he's doing that thing he showed you earlier, kissing slowly across your jaw and down onto your neck. It feels just as nice the second time; nicer, even, because you're letting him do it and you're letting yourself enjoy it.

His fingers venture upwards, more of them sliding under your top, until he pulls back and says the fateful words you knew would come soon: "Can I take this off?"

His lips are still on your throat, so he doesn't see the way you wince. When you don't reply he comes back up to look at you. You turn away.

"Hey," he coos, one hand leaving its treacherous territory to hold your head again. "What's up?"

You huff. "No one's ever seen me… naked before."

He smiles, which vexes you. "I'm here 'cause I wanna, baby."

The fucking nicknames.

"I know, I just… Can you just-"

You hold his hand in yours and move it away from your skin, hold it in both of yours to keep it away from you. He breathes an apology but you continue.

"This whole thing, me never doing this before or whatever, I think it's probably got a lot to do with me not really liking this-" you look down at yourself as you speak, "-very much."

You see him take this in, how it melts his features and widens his eyes.

"Okay," he finally says. "We can take this slow, yeah? You wearing a bra?"

"Yes, Eddie, I'm wearing a bra."

"So let's start there. Top off first, and you can see how you feel."

"Okay."

You let go of his hand and he takes your shirt in both. You close your eyes as you feel him lift the fabric, bunch it around your breasts, your que to lift your arms. You do it for him and he pulls up, tugs it messily over your head and throws it somewhere across the room.

"Shit," he hisses.

"What?" you say in a panic, worried something somewhere has gone horribly wrong.

"Look at you," he croons. "So pretty."

The insecurity evaporates, coming off you like a heavy mist, as he dips his head to kiss your collar bones and across the swell of flesh beneath. He takes his time, sometimes pulling the skin between his teeth but never for long enough to leave a mark. At some point he nudges you back and reaches over his head to pull his own shirt off; before he commits, he looks at you. You nod.

This is the most flesh-on-flesh you've ever felt before. It's nice; you're both warm, and he hasn't once mentioned the eighteen thousand different flaws you know are on your upper body.

His is covered in ink – pretty, often in swirling patterns and on his arm there are bats. But between them, there's confirmation of your earlier suspicions: he's got scars everywhere.

You trace them with gentle fingers.

"Don't ask," he says, laughing awkwardly.

"Okay."

You lean back in to kiss him. You’re a lot less confident than he is at initiating, but soon enough you get the hang of it, and he lets you. He doesn't take the reins; instead, he gives himself to you, lets you find your feet by yourself.

You attempt to copy him, kissing his jaw and then his neck, and you enjoy the way he sighs and relaxes under your lips.

As you move further down, teeth grazing his collarbone, he says, "you wanna move? Couch isn't exactly ideal."

You finish your work with a peck to the bump of his shoulder and say, "Sure."

There's some awkward shuffling, and standing in your bra and jeans is somehow more vulnerable than sitting on him, but nevertheless you take his hand and lead him through the door to your bedroom.

He doesn't have as much time to take this room in as the last one, because he wants you on the bed more than he cares to admit. When you flick on the bedside lamp, finally acknowledging how dark it's become now the sun's started going down, all he really notices is how warm the room is.

"Here," he says, manoeuvring you as he pleases. "Lay back, yeah?"

You do as he says, sitting facing him and pushing yourself back so you can lay down with your knees up. 

And then it happens: one of the many cataclysmic revelations of the evening.

"Good girl."

Again, you gasp, looking up at the ceiling.

"Good?" he asks.

"Really good," you tell him. You haven't really noticed that your hands have laid themselves across your chest, but he can't stop staring.

"That's it, see? Love when you tell me what you like."

One of his hands joins one of yours where it's fidgeting with your bra, and the other smooths down one of your legs, urging you to straighten them. You do, and again he says those fateful words: "Good girl. Gonna take these off, yeah?"

"Wait," you snap, sitting up and letting his hand fall so you can lean back with your weight on yours. "Can we do it together?"

"'Course."

"And can I… Can I undo yours?"

"Shit, sure you can."

You sit up and he takes your hands in his bigger ones, moulding them so you're tracing your fingers down the plain of his chest and stomach. You follow the dips and creases, the taught skin of his scars, and finally reach his belt.

He's mumbling nonsense at you, too caught up in everything to keep up the teacher façade, pinching your fingers between his so you can pull the leather through the buckle and get to his zipper.

When you unzip and brush something hard, he drops his hands and tips his head back in a sigh. It's an unfamiliar feeling under your tentative hands but it's not unknown.

"Wow," you breathe, not really meaning to say it out loud.

"Shit, gotta get these off-" He pulls back from your wanting grasp to shuffle out of his jeans, leaving his boxers in place for now. One step at a time.

"Your turn," he declares, smiling, jeans and socks gone. He reaches over to you again to return the favour, undoing buttons and the zip and his wide hand on your hip urges you to lift off the bed so he can pull the denim down your legs.

There's no turning back now; you can never again wonder what will happen the first time someone sees you (nearly) naked.

You've thought about this before, turned an infinity of possibilities over in your mind, but this was never one of them. Not one of them included a pretty boy, standing before you, just as exposed as you are, pawing at flesh and telling you you're beautiful.

His lips ghost over you, beginning at your shoulder and creeping lower. When he reaches the middle of your chest he looks up at you, the angle a little awkward. You nod.

"What're you doing?" you ask him, moving backwards again as he crowds you.

"I'm gonna take this off," he says, tugging lightly at the band of your bra, bringing himself level with you so he's breathing the words into your ear. "And then I'm gonna eat you out."

He may as well be a fire-breathing dragon. His words claw at your scalp like flames and fill your lungs with heat, pulling a sigh from within. You lean back, lying flat on the sheets, and let him have his way with you.

But he doesn't move, first admiring the way you respond and then waiting, lingering above you, too far away.

"What?" you hiccup, looking at him, confused.

"Need you to tell me this is what you want," he tells you.

"This is what I want," you repeat back to him. And then, taking the plunge, you add, "I want you to eat me out, Eddie."

You relish in his response, the way you can almost see him shiver, bare shoulders twitching and chest deflating with a shuddery exhale.

"Christ, yes, okay."

His fingers inch around your back so you arch it, letting him toy with the clasp of your bra. He gets it undone quicker than you expected, and you can't bring yourself to focus on where it goes once it's off because he's got his mouth back on your skin and now he's biting marks in places that would make your past self blush.

You feel his teeth on the swell of your boobs, first the left and then the right, and the rough pads of his fingers over your nipples.

"Shit," you hiss, and then, "no, shit, don't stop," when he halts for a second.

"Feel good?" he asks, muffled with his teeth grazing the stretch of skin across your ribs.

"Yes, yeah."

Gripping the sheets, you arch again, keening into him, chasing the buzz of his lips and the goosebumps they leave.

His fingers leave them, too, especially when they dance over your sides, that bit that makes you feel hollow if you drift over it the right way.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, lifting his head to look up at you from where he's sunk to his knees. You're staring at the ceiling, too preoccupied to meet his eye, and the sight makes him huff a laugh.

"Yes," you respond too quickly.

As you feel his fingers curl around the elastic, he says, "Okay, you're gonna have to give me a hand, alright? Tell me if it feels okay or if you want me to move. Or if you want me to stop, obviously."

"Yes, yeah, fuck, please Eddie-"

"Alright, alright," he laughs, pulling the material down over your knees and feet. At this rate, your bedroom floor must look like an explosion at the laundromat; dirty laundry everywhere, clothes all over the floor.

You're not sure why you're thinking about the logistics of tidying right now, though it doesn't last long, because the cool air on your core is a shock that jolts every limb.

Although he's wedged between them, you seem to have an instinctual reaction to the sensation of being exposed, your legs trying to close around him. His firm hands pull them apart, his fingers grasping the fat of your thighs, and then his lips.

They're on the softness between your legs first of all, nipping and pulling the skin between his teeth as he moves upwards. And then you feel them, the strange, wet contact. There's a feeling, something you think must be his tongue, licking upwards, before it makes contact with your clit.

The pressure is a thunderbolt to the centre, a shock that sends you arching off the bed with a gasp. Your grasp on the sheets tightens for a moment until you feel the roughness of his hair instead; without thinking, you've moved both hands to claw and pet at the crown of his head, earning a muffled moan when you tug ever so lightly.

He calls your name, pulling back, his words heard through cotton wool ears. "You're sure you haven't done this before?"

"Fuck, yes, Eddie I'm sure," you pant in response, desperate for the sensation of his mouth on you again. He obliges your unspoken craving, licking upwards again before settling comfortably at your clit. His firm hands dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs until one of them doesn’t, and before you can think too hard about it, you feel it just beneath his mouth.

The new feeling of his rough fingers on your cunt sends your eyes rolling back; you can't help but squirm and it's driving him wild, the way you're listening to him, the way you can't help but move, the way you're tugging at him without realising.

The gnawing tightness in your core nosedives when he slips, warm breaths replacing his mouth and fingers. You whine like a petulant child, making a noise you didn't know you could.

"I'm gonna use my fingers," he tells you, the distance between him and your cunt not enough to save you from the maddening huffs of breath as he talks. "Have you ever had anything inside before?"

It's funny, how nervous he sounds despite the fact he's knelt the way he is between your knees. His mouth was just all over you, and yet he's still a boy, turned stuttering by sex talk.

"No," you pant, "no, never."

"Okay, it might hurt, alright? You just gotta tell me to stop and I will."

"Okay," you agree.

He settles back into position, his weight rested on his elbows and his face and hand inching closer. You feel it, the stiffness of a finger, but the feeling is unusual and a little uncomfortable.

"You gotta relax," he tells you. "You overthinkin' it?"

"No," you bite defensively.

"It's okay."

You huff and lie back, dropping your shoulders.

"Do you ever…"

Another sigh.

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

There's a momentary flush of embarrassment, a conditioned response to being asked about this kind of thing, but you're here, in this position, naked, so you may as well be honest.

"Yes."

"Okay, what do you think about? When you do?"

"I, uh…"

"It's okay," he says quickly, "don't tell me. Just- just think about it now, right? Somethin' that turns you on."

Something that turns you on? What's turning you on right now is the handsome guy between your legs. His pretty inked skin, the stretch across his shoulders and the ripples in his back. His wide, firm hands, those obnoxious rings, the way he keeps telling you you're a good girl.

It swims in your mind, the vision of him cooing sweet praises, the fizzling memory of those words in his voice.

"That's it, you got it," you hear him tut, as though he can see inside your mind, read your thoughts. It pulls apart the tension in your core and across your shoulders, and then it's back, that feeling, the warmth and the fire, and you sink deeper into the pool of euphoria.

With one finger already half-way inside, he adds a second, his eyes trained on your face in case it's too much. But it's not; of course it's not. He knows he's good, but he doesn't think he's made a girl this happy in his whole life.

You feel it soon enough: there's a fizzing current that licks up from your cunt and into your gut where it lights your nervous system on fire. It runs laps around your body, pinpricks in your fingertips and behind your ears. You grasp at the sheets again, pulling, pulling, pulling, reaching for whatever you can to keep your body from floating away, because it really feels like that's about to happen; either that or you're going to implode, pulling the room and everything else with you like a black hole, hungry for more.

You barely notice the pants, your whiny moans and the repeated prayers of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, before you're coming apart. He's still going, riding you through it, basking in the sound of his name as it crawls from your mouth. So far he's kept his composure, ignored the searing pain under his boxers, but he doesn't think he'll hold out much longer.

"That's it," he coos, slowing down, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. You're panting, your breath hot and skin even hotter, and you can barely hear him when he speaks. The words carry, though, somehow; his praises of you did so good, and you're driving me wild, and, worst of all with the way it slaps you silly when it comes, I need to be inside you.

You sit up at that, holding yourself up on wobbling elbows to look at him. He's still knelt between your knees, hands resting on them, looking back at you with eyes turned dark and glistening skin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it takes you a minute to understand that he's waiting for your answer.

"Right," you breathe. "Yeah, okay." You scramble to sit up and twist yourself so you're lying the right way but he laughs and it makes you go cold.

"Chill out, take a minute, yeah?"

His hand hasn't left you; it's on your ankle now, rubbing those same circles over the bone.

All you can say is, "That was insane."

He laughs again, a softer noise this time, and says, "It was, huh?"

"Yeah." You flop back, head in the pillows and eyes on the ceiling above you, your own fingers tracing up and down your stomach.

He watches you from the floor. You're all flushed, glowing something rosy and sprinkled with dewy sweat. And then he watches your fingers, their absentminded journey up from your belly to the dip between your boobs, and back down. You repeat it over and over, and though it's an innocent, repetitive stroke, it's not helping the pressure between his legs.

"I'm gonna take these off," he tells you, giving your ankle a comforting squeeze and tugging his waistband with his free hand. "That okay?"

It dawns on you, as you look at him, that not only are you lying naked in front of a stranger, but that you are about to see that stranger's dick. A stranger who responded to your stupid ad in the paper, who's agreed to this for some stupid reason, and who is stupid handsome and stupid nice.

"Uh, yeah, okay."

He says your name again and it sounds so pretty when he does, and then he says, "We can stop if you want, you know. You don't have to do anythin' you don't want to."

"No, I want to," you say. "I just… This is a lot."

"Yeah," he says with a smile, that one that drips with charm and tugs at your gut. "But you're all good. Done so well so far."

Your body keens at the praise, your back lifting off the bed and it's then that you notice the feeling of want biting ugly marks into the pit of your stomach. You look at him, and he looks back at you, and all you can feel is a gnawing emptiness, a need to be full.

"Let's do this," you declare, sitting back up on your elbows and watching him with needy eyes. He sees it, the darkness that has settled in your irises, the itchy fidgeting of your hands on your sheets.

"Yes, ma'am."

Slowly, he stands and tugs his underwear down his legs and onto the floor. It all feels very real, now that he's stood before you like this.

He laughs at your wide eyes, trained on the straining erection he just let loose. You've never seen a dick in person before, and to be truthful you're not sure you've ever really seen one in a photograph or a video – the adult section at the rental store isn't exactly somewhere you often find yourself – so you have nothing to compare this to, but objectively it looks quite big.

"Will it fit?" you say before you can stop yourself. It comes out a squeak and makes him laugh yet again.

"Yes," he tells you, "it'll fit. But thanks for the ego boost."

He's on his knees on the bed beside you now, moving towards you until he can use his hands to move your legs apart. He settles himself between them and sits back on his heels, leaving one hand on your left leg and using the other to take one of yours. He intertwines your fingers, squeezes, and pulls you to sit up.

"Here," he says, bringing your hand to sit flat on his ribs. He's controlling his voice as best he can, hoping it doesn't sound as desperate as he feels right now. He can't help but stare at you, at how you're looking at him. 

"I'm gonna show you how to touch me, okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. His hand moves yours down until it reaches patchy hair and then he curls your hand around his dick, his own hand still holding yours.

It's a new feeling, sure, but you're mostly enjoying the short hisses of breath he's letting out. When you move upwards without his help he almost moans, and you decide you'd like to do whatever it takes to make him do it again, and louder.

"Shit, okay, wait. Here-" He brings your hand away and lays it flat, palm up. "Spit."

You look up at him and find his wide brown eyes looking down at you, waiting.

So you spit into your palm, and he brings it back to himself, and moving is easier now.

"Fuck, okay… Yeah, just like that, that's it, shit-"

He drops his hand from yours and leaves you to find your own way, so you copy his pattern of up and down, slowly, twisting your hand as you go.

"Here, move your thumb over the- Fuck-"

You do as he says, perhaps too eager to please, and watch in awe as the muscles in his abdomen tense and he leans forward, resting his weight on one hand planted right beside your hip.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he says, taking your wrist and pulling you away, ignoring the way you whine.

When he says, "We can worry about me another time," you try to ignore the brief fluttering it elicits deep within your chest somewhere. Dwelling on things said in the heat of this moment isn't fair, you decide; he surely doesn't mean it.

With warm, now familiar hands, he helps you lay back down.

"You got condoms?"

"Oh." You don't, and the truth you're about to tell him is mortifying. "No. They all expired a few months ago."

"That's fine," is all he says, and the fluttery feeling returns when he doesn't ask any follow up questions. No judgement, as promised. "Just wait here."

His hand leaves you at the last possible moment. As he moves off the bed it runs smooth down your leg and over your foot, like he's scared that if he lets go you'll disappear. You watch him hop awkwardly across the room and into your living room, the sight a refreshing injection of humour, helping you relax into the mattress again. He comes back with his jacket in one hand, which he drops on the floor after rummaging in the inside pocket and pulling out a red foil square. 

He pulls it open with fingers that you realise are shaking slightly, and you wonder if he's really nervous, and if so, if he's as nervous as you are.

It takes a few seconds but soon enough he's rolled it on, breath stuttering and dry, and then he climbs back to you and his hands return to your body almost as quickly as they left.

He's hovering over you now, his long hair tickling the sides of your face and the tops of your shoulders, all the places the sun hits on hot days. You're too caught up in watching his every move, too keen to really realise what you're saying before you ask: "Will you kiss me again?"

He smiles and dips down wordlessly, letting his lips slip against yours. It brings back the fluttering and the fizzy feeling, the craving for him. As your tongues move as one, you feel his hand by your thigh, and when he pulls back he says, "You ready?"

You nod, and then, remembering what he said earlier, cement it in words: "I'm ready."

"Alright, I'm gonna go slow, okay? It's gonna stretch more than earlier, but you just keep me clued in, yeah?"

"Yeah."

There's a new sensation at your core, of wetness and something rigid. He's moving against your folds, finding no purchase in the remnants of earlier on, but then he nudges your clit and you jolt upwards and that's when he finds what he was searching for.

He nudges in quickly at first, enough to make you whine a pained sound. He matches it with a low grumble, a vibration right by your ear.

"You okay?" he's quick to ask, head rising to look at you.

"Yeah, yeah, just- slow, please."

"I've got you."

He doesn't move for a beat, eyes trained on the scrunch of your nose. He kisses it and feels you relax, so he keeps kissing, quick flashes over your forehead, your temple, your cheek. Each one brings new relief and as your back hits the bed again, he eases himself in a little more.

The stretch is definitely different; more. There's a burn, but it doesn't completely hide the wave of pleasure you get in the fullness.

"Gonna go a bit more," he tells you, and he does just that, going half an inch further, still watching for any sign of discomfort.

When you bring your knees up by his hips, he knows you're past the worst of it. He chants praise, telling you that you're doing so well, taking me so well as he keeps going, all the way until he's seated inside you, up to the hilt. You breathe in a gasp, filling your lungs, realising you'd been holding your breath for too long. And as you open your eyes, you find him staring down at you with concern and something else.

"You good?" he whispers with his face so close you feel the words as they settle on your cheek.

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

He punctuates this with a kiss, and then another, over the hill of your jaw and onto your throat. Your hands claw up his back, pulling him in until you're sure that if he were any closer, you'd fuse into one.

"Okay," he finally says, lips against the peak of your shoulder. "I'm gonna move. I'll go slow at first."

"Okay."

The feeling of him pulling out is new and nice, but it's nothing compared to the opposite. The combination of the two, the repetitive motion he picks up, is something you want to chase forever.

As he moves, he quickens, trying his best to keep his eyes open and attentive; it's difficult, though, when you feel this good.

"Christ, you're so fuckin' tight, shit-"

"Eddie, this feels amazing, uh-"

Your stomach twists into a coil again, quicker this time, and tightens as he picks up the pace. Above you he's all guttural moans and pretty groans, his lips grazing your cheek each time he moves, and soon his thrusts become too much. You're panting his name and he's panting yours, and along with the sound of skin on skin, that's all you can hear until he speaks gravel-churned words into your ear.

"Shit, 'm so close, fuck- Gotta get you there, baby, huh? C'mon, need you to come for me."

His words are joined by sloppy fingers between your bodies. They fumble in the dark, prodding your belly before finding slippery purchase on your clit. Sparks light up your body and all you can do in response is let it arch into him with a yelp of his name.

"You close?" he asks.

"Yes, yeah, shit, yes," you splutter back. It's like a chase, and you're catching up, quickly, quickly, quickly.

All of a sudden there's a white-hot flash that burns every inch of your insides. You tense, your body yawning open for him, wide and wanting; he doesn't relent, thrusts harder than ever, chases you in return as he feels you tighten around him. You release, the coil snapping, and he brings the pace down to see you through to the end.

There's cotton wool in your ears again but you make out his praises: "That's it, that's it, atta girl… C'mon, I've got you, you did so well."

When your breathing turns regular and your eyes ease open, you feel a warm knuckle on your cheek. He's still going slow, rutting in and out of you with ease now, and when you finally look at him he asks, "Gonna keep goin', that okay?"

You nod, throat closed for the time being so you make it as certain a nod as you can muster. His thrusts become quicker again, and the more he speeds up the sloppier he becomes. You feel sensitive, too warm but also too desperate to see, hear, feel him come undone inside you. It's not long until your wish is granted; soon his groans turn to whimpers and whines, and he calls your name as he shudders to a violent halt. It's intoxicating, experiencing this from underneath him; if this is what everyone's been talking about all these years, you understand why.

The room sways and whistles as he rests his weight on you. His breath, right beside your ear, is like a hot, damp rag, pulling at your sticky skin and the thrum of rushing blood. You hear him groan and then the uncomfortable feeling of him pulling out. The bed bounces gently as he huffs and flops down beside you, and, god, you wish so badly that you could keep those flutters under control because his clammy hand finds yours between your bodies and it's nice to feel the affection he's so devoted to giving you.

Sighing, he says, "Shit."

You laugh, scrunching your face.

"Yeah," you agree, "shit."

He squeezes your hand.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Really liked it."

"Okay for your first time?"

"Yeah." You turn onto your side to face him, looking up at his face. There are a few curls stuck to his pretty pink face, and you admire the bob of his throat as he swallows and the squeeze of his hand in yours.

"You're really pretty," you tell him. You're not sure if this is the post-O haze the magazines talk about, or if it's some kind of clarity, or if it's just that you have this boy in the palm of your hand and you suddenly can't bear the thought of letting him go. Instead you want to plant anchors, heavy lines that will keep him right where he is.

He turns his head to look at you and you see him flush even more.

"So are you," he whispers, with another squeeze and a kiss to your forehead.

There are a few minutes of quiet after that. The light outside is gone for good, so he's glowing a low golden in the light of your bedside lamp. He kisses you again with a fondness that surely shouldn't come with this exchange, which you had rationalised as just that: a transaction, a mutual agreement to get something done.

You see him open his mouth, as if to speak, but close it again, so you reach a tentative hand up and brush some hair from his eyes and trace your knuckle down his temple, urging him.

"My friends," he begins, hesitant, "they're having a party, next weekend. Steve, he only lives round the corner, we passed his house on the way here... You wouldn't wanna come, would you?"

"With you?" you whisper into the fizzy darkness.

"Yeah." He smiles, eyes fluttering shut under your sweeping fingers. "With me."

"Is it a date?"

"It can be, if you want. Or we can just, y'know, go as friends, or whatever."

"No one's ever asked me on a date before."

He smiles, and it's soft and curled with an affectionate pity; one that says I'm sorry, that's not fair, it's nothing to do with you.

"Well, wanna come?"

"I'd love to."

He pulls your hand up and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses your knuckles. Goosebumps raise across your thighs and arms, and you realise you're cold.

He seems to sense your discomfort because you feel him shift beside you. He pulls you up with him and helps you climb off the bed on wobbly legs.

"I should pee," you tell him, heeding the warnings of girlfriends past.

"You should," he says, a little deflated.

You don't move, though. To move would be to acknowledge the end – the end of the transaction, of the favour. It's not something you want.

"I, uh," you begin, stumbling, "Don't- Do you want-"

"I can go now, if you want-"

"No, no, it's okay, I mean, you can go if you want, that's fine, I just-"

Your eyes are darting all over the carpet, skimming discarded clothes, so you don't notice him reach up until he's touching your face, holding it in his palm.

"I'll stay, if you want me to."

"Yes, please."

He smiles at you, sticky with fondness and you can't help but smile back.

"I'm gonna shower," you tell him, leaning further into his grasp.

"I'll be here."

-

"Munson! You made it!"

In the middle of the busy room, there's a tall guy, broad and burly, like all the jocks you went to high school with. He's startlingly pretty, with golden hair and honeyed skin, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face.

He steps on unsure feet over to Eddie, who is stood partially in front of you; you're cowering behind him, willing the courage to lift you and push you into the arms of strangers. For now, holding his hand will do just fine.

"Hey, Harrington," Eddie greets, meeting him in one of those boyish embraces. You look around, taking in the faces; it's not the level of the high-school parties you used to go to, and definitely not the circus of the frat ones you've sometimes found yourself at, but it's busy enough. Where the guy – Harrington – came from, in the living room, there's a circle of people who are all smiling in your direction.

"Who's this?" The guy is looking at you over Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie tells Steve your name, and then turns to you. "This is Steve."

"Hi," you say to him, smiling, trying your best to hide the cruel nerves.

"Nice t'meet you!" he beams back. It's infectious; your smile turns firm and genuine in return. "Here, come meet the gang."

"C'mon," Eddie whispers to you with a kiss to the crown of your head. He pulls you through the entryway, into the large living room, following Steve. He drops your hand to give and return hugs, saying hello to each person. You stand and watch, unsure of what to do, until one of the girls – the first one Eddie greeted – appears by your side.

"Hey," she says, perhaps a little too close.

"Hi."

"I'm Robin." She sticks her hand out and you shake it clumsily.

Eddie's back, with his hand in yours again, on your other side. He calls her Rob and tells her your name, and then does the same for each person – Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, Dustin, El – too many for you to remember tonight, but you have a feeling you'll see them again.

"Hi, guys," you return with a wave.

Everything settles after that. You take a seat next to Eddie on the couch, legs up and over his own, making conversation with Robin who you like a lot. Nancy comes over and introduces herself again and you find you like her, too.

And then Steve appears, having disappeared twenty minutes before. He's a little drunker, and he hands you and Eddie a can each. You take it gratefully and open it, taking a swig.

"So," he begins, sitting on the opposite side of the circle to yourself and Eddie. "You from Hawkins?"

"No," you tell him, and repeat the story you told Eddie.

"Sweet! So how'd you meet?"

You turn your head to look at Eddie and find him having done the same thing. His eyes are wide, just as wide as you're sure yours are.

"Uh," you begin, drawing out the sound to buy yourself time. 

"I did her a favour," he says, to your surprise, turning back to look at Steve with a sickly smile. "Just somethin' she'd put in the paper."

"That's so cute," Nancy says from behind you, her words chased by Robin adding a sarcastic, "Adorable."

The conversation moves on after that, and you turn around to Eddie again. He's looking back at you, his face pink and a smile tugging at his mouth. Before you can stop yourselves you're laughing, bursting into happy noises, bent double giggling.

He gives you another kiss, on the cheek this time, and quickly you settle back into conversations. The night is long and for the first time in a long time, it isn't lonely.

-

Hello! This is SO long - it really did take on a life of its own. I considered splitting it but couldn't find somewhere to do it, so I hope you enjoy this absolute beast nonetheless. I love you!

The Soulmates Masterlist:

Soulmate AU • No Vecna • No Upside Down • Strangers to Enemies to Lovers

Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary:  Eddie Munson never thought he would be one of the lucky ones. Him being the only one in his family to be given a soulmate mark was a miracle. What happens when his soulmate is not the one he wanted? Will he be able to give up his dream girl to be with the one he’s meant to be with? Or will he just have to learn to ignore the other half of his soul?

One, Two, Three, Four , Five , Six , Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven

Extras: The Breakup

Oooh that hurt. I’m actually sobbing and it doesn’t help that I read this on a sick day 🥺😭

My Moon

Zuko x reader

Soulmate AU

genre: angst but with a good ending 

warning: death, sickness

summary: Every Fire Nation citizen gets a tattoo on their wrist when they turn sixteen. This tattoo shows the first words your soulmate will say to you. Some people find this person immediately, and spend the rest of their lives together. Some people never get the chance.

_

“Why do you keep that ribbon on your wrist?”

Zuko clenched his fists by his sides, exhaling a breath of fire in frustration. Sozin’s Comet was in three days, and this was the fourth time Aang has stopped training to ask a question that had nothing to do with firebending.

“Aang,” Zuko said impatiently, “Stop avoiding training.”

“But I want to know!” Aang clasped his hands together. “That’s where your soulmate’s first words are, right? Why are they covered?”

Zuko groaned. “Because I don’t have time for a soulmate. I was too focused on finding you, and now I need to focus on defeating my father.”

“So you’ve never looked at it!?” Aang’s eyes widened before he lunged forward. “Let me see! Let me see!”

“Wha- Aang!” Zuko yelled, trying to pry the airbender off of him as he stretched his right arm out of his reach. “Get off!”

“I want to know what your words are!”

“Why are you interested in my love life!?”

“Because I would kill to have what you have and you don’t appreciate it!”

“Don’t appreciate what?” Sokka asked, popping a grape into his mouth as he walked up to the hill where the two were sparring.

“Sokka!” Aang shouted. “Take Zuko’s ribbon off!”

“Ooh, I love annoying Zuko!” Sokka said gleefully, grabbing Zuko’s wrist and ripping the black fabric off. “Uh, why am I annoying Zuko?”

“Because Zuko’s never looked at his soulmate tattoo!” Aang snatched a frozen Zuko’s wrist and read it. “I want the last thing I see to be the moon,” he read.

“Poetic.” Sokka nodded approvingly. “I like them already, they like staring at my first girlfriend!”

Zuko blinked. “Wait, hold on- your first girlfriend actually turned into the moon? Like literally?”

That was a year ago. Zuko was Fire Lord now. Currently, he was headed to a secluded cliff he had found the day before to meditate. There was a sickness going around, and although it wasn’t contagious, Iroh hadn’t wanted him to be in a populated area. So, he was going to be alone away from other people.

Or so he thought.

Keep reading

I love this so much 🥹

life and death meet up for a chat

(special thanks to @/ghast1yghosts on twitter for giving me severe brainrot)

Drabble from this head canon.

TW: blood, angst, mention of death.

He could faintly hear the screaming around him, sobs erupting over him. He felt arms wrap around his body, the pressure of them lifting his aching limps, cradling him against another, but he felt no warmth from the touch. His eyes felt so heavy, his head was pounding. He hears voices, and can faintly understand that they were speaking, but the words were lost in translation. It takes everything he has just to peak an eye open, stare up at the two sets of eyes on him. He sees their lips moving, watches as the tears fall from their face, but he can’t feel the droplets land on his skin. He can’t move his head to look down at his torso, but he knows there is blood, knows that there’s more on the ground than in his body.

“Steve…Steve…you…can anyone please…Steve? We need backup! Steve’s hurt, he’s…Steve…Steve!” Dustin…That was Dustin’s voice, wasn’t it? “You gotta be okay, man!”

“Dustin…” That was Robin’s voice. Was she holding him? She sounded like she was in pain. Did he not do enough? Was she hurt?

“No!” He suddenly screams, his voice ringing in his ears, or maybe that was from the blood rapidly pumping in them. “No, he has to be! I can’t lose anyone else!” Dustin pulls the walkie-talkie up to his mouth once more, pleading, “Can anyone hear me? This is code red! I repeat, code red! We need someone, anyone! Please! Hopper…Mrs. Byers? Anyone?”

“Henderson?” He didn’t mean to speak, but despite the lack of intent to talk, the word was still so difficult to form.

“Yes, Steve, I-we’re here, buddy,” he rushes out, the sentence tumbling from his lips as if the faster he speaks, the quicker that Steve would heal.

“Robbie?” His voice is fading as he continues to speak.

“Shh, I’m right here, dingus,” she whispers. “But try not to talk, alright? You’re banged up pretty bad.”

“Oh.” His mind was getting foggier, but it was something he was grateful for because he couldn’t feel the pain. He just felt tired. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Dustin answers, his voice cracking under the weight of a humorless laugh bubbling up past the lump in his throat. “We’re okay. Thanks to you, buddy, we’re all going to be okay.” Steve tries to nod but his head just lulls into the bend of Robin’s neck and shoulder.

“Good, good,” he mutters sleepily. “I just need to close my eyes for a bit longer.”

“No, Steve, please,” Robin whimpers, clutching him closer to her chest.

“It’s okay, Robs, everything’s okay.” And Steve believes that as he smiles up at the pair that are pleading with him to keep his eyes open just a bit longer. “I’m just happy you’re both safe.”

He can’t hear their voices anymore. They’re muddled, as if he’s underwater. He sees nothing in front of him, just waves of darkness for eternity. He feels nothing. He isn’t cold or warm, there’s just nothing. No more pain. And then he hears the gentle, broken, “Steve?” behind him from the last voice he expected to hear, yet it was one he desperately wanted to listen to again. Turning around he finds Eddie, his previously shredded and bloodstained Hellfire T-shirt now spotless underneath his leather jacket and battle vest. Wait, Steve thought that he had that vest in his room, tucked under his bed so no one would take it from him. It was greedy, he knew how much the boys wanted a piece of their Dungeon Master to remember him by, but he couldn’t part with it. He was allowed to be selfish just this once. But it seems that it was unnecessary as Eddie was standing right in front of him. He reaches out and touches his shoulder, making sure this wasn’t some sick dream or illusion, but he felt the heat from his body, the first sense he had of his own touch, and he throws his arms around Eddie, feeling the warmth spread in the embrace. But something felt off as Eddie gingerly wrapped his own arms around Steve’s frame, acting as if he were fragile, or like he was scared. Pulling back, Steve looked over Eddie again. He didn’t see any injuries. Shouldn’t he still be healing? He looks unscathed.

“Eddie, how are you alive?” Steve asks confused.

“I’m not, Steve,” he rasps out, choking on a small sob as Steve finally notices the tears streaming from his face.

“But then…”

“I’m sorry, Steve, but neither are you.”

Summary: The year is 1988. After the loss of a beloved family member, you find yourself inheriting an old coffee shop. The quiet bartender at the Hideout across the street just so happens to catch your eye.

(eddie munson x afab!reader)

Warnings: Eddie’s post S4 trauma; panic attacks; nightmares; family member loss; grief; alcohol use; mild smut in later chapters so 18+; additional warnings to be added.

(AO3 Link)

COMPLETED (70K Words)

SPRING (8K)

SUMMER (18K)

FALL (23K)

WINTER (20K)

God we really took the phrases “My dad’s an asshole” and “big house, no parents” and made Steve Harrington the saddest bitch ALIVE. We are really out here putting my man THROUGH IT y’all like damn.

3 days 🥺💔😭😭

unfriendly reminder that today's march 22nd which means we lose eddie munson in 5 days.

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eddie drops in on steve more consistently after that. he doesn't really have a reason, he just... does.

it's his weekly routine for the next year and a half. every friday night he checks in on the king. it's always a nightmare; eddie supposes he has one every night. at first it's just variations of being killed by that creature, then it's ones of barbara holland dragging him to a watery grave, then it's billy hargrove beating him half to death before turning on a gaggle of little fucking kids (that one eddie leaves before it ends. he couldn't keep watching, ignored the guilt in his gut that harrington would've had to).

it gets worse after the summer of '85, once starcourt burns down. robin buckley gets added to the mess that is steve's brain and, fuck, eddie thinks if he has to watch her and steve get tortured one more time he'll lose his shit. logically, he knows he could just choose someone else, or better yet, stay in his own fucking head, but it always feels... wrong. like he's leaving steve to deal with these nightmares alone even though the guy never knows he's there.

plus, through the dreams, he kind of grows to like the guy. he seems... nice, beneath all that bravado he'd had once upon a time, though selfless and heroic to an absolute fault. he's always throwing himself in front of someone in his nightmares, never running away from danger unless he's alone and it's for definite that no one else will get hurt. always screaming at russians to hurt him, not her. telling billy hargrove to punch him, not the kid. screaming into the air why not me, why couldn't you have just taken me? i'm so fucking sorry...

he doesn't see him much in the daylight hours. him and buckley work at family video, he finds out, and he goes by every now and then to rent a video and just... check on them. especially after those nights where he has to watch them be beaten to death through a vent. he and robin strike up a semi-friendship through his taste in cinema, but he never really speaks to harrington himself. though he catches how jumpy he is, how tired he always looks, the way he won't move from robin's side after a particularly bad night, their hands intertwined under the counter.

and then he goes into his third senior year, and he sees them. has to do a fucking double take and pinch himself to make sure he's not walking because, holy shit. those are harrington's kids. huddled together at a lunch table- dustin henderson, mike wheeler and lucas sinclair. eddie has to sprint out of the cafeteria to throw up, because he's seen those boys die in so many awful ways by now, that even just seeing them makes him queasy.

despite this, he feels some sort of weird... pull, towards them. one that makes him slam himself down at their table, grinning, to ask: "you kiddies know anything about a little game called dungeons and dragons?"

(they did, he knew they did, because he'd listened to steve pour his heart out over henderson's body, once. listened to him beg for the kid to just wake up as he laid motionless in these weird, dirt tunnels, that he'd play 'that dungeons nerd game' if the kid just woke the fuck up.)

(he hadn't.)

okay... but like dreamwalker eddie, who's always been able to visit other people in their dreams. he usually stays out of sight, just enjoys these little looks into people's minds. it makes scary people like tommy h. a little less scary, especially when he sees him dreaming about macking on steve harrington after a basketball game.

speaking of, one day, in the tail end of '83 he figures: ah, fuck it. let's see what harrington's up to these days. especially since the guy had withdrawn considerably after the whole thing with the byers kid going missing and whatever. eddie was a curious man, sue him. so when he goes to bed that night he drifts his non-corporeal ass to the harrington household and into steve's dream.

and it's fucking horrifying. he comes to in a house he doesn't recognise, peeks around a corner only to see the horribly mangled corpses of nancy wheeler and jonathan byers. steve harrington is there, trying to fend off this fucking flower hell beast with a nail bat, all while sobbing and screaming. eddie has to watch, pinned to the wall in fear, as harrington is ripped apart, mauled and eaten by this fucking creature.

and he swears they make eye contact before he's forcefully shoved out of the dream and bolts upright in bed.

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masterlist

Went ahead and compiled a master list for everyone to find my work a little easier! Hope you enjoy.

Always open to new requests!!

Let me know if you want to be apart of my taglist and stay up to date on my new posts!!

!! - smut 18+

Joe Quinn

Kitchen Dancing

Toddlers and Tiaras

Little Matchmaker

One Lucky Lady

Laundry Day !!

Eddie Munson

Stake My Claim !!

Nice and Easy !!

I had a dream !!

we won't be together but maybe in the next life

Drunk Confessions

I Do It Better !!

Something Sweet !!

Baby Fever

Mark Your Body !!

Distraction !!

Meet The Parents

Bad Liar !! pt 2 !! pt 3 !! pt 4 !! pt 5 !! pt 6 !! pt 7 !!

Take Care of You

Helping Hand !!

I Hate You Sometimes !!

Daddy's Princess !!

Never Had a Chance pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 !!

Drive Me Wild !!

Fingers !!

Camping Trip !!

Want Me Back !!

Pretty in Pink !!

Lots to Love !!

Cookin Up Feelings !! pt 2 !!

Give it to Me !!

Scary Movies aren't so Bad !!

Lies on the Pages pt 2

What Happens after a Show !!

The Roommate !!

Claiming Innocence: pt 1 !!

Steve Harrington

Backroom Fun !!

Perfect Timing

****

Thanks

Britt :)

Headcanon

So I had a little Steddie x reader headcanon that I don’t know if I should continue… thoughts?

After Eddie’s death, Steve later dies, sending both into the afterlife. Their heroics against the Upside Down grant them an option to become reborn with the opportunity to grow up together as best friends, something they never did in their previous lives. Steve and Eddie both decide to be reborn so that they might find their first-life friends and convince them that they are their found family’s dearly departed, because, really, their lives have been filled with stranger things. However, they don’t expect the chance to grow up alongside Dustin’s daughter, and they definitely never expected to both fall for her either…

stranger things masterlist

return to the main masterlist

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

fluff - 🪶 

smut - 🗝️

angst - 🐑

dark - 🕰

au - 🧦

blurb (under 500 words) - 🦔

series - 🧺

lea’s favs - ☕️

STEVE HARRINGTON 

daisy 🧺☕️

close your eyes and hold out your hand 🪶 

what happened between us? 🪶

wool 🪶 🐑 

ophiocordyceps unilateralis 🗝️🧦

you said I was your friend 🪶 🐑 🦔

you did not just die again, did you? 🗝️🦔🧦☕️

paint it, yellow 🪶🧦

a bucket of apples 🪶🧦

apple cider 🪶🧦🦔

pumpkin, you need to stop for tonight 🪶

that was… scary 🪶🐑🦔

um, I was on a walk 🪶🧦

my feet feel like cement 🪶🦔

nsfw massage therapist!steve hcs 🗝️🧦

dreamboat 🪶🦔

hot chocolate 🪶🦔

you wanted to play with me 🗝️🦔🧦

snowed in 🗝️

buddy 🪶🦔

stick to the script 🗝️🦔

EDDIE MUNSON

rose 🗝️🧦

every npc wants to bone her 🪶🦔

arcane adoration 🪶🧦

infatuating incantation 🪶🧦

garlic 🪶🦔🧦

you make it sound pretty metal 🪶🦔

try and get some rest 🪶🦔🧦

headache 🪶🦔🧦

who knew someone could be crazier than eddie munson? 🐑🧦

heather 🦔🧦

she’s okay 🐑🦔🧦

turn into a popsicle🪶🦔🧦☕️

pink tulle 🪶🧦🦔

stick and poke 🪶🦔

why do you never have enough sugar?🪶🦔

STEDDIE

tulip 🗝️☕️

nettle 🪶🐑☕️

boo! 🪶☕️

streamers fight 🪶🦔 

angel & devil!steddie au 🧺🕰🧦

© 2022-2023 thyme-in-a-bubble

I’m actually sobbing myself to sleep over this

I downloaded this TikTok video to my phone and I watch it whenever I’m sad true story.

Everlong Masterlist

Summary: Your love for your best friend brought you nothing but pain and heartache but an unexpected offer and the chance to forget all about your feelings might change everything.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader // Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, lots of smut & angst , fuckboy!steve, jealousy, unrequited feelings

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

Okay but that’s me with my gift-giving love language and touch starvation tho 🥺🥹🥰

steve harrington being in love with the softest, cutest girl in town. she’s truly out of a fairytale. they’re close friends and pining for each other painfully— steve’s main love language is physical touch, so he showers his sweet girl in affection and praise, soft cheek smooches and forehead kisses and long hugs that make her all adorably flustered because she’s not a touchy person nor has she ever welcomed someone’s touch, but she starts to crave it from her stevie; his girl’s main love language however is gift giving, so she makes her stevie a pretty bracelet, always bakes him sweets, gives him crystals she believes might help him, and also her favorite ring ever that he never takes off. everyone knows they’re meant to be together, steve believes they’re soulmates. she’s so kind and nice and loving and caring but it dials up to eleven when it comes to her stevie. the thing is, she’s so sure steve still loves nancy — he doesn’t — and it breaks her heart to think if it came down to it that her stevie would choose nancy over her. robin and dustin figure it out after seeing steve’s girl’s reactions whenever nance is around, and tell steve. his heart breaks. steve does his best to show his favorite girl that he wants her, but for some reason (be it her insecurities or romantic inexperience) she can’t bring herself to believe it, to believe someone would choose her, and it’s a mess of angst and fluff as steve tries to prove to her that she’s all he wants for the rest of his life.

🖤 Masterlist 🖤

💖 Fluff

❤️ Smut

🖤 Angst

💀 Dark themes

TAGLIST INFO:

If you would like to be tagged then please reply to the fic you would like to be tagged for (please don’t send asks for taglist requests as I will likely forget to add you!)

I will only tag users that have their age in their bio and are over 18

If you don’t interact with the fics (reblog/replies) then I won’t continue to tag you

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Eddie Munson

Series:

Eden (retired)

Reader meets Eddie while working in a strip club

Part 1 ❤️

Part 2 🖤

Part 3 💖❤️

Part 4 ❤️🖤💖

The Freak & The Slut (completed)

Y/N gets off to a bad start in Hawkins when rumours about her spread around the school. She doesn’t really care much about her damaged reputation, but she does care what the curly haired boy in her English class thinks about her.

Part 1 🖤

Part 2 🖤

Part 3 🖤💖

Part 4 💖❤️

Oblivion (completed)

Following from the events of season 4, Eddie returns from the Upside Down with no memory of his friends

Part 1 🖤

Part 2 🖤

Part 3 🖤

Part 4 🖤💖

Part 5 🖤💖

This is not going to end well (completed)

A friends with benefits arrangement with Eddie gets complicated

Part 1 ❤️🖤

Part 2 ❤️🖤

Part 3 ❤️🖤

One Shots:

Jealousy, Jealousy 🖤❤️

Eddie’s best friend gets jealous when he gets a new girlfriend

Period Sex in the shower with Eddie ❤️

Bridesmaid Reader x Groomsman Eddie 💖🖤

Untitled ❤️

Eddie wants to get to know Y/N better, but her friends keep getting in the way

Best Friends Dad!Eddie X Reader ❤️

A very happy ending❤️

Reader gives Eddie a back massage that leads to other things

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Steve Harrington

Series:

Yes sir.

Reader meets Steve while she’s working for his dad, a notorious drug lord. Angst, smut, dark themes

Part 1 💀

Part 2 🖤❤️

One shots:

Punk!Steve x Reader ❤️🖤

Reader hates Steve, even more since he’s swapped his boy next door look for something edgier

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Steddie X Reader

One Shots:

Show You Off ❤️

Your boyfriend Eddie decides it would be fun to share you for one night with his friend Steve (my first ever fic!)

A Helping Hand ❤️

Request: your two best friends walk in on you struggling to cum by yourself, so offer to help you out

Series:

Steddie X Babysitter reader PART 1 ❤️💖

Steddie X Babysitter reader PART 2 ❤️💖🖤

You start working for an older Eddie & Steve, babysitting their 2 children. But there’s something odd about the way your new employers treat you (most popular work to date! Part 3 coming soon!)

Steddie X Babysitter Blurbs and Asks:

Reader helping Steddie when Ben is poorly 💖

Steddie smut after picking reader up from girls night ❤️💖

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ramblings

Eddie wearing glasses 💖

Steve taking you to see fireworks 💖

Eddie cheering you up 💖

Eddie finishing in your mouth ❤️

Masterlist

Hey there! Now bear with me as I'm not tech savvy so this won't be as pretty as some Masterlists but I'm doing my best, darn it!

My name is Kathryn :), She/Her Pronouns, early 30s but feel older lol'

I do take a requests! Please send me any requests or suggestions. I always read them and write them down.

I write mostly for Eddie and Steve but I'm down for others.

Pedro Pascal

Aaron Taylor Johnson

Sebastian Stan

Joel Kinnaman

I feel like there's more but my brain is blanking lol just ask and we can talk :)

Characters

Eddie Munson

Unattainable Series

In the Eye of the Beholder

In the Eye of the Beholder Part 2

I Got You

Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds Series

Pushing the Barrier series (ongoing kinda)

But What If I Want to Stay

Always Behind You

Always Behind You Part 2

Eddie Asks

Steve Harrington

Date Night Series (on going until I run out of ideas) Playing the Game series

A Virtual Romance series

Steddie

Good Neighbors series

We're a Family Part One

We're a Family Part Two

Steddie Dream Drabble

I'm in Control series (on going)

Kurt Kunkle

A Toxic Lesson

“not all men” you’re right, eddie munson would never treat me this way.

steddie

headcanons

our smart baby

night night

no no to needles

our sad baby

shy baby

rockstar eddie + milkshakes

skin to skin contact

my jaw hurts daddy

our fairy

tea party

wash your stuffie

going to pride

kisses

fluffy hair

scary movie

pumpkin patch

new clothes (trans masc reader)

shy baby (male reader)

bath time

visiting stevie at work

cursed

just want daddy

christmas thief

christmas gift for stevie

mistletoe

time out