Warnings - Smut, 18+, dry humping, cursing, soft dom!Steve, shy fem!reader, praise kink, making out, dry humping leading up to first time
── . 🫧
Steve’s lips move over yours like he’s been starving, but his hand on your jaw stays steady, careful, as if he’s terrified of pushing too far.
“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes between kisses, his voice breaking, warm and rough. “Been thinkin’ bout you all day baby.”
You smile sweetly as his hand skims under your shirt again, not rushing, just savoring the feel of your skin. When you shiver, he pulls back a little, eyes searching yours, chest heaving.
“Hey,” he whispers, thumb brushing your cheek. “You okay? You want me to stop?”
You shake your head quickly, heart hammering. “N-no” You breathe heavily “Don’t stop.”
Steve groans, forehead dropping to yours. “Fuck…Sweetheart, okay.”
He kisses you again, softer now, almost reverent, his hand sliding higher up your side, stopping just under your ribs, like he’s holding himself back. His other hand grips your thigh firmly, guiding you closer until you’re practically in his lap.
You feel him, hard and heavy against your core, and Steve lets out a shaky laugh when you stiffen slightly. “Yeah,” he admits softly, kissing your temple, “that’s what you do to me. Every time you look at me like that…so pretty f’me baby.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, brown eyes searching for any uncertainty.
Your face burns and you duck your head, your hands fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt.
Steve lets you breathe for a second and when you finally peek up at him, his gaze softens instantly. His eyes are warm, crinkling at the corners, but heavy with tenderness.
“Don’t gotta be shy,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”
His words melt you more than his touch, but then he’s kissing you again, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your knees weak. His hand strokes up your side, under your shirt, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast, and he swallows the whimper that slips out of you.
He kisses you again, slow and consuming, like he wants to imprint himself on you. His hips shift, grinding just barely against you, enough to make your whole body light up. He pulls back, panting, his nose brushing yours.
“Fuck you feel so good against me sweetheart” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “M so hard baby...” He pants, doe eyes locked on yours.
“S-Steve…” You Whimper into his mouth, your panties soaked.
“Y-yeah…fuck what is it baby?…tell me what you need.”
Your hips start to buck down on him, the friction addicting. His thumb strokes your hipbone as he pulls you closer. His chest rises and falls hard against you, and every soft groan he lets slip makes your stomach twist tighter.
The hard press of him against your center makes you gasp, and Steve groans, head falling back just slightly. “Fuck—yeah, sweetheart, just like that,” he whispers, voice trembling but laced with control. His hands squeeze your hips, steadying you, encouraging you to keep moving. “Go on…wanna feel you.”
You hesitate, shy, but the look in his eyes, hungry, dark, but so soft, undoes you. Slowly, you shift your hips harder this time, dragging yourself against him, and his breath catches audibly.
“Jesus Christ,” he groans, forehead pressing against yours. “You’re killing me, you know that? So perfect… so goddamn perfect.”
He rocks you gently with his hands, guiding you, his lips brushing yours between every ragged whisper. “That’s it, honey. Don’t stop. Feel good for me.”
The friction makes your head spin, every little movement sending sparks shooting through you. Steve’s eyes are on you, watching every twitch of your face, every sound you can’t hold back. He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck, murmuring between kisses.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“You’re so sweet like this… so good f’me.”
“God, I could stay like this forever.”
Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, clinging, and Steve groans, hips bucking up slightly to meet yours. The sudden movement makes you whimper, and his grip tightens, holding you steady. “Yeah… just like that,” he whispers, voice raw. “Don’t hide it from me. Let me hear you baby yeah?… sound so pretty sweetheart.”
You move together, rhythm building, both of you lost in the heat of it. His cock strains against his jeans, every grind making him groan louder, more desperate, though his words stay soft and sweet just how he knows you like it.
“Look at you,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth. “So beautiful like this. Got me—fuck—you’ve got me losing my mind baby.”
You shift your hips again, more desperate now, and Steve curses under his breath. His hands guide you faster, rocking you against him with just enough pressure to make your toes curl. “Yeah, that’s it… ride me baby. Just like that.”
“Mmm,” you whimper, brows contorting as his cock rubs so perfectly against you and it feels so good it almost hurts.
He groans, kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw, every inch of you within reach. “I know, honey. I know. Just let go. I’ve got you.”
Your body trembles as the friction builds, the steady grind sending waves of pleasure through you. You cling to him tighter, nails digging into his shoulders. “S-Steve—”
“Say it again,” he murmurs, voice strained as his hips jerk up against yours. “Say my name just like that.”
“Steve,” you breathe, whining softly when he presses you down harder against him.
“Fuuuuuck,” he growls “So perfect… you’re so perfect.”
The knot in your stomach tightens, and you whimper desperately. “S-Stevie I—I think I’m—”
He cuts you off with a heated kiss, swallowing the sound as his hands lock on your hips, grinding you down in the exact rhythm he knows you need. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck… Let it happen. Don’t fight it. Come on, come for me.”
Your body arches, the wave crashing over you, and you moan into his mouth as you come undone, shuddering against him. Steve groans loud, almost broken, the friction too much. His hips buck hard, grinding up against you as he follows, coming in his jeans with a strangled moan of your name.
The room is filled with panting breaths and the sound of your racing hearts. You collapse against his chest, trembling, and he immediately wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.
“Hey,” he whispers against your temple, his lips brushing your damp skin. “Breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Your chest rises and falls unevenly, and Steve presses another kiss there, as if he can steady you with his mouth alone. He tilts your chin up, making you meet his eyes, and the way he looks at you, messy brown hair, flushed cheeks, pupils blown, makes you ache all over again.
“You’re so pretty.” he murmurs, smirking like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, voice low and reverent.
You try to look away, shy, but his thumb brushes your lip, coaxing your gaze back. His smile is soft, though his eyes are still dark with heat. “Stop hiding from me, honey…” he pouts playfully, and it takes everything in you not to unbutton his jeans right then and there.
You shift slightly, still trembling, and he immediately hushes you, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Easy, sweetheart. You need a minute, huh?” His hand trails down your side, soothing, grounding. “That’s okay. We’ve got all night.”
The words send another wave of heat through you. He notices, the way your lashes flutter, your breath catches, and his grin deepens, slow and knowing.
“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your jaw. “Wanna keep going?”
You can’t answer, too flustered, but your body betrays you, leaning into him, pressing closer. Steve chuckles softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “That’s what I thought.”
He strokes your hair back gently, eyes roaming your face with something so tender it makes your stomach flip. “We’ll take our time, okay? You don’t have to do a thing. Just let me look after you.”
don't want you like a best friend ― steve harrington
DON'T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND ― STEVE HARRINGTON
summary ... going from best friends to something a little more, is a little more difficult than you thought. but one night seems to change everything for you and steve, and it all starts with a dress.
pairing ... steve harrington x fem!reader (2.2k)
warnings ... going from friends to lovers, awkward interactions, butterfly explosions, reader wears a dress, kissing, one butt grab
note ... this is a request from an anon! inspired by the song dress by taylor swift. first time i've written something based around a taylor swift song, which is CRAZY to me. thanks for the request, this was so fun to write !!
masterlist !
It’s easy to fall in love with Steve Harrington, he makes it feel so effortless, like it’s an inevitable fact of life.
He has those kind of eyes, those eyes that see every piece of you, even when you don’t want to be seen. He remembers the little things, the things that mean nothing to anyone else, but to Steve, they are the secrets to the universe. When he smiles, it’s like he smiles only for you, it’s butterfly inducing and gorgeous.
You were totally screwed.
And completely in love with your best friend.
Ruminating between late night conversations, weaving through the telephone calls that lasted hours, blooming and growing over beating monsters and fighting otherworldly bats.
You didn’t see it coming.
Steve had only ever been your best friend.
And…suddenly, he was so much more.
It started on a regular Saturday night, a reply of a night you’d spent with Steve a thousand times over.
You were sat in the corner of the couch, huddled under a thick knitted blanket, your legs stretched the length of the couch, feet resting just an inch from Steve’s slouched body. He had an arm thrown around the back of the couch, body bent at an angle that looked entirely too comfortable, hair messed up and his sweater riding up.
It was normal.
Until it wasn’t.
You don’t remember the conversation that led up to the incident, it’s muffled in your mind's eye now, it’s not important.
What’s important is what happened next.
Steve’s hand wrapping around your ankle, tugging your body closer to his, your laughter uncontrolled and loud, cheeks flushed. Steve is grinning from ear to ear, large hands yanking at your calf now, until your body is inches from his.
Then the moment changes.
Laughter ebbs away.
Silence takes its place.
Steve’s hand is squeezing your leg, it’s warm and familiar, your hands have found their way to his shoulders, gripping his sweater like a lifeline. He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, gaze dipping to the curve of your lips. Hearts racing, brains fogging up, those inches between you are disappearing at an alarming rate.
But neither of you stop.
Then, he’s kissing you.
His lips are warm and soft, he’s tentative and kind, testing the waters before diving in. You’d never thought about kissing Steve Harrington, but you couldn’t have ever thought it would feel this good.
And suddenly, you're in his lap, kissing him now.
The tentative nature is gone, in its place, you feel yourself wanting. Wanting him closer, wanting his hands wrapped around your body, leaving permanent bruises on your skin in the shape of him.
He’s just as greedy as you feel, hands gripping you tight, refusing to let you go. Your skin setting him alight, like a fuse burning right to his core, legs wrapped around his waist, caging him in a warm embrace.
Everything changes after that.
You and Steve are still best friends, you suppose that will never change, but now things are a little different.
Steve reaches for you. It’s subtle, but it’s there.
He’s touchy by nature, it’s not unusual for Steve to reach for people. His hands would brush yours, fingers barely touching, before he’s dragging his hands away. Sometimes, his hand would land on your shoulder, squeezing, before letting go, as if he hadn’t done it in the first place. He tugs at the ends of your hair, not harsh, not to hurt you, it’s playful.
It feels natural. Normal even.
You find yourself doing it too.
Your hand will find its place on his bicep, squeezing the muscle with soft fingers. You nudge him with your hip, knocking into him with a gentle smile. Your pinky finger nudges his, linking them for a moment, before falling away. It’s small and somewhat meaningless, but it means the world to you.
You guys stand together, nudging each other, poking and prodding, like you’re sharing a secret only you guys know.
And you kind of do.
Because you haven’t really told anyone about…whatever it is you guys are calling this new stage in your relationship.
Was it a relationship, like a real relationship? Could you call Steve your boyfriend? Would you even like to be called Steve Harrington's girlfriend?
You’ve never talked about it.
You’ve barely even passed the kissing stage, there’s been no wandering hands or late night rendezvous, no suspect marks or lingering and burning looks exchanged.
Were you guys stuck, before you’ve even been given the chance to start?
How did people go from being friends, to being something more. You need to talk about it, before your brain explodes from all your unanswered questions.
Tonight might be the perfect time.
It’s you and Steve tonight.
He’d asked you over for dinner, not take-out or shitty microwave meals like you might have done before. No, Steve was making you dinner tonight, it felt very date like.
And you had the perfect outfit for a sort of date.
It was a cute little number. The hem was swishy, resting around mid thigh, swaying with every move. The neckline was square, exposing just enough skin to be inviting but not showy. And you paired it with your best bra, squishing them together, giving just the right amount of cleavage.
When Steve opened the front door, his jaw was slack, eyes wide, knuckles turning white as he gripped the door for dear life.
“Hey” Your voice is soft, so unlike yourself, nervous.
“H-Hey” Steve is stuttering, his composure is lost.
His eyes are roaming.
Taking you in like he’s never seen you before, and he kind of is, in a way. He’s seeing the date version of you, he’s so used to the casual laid back everyday version of you.
That version of you is already pretty.
But this version of you.
It takes Steve’s breath away.
“Are we gonna eat dinner out here?” You asked, rocking back on your heels. “Or, are you gonna invite me in”
Steve splutters, cheeks flushed.
He backed out of the doorway, motioning you in with a large wave of his arm. It's theatrical and big, but it’s cute.
You stifle a laugh, but there’s a smile on your lips.
Steve’s quick.
He closes the door, you can hear him take a sharp breath, before he’s racing up behind you, he takes a hold of your arm. His hands are gentle, wrapping around your arm, looping it through his own.
You falter for a moment.
It was unexpected.
But a move you understand to be Steve Harrington impenetrable charm.
You bite your lip, eyes shifting up to his face, taking in his goofy grin. It warms your heart.
“You look…” Steve trails off, sweeping his eyes over your figure, stalling in places. “I mean, wow, you’re incredible”
Your eyes flutter, feeling warm.
“Thank you”
He seats you at the island, pulling the chair out and everything. He’s a gentleman. You thank him bashfully, taking a seat.
“I’m making spaghetti” Steve makes a wide motion with his hands, pointing out a simmering red sauce and a boiling pot of noodles. “And…homemade garlic bread”
“Wow” You sigh, elbow sitting on the island, chin resting in your open palm. “I didn’t know you were such a wiz in the kitchen”
Steve’s flushing again.
“You give me too much credit” He waves the compliment off. “I’m still waiting for something to go wrong, like burning the water or something”
You giggle softly, Steve’s shoulders relax.
“If I knew you could cook, I might have kissed you sooner” You joked.
The joke falls a little flat, not enough to ruin the moment, but enough to point out the obvious change in your relationship.
It was awkward, stilted.
You feel silly for even bringing it up.
But you can’t stop yourself.
“This is weird, right?” You ask, before you can convince yourself not to. “It’s not just me, is it?”
Steve pauses, takes in your soft features, his shoulders sag a little.
“It’s not weird, just different, I think” Steve scratches at the back of his head.
“Different” You echo, nod your head, the word tastes sour, you don’t like it. “Good different or bad different?”
“Good, definitely good” Steve nods a single time, affirming.
You lean back in your seat, chin lifting from your hand, palms resting against the cool tiles of the island.
“I don’t want things to be this…” You try to find the right words. “Different like this, it’s like we don’t even know each other”
Steve sighs, crossing his arms, leaning back against the counter.
“Do you want to…not do this, with me, with us?” Steve asks, it’s quiet and unsure, like he didn’t want to ask it.
You pause.
You take a moment to look at Steve, like really, seriously look at him. You look past the best friend tinted glasses and see him as the man he’s become.
He still looks like Steve.
But he carries something you’ve never really seen before, he cares about you. You know that, you’ve always known that. He’s looking at you now, like he wants to make you the center of his universe, but he doesn’t quite know how to make the jump.
“I want this” You push yourself off the chair, taking slow steps around the island, towards Steve. “I just-- I don’t know how to do this”
Steve’s posture relaxes, arms uncrossing, laying at his sides.
“I don’t know what I’m doing either” Steve shakes his head, there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington doesn’t know how to date a girl” You joke, and Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now.
You feel lighter.
“No, I don’t know how to date you, specifically,” Steve points out.
You stand before Steve now, neither of you reach out to touch each other.
“I don’t know how to date you either” You admit, it feels nice to say it out loud.
“But I want to” You say, before Steve can say anything. “I think we just need more practice, and we need to talk more”
You brush your hand against Steve’s, fingers barely grazing, it still sends a fizzle of warmth up your spine.
Steve meets you half way, fingers loosely sliding through the gaps of your fingers, slotting your hands together.
“I wanna date you” Steve’s voice is soft. “We made pretty good friends, I think we’d make a pretty good couple too”
You feel shy under Steve’s gaze.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” You ask, peering at Steve through your lashes. “Cause I don’t want to just be your best friend anymore”
You squeeze Steve’s hand.
“I don’t want you like a best friend” Steve’s reply is slow, but meaningful. “I want you, as my girlfriend”
Your breath catches.
“I want you…as my boyfriend”
Steve uses his other hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over the smooth skin of your cheek. You feel like a swarm of butterflies are whipping around in your stomach, heart beating so quickly, you think it might jump right out of your chest.
You lean into his palm.
“We sound like teenagers” You smile, lips brushing against Steve’s palm.
You can see Steve shudder.
“We’re not that old yet”
You roll your eyes.
“You know what I mean”
You place your free hand over Steve’s, running your fingers over the sharp ridges of his knuckles.
Steve doesn’t respond to your statement, instead, he does you one better.
He kisses you.
There’s not an ounce of tentativeness in this kiss, it’s warm and sure. Steve is confident, and you feel assured that this kiss is the first of many in your relationship.
You can’t believe that Steve is your boyfriend, or that you get to stand in his kitchen, kissing him, surrounded by the homemade meal he’s made you.
“You know” You murmur against his lips. “I only bought this dress so you could take it off”
Steve splutters.
“Oh my god” Steve’s cheeks are a flaming red, eyes a little glazed over.
You smile, a soft laugh escaping your lips.
“You can’t say stuff like that” Steve is shaking his head, but he doesn’t look all that annoyed at your words, in fact, he looks like he really liked them.
“Sorry” You shrug, not sorry at all.
“We need to eat, before I do something I probably won’t regret, and waste all my hard work” Steve says, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.
“I still can’t believe you made me dinner” You say, stepping back from Steve.
“I’m a man of many talents” Steve is boasting now, but he deserves it. “Some talents, you might get to see later”
Steve reaches behind you, and pinches your backside.
You squeak, jumping a little, it’s unexpected and yet makes total sense.
“Steve!” You exclaim.
Steve chuckles.
“Payback you the dress comment you made” Steve teases, raising a brow at you. “Plus, I just wanted to touch your butt”
You cannot believe you went into this night so nervous about bringing up your relationship with Steve. You guys are falling back into old habits, but with a fun new twist, which apparently included Steve touching your butt.
‖ summary: Eddie is drifting through town when he starts offering guitar lessons at night after work to make some extra cash. You are one of the first people to call, saying you want to learn how to play.
‖ tags: hurt/comfort, cheating/infidelity, domestic violence (not described, but visible bruising is discussed), strangers to lovers, fluffy and cute. no y/n. no pronouns, but reader is referred to as a woman and a bride. based on the song I Wanna Learn a Love Song by Harry Chapin (yeah like the 3 other fics i have that mention this song shut uP). happy ending.
‖ word count: 4.1k ‖ read on AO3 ‖ the song ‖
When you get here, come around to the garden door, through the fence on the left side of the house. Please don’t knock on the front door.
With a battered six string slung over his shoulder, in ripped jeans and a band tee, Eddie was absolutely positive that it looked like he was trying to break into this house. That, from an outside perspective, he was a dirty, homeless guy – nervously looking around before pushing into a stranger’s backyard.
A pretty little blue house in a cul de sac with a fancy car out front and the lawn manicured just so. He walked under a trellis with woven vines and white flowers, little stones marking a path in the lawn, and toward the baby blue screen door.
His second day clothes and the pinch in his neck from sleeping in the van had never felt more apparent than they did right now.
After several minutes of contemplating if this was really something he had to do, he hit his knuckles on the aluminum frame of the door and waited. Heard the loud bellowing laugh of a man, and then another, followed by the click of a heavy door shutting, muffling the noise.
The screen door opened with a creak and there was you – with a smile that made him think maybe the sun wasn’t setting just yet.
“You’re Eddie, right?” You asked, leaning on the door as you looked him over. And he expected judgment, maybe disapproval. But you just kept smiling, like he was an old friend coming home after a long time away.
“Yup, that’s me,” he replied as he rocked back on his heels awkwardly, dipping his head in a greeting. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he realized that he hadn’t even tried to remember your name from when you called him earlier this week. “And you are…?”
If you were offended by it, you didn’t show it. Just gave him your first name and invited him onto the porch. Offered him a drink and asked him if he found the place okay. Pleasantries. Politeness.
Autopilot.
He took a seat at the white metal table on the screened-in porch, standing out starkly in his black and denim, and nervously tapped his hands against his knees. You sat down on the chair beside him, dressed in a comfortable sweater and a pair of pants that looked more expensive than his guitar. Casual but put together.
The porch was spotless and there was a hint of jasmine on the breeze. Eddie could not shake the feeling that he did not belong here.
“I guess I want to start off by saying this would be a very temporary arrangement, if you decide you want to keep getting lessons after this one,” he said, wanting to get that settled immediately. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be in town.”
Surprised and intrigued, you learned a bit closer toward him. “Oh! That’s alright. Are you not from around here?”
“No, not really,” he muttered, setting the guitar on the table in front of you. Not particularly interested in getting to know you better, he started off with the easy stuff. “So do you know how to play at all?”
You shook your head with a bashful smile, tucking your hands beneath your thighs. “Not a chord.”
He shrugged, like that wasn’t a big deal. “That’s fine. Are you hoping to learn all the chords and stuff?”
“Oh, no. I’d really just like to learn a couple songs. Is that okay?” You asked it like you were afraid of inconveniencing him. You were paying him for a lesson – who the hell was he to tell you no.
“Sure, that works. Do you have your own guitar? Or are we sharing mine?”
Your smile dropped a bit then, like he’d touched a nerve. “No, not yet. My husband wants to make sure this isn’t just another ‘passing fancy’ before he lets me buy one.” And you laughed it off, shaking your head with a good natured shrug.
“Huh. Okay, no problem. We can take turns – I’ll show you and then you can try.” You nodded eagerly, shifting further up in your seat. “Any songs in particular you were thinking of?”
“Oh, well… I’d really like to learn a love song. Something happy. Something people would want to sing along to.”
The look he gave you in response was strange, almost like disbelief. Being a pessimist by experience, you seemed like everything he loathed. But there was something else, something good. Something that made the corner of his mouth tilt up in a smile against his will.
“A love song, huh? I think we can manage one or two.”
Every week at the same time, Eddie would pass through your garden and knock on the blue screen door. Every week, you closed the door separating your husband’s poker game from the porch and greeted him with the warmest smile he had seen since the last time.
He’d teach you a couple of chords, how to strum along the strings. Tried to be as respectful as possible and keep his distance. You were a married woman after all, he could see the shine from the multi-karat diamond on your finger when you shifted into the positions on the neck.
Little by little, you coaxed more info out of Eddie. He worked as a mechanic during the day and did these guitar lessons at night. He was saving up money to get out of town and would only be giving lessons until he felt like he had enough. He didn’t like staying in one place for too long. You were around the same age, only a couple years off. He had always wanted to be a musician – but it had never worked out for him.
After an hour or two, you’d announce that it was about time for him to go and slide him some cash. Double and triple checking that he’d be back next week; that he wasn’t leaving yet.
And every week, he promised he’d be back.
“A musician, huh? I guess that makes sense.” You replied, eyes trained on the way his fingers manipulated the strings on the acoustic. To learn, of course, no other reason. “Just guitar?”
“I sing a little too, but was always better at playing.”
You sat up a bit too straight, leaned a bit too far forward, looked a little too excited. “Will you sing something for me? I’d love to hear it.”
And, lately, he was having a lot of trouble saying no to you. “Are you sure? Seems like a waste of your lesson time.”
“I don’t think it will be. Play and sing something for me. Please?”
And so he did. Because he couldn’t quite find it in himself to say no.
And it happened again. And again.
Half the time, he wasn’t even teaching you to play anymore. The two of you would talk, and he would play, and you both would sing quietly on your porch as the sun set and night fell. Until it was time for him to leave again.
Neither of you talked about it. But it was the best part of both your weeks. Something to look forward to.
You reappeared 10 minutes later, looking a bit like a kicked puppy. The door hadn’t fully shut behind you as you stepped out, your hands wringing in front of you. “I think you better go. I forgot to take care of something and Henry…” You trailed off, shaking your head as you offered him an embarrassed smile. “Sorry to cut the lesson short.”
One week, you were interrupted by a loud call of your name. Eddie watched all the color drain from your face and how your posture went rigid before you flashed him another smile. “Sorry, just… Just a minute.” You said apologetically, pushing the guitar into his hands and hurrying inside.
Confused, he couldn’t help but look you over before letting his gaze skip over to the darkness through the open door. To the space inside that he’d never seen. “Oh. Yeah, no, that’s fine.” He reassured you, his eyebrows drawing together in a worry he couldn’t identify.
“Thanks again Eddie,” you said, corralling like you were trying to rush him out as you pressed the cash into his hand. “I’ll see you next week?”
And you looked at him hopefully, pleadingly. Every week. Like you were terrified this would be the time he finally said no.
Every week, he said, “I’ll see you then.”
When he looked back, he saw you, giving him that same warm smile as you offered a little wave goodbye. And over your shoulder, in the dark of the house, Henry was standing there. Watching him go.
The next few weeks were back to normal. He’d come around the back, you’d let him in, and you’d both laugh and smile for the first time all week.
He’d only managed to teach you half a song, but that was fine with you. You’d rather listen to him play and sing than anything else. Begged for it every week. Sang along when you felt like it too. It was easy, happy, and good.
Eddie was only a few feet from the fence gate when he heard you call his name. Backing up, you were standing in the open doorway of the front, waving him over with that same bright smile. “Hey! It’s good to see you.”
Hesitantly, he approached the door, hands in his pockets and the guitar slung over his shoulder. “I thought I wasn’t allowed to use the front door,” he teased, slowly marching the couple of steps to meet you.
You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed his forearm and tugged him in, shutting and locking the door behind him. “Henry is out of town, so I thought we could have our lesson inside this week. Maybe listen to something on the stereo too.”
Distracted by studying the interior of your home, he nodded and muttered an agreement. You fussed over him taking his boots off at the door and then padded across the living room in your socks and into the kitchen to get him a drink.
He walked the room like an art gallery, looking over the art on the walls and the photos. Stopped short on a picture of you and Henry on your wedding day. You, all done up, and beaming up at him like he was a hero as he smiled toward the camera.
You were a beautiful bride.
“Come, sit,” you coaxed from the couch, dragging his attention back to reality. You’d produced a bowl of pretzels and two glasses of lemonade, laid out on the coffee table in nice, expensive glassware. You were sitting on the edge of the cushion, looking up at him with that same warm smile. Like an old friend coming home.
You seemed much more at ease than ever before: smiled easier, laughed louder. Offered him some whiskey and asked him to sing you something while you mixed some drinks.
So the two of you sang and played and drank and laughed and talked for an hour or two, and then longer. The time that you would normally ask him to leave came and went – and you kept singing and talking as the sun went down and night settled over the cul de sac.
The light in the living room was low and warm, casting a glow over both of you. Eddie sang until he felt like he couldn’t anymore, and then you stepped over to turn on the stereo. He couldn’t help but notice you were even closer when you sat back down again.
Eventually, the talking fizzled out, and the two of you sat and listened to the soft melody coming from the stereo in comfortable silence. You’d turned slightly toward him, your legs tucked up on the couch as you leaned an elbow on the back. He had turned toward you too, one knee propped on the cushions.
You both just looked at each other – exchanging small smiles in the growing silence.
And maybe Eddie drank too much of your fancy whiskey, because he leaned in just a little bit closer, looked down at your mouth for just a little too long.
His hand settled on your jaw, thumb to cheek, and felt the heat of your flushed cheeks. He dipped even closer, his eyes lowering, as your breath caught in your chest.
Your eyes nearly doubled in size as your chest rose and fell with stronger breaths, but you didn’t move away. If anything you gravitated closer subconsciously, just a tiny bit of your lower lip tucked between your teeth.
He could swear he heard both of your hearts pounding – but maybe it was just the beat of the stereo he’d tuned out.
“Please, sweetheart,” he found himself begging, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to go.”
You’re married. I’m leaving. This shouldn’t be happening.
“Please, Eddie,” you begged in return, your eyebrows pinching together on your forehead in pain. “Please don’t stop.”
And he kissed you like he meant it. Like this was right, even though it was wrong. Like this was supposed to happen, even though it wasn’t.
And you kept kissing him back like you meant it. Like it was easy. Like it was good.
For the next week, Eddie felt like he was walking on air. Like he was living some kind of dream.
You’d kissed him. You’d held him. You’d touched him like no one ever had before. Like he was something, like he was good.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him feel like he was something good.
Couldn’t remember the last time something, or someone, felt like it was worth sticking around for.
And he was whistling a happy tune when he pushed through the gate fence like usual, walking along the stepping stones under the trellis, and to the baby blue screen door. He tapped three times, already smiling just at the idea of seeing you.
But he didn’t hear your husband and his buddies inside. Didn’t hear the loud click of the door shutting. Just saw the vague outline of you approaching the screen door.
You only opened it a few inches, hiding half of your face. Your smile was weak, sad. Forced.
“Sorry, I meant to call you,” you said, fidgeting uncomfortably in the doorway.
His heart dropped, his expression falling too. “Oh. Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” you assured him, and he decided to ignore how choked it sounded. “I just have to cancel our lesson this week. I’m sorry, Eddie.”
He looked you over in concern, his mind racing. Was this because of last week? Did you regret it? Do you regret me? “That’s fine, but are you sure everythin–”
Your hand pressed some cash into his, interrupting him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, before shutting the screen door and turning away.
He stood there until the door clicked shut behind you. And then a little longer.
You didn’t ask if he would be back next week. And he thought to himself…
Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t.
He didn’t get the chance to decide if he would show up the next week, because he saw you again 5 days later.
Through the window to the lobby, he saw you talking to the receptionist with a smile. It almost felt like seeing you for the first time – not on your porch or in your house. Out in the world, the same one he lived in.
Careful not to hit his head, he pushed upright from the engine he had been working on, wiping the grease from his hands on the rag hanging from the pocket of his coveralls. He stretched his arms up and back – his shoulders protesting and throbbing in pain as he did so.
Shaking out his limbs after spending a bit too long in the same position, he swung his head this way and that and then did a double take.
He didn’t realize he was walking toward the lobby, toward you, until he was pushing through the glass door inside.
You and the receptionist both looked over at the sound, your jaw dropping as the receptionist gave a nod and told you that she would be right back, leaving the two of you alone. “Eddie…” You said, quiet like a whisper. Quiet like singing on the porch while your husband was inside.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he responded with a conflicted smile, taking a few steps closer. Becoming even more conscious of the sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead and that he probably smelled not so great, and wondered if you could smell it too.
Your smile twisted into something sad as you faced him fully, your hands still settled on the receptionist's counter. Both of your eyes had dark shadows beneath them, but on one of them the skin was almost puffy – and the dark coloring extended down into your cheekbone.
Eddie’s heart thumped painfully in his chest as he took three steps closer, fingertips coming to your chin to tilt your head so he could get a better look. Your eyes closed in defeat, allowing him to study the bruising around your eye that was poorly covered by makeup, and another bruise just peeking out of the collar of your turtleneck.
It was like ice water down his spine. Goosebumps breaking out across his skin as his muscles tightened in quick succession, anger and adrenaline kicking up. “Who? Who did this to you?”
Your eyes opened again as you faced him head on, tears pooling in your lower lash line as you shook your head. “Please, sweetheart. Did Henry…?” Your expression fell as you looked away from him, your mouth setting into a firm line.
“It’s nothing,” you tried to say, tried to push him away, tried to close off.
“It’s not nothing,” he hissed, his anger getting the better of him before you flinched – breaking his heart in two. He reeled himself back, one hand dipping to cup your elbow over your sweater sleeve. “He gave you a black eye, and that bruise on your neck, and I bet those aren’t the only–”
“Eddie, I’ll be fine.” You insisted, the muscles in your jaw tight and hurting. “It was an accident– I shouldn’t have tried to– I swear, he’s a good man…” You skipped from thought to thought as your tone wavered, your eyes trained on the door the receptionist disappeared into as if willing her to come back, to save you from this interaction.
“I don’t know much,” he said sadly, getting your attention again. “But I do know that he is not a good man. And I think you know it too.”
Your mouth opened and closed, once, twice. Blinking at him as a single tear fell down your cheek.
The receptionist stepped back in and you rushed to wipe the tear away, subtly taking a step away from him. You greeted her with a polite smile as she handed you a stack of papers and a set of car keys. Eddie took that as his cue to leave – turning his back to you and heading back for the garage.
“Eddie?”
He turned back slightly, looking at you as you hesitated by the door to the lobby. Your shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath before you spoke again. “I’ll see you next week?” You asked, thinly veiled hope in your voice.
Your smile wavered, your eyes getting slightly misty again, as you gave him a slight nod. “Okay.”
And it was so, so hard to say no to you.
“Why don’t you give me a call when you’ve figured things out?” He offered vaguely, well aware of the receptionist still in the room and how she was probably eavesdropping. “And we’ll see if I’m still around then.”
Then you pushed back out into the sun and away from him.
Two months later, at the usual time on the usual day, Eddie’s phone rings.
Just like every time his phone rang before this, every time since the last time he talked to you those weeks ago, he tries not to get his hopes up when he picks it up. “Hello?”
Just so he can be sure it’s really you.
“Hey Eddie,” you reply through the hum of the landline. You sound exhausted but happy. Or maybe he's reading too much into it already.
He’s tempted to ask you to repeat yourself, like he hadn’t heard you, just so he can hear it again.
“Hey,” he offers instead, attempting to keep his cool despite the sweat that immediately broke out across his palms.
There’s a few moments of silence, and he’s worried maybe you hung up. Maybe you decided this wasn’t a good idea. He’s about to ask if you’re still there when you ask, “Are you free tonight for a lesson?”
His brain stutters, confused as he narrows his eyes at the wall. “For a lesson?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, the air huffing noisily across the line. “You can bring your guitar and we… We can play in the living room.”
Hope tugs at his heart like a fishing line being reeled in towards shore. “In the living room?” He repeats again, for reassurance.
There’s a few moments of silence that weigh heavily on his shoulders before you reply. “If that’s okay?”
“I can be there in an hour.”
He ended up on your doorstep a little bit earlier than that.
The fancy car was gone from the driveway and the lawn looked like it hadn’t been touched in a little bit too long.
Nervous like a kid going on his first date, he hiked up the concrete steps and knocked on your front door. Held his breath – like he was waiting for you to open it and yell at him for coming to the front, for coming at all.
You opened the door and gave him that smile again. Like he was an old friend coming home after a long time away.
“Eddie,” you said, half as a relieved sigh. “It’s good to see you.”
And you looked good. Tired and a bit like you had been having trouble taking care of yourself, but lighter. More at ease.
“It’s good to see you too.”
You invited him in, fussed about him taking his boots off at the door, and then rushed to grab him a drink – more nervous than you were before. Nervous?
He noticed the missing photos on the walls before he sat down on the couch and set his guitar beside him. You came back over with a snack and two drinks, setting them on the coffee table with slightly trembling hands. When you sat down on the couch, a friendly distance away, you stopped to take a deep breath. Like you’d noticed how visibly anxious you were.
He took the moment to ask the question burning in his chest. “How are you?”
You laughed a bit, shaking your head. But the smile was still there as you shifted to look more fully at him. “I’m… I’m tired. But better.” You confirmed, telling him in not so many words you were glad for what happened. He smiled too – which only seemed to make yours grow wider.
“I was scared you might’ve left town already,” you admitted quietly.
And honestly, he had thought about it. He had the money he’d originally planned to save and more. But everytime he thought about leaving, he felt this sink in his gut. Like he would regret it if he did. And maybe it was silly to wait but, it led him back here.
“I think I decided to stick around for a while,” he offered vaguely. Shrugging a shoulder like it was a small thing. Like he hadn’t admitted to you that staying places for too long made him feel antsy and uncomfortable.
Your face was hopeful, almost pleading. “You did?”
And when he nodded to reassure you, the smile that broke out across your face made him feel like maybe the sun wasn’t setting just yet.
“So… A lesson?” He asked, grabbing the neck of his guitar and pulling it into his lap before looking to you.
You pulled your legs up to tuck on the couch beside you, turned toward him with your elbow resting on the back cushions. “Actually, I think I just want to hear you play.”
“Oh yeah?” He teased, trying to ignore how it made a flush push up his neck from his chest in embarrassment. “What do you want to hear?”
“Something happy,” you responded quietly, like singing on the porch at night. “Something good.”
“Something happy…” He murmured, absently strumming along the beat up six string in his lap.
Looking up and meeting your eyes again, seeing your smile again, he thought of just the song. “I think we can manage that.”
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thanks for reading, please let me know if you liked it!!
hi i lovelovelove your fics and i’m wondering if you are taking requests… if you could write a fic with steve and shy!reader who calls him a pet name or nickname for the first time ❤️
Thank you for requesting <3
Steve Harrington x shy!reader ♡ 710 words
Dewdrops collect on your skin as you walk to Steve’s house. It’s a quiet morning, fog hanging in heavy clumps as birds call to each other through the haze. You hope Steve has coffee.
You knock quietly. His footsteps banging down the stairs answer far louder.
The door swings open to reveal your boyfriend with his toothbrush in his mouth, his hair all in disarray, and his clothes clearly only just thrown on.
“Sorry,” he says in greeting, words garbled through a foam of toothpaste. “I thou I cou get ready in five min-us, bu—” Steve spits in the kitchen sink “—I couldn’t.” He gives you a sheepish smile. “You look really pretty.”
Warmth kisses your cheeks. “Thanks, so do you,” you say earnestly. “I mean, you look nice. Your shirt’s on backwards, though.”
Steve looks down at the tag poking up near his throat. “Oh, shit.”
He rinses his mouth out with water from the tap, spitting again in the sink before setting his toothbrush down on the edge. When he pulls his arms inside to turn his shirt around, the process shows a sliver of abdomen that your eyes catch on before you drop them to the floor, flushing for real now. Steve combs his hair back with his fingers, walking around the counter to you.
“Hi,” he says, hand cupping the side of your neck as he gives you a spearmint-flavored kiss. “Coffee’s in the pot. Sorry I’m holding us up, I hope we don’t miss the sunrise because of me.”
“That’s okay,” you say, though you hope you can still catch it. It’s all really just an excuse to spend time with Steve anyway. You move past him to the fridge, getting out the cream while he pours coffee into two thermoses to take with you.
A piece of hair falls into his face as he looks down, and he swipes it back impatiently. It’s still pretty unruly from sleep; he clearly hasn’t had time this morning to give it the attention he likes to, and it warms your heart to think that he’d put that aside so you could get to go see the sunrise. It also makes you want to say to hell with the sunrise and comb your fingers through his hair until he’s happy with it.
“I’m almost ready to go,” he swears. “I just had the worst sleep last night.”
“Oh, really?” The areas under his eyes do look a little shadowy. The thought hooks your eyebrows upward. “I’m sorry, baby.”
The word slips out of you so naturally, your voice bent and softened by sympathy, that for a moment you hope that Steve won’t notice. And for a moment, it seems like maybe he doesn’t. But then he sets the thermos down, dark brows twitching towards each other. He tilts his head to look at you.
“Baby?” he asks, bordering on incredulous.
“Sorry,” you say automatically. You think your palms are sweating.
“No, don’t be sorry.” Steve’s smile blooms slowly, better than any sunrise, and you can’t tell if he’s about to make fun of you. You think if he does you might have to cancel this whole thing. “It just surprised me. S’that something you wanna call me?”
“I don’t know.” You can’t look at him. You use the coffee as an excuse, pulling your thermos toward you to start stirring in cream. When you’re done, you pass it over to Steve without glancing up.
But he’s not having it. He sets the cream aside, slotting his fingers behind your ear with your cheek in the basin of his palm and tilting you towards him. He looks like he’s making fun of you, definitely.
Your heart hiccups.
“It just slipped out,” you confess.
“Okay,” Steve laughs. “That’s okay, I liked it. Feel free to let it slip as many times as you want.” He slides his thumb along your skin, no doubt feeling its heat. His voice is sweet when he asks, “You about ready to go, baby?”
You feel your forehead pinch painfully. “Don’t,” you plead.
“I don’t know,” Steve says, though he lets you go to tend to his coffee, a small mercy. “I think you’ve really started something here. I could get used to this.”
Everyone at the fourth of july party all circling you and a baby mia where she looks like a little hamster with her big cheeks and doe eyes. And Steve’s nerding out like “You guys are meeting her at the perfect time..she stays up longer than an hour”
the thing is, when it spread through the group that you and steve were having a kid, one of the first things everyone did was figure out when would be the best time to come back to hawkins to meet the baby. you weren't exactly privy to these conversations, but your only stipulation was that you weren't going to be hosting a bunch of people within days of giving birth, so it was settled on them coming back for the senior harrington's annual fourth of july bash.
and it's not that a few of them haven't already met mia. robin, of course, drove down from chicago and visited you in the hospital, congratulating you and shaming steve for "making you birth his big headed child" in equal measure. mike wheeler got dragged over with mrs. wheeler when he came home from college, and dustin's practically camped out on your couch for a week when he moved home after graduating.
steve's absolutely bouncing off the walls by the time you guys pull into his parents' driveway, and the party is already in full swing when he steps into the chaos with mia held protectively to his chest.
everyone who hasn't met the baby immediately swarms steve. mia gets passed off to joyce, who shields the baby as though guarding mia with her life. you catch hopper wiping away a few stray tears as he runs a hand down mia's back. will offers you a soft, she's very cute, to which you wholeheartedly agree. jonathan claps steve on the back (you've never quite understood their relationship, but you suppose it's not for you to understand.) and nancy—
nancy slips onto the couch next to you.
"he looks happy," she tells you quietly. "you both do."
"he is," you say amiably.
she smiles. "i'm glad. we deserve something to celebrate after everything we've gone through."
you glance up to see steve showing off mia's newest skill — kicking her legs out excitedly — and feel something in your chest softening.
could I request shy!reader with eddie where he is super protective over her during school? like he has NO problems telling people off if they make a comment to her/make her feel uncomfortable!
Eddie found you in the library, head bent, eyes a little unfocused as you scanned each line, pages fluttering in the quiet when you turned them. Mrs Scott was already frowning at him when he walked past the main desk, the librarian unused to seeing the boy between the stacks of books.
Eddie waved, smiling brightly as he tried to convince the woman he wasn’t here to cause trouble. He walked a little faster towards you, grinning when he realised you still hadn’t noticed him. So he laughed a little when you jumped at his touch, his face buried in your neck as he leaned over the back of your chair.
“Jesus, Eddie, you scared me,” you whispered, voice a hiss but you softened when you leaned back into him, his chest a solid warmth behind you.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, his hands squeezing at your shoulders. “Hi.”
You warmed under his gaze, those eyes shining at you, all fond and familiar. Putting your bookmark between the pages, you pushed the novel to the side, cheek to your shoulder so you could press a kiss to the top of Eddie’s hand, a surprising bout of affection from you considering you were in school, but Eddie took it without comment, not wanting to embarrass you.
“Why aren’t you at lunch, huh?” He sat down in the chair next to you, knees bumping and eyes concerned. “Been lookin’ for you.”
You shrugged, unwillingly to meet Eddie’s gaze cause he could read you like the story you’d just paused. “I’m not hungry,” you lied.
The boy frowned, picking up your hand to hold it in his, fingertips running over your knuckles, the dainty, gold rings on each finger, a pretty contrast to his own.
“You feelin’ okay? I can take you home, if you want.”
You melted into him at the sentiment, wanting nothing more than to skip the rest of your classes, wondering if you could convince Eddie to do the same and let you spend the day in his bed. You like the afternoons when it was quiet, the days that were lazy and long and you could stay against Eddie’s chest.
You shook your head, disappointed. “No, it’s okay! I’m fine,” you tried to convince yourself and him. “I have a calc test next period.”
Eddie didn’t seem to believe you. Well, he knew you had a calc test, he believed that part. Just not when you said you were fine. You looked small, tired, curled in on yourself as you thumbed the pages of your book. So the boy waited, one arm slung around the back of your chair now, his hand making trails up and down your spine and he kept going until you softened, shoulders coming down from where they sat at your ears, putty against him.
He was gentle when he asked, careful about it. “Sweetheart? Are those girls still bothering you? Jenny Deegan? And whatsherface, her friend— the one with the ponytail.”
You cringed, hating how Eddie knew. Bothering was an understatement, but at the age you were, the idea of being “bullied” seemed mortifying. Besides, you weren’t sure what these girls were doing could be classed as such. Girls were mean in a different way, vicious, nasty, unsatisfied until there were tears in your eyes.
There was no being pushed to the ground at lunchtime, no stupid signs pinned to your back or childish name calling. No, mean girls liked to give compliments to your face, superficial and mocking, hardly waiting to burst out laughing when you turned away, too embarrassed to respond properly.
They liked to spread rumours, write things on the bathroom wall and they liked to pout when you blinked back tears, scathing, patronising, cruel.
You sniffed, shoving your face back into your book. “What? No.”
A lie. It tasted bitter in your tongue.
Eddie frowned. “Babe, you gotta tell them to fuck off,” he said, voice kinder than his words. “Huh? I know you hate confrontation, but I can’t stand seeing you like this.”
Your lip wobbled.
“Want me to scare them off?” Eddie pushed his nose to your cheek, whispering when Mrs Scott glared over in your direction. “I can get a bible or somethin’, come to school in black robes and start chanting at them, talk real loud about blood sacrifices, yeah?”
You snorted at the mental image your boyfriend painted, lips quirking upwards and Eddie beamed at the sight. “Like you have a bible,” you told him, your voice still soft, softer still when you turned to press your face to Eddie’s chest.
His arms came up around you, one hand curling into the hair at the nape of your neck. “I’d source one,” he shot back. “For you, I’d write out my own damn religion. Somethin’ scary enough that those bitches leave you alone.”
Normally you’d frown upon name calling, but there was something about Eddie’s sharp words that soothed the ache inside you. You kissed the skin above the collar of his T-shirt, eyes blinking back the tears Eddie made sure never fell.
“Yeah?” You asked weakly. God, you were tired.
“Yeah, babe,” Eddie agreed, a kiss pushed soft to your cheek in confirmation. “Ain’t no one making my girl cry.”
i’m thinking abt eddie using the tip of one of his rings to rub against your clit.. yeah
not proofread. minors dni
it feels like he’s been at it for a lifetime, regardless off the complaint; you don’t want it to end. your slump against a headboard, knees nearly pushed up to your chest, and you’re desperately latching onto your thighs mainly for grounding.
the metal is hard and cold, his middle finger isolated from the rest. his hand balled into a fist, knuckle subtly circling so his ring can softly nudge against you clit. the way the ring nudges under the hood makes you embarrassingly clench around nothing and he notices it every time. his cock is aching and itching for any ounce of stimulation beneath his jeans.
hips desperately rock toward eddie’s hand, and he’s biting his lip with concentration, eyes flooded with amusement and thirst. you’re panting, chest rising and falling rapidly, and your face is balled up in pure ecstasy. your eyes are shifting in and out of focus, you wanna roll them back so bad but you need to watch him. you have tension in your neck from holding it up in your current position, but you need to watch him. you can’t take your eyes off the way your hard clit flicks around the nub of his ring.
his jaw is slack, tongue slightly sticking out in awe. his eyes are shifting between the action happening in between your legs and your facial expressions. he can feel thumping in his chest and his cock. you’ve already broken out in a soft sweat, and he can tell by your twitching that your putting all your focus on not cumming too soon, drawing this experience out for as long as you can muster. the air surrounding the two of you is thick, warm and heavy with lust.
you catch the way his adams apple bobs when he swallows a groan. he doesn’t want anything interrupting your whines or the subtle sound of the sheets beneath you shuffling as you brainlessly fuck yourself against him. he feel as though he can’t form a coherent thought, mind completely buzzed with need.
you’re desperately trying to hold on, clit stinging from overstimulation. without warning you feel that out in your abdomen snap, body instinctively stretching itself out, toes curled, thighs slap the way they close around eddie’s hand, jaw loose in a open mouthed whine, and eyes rolled so far tears start selling up. you’re stunning, he can feel the aching in his cock and it nearly makes him cry out. watching you lurch forward as you cum, he’s still nudging his ring around, wanting to squeeze everything outta you. you nearly laugh in embarrassment with how hard your orgasm was.
eddie’s face is flushed a deep red, he’s so turned on. slowly peaking your thighs apart to get a good look at you swollen, worn out pussy.
snowghoul
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vaporwave
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