summary: the four times eddie knew he was a goner and the one time he told you.
warnings: no spoilers! don’t worry, you’re safe here. profanities. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed <3
word count: 5.1k
i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love mötley crüe.
eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him.
and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…
eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.
so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”
you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”
“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.”
you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.
“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.
“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”
after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.
“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!
he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”
huh.
you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it.
you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.
he isn’t a bad sight to see.
his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.
his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.
all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.
“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”
you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”
“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”
“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.
“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”
he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.
… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,
i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,
and like a supercharged rocket ride,
you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.
“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”
“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”
eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”
“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”
it came out as gibberish but the point came across.
“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”
“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.
that was strike one for eddie munson.
ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.
you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.
and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”
“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.”
eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it.
“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.
motherfucker.
“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.
you should really start thinking twice.
said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.
“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.
“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”
“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”
you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.
“you bitch!”
with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you.
eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk.
“holy shit…”
“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy.
“twenty.” he blinks.
you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”
eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.
“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.
you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.
and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around.
and the rest was history.
that was strike two for eddie munson.
iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.
“is this… MADONNA?”
eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.
he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady.
dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”
eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”
it was his. you left it for him.
dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.
you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.
you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.
just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too.
if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.
“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.
eddie slaps his hands away from his face.
aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.
“did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.
he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”
“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”
eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”
you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”
you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.
you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.
that was strike three for eddie munson.
iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.
“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”
as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”
you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”
“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”
“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”
“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”
“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”
“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”
“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”
“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”
you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”
“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.
“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.
“and twice,” you agree.
as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.
you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.
mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.
the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.
his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.
“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”
“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”
“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”
you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”
eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.
“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”
“no! i shan’t yield!”
giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.
you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.
you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain.
a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second.
“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.
“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.
eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”
he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”
“idiot.” you snort.
eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van.
a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van.
“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”
you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.
he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”
“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”
adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”
he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.
the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.
his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.
should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?
the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.
“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”
“yeah.”
eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?
that was strike four for eddie munson.
but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.
v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.
“harrington? fucking harrington?”
“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.
“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.
“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”
he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”
you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”
“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”
“and robin.”
“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.
“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”
“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.
“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”
“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”
you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”
eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair.
“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”
“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.
you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”
“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.
“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine.
“that’s mine!”
“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”
“you paid for those with my money.”
eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”
“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”
“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”
the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”
“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”
he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”
eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that.
you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.
“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”
although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”
“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.
he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”
you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”
eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.
“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”
“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.
eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”
he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again.
his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.
with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.
“are you sure?” you hesitate.
“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners.
and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.
“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”
eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”
you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”
and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.
robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up.
“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”
you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”
eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”
you shrug.
he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.
“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically.
eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”
“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you.
“i have no idea.”
some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.
“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”
“frozen waffles?” robin questions.
“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna – that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”
you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love.
“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”
you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie.
he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”
“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.
your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.
“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.
you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”
“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”
“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.
“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.
“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”
that was strike ??? for you and eddie.
“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”
“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”
“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”
summary: steve flirts with the cool beautiful tourist who visits family video for her girlfriend.
warnings: profanities. suggestive comments. embarrassed steve. gif credits to @dykejaskiers
word count: 1.4k
steve doesn’t know how everything went off the rails or why he suddenly has six kids under his wing – seven if you include robin. he used to be king steve, now he’s mom steve to a pack of fifteen-year-old shitheads.
where are their parents? it’s a question steve wishes he has an answer to.
the said shitheads were currently huddled at the corner of family video. it was a monday so they were the only ones keeping him busy. he had to drag the staff room’s television out and let them choose a film from the newly shipped releases after getting blackmailed by dustin.
“farrah fawcett.” dustin mouthed. he was lucky keith was out for a two-week vacation.
steve glared at him like there was no tomorrow — other than the mean blackmailing, it was peaceful. they were quiet, aside from occasional comments and laughter. steve basks it all in.
robin is out back, rewinding tapes, and steve is, yet again, stuck by the counter whilst looking out for the kids because where else will steve be without his children?
the overhead bell rings, signaling a customer, but steve couldn’t even bother to look up as he mindlessly flips through a magazine. he drones aloofly, “hi, welcome to family video. my name is steve and i’ll be helping you find the perfect film for yadda yadda yadda.”
“you think you can help me find a good rom-com, steve?”
his head snaps towards the lovely voice, magazine nearly dropping from his hands as he gapes at the sight of you. hawkins is a small town and you must be a tourist because it would be foolish of him to miss someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you.
“h-hi, my name is uh- harrington. steve. steve harrington.”
“hi, steve harrington,” you smile, a hint of mischief in your sultry voice. you knew who he was, you’ve seen him in the manifold of polaroids robin has. you decide that you want to have some fun.
steve’s knees nearly buckled, chills ran through his bones, and goosebumps rose on his skin. your voice was airy, like a soft breeze alleviating the heat of a feverish man under the scorching sun.
he feels his hands start to get clammy, was it getting hot in here? he lightly tugs at the collar of his god-awful shirt. “what was your question again? i’m sorry, i must have gotten lost in your eyes for a bit.”
you scoff in amusement, ignoring his outdated pick-up line. “rom-coms? do you have any new releases that are worth watching?”
max snickers at the sight of a tomato-red steve, she nudged the others and paused the movie to watch steve instead. it was better than whatever movie lucas picked.
steve directs his attention to the kids and glares at them. he takes a deep breath before turning his gaze back to your expecting one.
“well, if it’s romcoms you’re looking for, we don’t have any good ones yet,” he starts, tilting his head to the side to flash you his ever-charming smile. “but, y’know, i heard that pretty in pink is good.”
robin shuffles out of the back room and grins at the sight of you. she heard steve’s poor flirting attempts and decided to bring out the scoreboard, but when her eyes settled on you, her grin widened even more.
“yeah?” you muse, leaning against the counter. you notice robin’s presence.
steve gulps at the proximity, he wasn’t lying when he said he gets lost in your eyes. “yeah… i can- i can take you to the movies and we can watch it together?”
you hum as if in thought, playing with the charms on your bracelet before you look up at him with a smile. you ask sweetly, “you think i can invite robin to come with?”
robin stifles her laughter.
“rob-” he pauses, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “robin? buckley? my robin buckley?”
“well, yeah,” you shrug, lips curling into a smirk. “i mean, i don’t think it’ll look good for me if i go out with my girlfriend’s best friend to the movies alone, don’t you think?”
steve’s jaw drops.
the kids burst out laughing.
robin snickers, making her way towards you. “i thought you were staying at home today, baby?”
steve grimaces at the pet name.
“well, i thought i’d visit my best girl,” you smile, leaning into her embrace as she wraps her arms around you. she pulls you in for a kiss.
“-and flirt with her coworker slash best friend?” steve asks bitterly, a small pout on his lips. his glare steers to robin. “and you! you let me go on with it – what is wrong with you, seriously.”
dustin and max cackle at his demise. tears were forming in their eyes from their laughter.
“you were doing the flirting,” robin points out. “she was asking you for movies. you know, like what you’re paid to do?”
steve grumbles, but he isn’t mad or annoyed. he’s actually happy for robin even though he felt cross that she never told him about her cool girlfriend from the city.
“aww, it’s okay, steve,” you coo. “we can still go to the movies. if it helps, i know robin will let you hold my hand if you get lonely.”
he shoots you a sarcastic smile.
“i will, actually,” robin agrees, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. “i know how you cry when the guy and the girl finally get together.”
“okay, you’ve had your fun.” he rolls his eyes, hands resting on his hips as he looks at the giggling children. mom steve mode activated. “and you shitheads, do you want to walk home later?”
robin grins, intertwining her hands with yours. she drags you towards the backroom, sneaking behind steve as he continues to scold them. you hear the faint sounds of the television after a few seconds.
you hop on top of the low shelves in the room, grabbing one of the lone vhs tapes as robin shuts the door. you snort, showing her the tape with wiggling eyebrows. “may the foreskin be with you.”
she pulls a face of disgust as she settles herself in between your legs. “that’s actually so fucking gross, i can’t believe people are into these.”
you laugh. “don’t kink shame, robs. might i remind you that you absolutely love being-”
robin scoffs, pinching your thighs. “you’re being malicious.”
you smile, putting the tape down to wrap your arms around her neck, her own promptly snaking around your waist to pull you just a little bit closer. you pull her into a soft kiss, mumbling in between pecks, “missed you,”
“you know i missed you more,” she says, moving forward to kiss you again, and again, and again. it was an act that she will never get tired of. it was dizzying, the feeling of you, the feeling of your love.
the kiss was heated, lips pressing together like the final piece to complete the puzzle – the feeling of domestic content as you step back to admire your work. it’s bruised and red, a feat of passionate love and adoration.
your hands roam wherever they can, trailing and leaving goosebumps in their wake – an unconscious matter of habit; memorized after spending time after time of lingering touches and ardent intimacy.
you’ve never loved anything more than you loved robin. it was endless, the love you have for her, and you never quite failed to remind her, to show her. it goes on a long way; like going on a trip to find the other side of the rainbow where you’ll find a pot of gold.
but the happiness doesn’t stop at the gold; it’s where fortune leads you.
and it’s infinite because with the gold in your hands, life keeps getting better every waking moment. you’re lucky.
with robin, you are golden.
a soft moan slipped out of your lips as her tongue slipped into yours.
steve makes himself welcome in the room, leaning against the doorframe. “you aren't paid to sneak in your girlfriend and make out with her, you know?”
robin hums, a soft smile gracing her lips. her eyes never wavered from yours. “wish i was,”
you are golden but she will always be your golden girl.
summary: they say home is where the heart is but eddie’s home and heart is you.
warnings: just fluff and love! lovesick eddie! profanities and very slight suggestiveness. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed.
word count: 2.2k
“i’m home, sweetheart!”
never once did eddie go home without making his arrival known, not when he finally has someone to go home to. it’s a gesture of simplicity, yet it carries a deep feeling of intimacy and saccharine for him.
you two went through hell and back trying to save up for your own place, your home — for your life together — but it was all worth it in the end because now you have a dainty apartment in michigan, stable jobs, and food on the table. it’s far from hawkins and its dark secrets but not far enough for dustin and the gang not to visit.
he groans softly as he locks the door, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension, eyes momentarily closing. he lets the strap of his guitar bag slide down from his arm, alleviating the digging into his skin. and then —
CRASH! — eddie stumbles over an ottoman that he swore was never there before. he stands up straight and scans the room. it was redecorated. he sighs, shuffling around the new arrangement of the apartment.
“eddie?”
eddie turns around to find you in a shirt twice your size, you were rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and then with the pitter-patter of feet and the jingling of a bell, your dog runs towards him, greeting him with a pushing weight on his legs.
“sorry, did i wake you?” eddie frowns, rubbing the spot behind willow’s ears as he gestures to the living room. “didn’t know our interior designer came to visit.”
you smile sheepishly, squishing your face against his chest as you hug him. he pulls you closer, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. your words come out muffled, “i missed you today, had to get my mind off things for a while.”
“s’okay, sweetheart. i missed you, too, so much,” he mumbles, slowly swaying you in place. “but next time, tell me, yeah? nearly kissed the ground before i could even kiss your pretty lips.”
you laugh softly, pulling away from his embrace to give him a kiss, a quick one that issues a whine of protest from your boyfriend. “take a shower and then we can kiss all you want. you smell like mike’s socks.”
eddie grumbles, tugging your arm to give you another kiss; seconds longer and sweeter until he has to pull away to breathe. eddie wishes he didn’t have to so he kisses you again. “go back to bed, baby, i’ll be with you before you know it.”
and true to his word, eddie walks into your shared bedroom, fresh out of the shower. you look up at him from the solace of the warm duvet. your head is the only thing peeking out. it’s cute.
“aren’t you looking very comfortable?” he grins as you make grabby hands at him. he flops down the bed with a bounce, wrapping you in his arms.
“much better,” you sigh in contentment.
he tilts up your chin to give you a kiss, ever so soft and slow; no one’s in a rush, it’s all at the moment, one of which eddie wishes to live in forever. there’s a hint of morose gnawing at his chest — the thought of how he could just spend every waking and sleeping hour with you in his arms.
he thinks of how the world can be cruel by depriving him of the time to spend more with you. instead, he gets stuck day after day in a stinking bar with drunkards who do not appreciate the art of metal — aside from the owner, mrs. duran, who loves their setlist. bless her heart.
he does believe in the saying ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. it does, it really does. he finds himself missing you, thinking of you, yearning for you.
but then he thinks of your beautiful smile — and maybe another thing — and it’s enough motivation for him to get through his day and get home to you.
being lovesick is an incurable disease, he thinks, vastly lethal when it’s with the right person. there is no cure, but even if there is, eddie will not as much blink an eye for it. he’s been with you for three years and counting, and his love for you has never faltered — like poison, it grew, it spread, it flourished — but it isn’t as ruthless as death, no. it gives him life, it gives him love.
it’s everything every person can ever dream of; finding the love that makes everything make sense as if it has all along.
and eddie, who up until this moment marvels over his felicity, has just so happened to find both friendship and love in you. he’s the happiest he’s ever been, starting from the moment he met you, it never wavered.
he drapes the blanket over the two of you and turns the lamp off, enveloping you in darkness.
“i love you, eddie.”
“i love you, sweetheart.” not i love you, too — i love you. because he did not need you to say it for him to support the idea that he loves you. it’s not a too, it’s not an also, it’s not an as well; it’s i love you.
it’s a declaration that is instilled within the abyss of our hearts. therefore it should be veritable as it is brought out only by the intensity of our affection — felt to such a visceral degree. it’s the coup de grace of every profession of love ever made.
“more than your guitar?” you tease sleepily.
eddie scoffs, “let’s not go that far, babe.”
you chuckle, placing your head above his chest to listen to his heartbeat. thump… thump… thump…
“i’m kidding, baby. i love you…” he repeats, this time softer as he slowly succumbs to sleep and the dreams of you.
sunlight trickles through the window pane of the bedroom, sheathing a warm kiss on eddie’s skin. he groans softly, mindlessly patting around for you only to find your side of the bed cold and empty.
he yawns, rising from the bed with a stretch to wake his sleeping limbs. he shuffles out of the room, picking up the discarded socks on the floor. he makes a detour around the room, shooting the deserted clothes in the hamper.
eddie doesn’t mind it, really. no matter how many times you forget to pick up your socks or put your shoes in the rack, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
he wouldn’t have a place to call home if it didn’t have even a trace of you in it. the place will simply be called a house or an apartment, but not a home. it would be undeserving of that title if it doesn’t have your clothes lying around, or you spontaneously rearranging the furniture, baking cookies, dancing in the kitchen, or sleeping with him in his bed.
it shows signs of living, of laughter, of loving. with pictures gracing the mantelpiece, a sweater of yours thrown over the couch, and your diverse album records that are mixed with his — it paints the perfect home for him.
he finds you on the balcony, a mug of coffee in hand.
you feel him before you see him, arms making their way around your waist. eddie presses soft kisses on your neck, trailing from your cheeks and up to your forehead. he puts your coffee cup on the table, turning you around to kiss you on the lips.
“good morning, gorgeous,” he whispers, smiling at the feeling of you against him. his cold hands slip under your shirt and you jump at the temperature, pulling away from him.
“cold!” you chastise him, placing his hands over your shirt instead.
“but that’s why i need you to heat ‘em up for me,” he whines, trying to sneak them back under again, lightly brushing them higher… and higher… until…
“eddie!” you smack his hands away, laughing at his poor attempts. you look down at your sock-clad feet and his bunny slippers-clad ones. it didn’t fit even half of it, his heels were poking out. “...are those my slippers?”
he models them. “you like ‘em? they’re new.”
“yeah, it looks better on you.” you tease, grabbing your coffee cup from the table and his hand with the other, dragging him back inside. “c’mon, let’s make some breakfast.”
“what do you mean?” he asks in faux confusion, pulling you in the direction of the bedroom. “i’m right here, woman! here’s your breakfast — bon appétit, ma chérie.”
“you’re insufferable!” you laugh, pushing him away.
“you’re telling me you don’t want a piece of this?” he gestures to himself and when you shake your head ‘no’, he dramatically falls back onto the couch, clutching his chest as if he was shot. “how shall i live knowing thou love of my life no longer desires me and my di-?”
“woah!” you interrupted with an incredulous laugh, pulling him up on his feet. “that’s enough, romeo,”
“-displays of affection.” eddie finishes with a pointed look. he teasingly squints his eyes at you and he clicks his tongue. “what were you thinking, you perv?”
you playfully roll your eyes at him, making your way towards the kitchen. “we need some eggs, by the way. can you drop by the store to get some?”
“if i get a kiss, i would.”
“i’ll give you two.”
“deal,” he grins, immediately sauntering towards you. he tugs you by your waist and gives you a sweet kiss and two and three, and then more.
you pull away, patting his cheek. “i said two.”
“you gave me more anyway,” he quips, giving your butt a quick smack. “be back in a second, sweetcheeks.”
“i’m home, sweetheart!”
eddie groans at the smell of bacon, immediately making a sharp left to the kitchen. he places the box of eggs on the counter and stands behind you, chin resting on your shoulder. “smells amazing.”
you smile, looking away from the pan for a moment to start preparing the eggs when —
“OW!” eddie yelped, pulling away from the bacon he was trying to steal. he blows at the burn prickling his fingers, hissing at the sting.
“idiot! why would you get it from the pan? it’s hot!” you scold him, a laugh escaping your lips as you turn the stove off.
“i know that now.” he glares at you before his face contorts into a puppy dog look. he pouts at you, burned hand extending towards you. “i need you to kiss it better.”
you scoff in mock disbelief, turning your back to him as you fix up the eggs, stove back on.
“y/n,” he drags out, like a child having a temper tantrum. “you’re being mean. what if i die, huh? what if the burn spreads through my body and i get a heat stroke? it will be too late! — you have to tell dustin i love him but he will never have my d&d set.”
“you fucking drama queen.” you poke his side, grabbing his hand and giving it soft kisses. “s’that good now?”
“i think it needs more, doc,” eddie sighs dramatically and puckers his lips. “here, too, or else i’ll die of lack of air!”
“lack of air?” you laugh in disbelief. “how is that-”
“because you! you are the air that i breathe…” he pretends as if it was his last breath before he theatrically falls to the ground, eyes closed and tongue poking out as though proclaimed dead.
you snort in amusement, softly kicking at his side. “c’mon, munson, stand up and i’ll give you a proper kiss.”
and just like that, he’s standing straighter than he ever was before. you lean on the tips of your toes, holding his face in your hands as you smother him with kisses. i love you i love you i love you — you whisper in every butterfly kiss. i love you i love you i love you — you continue to say it.
eddie smiles at your affection. he used to believe he was undeserving of love — your love to be exact; your soft and loving love. it was beautiful. it was like no other. he believes he’s living in a fairytale except there were no adventures, no strife — it was just straight to happily ever after.
your smile parallels his; soft and lovelorn. you pull him closer, kiss him on the lips, and it's just as magical as every other one you had before — its spark never losing its touch. it still makes your hearts flutter, cheeks warm, minds fuzzy.
i love you i love you i love you — eddie whispers in between kisses. and fucking shit, was it true. he would give up everything if it meant stopping time just to be in the moment with you. be it that moment, the night before, or the day after this — he doesn’t care which moment it will be because every moment with you is a moment he will cherish for eternity.
with you, he is home and you will forever be his as he is yours. he is home. your home.
‘he wouldn’t have a place to call home if it didn’t have even a trace of you in it.’ STOP, STOP IT RN, IM MELTING, MY HEART IS IN A PUDDLE ON THE FLOOR, LITERALLY ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SENTENCES I’VE READ
domesticity with eddie just makes me feel all fuzzy and warm, this was just perfect, *mwah* i loved it so much!! <333
summary: the four times eddie knew he was a goner and the one time he told you.
warnings: no spoilers! don’t worry, you’re safe here. profanities. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed <3
word count: 5.1k
i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love mötley crüe.
eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him.
and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…
eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.
so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”
you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”
“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.”
you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.
“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.
“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”
after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.
“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!
he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”
huh.
you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it.
you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.
he isn’t a bad sight to see.
his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.
his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.
all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.
“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”
you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”
“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”
“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.
“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”
he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.
… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,
i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,
and like a supercharged rocket ride,
you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.
“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”
“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”
eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”
“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”
it came out as gibberish but the point came across.
“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”
“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.
that was strike one for eddie munson.
ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.
you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.
and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”
“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.”
eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it.
“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.
motherfucker.
“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.
you should really start thinking twice.
said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.
“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.
“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”
“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”
you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.
“you bitch!”
with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you.
eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk.
“holy shit…”
“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy.
“twenty.” he blinks.
you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”
eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.
“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.
you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.
and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around.
and the rest was history.
that was strike two for eddie munson.
iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.
“is this… MADONNA?”
eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.
he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady.
dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”
eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”
it was his. you left it for him.
dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.
you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.
you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.
just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too.
if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.
“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.
eddie slaps his hands away from his face.
aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.
“did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.
he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”
“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”
eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”
you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”
you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.
you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.
that was strike three for eddie munson.
iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.
“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”
as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”
you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”
“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”
“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”
“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”
“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”
“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”
“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”
“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”
you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”
“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.
“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.
“and twice,” you agree.
as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.
you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.
mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.
the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.
his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.
“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”
“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”
“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”
you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”
eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.
“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”
“no! i shan’t yield!”
giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.
you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.
you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain.
a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second.
“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.
“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.
eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”
he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”
“idiot.” you snort.
eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van.
a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van.
“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”
you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.
he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”
“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”
adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”
he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.
the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.
his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.
should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?
the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.
“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”
“yeah.”
eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?
that was strike four for eddie munson.
but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.
v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.
“harrington? fucking harrington?”
“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.
“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.
“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”
he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”
you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”
“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”
“and robin.”
“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.
“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”
“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.
“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”
“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”
you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”
eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair.
“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”
“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.
you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”
“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.
“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine.
“that’s mine!”
“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”
“you paid for those with my money.”
eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”
“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”
“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”
the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”
“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”
he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”
eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that.
you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.
“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”
although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”
“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.
he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”
you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”
eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.
“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”
“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.
eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”
he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again.
his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.
with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.
“are you sure?” you hesitate.
“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners.
and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.
“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”
eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”
you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”
and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.
robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up.
“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”
you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”
eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”
you shrug.
he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.
“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically.
eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”
“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you.
“i have no idea.”
some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.
“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”
“frozen waffles?” robin questions.
“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna – that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”
you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love.
“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”
you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie.
he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”
“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.
your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.
“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.
you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”
“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”
“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.
“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.
“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”
that was strike ??? for you and eddie.
“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”
“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”
“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”
summary: they say home is where the heart is but eddie’s home and heart is you.
warnings: just fluff and love! lovesick eddie! profanities and very slight suggestiveness. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed.
word count: 2.2k
“i’m home, sweetheart!”
never once did eddie go home without making his arrival known, not when he finally has someone to go home to. it’s a gesture of simplicity, yet it carries a deep feeling of intimacy and saccharine for him.
you two went through hell and back trying to save up for your own place, your home — for your life together — but it was all worth it in the end because now you have a dainty apartment in michigan, stable jobs, and food on the table. it’s far from hawkins and its dark secrets but not far enough for dustin and the gang not to visit.
he groans softly as he locks the door, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension, eyes momentarily closing. he lets the strap of his guitar bag slide down from his arm, alleviating the digging into his skin. and then —
CRASH! — eddie stumbles over an ottoman that he swore was never there before. he stands up straight and scans the room. it was redecorated. he sighs, shuffling around the new arrangement of the apartment.
“eddie?”
eddie turns around to find you in a shirt twice your size, you were rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and then with the pitter-patter of feet and the jingling of a bell, your dog runs towards him, greeting him with a pushing weight on his legs.
“sorry, did i wake you?” eddie frowns, rubbing the spot behind willow’s ears as he gestures to the living room. “didn’t know our interior designer came to visit.”
you smile sheepishly, squishing your face against his chest as you hug him. he pulls you closer, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. your words come out muffled, “i missed you today, had to get my mind off things for a while.”
“s’okay, sweetheart. i missed you, too, so much,” he mumbles, slowly swaying you in place. “but next time, tell me, yeah? nearly kissed the ground before i could even kiss your pretty lips.”
you laugh softly, pulling away from his embrace to give him a kiss, a quick one that issues a whine of protest from your boyfriend. “take a shower and then we can kiss all you want. you smell like mike’s socks.”
eddie grumbles, tugging your arm to give you another kiss; seconds longer and sweeter until he has to pull away to breathe. eddie wishes he didn’t have to so he kisses you again. “go back to bed, baby, i’ll be with you before you know it.”
and true to his word, eddie walks into your shared bedroom, fresh out of the shower. you look up at him from the solace of the warm duvet. your head is the only thing peeking out. it’s cute.
“aren’t you looking very comfortable?” he grins as you make grabby hands at him. he flops down the bed with a bounce, wrapping you in his arms.
“much better,” you sigh in contentment.
he tilts up your chin to give you a kiss, ever so soft and slow; no one’s in a rush, it’s all at the moment, one of which eddie wishes to live in forever. there’s a hint of morose gnawing at his chest — the thought of how he could just spend every waking and sleeping hour with you in his arms.
he thinks of how the world can be cruel by depriving him of the time to spend more with you. instead, he gets stuck day after day in a stinking bar with drunkards who do not appreciate the art of metal — aside from the owner, mrs. duran, who loves their setlist. bless her heart.
he does believe in the saying ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. it does, it really does. he finds himself missing you, thinking of you, yearning for you.
but then he thinks of your beautiful smile — and maybe another thing — and it’s enough motivation for him to get through his day and get home to you.
being lovesick is an incurable disease, he thinks, vastly lethal when it’s with the right person. there is no cure, but even if there is, eddie will not as much blink an eye for it. he’s been with you for three years and counting, and his love for you has never faltered — like poison, it grew, it spread, it flourished — but it isn’t as ruthless as death, no. it gives him life, it gives him love.
it’s everything every person can ever dream of; finding the love that makes everything make sense as if it has all along.
and eddie, who up until this moment marvels over his felicity, has just so happened to find both friendship and love in you. he’s the happiest he’s ever been, starting from the moment he met you, it never wavered.
he drapes the blanket over the two of you and turns the lamp off, enveloping you in darkness.
“i love you, eddie.”
“i love you, sweetheart.” not i love you, too — i love you. because he did not need you to say it for him to support the idea that he loves you. it’s not a too, it’s not an also, it’s not an as well; it’s i love you.
it’s a declaration that is instilled within the abyss of our hearts. therefore it should be veritable as it is brought out only by the intensity of our affection — felt to such a visceral degree. it’s the coup de grace of every profession of love ever made.
“more than your guitar?” you tease sleepily.
eddie scoffs, “let’s not go that far, babe.”
you chuckle, placing your head above his chest to listen to his heartbeat. thump… thump… thump…
“i’m kidding, baby. i love you…” he repeats, this time softer as he slowly succumbs to sleep and the dreams of you.
sunlight trickles through the window pane of the bedroom, sheathing a warm kiss on eddie’s skin. he groans softly, mindlessly patting around for you only to find your side of the bed cold and empty.
he yawns, rising from the bed with a stretch to wake his sleeping limbs. he shuffles out of the room, picking up the discarded socks on the floor. he makes a detour around the room, shooting the deserted clothes in the hamper.
eddie doesn’t mind it, really. no matter how many times you forget to pick up your socks or put your shoes in the rack, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
he wouldn’t have a place to call home if it didn’t have even a trace of you in it. the place will simply be called a house or an apartment, but not a home. it would be undeserving of that title if it doesn’t have your clothes lying around, or you spontaneously rearranging the furniture, baking cookies, dancing in the kitchen, or sleeping with him in his bed.
it shows signs of living, of laughter, of loving. with pictures gracing the mantelpiece, a sweater of yours thrown over the couch, and your diverse album records that are mixed with his — it paints the perfect home for him.
he finds you on the balcony, a mug of coffee in hand.
you feel him before you see him, arms making their way around your waist. eddie presses soft kisses on your neck, trailing from your cheeks and up to your forehead. he puts your coffee cup on the table, turning you around to kiss you on the lips.
“good morning, gorgeous,” he whispers, smiling at the feeling of you against him. his cold hands slip under your shirt and you jump at the temperature, pulling away from him.
“cold!” you chastise him, placing his hands over your shirt instead.
“but that’s why i need you to heat ‘em up for me,” he whines, trying to sneak them back under again, lightly brushing them higher… and higher… until…
“eddie!” you smack his hands away, laughing at his poor attempts. you look down at your sock-clad feet and his bunny slippers-clad ones. it didn’t fit even half of it, his heels were poking out. “...are those my slippers?”
he models them. “you like ‘em? they’re new.”
“yeah, it looks better on you.” you tease, grabbing your coffee cup from the table and his hand with the other, dragging him back inside. “c’mon, let’s make some breakfast.”
“what do you mean?” he asks in faux confusion, pulling you in the direction of the bedroom. “i’m right here, woman! here’s your breakfast — bon appétit, ma chérie.”
“you’re insufferable!” you laugh, pushing him away.
“you’re telling me you don’t want a piece of this?” he gestures to himself and when you shake your head ‘no’, he dramatically falls back onto the couch, clutching his chest as if he was shot. “how shall i live knowing thou love of my life no longer desires me and my di-?”
“woah!” you interrupted with an incredulous laugh, pulling him up on his feet. “that’s enough, romeo,”
“-displays of affection.” eddie finishes with a pointed look. he teasingly squints his eyes at you and he clicks his tongue. “what were you thinking, you perv?”
you playfully roll your eyes at him, making your way towards the kitchen. “we need some eggs, by the way. can you drop by the store to get some?”
“if i get a kiss, i would.”
“i’ll give you two.”
“deal,” he grins, immediately sauntering towards you. he tugs you by your waist and gives you a sweet kiss and two and three, and then more.
you pull away, patting his cheek. “i said two.”
“you gave me more anyway,” he quips, giving your butt a quick smack. “be back in a second, sweetcheeks.”
“i’m home, sweetheart!”
eddie groans at the smell of bacon, immediately making a sharp left to the kitchen. he places the box of eggs on the counter and stands behind you, chin resting on your shoulder. “smells amazing.”
you smile, looking away from the pan for a moment to start preparing the eggs when —
“OW!” eddie yelped, pulling away from the bacon he was trying to steal. he blows at the burn prickling his fingers, hissing at the sting.
“idiot! why would you get it from the pan? it’s hot!” you scold him, a laugh escaping your lips as you turn the stove off.
“i know that now.” he glares at you before his face contorts into a puppy dog look. he pouts at you, burned hand extending towards you. “i need you to kiss it better.”
you scoff in mock disbelief, turning your back to him as you fix up the eggs, stove back on.
“y/n,” he drags out, like a child having a temper tantrum. “you’re being mean. what if i die, huh? what if the burn spreads through my body and i get a heat stroke? it will be too late! — you have to tell dustin i love him but he will never have my d&d set.”
“you fucking drama queen.” you poke his side, grabbing his hand and giving it soft kisses. “s’that good now?”
“i think it needs more, doc,” eddie sighs dramatically and puckers his lips. “here, too, or else i’ll die of lack of air!”
“lack of air?” you laugh in disbelief. “how is that-”
“because you! you are the air that i breathe…” he pretends as if it was his last breath before he theatrically falls to the ground, eyes closed and tongue poking out as though proclaimed dead.
you snort in amusement, softly kicking at his side. “c’mon, munson, stand up and i’ll give you a proper kiss.”
and just like that, he’s standing straighter than he ever was before. you lean on the tips of your toes, holding his face in your hands as you smother him with kisses. i love you i love you i love you — you whisper in every butterfly kiss. i love you i love you i love you — you continue to say it.
eddie smiles at your affection. he used to believe he was undeserving of love — your love to be exact; your soft and loving love. it was beautiful. it was like no other. he believes he’s living in a fairytale except there were no adventures, no strife — it was just straight to happily ever after.
your smile parallels his; soft and lovelorn. you pull him closer, kiss him on the lips, and it's just as magical as every other one you had before — its spark never losing its touch. it still makes your hearts flutter, cheeks warm, minds fuzzy.
i love you i love you i love you — eddie whispers in between kisses. and fucking shit, was it true. he would give up everything if it meant stopping time just to be in the moment with you. be it that moment, the night before, or the day after this — he doesn’t care which moment it will be because every moment with you is a moment he will cherish for eternity.
with you, he is home and you will forever be his as he is yours. he is home. your home.
summary: the four times eddie knew he was a goner and the one time he told you.
warnings: no spoilers! don’t worry, you’re safe here. profanities. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed <3
word count: 5.1k
i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love mötley crüe.
eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him.
and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…
eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.
so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”
you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”
“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.”
you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.
“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.
“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”
after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.
“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!
he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”
huh.
you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it.
you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.
he isn’t a bad sight to see.
his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.
his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.
all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.
“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”
you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”
“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”
“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.
“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”
he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.
… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,
i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,
and like a supercharged rocket ride,
you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.
“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”
“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”
eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”
“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”
it came out as gibberish but the point came across.
“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”
“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.
that was strike one for eddie munson.
ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.
you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.
and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”
“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.”
eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it.
“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.
motherfucker.
“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.
you should really start thinking twice.
said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.
“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.
“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”
“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”
you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.
“you bitch!”
with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you.
eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk.
“holy shit…”
“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy.
“twenty.” he blinks.
you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”
eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.
“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.
you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.
and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around.
and the rest was history.
that was strike two for eddie munson.
iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.
“is this… MADONNA?”
eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.
he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady.
dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”
eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”
it was his. you left it for him.
dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.
you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.
you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.
just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too.
if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.
“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.
eddie slaps his hands away from his face.
aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.
“did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.
he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”
“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”
eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”
you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”
you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.
you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.
that was strike three for eddie munson.
iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.
“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”
as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”
you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”
“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”
“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”
“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”
“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”
“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”
“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”
“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”
you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”
“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.
“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.
“and twice,” you agree.
as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.
you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.
mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.
the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.
his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.
“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”
“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”
“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”
you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”
eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.
“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”
“no! i shan’t yield!”
giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.
you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.
you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain.
a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second.
“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.
“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.
eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”
he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”
“idiot.” you snort.
eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van.
a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van.
“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”
you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.
he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”
“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”
adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”
he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.
the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.
his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.
should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?
the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.
“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”
“yeah.”
eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?
that was strike four for eddie munson.
but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.
v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.
“harrington? fucking harrington?”
“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.
“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.
“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”
he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”
you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”
“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”
“and robin.”
“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.
“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”
“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.
“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”
“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”
you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”
eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair.
“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”
“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.
you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”
“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.
“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine.
“that’s mine!”
“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”
“you paid for those with my money.”
eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”
“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”
“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”
the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”
“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”
he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”
eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that.
you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.
“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”
although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”
“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.
he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”
you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”
eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.
“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”
“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.
eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”
he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again.
his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.
with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.
“are you sure?” you hesitate.
“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners.
and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.
“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”
eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”
you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”
and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.
robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up.
“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”
you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”
eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”
you shrug.
he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.
“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically.
eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”
“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you.
“i have no idea.”
some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.
“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”
“frozen waffles?” robin questions.
“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna – that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”
you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love.
“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”
you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie.
he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”
“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.
your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.
“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.
you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”
“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”
“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.
“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.
“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”
that was strike ??? for you and eddie.
“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”
“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”
“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”
"you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”
“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”
summary: meeting the one who could make your heart stop whilst simultaneously being the reason why your heart beats is rare, and steve just so happens to be one of the lucky ones who found them during a slow monday in family video.
warnings: no major s4 spoilers, just a love-sick steve. gif credits to @emziess
word count: 4.3k
steve groans in despair.
it was barely a busy day in family video. it usually wasn’t during mondays.
he throws the stress ball against the wall and lets it bounce back into his grasp. robin was out back, it was her turn to rewind tapes and place them back on their respective shelves while he was stuck at the counter.
when he doesn't manage to catch it, he doesn’t bother getting up to grab it. instead, he calls out, “hey, robin?”
without waiting for her response, he eventually decides to meddle in his coworker’s love life. “do you know what i just found out about vickie today?”
there was a pause. a beat, just before robin responds, “yeah? — actually, no, i don’t think i want to know.”
“she,” he stops for a bit of a dramatic effect. “returned fast times paused at 53 minutes and 5 seconds and—“
“so? m-maybe she realized that she didn’t like fast times exactly at 53 minutes and 5 seconds so—“
“and do you know who pauses fast times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds?” he asks, waiting for a reply. but when it doesn’t come, he swivels in his chair and answers himself. “people who like boobies, robin!”
“ew! gross. don’t say—“
“boobies!”
“—boobies.”
“and it’s not a big deal, okay?” steve reassures, sending her a knowing grin. “i like boobies. you like boobies.”
“vickie likes boobies. definitely.” he exclaims, swiveling around in his chair again as the overhead bell notifies him of a customer. “it’s… boobies…”
and that was when he caught sight of you; headphones on as you twirl the wire, heading straight towards the romance section. there was a glow that seemed to follow you, and if you were going to ask him, it wasn’t because of the shitty lighting of family video, it was because he thinks you’re an angel.
steve’s breath got caught in his throat and he believes that his heart was just robbed out of his chest. he slowly puts his hand on his chest, just right where his heart is supposed to be, and surely enough, it is still there, gradually beating rapidly as he continues to stare at you.
“…teve… steve… steve!” he snaps out of his trance when something hits his head. his gaze falls on the ball bouncing on the floor. he looks up to see robin looking at him with a question mark above her head.
“are you even listening?”
steve didn’t even bother responding to her as he started making his way towards you. he could still faintly hear music playing from your headphones around your neck as he stopped by beside you.
“uhm, busy night?” he questions, awkwardly posing by the shelves. he leans all of his weight against it, bicep rippling, but it’s a beat before he realizes how much he’s performing for you — he’s downright smitten and downright cringing.
from the counter, robin frowns as she looks at you and then at her best friend. “damn it, steve,” she mutters, walking back to the break room as she mumbles something about how it should have been her instead of him.
“uh, yeah, you could say that,” you respond, letting your eyes linger a little longer in the romance section as you head straight towards the new releases. “i mean, if you count eating a tub of ice cream whilst escaping the cruel reality of real life type-of-busy, then yes.”
“well, if it’s any help, i would recommend-” he plucks a random movie from the shelf and looks at the cover. “ah, the breakfast club. this is a must-watch. it’s filled with romance, friendship, and a little bit of a high school adventure.”
you look at his name tag then back at him with a grin, and he swears he could melt into a puddle right then and there. “and you’re sure i’ll like it, steve?”
“oh, no, sweetheart, you won’t like it. you’ll love it.” he doesn’t know where the pet name came from but the way it easily rolled out of his tongue convinces him that it feels just right.
you ignore the heat rising up to your cheeks as you snatch the vhs off his hands. “and if i don’t end up loving it?”
“well, then i guess i’d have to make it up to you,” steve shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “but if you do end up loving it, then… then the new diner downtown sounds good for a first date, right?”
you purse your lips trying to hide the smile that threatens to spread as you make your way towards the counter. “you better start praying to the stars, steve, because i’d be really disappointed if i wind up hating it.”
he grins at your words, making his way around to ring up your selected films. as soon as it was bagged up and ready to go, neither of you felt like saying goodbye yet but alas, you had a movie to critique.
steve walks you to the exit and opens the door for you, like the gentleman he is.
“i’ll see you around, steve.”
“see you later… alligator.” it was then that steve realized that he never caught your name. he spews out silent curses as he closes the door, but nevertheless, he runs straight to the break room and steals the marker in robin’s hand.
“hey!”
YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII
YOU RULE - I
“no way!” robin exclaims at the tally. “i will never believe that you just made that happen.”
“oh, you better start believin’, rob, cause i’m back in the game, baby!”
steve runs straight into the family video’s entrance, dramatically opening both doors with a bit of force. his hair flops up and down slightly as he pants, “anything yet?”
robin pops her head out of one of the shelves she’s been organizing. “nope.”
steve lets out a heavy sigh. with every day that you don’t return, his heart that he once thought was stolen was slowly countered in small damaged boxes. no bubble wrap, no fragile warning, nothing that would ensure that it was handled with care. “it’s nearly been a week, robin.”
“well, if it’s any consolation, i think you’re a great guy, steve. it’s her loss anyway, who in the right mind would miss out on the opportunity to go out with king steve? especially with that babe-slaying hair.”
“very funny.” steve mocks a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes. he goes over to robin with a drag in his steps. “it’s just that- i really thought she would be the one, you know? there was something about her that just… pulled me in. she’s not like any other girl i’ve ever seen, robin.”
“she’s- she’s a goddess. an angel. it’s like she was made to make up for the world’s imperfections, like every flaw in humanity does not matter because she graces every ground she walks on,” he continues. “it’s hard to believe that we’re even breathing the same air as her. it’s-“
before he can go on with his poetic spiel, keith leans against his office doorway and says, “i knew it was your dulcet tones i heard, harrington.”
steve and robin simultaneously roll their eyes, getting back to organizing.
“a girl dropped by the other day looking for you, by the way.”
steve freezes. “girl? what girl, keith?”
“dunno, was a pretty one though,” he winks, munching on his cheezy chips. “if she didn’t nearly bite m’head off, i woulda kept her for myself. anyway, there’s some shit she left for you, it’s in here with the tapes i told you to rewind decades ago-“
before he could even finish, steve runs towards his office, effectively knocking over the human-sized cardboard cutout of phoebe cates.
and just as keith said, the breakfast club vhs, alongside the other films you picked, was neatly stacked in the corner of his office. there was a folded beige card taped on top of it.
—— ✦
I.O.U. a date.
redeemable for… a romantic milkshake for two at kelly’s diner on the 21st of may. 7 pm sharp.
to: steve (with the killer hair)
from: y/n (sweetheart)
p.s. don’t be late, romeo :-)
—— ✦
steve blinks. and then again. and once more for extra measures, just to make sure he wasn’t making it up. he reads your name, and then aloud as if testing the way it rolls on his tongue. he’s never seen a name that suited a person like it did with you.
steve feels robin’s presence beside him before he sees her. “you see this, too, right?”
she hums.
“… and do you know what this means?”
robin groans.
YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII
YOU RULE - II
it takes steve a while to realize that today is the 21st of may. he blames keith for his lack of preparation. what is he supposed to wear? something simple? casual? smart casual? he knows kelly’s milkshake shack was straightforward, but nothing too bad for him to worry about.
he was worried about how to impress you. what type of flowers do you like? do you even like flowers? what type of chocolates do you love? do you love the milky ones? dark chocolate? the one with almonds? what if you’re allergic to chocolates? but even then, steve thinks flowers and chocolates aren't enough for you.
you deserve the world, the stars, and the moon. you deserve it and more. but what a pity it is that this gesture of adoration and worship is what the world would deem unreachable. unrealistic. superfluous.
nothing is superfluous for you, he thinks. despite that, steve decides to stick with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. nothing could go wrong with that now, could it? he questions himself as he starts his trek to the flower shop a few blocks down.
the first thing that he notices is the soft music playing on the record player. the second thing he noticed is how every flower is blooming and twinkling, not a fading one in sight. the last thing he noticed was the lack of a clerk at the counter.
“uhm, hello?” he calls out hesitantly.
muffled but still coherent, he receives a response from the back room. “one second!”
there was something about her voice that sounded familiar, and yet he couldn’t pinpoint who it could be. he shrugs it off. whilst waiting, he takes a look around the shop, criticizing which would be the perfect pick.
“what flowers do you have in mind?” the voice calls out once more. he could hear some shuffling on the other side.
“i was actually hoping you could help me out.” steve replies somewhat bashfully. “maybe something that’s simple but breathtaking? like nothing too extravagant but something… ethereal.”
he wasn’t sure if they caught what he just said, but before he knew it, the curtain separating the rooms was drawn.
“busy night?”
steve stops shuffling through the vinyls and spins on his heels. “oh, yeah, scored a date with the prettiest girl in-“
you grin at the astounded boy in front of you, eyes wide and jaw slack. you delicately push the bouquet of pretty pink chrysanthemums and yellow dwarf sunflower in his hands, grinning up at him like a tease. “you were saying something about scoring a date with the prettiest girl in hawkins?”
“i- wha?”
“chrysanthemums symbolize devoted love, loyalty, happiness, and these lil sunflowers symbolize adoration.” you state. “i love the sentiment, by the way.”
“you work here?” he finally speaks, watching as you step back to organize the lone stems by the counter.
“i mean if it isn’t obvious,” you shoot him a pointed look.
“y-yeah, right, right.”
“my aunt used to own this shop, but she said she couldn’t take it anymore after some supernatural shit kept happening in this town apparently.” you huff. “i think she just needs to take her meds on time.”
“yeah, probably.” steve chuckles nervously before clearing his throat. “so, uhm, i don’t really remember seeing you around until a few days ago, is this your first time in hawkins?”
“save the getting-to-know questions for the date, harrington.” you smile up at him. “anyway, how about you pick me up two hours from now, i’ll forget that you ever bought me flowers from my own flower shop, and then we can continue this over some sweet milkshakes?”
“yeah,” he nods, his reply was barely even a whisper. there was a look of adoration in his eyes, a dopey lovelorn smile on his lips. “sounds like a plan.”
before steve gets in his car, he pauses by the door, looking back at you with one last glance before he gets stuck with the question, is this what love at first sight feels like?
steve never wants to lose that feeling.
and surely enough, steve is back two hours later with the bouquet in hand, hair styled to perfection, and the feeling of love at third sight stuns him.
steve looks at you like it’s the very first time he’s seen you, and he feels like his heart drops. every
he stares at you and there is an indescribable sensation in his chest that he couldn’t express. it gives him an urge to try every pick-up line in the book; make himself look like an idiot by asking whether you fell from heaven. because steve genuinely believes it. is that so silly of him to think?
there’s a warm fuzzy feeling deep within that void. it’s the type of feeling that makes him want to tell his friends all about you, his mom even, to the world if possible.
there was a pep in your step as you make your way toward steve, noting how handsome he looks in his shirt and corduroy jacket, jeans seemingly well-ironed. his hair is gelled – you’d have to ask him what hair products he uses later – and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.
“looking as gorgeous as ever, sweetheart.” steve compliments you with his ever charming smile. he gives you the bouquet that he’s been hiding behind his back. “these are for you.”
you take it from him and take a whiff of the sweet smell. “wow. these are beautiful, steve. i wonder who picked them for you.”
“oh, you know, just the cute little owner who works in the flower shop.” he grins. “oh, wow, would you look at that. we’re actually standing in front of it right now- oh, and good god, here’s the cute little owner i was just talking about.”
“dork.”
“what flavor do you want?”
“strawberry-chocolate has always been my go-to.”
“really?”
“what’s with the judgemental look? it’s heavenly!”
“but that’s so… so basic. i’ve pegged you to take more on the crazy flavors.”
you playfully roll your eyes at him as he guides you to a booth, hand respectfully placed on the small of your back. you look at him with a teasing grin. “i bet you love vanilla, though.”
steve scoffed, sitting in front of you. “i do not.”
he does, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
“you totally do,” you snicker before busying yourself with the menu.
“what can i get y’all today?”
“we’ll get a large strawberry-chocolate milkshake,” steve quips, looking at you for a moment before, like clockwork, adding, “with two straws, please.”
ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you shake your head at him, “you do this with all the girls you go out with?”
“nah, only the ones who like basic ass milkshake flavors,” he grins, leaning back against the couch. “been reserving all my suave moves just for you.”
you scoff playfully, putting a hand on your chest. you can feel your heart beating as you take in his appearance under the neon lights of the shack. “should i be honored?”
“yeah,” steve nods fervently. “i’m actually glad you went out with me, meaning we don’t have to worry about your bad taste in men, too. i would have been really concerned.”
you laugh at him, and steve beams. you throw a balled-up tissue paper at his face, effectively snapping him out of his little inner dialogue about how your laugh was one of the best things he’s ever heard. “you literally love vanilla milkshakes and you’re trying to call out my apparent bad taste?”
“not vanilla,” he shoots you a glare, the curl of his lips failing to keep up with his act. he throws the tissue back at you. “seriously.”
you raise your hands in defense, trying to prevent the laugh threatening to leave your lips. before either of you could say anything else, the milkshake was served.
steve scooches closer towards the table as he places the milkshake in between you. he thanks the waitress and dips the two straws into the drink.
“just a fair warning though,” steve warns, moving closer to take a sip. “you might get enchanted by my pretty brown eyes with this close proximity, i was told you can get lost in them.”
you continue sipping with a smile, eyes momentarily flicking down at his lips before looking back up into his eyes. his eyes are pretty, you will let yourself willingly get lost in them if you can.
steve does the same, and as his eyes settle back into yours, the two of you let out tiny hushed laughter after the sudden eye contact.
“tell me if you need a map,” he sips, letting out a soft groan at the taste of the milkshake. he’s beginning to understand why you love it so much. “i think you’re starting to get lost.”
“did the heart eyes give it away?” you grin.
the conversation easily flowed like a river after that. secrets, and smiles, and laughter were shared between you two and it lasted for hours, more than what the two of you have signed up for. but neither of you was complaining.
steve learned a lot more about you than he ever did with anyone else. he learned that fleetwood mac, starship, and queen were the artists that claimed your top three. the breakfast club instantly became your favorite after his recommendation. and that you really, really want to learn how to rollerblade.
you, on the other hand, learned steve’s music taste was all over the place, but he secretly loves billy joel after seeing his parents dance to his music when he was younger, a vulnerable memory that he loves to preserve. he tells you all about dustin and the gang, and how the former was like the little brother he never had. he told you about how he was a bit hesitant about getting himself out there again after nancy, his ex, because she was the first person he’s ever loved and apparently it was all bullshit.
you both knew each other better than anyone else, not even your friends nor his knows about the things you told each other. and before you know it, you find yourselves in lover’s lake after getting kicked out for staying after closing — neither of you realized that the two of you were the only people left, save for the staff who kicked you out.
you look up at the starry sky with a content sigh, basking in the chilly air, the soft music from steve’s car, and well, steve.
“i don’t think i’ve had as much fun as i did today,” you say.
steve tilts his head to look at you, a small smile pulling at his lips before he teases, “good to know.”
“stop,” you push his face away. “i’m serious.”
he laughs, settling with a soft smile as he answers, “me, too, sweetheart.”
you look at him, and purse your lips. “i’ll be staying awhile, y’know?”
“what?” his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. you want to give it a kiss.
“you asked me, earlier today, why you’ve never seen me before,” you recall. “i’m planning on staying for a while, just until i have everything figured out.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you nod. “i wasn’t going to, originally, until i found a reason to stay.”
steve smiles, he’s been smiling more than he ever did his entire life, and it’s not one of those flirty smirks or small smiles, they were the genuine and contagious ones. he’s convinced that his jaw will ache from all the muscle movement but he doesn’t mind, not when you told him prior that you loved his smile.
“yeah?” is all he can ask.
you hum in approval.
“what, our ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana doesn’t offer you enough?” he teases.
“well, your ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana so happens to offer the best milkshake,” you shrug nonchalantly. “i guess that’s enough reason.”
he gasps dramatically, putting up an exaggerated act by clutching his chest with a pained groan. “you offend me, woman.”
you laugh. “fine, you, too, pretty boy.”
“me, too, by the way.” steve murmurs after a while, ignoring the thumping of his chest. you feel some shifting from his side, so you look down to see him closer and his palm facing upwards, as if offering it to you. “maybe… maybe we can figure it out together?”
you look up at him, taking another moment to appreciate his beauty, before interlacing your fingers with his. “i’d like that very much.”
“thank you for tonight, steve,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt as he puts his car in park. he gets out of the door and around the vehicle to open yours. “seriously.”
“no need to thank me, sweetheart,” steve smiles, tucking a stray hair away from your face. “i had fun with you tonight.”
you stop yourself from feeling the warmth of your cheeks, instead, you move a bit closer to him. “although, there’s one thing missing...”
steve frowned, his hands hovering just above your waist, hesitant to touch you. “what is it? — agh, i knew i should have gotten you the — robin said it would be too much and i —“
“steve,”
“hmm?”
“it’s not whatever you think it is.”
“oh… what is it then?”
you loop your fingers around his belt loops, tugging him closer to you. steve gasped softly, hands finally settling on your waist. “a kiss.”
“oh,”
you hum, moving your arms up from his torso and looping them around his neck. he could feel goosebumps rising in the wake of your warm touch.
your noses brush against each other, lips teasing as they barely leave a featherlight touch.
steve, getting impatient, pulls you impossibly closer, smashing his lips against yours. it was a mix of soft and desperate as if he’s been thinking of what it would have been like to kiss you. it was. if not, then it was even better than what he dreamed of.
you smile against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. your mind is clouded; you’re drunk on his sweet strawberry-chocolate flavored kisses, the scent of his musky perfume, and the smell of his hairspray.
you slowly pull back only to have steve chase your lips again for a quick peck. “you’re a great kisser,” he murmurs.
“i know,” you tease, pulling him back down for another kiss as you can’t help yourself, only pulling away on the account of actually needing air to breathe.
“good night, steve,” you pull away slowly, his hands slipping away from yours as you walk up to your front doorstep.
“i miss you already!“ he calls out.
“go home, pretty boy.”
“good night, sweetheart!” he grins.
“drive home safe, farrah fawcett.”
“hey! i told you that in confidence.” steve exclaims, unbothered by your screaming neighbor yelling profanities at him. it was late.
you look back at him with one last smile before disappearing behind the door, you lean against it, grinning from ear to ear as you squeal in the safety of your own home. you walk around the shop-apartment with your giddy smile never faltering even once.
unbeknownst to you, after making sure you got in safely, steve is punching the air, whooping, and jumping on his feet as he did his own little celebration. he looks back once more before getting into his car, playing a billy joel song.
it frustrates him beyond belief how a woman could easily make him weak in the knees, how you, with one look into your eyes, accompanied by a glint of a smile, could make him feel as if he could crumble into lovesick wreckage, how your featherlight touch could effortlessly yield him into submission — but he supposes that he does not mind because you’re not just any woman nor is this just any feeling. he made a promise to himself that he would never fall in love again, never will he accept the risk of getting his heart broken once more, but for you — when he’s with you — he would risk getting his heart broken time and time again if it meant being in your presence. he’s never felt so seen, so loved, so adored, until he met you.
he’s willing to patch up a broken heart if it means loving you.
it’s dizzying, it’s so overwhelmingly beautiful — the feeling of being in love. the feeling of being in love with you. and in two years' time, the whisper of those three little words, those of which are common amongst those who love and are loved, and yet it holds a special meaning that no one but the two of you can understand.
it’s a promise. an oath. a secret that you will continue keeping that no matter what, it will always be you and him against the world, that even if everything else fails, your love for each other is what will keep you going.
because you did not end up staying a while, you stayed with him, and you’ll stay with him until forever falls apart.
summary: steve is the only partner you need in surviving the apocalyptic pandemonium happening in your mind.
warnings: ! hinting at depression, subtle allusions to being suicidal, intrusive thoughts, non-sexual nudity, self-indulgent. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed
word count: 2.4K
you are on fire.
one day it’s a tiny match fire. a campfire, sporadically. but without even a signal — a fire alarm — it will turn big enough to engulf a house and its neighboring ones in flames.
but it doesn’t matter how big or small the flame is; you are on fire.
the smoke is clouding your mind, filling your head with dark and heinous thoughts. there are no windows to blow the smoke out, there are no doors, too. it is just a box, a metal safe, a locked tank. you do not have a key to open the doorless space.
it’s stuck there, the smoke. you are, too. you have to hold your breath for a minute… and then two… and then three… you need air. you try not to cave into the hazing fumes, try not to inhale the smoke — but you need to breathe, or else you’ll die. you shouldn’t or it will fill up your lungs, but you can’t hold it in any longer,
so you gasp for air.
you inhale the smoke. it clouds your body, your mind. it adds fuel.
you are on fire, and it’s enough to burn the world.
steve is worried.
no one’s seen you for the past two days. he tried calling your home phone and visiting your house but no one ever answered. your bedroom window was always closed and the curtains were always shut.
he sighs, toying with the badges on his uniform vest as he watches the clock tick. he has fifteen more minutes before his shift ends. he’s been restless and tense the whole day and it’s concerning robin, who’s just as worried.
“steve,” she calls out to him, receiving a halfhearted hum from her best friend. “hey, why don’t you go check on ‘em again?”
“we have like, a few minutes more before closing,” he mumbles.
“clock out early, i’ll close the store.” robin reassures him. “just give me the keys and i’ll lock up for you.”
“are you sure?” he asks, standing up straight to his full height. his hands hover over the keys in his pocket. “because i can wait. what’s another minute or two, y’know?”
“go,” she says, giving him a light push. “just… check up on y/n for me, too. i miss her.”
steve gives her a firm nod, tossing her the keys — which she did not catch, steve should have known better — and heads over to his car.
when steve knocks on your door, someone opens it this time.
“oh, steve,” your mother sighs in relief, opening the door wider, waving him inside. “it’s a good thing you’re here, sweetheart. y/n hasn’t gotten out of bed since yesterday.”
steve’s concern grows at that. his fingers immediately rake through his hair, giving it a gentle tug to keep him grounded.
“would you be a dear and talk to her for me?” she asks, shuffling around the house in a manner that makes him dizzy. “i have work in a few and i can’t even get her to eat. i’m going to be late.”
he didn’t even have time to reassure her that he will; he will talk to her daughter for her, he will make sure she was alright, will take care of her, will be there for her — but she rushes out the door before he could even say it.
parents! steve sighs in agitation.
there is a knock on your door. you wait for a beat… and then two… and then you hear it swing open. you don’t bother looking up to see who it is — but you can imagine what the landscape looks like for them.
the room is dark and void of anything, the only light that serves as their beacon comes from the open door. and like a spotlight, it will lead them to the lump on your bed; you.
there’s faint movement, they will notice: up and down. breathing.
they will sigh in relief.
and then their eyes will move to your mess of a room, which once upon a time was cleaner than any fully-furnished room models you see in malls. bowls and mugs and empty water bottles are discarded in every nook and crevice of the space.
they will move the dishes aside and replace them with a tray of food they prepared for you.
they will pull the curtains open and you will squeeze your eyes shut at the blinding light, hiding further under the blanket.
“s’this the latest ikea room interior you follow?” steve jokes, attempting to lighten up the mood. his chest tightens when you do not do as much as move or chuckle.
steve. you miss him.
but you don’t look at him. your heart is in chains, bound to an empty feeling. they were heavy, weighing the emotion down further. you don’t want to look at him. you don’t want him to see you.
so you ignore the stinging pain that seems to be the only emotion that fills the gaping hole in your chest. you shut your eyes once more.
“what, you’re not even going to look at the way i styled my hair for you today?” steve tries once more but when you barely moved, he sighs — his hair messy from the way he’s been running through it all day.
he’s disappointed in you. you’re disappointing him.
he deserves better, you think. steve deserves better. he deserves the moon and the stars. the milky way, the universe. he deserves someone who will never shut down once the world starts crashing in on them.
someone who will not light up on fire.
with every touch, with every kiss, with every sweet whisper at night — you’re burning him, and with every scorching contact, you’re going burn him out.
but steve, he’s like a flow of water in the river. calming, peaceful, grounding.
he makes you feel grounded. he’s your safe space, your haven. he is every nature of solace.
he dwindles your fire, watching as it gets smaller and smaller until the only light you see comes from the moon and stars in the sky, they shine brighter with your evanescent flame.
so water and fire? they shouldn’t go together, but somehow, you and him just make it work.
you hear shuffling outside the thick material of your blanket, and then the light clinking of dishes, footsteps moving in and out of the room. and then you hear water running from your bathroom.
you haven’t showered in three days.
you feel the bed dip beside you and steve hesitantly pulls the blanket away from your face. “hi, baby,”
he waits for a few seconds until he hears you whisper, “hi.”
steve smiles, it’s progress. “i ran you a warm bath, why don’t i join you so we can save some water, hm?”
you shake your head.
“c’mon, sweetheart,” steve pursed his lips. “do it for me, yeah? can you do it for me?”
you sigh, slowly peeling the blanket away from your body as you pull yourself up to sit beside your boyfriend. you notice his concerned gaze and it makes you want to throw up — you try to make yourself smaller bit by bit until you are nothing… but steve intertwines his fingers with yours.
you look into his eyes, the very same ones you fall in love with every night. he looks into yours, and it’s the same ones he falls in love with every day but there’s a distant look in them, tears glazing over with dark bags underneath your eyes.
you’re here, steve thinks, but at the same time, it was as if you weren’t. it was like the person in front of him right now is merely the ghost of you.
you look away from him, eyes scanning the expanse of your room. he cleaned your room. with a quiet sigh, you lean your head against his shoulder. he cleaned your room.
steve frowns, he can practically hear the gears turning in your head. he kisses your forehead before delicately pulling you up to your feet as if you would break with one sudden move. he whispers, “let me take care of you, okay?”
it took everything in you not to burst into tears right then and there, and it burns your throat by doing so. you take a shuddering breath at the feeling of his warm hand on your waist. your heart aches at his tenderness, wanting nothing more than to let him hold you.
he carefully undresses you with your meek consent, quietly complimenting you as he leaves soft kisses in the wake of your skin — like a caress of silent adorations he dare not say but show.
he guides you into the heated water, stripping off his own clothes before settling behind you, pulling you in between his legs and against his chest.
you let your head drop against him, letting yourself feel him on your skin.
steve was lathering you up with the body wash he loves so much when your body suddenly wracked with hushed sobs — like you didn’t want him to know you were crying.
“hey, hey, hey,” steve whispers, carefully turning you around to look at you. “what’s wrong, baby?”
“just…” you whimper, gripping his arm. “jus’ hold me.”
“yeah… yeah, i can do that,” he murmurs, pulling you closer than ever, arms wrapped around you like a safety blanket — skin-to-skin, an underestimated form of intimacy.
you don’t know what you’re apologizing for. there are millions of thoughts running through your head right now and you cannot decipher which of them you're asking for clemency.
but he kisses your free-falling tears away and continues whispering sweet nothings to you.
it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay, i love you i love you i love you…
he stayed in the tub with you until you were ready to get up. he was nothing if not patient and loving.
he’s starting to extinguish your fire and you don’t deserve him.
he dresses you in your favorite sweatpants and the fluffy yellow sweatshirt he was wearing earlier, putting it on for you when you were too numb and lethargic to move. he plants butterfly kisses on your exposed skin and runs his hands over your body to give you warmth.
steve lets you settle back in bed, draping the blanket on your body before going through one of your drawers with his clothes.
you weren’t looking at him when he sat beside you, not when he was looking at you with such fragility, not when he stroked your hair or traced the apple of your cheeks with his thumb.
you slowly lift your arm up to invite him under the blanket. side-by-side, you were facing each other, but neither of you said anything. steve kisses the crease in between your eyebrows, the tiny scrunch on your nose, the frown on your lips.
and then he gently taps your forehead. “let me in?”
a beat.
“how do you do it?” your voice was nothing above a whisper, the words only muttered for only him to hear — it was raspy, soft, as if your vocal cords were surprised by its sudden friction.
“do what?”
”i don’t know,” you shrug, trying to suppress the growing pain in your heart. “get up every morning and just… start living life.”
”it’s not easy, that’s for sure,” steve’s lips curve into a sad smile. “sometimes i wish time would just stop and give me even half a minute to just breathe, y’know? away from the demons, away from this living nightmare, just… simply away from reality.”
you hum. “how do you do it then?”
“you.”
“me?”
“yeah,” steve smiles, pulling you in his arms. “you get me going every day, sweetheart,”
“i don’t deserve you,” a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. “you’re too good to me, steve harrington.”
he kisses the crown of your head, pulling you closer than ever. “don’t say that. you’re my person, y/n. i love you,”
he says your name with so much love, so much adoration, it hurts. he loves you, and you do, too, so much. but what good will your love be for him if you’re slowly setting him on fire alongside you?
“we’ll work it out together, okay? whatever this is,” steve starts, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i’ll help you go through it, no matter what it takes, but you have to let me in. i’m your partner, sweetheart, i love you. let me take care of you.”
and with that, the fire died down. all of what’s left of you are the ashes and smoke of the aftermath, but you’re steadily coming together.
“let me take care of you,” he repeats, giving you the soft look that’s reserved for you and only for you.
and you let him. you let him wrap some bandages over your burns and give them a kiss. you let him press his body against your cooling one. you let him sing you to sleep. you let him take care of you.
steve sighs softly when you finally fall asleep, looking more at peace than you were earlier. he kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger for a while.
he never wants to let you go, he keeps his arms wrapped around you as a way of shielding you from anything that would dare make you feel as if you’re undeserving of all the love you’re given. when in truth, it’s all you are worthy of and more.
steve shifts a bit, careful not to wake you up so he can close the curtains of your room, but his attempts to be careful were futile when you stirred awake.
“steve?” you mumble, half-asleep. mind blurry and words slurring. “i’m sorry, don’t leave me.”
his heart shatters. he shut the curtains quickly and made it back beside you within the speed of light. “never leaving you. i’ll stay with you until the end of time and more.”
“you promise?”
“with all my heart and soul… go back to sleep, sweetheart. i’ll be here when you wake up.”
summary: they say home is where the heart is but eddie’s home and heart is you.
warnings: just fluff and love! lovesick eddie! profanities and very slight suggestiveness. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed.
word count: 2.2k
“i’m home, sweetheart!”
never once did eddie go home without making his arrival known, not when he finally has someone to go home to. it’s a gesture of simplicity, yet it carries a deep feeling of intimacy and saccharine for him.
you two went through hell and back trying to save up for your own place, your home — for your life together — but it was all worth it in the end because now you have a dainty apartment in michigan, stable jobs, and food on the table. it’s far from hawkins and its dark secrets but not far enough for dustin and the gang not to visit.
he groans softly as he locks the door, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension, eyes momentarily closing. he lets the strap of his guitar bag slide down from his arm, alleviating the digging into his skin. and then —
CRASH! — eddie stumbles over an ottoman that he swore was never there before. he stands up straight and scans the room. it was redecorated. he sighs, shuffling around the new arrangement of the apartment.
“eddie?”
eddie turns around to find you in a shirt twice your size, you were rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and then with the pitter-patter of feet and the jingling of a bell, your dog runs towards him, greeting him with a pushing weight on his legs.
“sorry, did i wake you?” eddie frowns, rubbing the spot behind willow’s ears as he gestures to the living room. “didn’t know our interior designer came to visit.”
you smile sheepishly, squishing your face against his chest as you hug him. he pulls you closer, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. your words come out muffled, “i missed you today, had to get my mind off things for a while.”
“s’okay, sweetheart. i missed you, too, so much,” he mumbles, slowly swaying you in place. “but next time, tell me, yeah? nearly kissed the ground before i could even kiss your pretty lips.”
you laugh softly, pulling away from his embrace to give him a kiss, a quick one that issues a whine of protest from your boyfriend. “take a shower and then we can kiss all you want. you smell like mike’s socks.”
eddie grumbles, tugging your arm to give you another kiss; seconds longer and sweeter until he has to pull away to breathe. eddie wishes he didn’t have to so he kisses you again. “go back to bed, baby, i’ll be with you before you know it.”
and true to his word, eddie walks into your shared bedroom, fresh out of the shower. you look up at him from the solace of the warm duvet. your head is the only thing peeking out. it’s cute.
“aren’t you looking very comfortable?” he grins as you make grabby hands at him. he flops down the bed with a bounce, wrapping you in his arms.
“much better,” you sigh in contentment.
he tilts up your chin to give you a kiss, ever so soft and slow; no one’s in a rush, it’s all at the moment, one of which eddie wishes to live in forever. there’s a hint of morose gnawing at his chest — the thought of how he could just spend every waking and sleeping hour with you in his arms.
he thinks of how the world can be cruel by depriving him of the time to spend more with you. instead, he gets stuck day after day in a stinking bar with drunkards who do not appreciate the art of metal — aside from the owner, mrs. duran, who loves their setlist. bless her heart.
he does believe in the saying ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. it does, it really does. he finds himself missing you, thinking of you, yearning for you.
but then he thinks of your beautiful smile — and maybe another thing — and it’s enough motivation for him to get through his day and get home to you.
being lovesick is an incurable disease, he thinks, vastly lethal when it’s with the right person. there is no cure, but even if there is, eddie will not as much blink an eye for it. he’s been with you for three years and counting, and his love for you has never faltered — like poison, it grew, it spread, it flourished — but it isn’t as ruthless as death, no. it gives him life, it gives him love.
it’s everything every person can ever dream of; finding the love that makes everything make sense as if it has all along.
and eddie, who up until this moment marvels over his felicity, has just so happened to find both friendship and love in you. he’s the happiest he’s ever been, starting from the moment he met you, it never wavered.
he drapes the blanket over the two of you and turns the lamp off, enveloping you in darkness.
“i love you, eddie.”
“i love you, sweetheart.” not i love you, too — i love you. because he did not need you to say it for him to support the idea that he loves you. it’s not a too, it’s not an also, it’s not an as well; it’s i love you.
it’s a declaration that is instilled within the abyss of our hearts. therefore it should be veritable as it is brought out only by the intensity of our affection — felt to such a visceral degree. it’s the coup de grace of every profession of love ever made.
“more than your guitar?” you tease sleepily.
eddie scoffs, “let’s not go that far, babe.”
you chuckle, placing your head above his chest to listen to his heartbeat. thump… thump… thump…
“i’m kidding, baby. i love you…” he repeats, this time softer as he slowly succumbs to sleep and the dreams of you.
sunlight trickles through the window pane of the bedroom, sheathing a warm kiss on eddie’s skin. he groans softly, mindlessly patting around for you only to find your side of the bed cold and empty.
he yawns, rising from the bed with a stretch to wake his sleeping limbs. he shuffles out of the room, picking up the discarded socks on the floor. he makes a detour around the room, shooting the deserted clothes in the hamper.
eddie doesn’t mind it, really. no matter how many times you forget to pick up your socks or put your shoes in the rack, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
he wouldn’t have a place to call home if it didn’t have even a trace of you in it. the place will simply be called a house or an apartment, but not a home. it would be undeserving of that title if it doesn’t have your clothes lying around, or you spontaneously rearranging the furniture, baking cookies, dancing in the kitchen, or sleeping with him in his bed.
it shows signs of living, of laughter, of loving. with pictures gracing the mantelpiece, a sweater of yours thrown over the couch, and your diverse album records that are mixed with his — it paints the perfect home for him.
he finds you on the balcony, a mug of coffee in hand.
you feel him before you see him, arms making their way around your waist. eddie presses soft kisses on your neck, trailing from your cheeks and up to your forehead. he puts your coffee cup on the table, turning you around to kiss you on the lips.
“good morning, gorgeous,” he whispers, smiling at the feeling of you against him. his cold hands slip under your shirt and you jump at the temperature, pulling away from him.
“cold!” you chastise him, placing his hands over your shirt instead.
“but that’s why i need you to heat ‘em up for me,” he whines, trying to sneak them back under again, lightly brushing them higher… and higher… until…
“eddie!” you smack his hands away, laughing at his poor attempts. you look down at your sock-clad feet and his bunny slippers-clad ones. it didn’t fit even half of it, his heels were poking out. “...are those my slippers?”
he models them. “you like ‘em? they’re new.”
“yeah, it looks better on you.” you tease, grabbing your coffee cup from the table and his hand with the other, dragging him back inside. “c’mon, let’s make some breakfast.”
“what do you mean?” he asks in faux confusion, pulling you in the direction of the bedroom. “i’m right here, woman! here’s your breakfast — bon appétit, ma chérie.”
“you’re insufferable!” you laugh, pushing him away.
“you’re telling me you don’t want a piece of this?” he gestures to himself and when you shake your head ‘no’, he dramatically falls back onto the couch, clutching his chest as if he was shot. “how shall i live knowing thou love of my life no longer desires me and my di-?”
“woah!” you interrupted with an incredulous laugh, pulling him up on his feet. “that’s enough, romeo,”
“-displays of affection.” eddie finishes with a pointed look. he teasingly squints his eyes at you and he clicks his tongue. “what were you thinking, you perv?”
you playfully roll your eyes at him, making your way towards the kitchen. “we need some eggs, by the way. can you drop by the store to get some?”
“if i get a kiss, i would.”
“i’ll give you two.”
“deal,” he grins, immediately sauntering towards you. he tugs you by your waist and gives you a sweet kiss and two and three, and then more.
you pull away, patting his cheek. “i said two.”
“you gave me more anyway,” he quips, giving your butt a quick smack. “be back in a second, sweetcheeks.”
“i’m home, sweetheart!”
eddie groans at the smell of bacon, immediately making a sharp left to the kitchen. he places the box of eggs on the counter and stands behind you, chin resting on your shoulder. “smells amazing.”
you smile, looking away from the pan for a moment to start preparing the eggs when —
“OW!” eddie yelped, pulling away from the bacon he was trying to steal. he blows at the burn prickling his fingers, hissing at the sting.
“idiot! why would you get it from the pan? it’s hot!” you scold him, a laugh escaping your lips as you turn the stove off.
“i know that now.” he glares at you before his face contorts into a puppy dog look. he pouts at you, burned hand extending towards you. “i need you to kiss it better.”
you scoff in mock disbelief, turning your back to him as you fix up the eggs, stove back on.
“y/n,” he drags out, like a child having a temper tantrum. “you’re being mean. what if i die, huh? what if the burn spreads through my body and i get a heat stroke? it will be too late! — you have to tell dustin i love him but he will never have my d&d set.”
“you fucking drama queen.” you poke his side, grabbing his hand and giving it soft kisses. “s’that good now?”
“i think it needs more, doc,” eddie sighs dramatically and puckers his lips. “here, too, or else i’ll die of lack of air!”
“lack of air?” you laugh in disbelief. “how is that-”
“because you! you are the air that i breathe…” he pretends as if it was his last breath before he theatrically falls to the ground, eyes closed and tongue poking out as though proclaimed dead.
you snort in amusement, softly kicking at his side. “c’mon, munson, stand up and i’ll give you a proper kiss.”
and just like that, he’s standing straighter than he ever was before. you lean on the tips of your toes, holding his face in your hands as you smother him with kisses. i love you i love you i love you — you whisper in every butterfly kiss. i love you i love you i love you — you continue to say it.
eddie smiles at your affection. he used to believe he was undeserving of love — your love to be exact; your soft and loving love. it was beautiful. it was like no other. he believes he’s living in a fairytale except there were no adventures, no strife — it was just straight to happily ever after.
your smile parallels his; soft and lovelorn. you pull him closer, kiss him on the lips, and it's just as magical as every other one you had before — its spark never losing its touch. it still makes your hearts flutter, cheeks warm, minds fuzzy.
i love you i love you i love you — eddie whispers in between kisses. and fucking shit, was it true. he would give up everything if it meant stopping time just to be in the moment with you. be it that moment, the night before, or the day after this — he doesn’t care which moment it will be because every moment with you is a moment he will cherish for eternity.
with you, he is home and you will forever be his as he is yours. he is home. your home.
summary: meeting the one who could make your heart stop whilst simultaneously being the reason why your heart beats is rare, and steve just so happens to be one of the lucky ones who found them during a slow monday in family video.
warnings: no major s4 spoilers, just a love-sick steve. gif credits to @emziess
word count: 4.3k
steve groans in despair.
it was barely a busy day in family video. it usually wasn’t during mondays.
he throws the stress ball against the wall and lets it bounce back into his grasp. robin was out back, it was her turn to rewind tapes and place them back on their respective shelves while he was stuck at the counter.
when he doesn't manage to catch it, he doesn’t bother getting up to grab it. instead, he calls out, “hey, robin?”
without waiting for her response, he eventually decides to meddle in his coworker’s love life. “do you know what i just found out about vickie today?”
there was a pause. a beat, just before robin responds, “yeah? — actually, no, i don’t think i want to know.”
“she,” he stops for a bit of a dramatic effect. “returned fast times paused at 53 minutes and 5 seconds and—“
“so? m-maybe she realized that she didn’t like fast times exactly at 53 minutes and 5 seconds so—“
“and do you know who pauses fast times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds?” he asks, waiting for a reply. but when it doesn’t come, he swivels in his chair and answers himself. “people who like boobies, robin!”
“ew! gross. don’t say—“
“boobies!”
“—boobies.”
“and it’s not a big deal, okay?” steve reassures, sending her a knowing grin. “i like boobies. you like boobies.”
“vickie likes boobies. definitely.” he exclaims, swiveling around in his chair again as the overhead bell notifies him of a customer. “it’s… boobies…”
and that was when he caught sight of you; headphones on as you twirl the wire, heading straight towards the romance section. there was a glow that seemed to follow you, and if you were going to ask him, it wasn’t because of the shitty lighting of family video, it was because he thinks you’re an angel.
steve’s breath got caught in his throat and he believes that his heart was just robbed out of his chest. he slowly puts his hand on his chest, just right where his heart is supposed to be, and surely enough, it is still there, gradually beating rapidly as he continues to stare at you.
“…teve… steve… steve!” he snaps out of his trance when something hits his head. his gaze falls on the ball bouncing on the floor. he looks up to see robin looking at him with a question mark above her head.
“are you even listening?”
steve didn’t even bother responding to her as he started making his way towards you. he could still faintly hear music playing from your headphones around your neck as he stopped by beside you.
“uhm, busy night?” he questions, awkwardly posing by the shelves. he leans all of his weight against it, bicep rippling, but it’s a beat before he realizes how much he’s performing for you — he’s downright smitten and downright cringing.
from the counter, robin frowns as she looks at you and then at her best friend. “damn it, steve,” she mutters, walking back to the break room as she mumbles something about how it should have been her instead of him.
“uh, yeah, you could say that,” you respond, letting your eyes linger a little longer in the romance section as you head straight towards the new releases. “i mean, if you count eating a tub of ice cream whilst escaping the cruel reality of real life type-of-busy, then yes.”
“well, if it’s any help, i would recommend-” he plucks a random movie from the shelf and looks at the cover. “ah, the breakfast club. this is a must-watch. it’s filled with romance, friendship, and a little bit of a high school adventure.”
you look at his name tag then back at him with a grin, and he swears he could melt into a puddle right then and there. “and you’re sure i’ll like it, steve?”
“oh, no, sweetheart, you won’t like it. you’ll love it.” he doesn’t know where the pet name came from but the way it easily rolled out of his tongue convinces him that it feels just right.
you ignore the heat rising up to your cheeks as you snatch the vhs off his hands. “and if i don’t end up loving it?”
“well, then i guess i’d have to make it up to you,” steve shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “but if you do end up loving it, then… then the new diner downtown sounds good for a first date, right?”
you purse your lips trying to hide the smile that threatens to spread as you make your way towards the counter. “you better start praying to the stars, steve, because i’d be really disappointed if i wind up hating it.”
he grins at your words, making his way around to ring up your selected films. as soon as it was bagged up and ready to go, neither of you felt like saying goodbye yet but alas, you had a movie to critique.
steve walks you to the exit and opens the door for you, like the gentleman he is.
“i’ll see you around, steve.”
“see you later… alligator.” it was then that steve realized that he never caught your name. he spews out silent curses as he closes the door, but nevertheless, he runs straight to the break room and steals the marker in robin’s hand.
“hey!”
YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII
YOU RULE - I
“no way!” robin exclaims at the tally. “i will never believe that you just made that happen.”
“oh, you better start believin’, rob, cause i’m back in the game, baby!”
steve runs straight into the family video’s entrance, dramatically opening both doors with a bit of force. his hair flops up and down slightly as he pants, “anything yet?”
robin pops her head out of one of the shelves she’s been organizing. “nope.”
steve lets out a heavy sigh. with every day that you don’t return, his heart that he once thought was stolen was slowly countered in small damaged boxes. no bubble wrap, no fragile warning, nothing that would ensure that it was handled with care. “it’s nearly been a week, robin.”
“well, if it’s any consolation, i think you’re a great guy, steve. it’s her loss anyway, who in the right mind would miss out on the opportunity to go out with king steve? especially with that babe-slaying hair.”
“very funny.” steve mocks a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes. he goes over to robin with a drag in his steps. “it’s just that- i really thought she would be the one, you know? there was something about her that just… pulled me in. she’s not like any other girl i’ve ever seen, robin.”
“she’s- she’s a goddess. an angel. it’s like she was made to make up for the world’s imperfections, like every flaw in humanity does not matter because she graces every ground she walks on,” he continues. “it’s hard to believe that we’re even breathing the same air as her. it’s-“
before he can go on with his poetic spiel, keith leans against his office doorway and says, “i knew it was your dulcet tones i heard, harrington.”
steve and robin simultaneously roll their eyes, getting back to organizing.
“a girl dropped by the other day looking for you, by the way.”
steve freezes. “girl? what girl, keith?”
“dunno, was a pretty one though,” he winks, munching on his cheezy chips. “if she didn’t nearly bite m’head off, i woulda kept her for myself. anyway, there’s some shit she left for you, it’s in here with the tapes i told you to rewind decades ago-“
before he could even finish, steve runs towards his office, effectively knocking over the human-sized cardboard cutout of phoebe cates.
and just as keith said, the breakfast club vhs, alongside the other films you picked, was neatly stacked in the corner of his office. there was a folded beige card taped on top of it.
—— ✦
I.O.U. a date.
redeemable for… a romantic milkshake for two at kelly’s diner on the 21st of may. 7 pm sharp.
to: steve (with the killer hair)
from: y/n (sweetheart)
p.s. don’t be late, romeo :-)
—— ✦
steve blinks. and then again. and once more for extra measures, just to make sure he wasn’t making it up. he reads your name, and then aloud as if testing the way it rolls on his tongue. he’s never seen a name that suited a person like it did with you.
steve feels robin’s presence beside him before he sees her. “you see this, too, right?”
she hums.
“… and do you know what this means?”
robin groans.
YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII
YOU RULE - II
it takes steve a while to realize that today is the 21st of may. he blames keith for his lack of preparation. what is he supposed to wear? something simple? casual? smart casual? he knows kelly’s milkshake shack was straightforward, but nothing too bad for him to worry about.
he was worried about how to impress you. what type of flowers do you like? do you even like flowers? what type of chocolates do you love? do you love the milky ones? dark chocolate? the one with almonds? what if you’re allergic to chocolates? but even then, steve thinks flowers and chocolates aren't enough for you.
you deserve the world, the stars, and the moon. you deserve it and more. but what a pity it is that this gesture of adoration and worship is what the world would deem unreachable. unrealistic. superfluous.
nothing is superfluous for you, he thinks. despite that, steve decides to stick with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. nothing could go wrong with that now, could it? he questions himself as he starts his trek to the flower shop a few blocks down.
the first thing that he notices is the soft music playing on the record player. the second thing he noticed is how every flower is blooming and twinkling, not a fading one in sight. the last thing he noticed was the lack of a clerk at the counter.
“uhm, hello?” he calls out hesitantly.
muffled but still coherent, he receives a response from the back room. “one second!”
there was something about her voice that sounded familiar, and yet he couldn’t pinpoint who it could be. he shrugs it off. whilst waiting, he takes a look around the shop, criticizing which would be the perfect pick.
“what flowers do you have in mind?” the voice calls out once more. he could hear some shuffling on the other side.
“i was actually hoping you could help me out.” steve replies somewhat bashfully. “maybe something that’s simple but breathtaking? like nothing too extravagant but something… ethereal.”
he wasn’t sure if they caught what he just said, but before he knew it, the curtain separating the rooms was drawn.
“busy night?”
steve stops shuffling through the vinyls and spins on his heels. “oh, yeah, scored a date with the prettiest girl in-“
you grin at the astounded boy in front of you, eyes wide and jaw slack. you delicately push the bouquet of pretty pink chrysanthemums and yellow dwarf sunflower in his hands, grinning up at him like a tease. “you were saying something about scoring a date with the prettiest girl in hawkins?”
“i- wha?”
“chrysanthemums symbolize devoted love, loyalty, happiness, and these lil sunflowers symbolize adoration.” you state. “i love the sentiment, by the way.”
“you work here?” he finally speaks, watching as you step back to organize the lone stems by the counter.
“i mean if it isn’t obvious,” you shoot him a pointed look.
“y-yeah, right, right.”
“my aunt used to own this shop, but she said she couldn’t take it anymore after some supernatural shit kept happening in this town apparently.” you huff. “i think she just needs to take her meds on time.”
“yeah, probably.” steve chuckles nervously before clearing his throat. “so, uhm, i don’t really remember seeing you around until a few days ago, is this your first time in hawkins?”
“save the getting-to-know questions for the date, harrington.” you smile up at him. “anyway, how about you pick me up two hours from now, i’ll forget that you ever bought me flowers from my own flower shop, and then we can continue this over some sweet milkshakes?”
“yeah,” he nods, his reply was barely even a whisper. there was a look of adoration in his eyes, a dopey lovelorn smile on his lips. “sounds like a plan.”
before steve gets in his car, he pauses by the door, looking back at you with one last glance before he gets stuck with the question, is this what love at first sight feels like?
steve never wants to lose that feeling.
and surely enough, steve is back two hours later with the bouquet in hand, hair styled to perfection, and the feeling of love at third sight stuns him.
steve looks at you like it’s the very first time he’s seen you, and he feels like his heart drops. every
he stares at you and there is an indescribable sensation in his chest that he couldn’t express. it gives him an urge to try every pick-up line in the book; make himself look like an idiot by asking whether you fell from heaven. because steve genuinely believes it. is that so silly of him to think?
there’s a warm fuzzy feeling deep within that void. it’s the type of feeling that makes him want to tell his friends all about you, his mom even, to the world if possible.
there was a pep in your step as you make your way toward steve, noting how handsome he looks in his shirt and corduroy jacket, jeans seemingly well-ironed. his hair is gelled – you’d have to ask him what hair products he uses later – and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.
“looking as gorgeous as ever, sweetheart.” steve compliments you with his ever charming smile. he gives you the bouquet that he’s been hiding behind his back. “these are for you.”
you take it from him and take a whiff of the sweet smell. “wow. these are beautiful, steve. i wonder who picked them for you.”
“oh, you know, just the cute little owner who works in the flower shop.” he grins. “oh, wow, would you look at that. we’re actually standing in front of it right now- oh, and good god, here’s the cute little owner i was just talking about.”
“dork.”
“what flavor do you want?”
“strawberry-chocolate has always been my go-to.”
“really?”
“what’s with the judgemental look? it’s heavenly!”
“but that’s so… so basic. i’ve pegged you to take more on the crazy flavors.”
you playfully roll your eyes at him as he guides you to a booth, hand respectfully placed on the small of your back. you look at him with a teasing grin. “i bet you love vanilla, though.”
steve scoffed, sitting in front of you. “i do not.”
he does, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
“you totally do,” you snicker before busying yourself with the menu.
“what can i get y’all today?”
“we’ll get a large strawberry-chocolate milkshake,” steve quips, looking at you for a moment before, like clockwork, adding, “with two straws, please.”
ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you shake your head at him, “you do this with all the girls you go out with?”
“nah, only the ones who like basic ass milkshake flavors,” he grins, leaning back against the couch. “been reserving all my suave moves just for you.”
you scoff playfully, putting a hand on your chest. you can feel your heart beating as you take in his appearance under the neon lights of the shack. “should i be honored?”
“yeah,” steve nods fervently. “i’m actually glad you went out with me, meaning we don’t have to worry about your bad taste in men, too. i would have been really concerned.”
you laugh at him, and steve beams. you throw a balled-up tissue paper at his face, effectively snapping him out of his little inner dialogue about how your laugh was one of the best things he’s ever heard. “you literally love vanilla milkshakes and you’re trying to call out my apparent bad taste?”
“not vanilla,” he shoots you a glare, the curl of his lips failing to keep up with his act. he throws the tissue back at you. “seriously.”
you raise your hands in defense, trying to prevent the laugh threatening to leave your lips. before either of you could say anything else, the milkshake was served.
steve scooches closer towards the table as he places the milkshake in between you. he thanks the waitress and dips the two straws into the drink.
“just a fair warning though,” steve warns, moving closer to take a sip. “you might get enchanted by my pretty brown eyes with this close proximity, i was told you can get lost in them.”
you continue sipping with a smile, eyes momentarily flicking down at his lips before looking back up into his eyes. his eyes are pretty, you will let yourself willingly get lost in them if you can.
steve does the same, and as his eyes settle back into yours, the two of you let out tiny hushed laughter after the sudden eye contact.
“tell me if you need a map,” he sips, letting out a soft groan at the taste of the milkshake. he’s beginning to understand why you love it so much. “i think you’re starting to get lost.”
“did the heart eyes give it away?” you grin.
the conversation easily flowed like a river after that. secrets, and smiles, and laughter were shared between you two and it lasted for hours, more than what the two of you have signed up for. but neither of you was complaining.
steve learned a lot more about you than he ever did with anyone else. he learned that fleetwood mac, starship, and queen were the artists that claimed your top three. the breakfast club instantly became your favorite after his recommendation. and that you really, really want to learn how to rollerblade.
you, on the other hand, learned steve’s music taste was all over the place, but he secretly loves billy joel after seeing his parents dance to his music when he was younger, a vulnerable memory that he loves to preserve. he tells you all about dustin and the gang, and how the former was like the little brother he never had. he told you about how he was a bit hesitant about getting himself out there again after nancy, his ex, because she was the first person he’s ever loved and apparently it was all bullshit.
you both knew each other better than anyone else, not even your friends nor his knows about the things you told each other. and before you know it, you find yourselves in lover’s lake after getting kicked out for staying after closing — neither of you realized that the two of you were the only people left, save for the staff who kicked you out.
you look up at the starry sky with a content sigh, basking in the chilly air, the soft music from steve’s car, and well, steve.
“i don’t think i’ve had as much fun as i did today,” you say.
steve tilts his head to look at you, a small smile pulling at his lips before he teases, “good to know.”
“stop,” you push his face away. “i’m serious.”
he laughs, settling with a soft smile as he answers, “me, too, sweetheart.”
you look at him, and purse your lips. “i’ll be staying awhile, y’know?”
“what?” his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. you want to give it a kiss.
“you asked me, earlier today, why you’ve never seen me before,” you recall. “i’m planning on staying for a while, just until i have everything figured out.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you nod. “i wasn’t going to, originally, until i found a reason to stay.”
steve smiles, he’s been smiling more than he ever did his entire life, and it’s not one of those flirty smirks or small smiles, they were the genuine and contagious ones. he’s convinced that his jaw will ache from all the muscle movement but he doesn’t mind, not when you told him prior that you loved his smile.
“yeah?” is all he can ask.
you hum in approval.
“what, our ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana doesn’t offer you enough?” he teases.
“well, your ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana so happens to offer the best milkshake,” you shrug nonchalantly. “i guess that’s enough reason.”
he gasps dramatically, putting up an exaggerated act by clutching his chest with a pained groan. “you offend me, woman.”
you laugh. “fine, you, too, pretty boy.”
“me, too, by the way.” steve murmurs after a while, ignoring the thumping of his chest. you feel some shifting from his side, so you look down to see him closer and his palm facing upwards, as if offering it to you. “maybe… maybe we can figure it out together?”
you look up at him, taking another moment to appreciate his beauty, before interlacing your fingers with his. “i’d like that very much.”
“thank you for tonight, steve,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt as he puts his car in park. he gets out of the door and around the vehicle to open yours. “seriously.”
“no need to thank me, sweetheart,” steve smiles, tucking a stray hair away from your face. “i had fun with you tonight.”
you stop yourself from feeling the warmth of your cheeks, instead, you move a bit closer to him. “although, there’s one thing missing...”
steve frowned, his hands hovering just above your waist, hesitant to touch you. “what is it? — agh, i knew i should have gotten you the — robin said it would be too much and i —“
“steve,”
“hmm?”
“it’s not whatever you think it is.”
“oh… what is it then?”
you loop your fingers around his belt loops, tugging him closer to you. steve gasped softly, hands finally settling on your waist. “a kiss.”
“oh,”
you hum, moving your arms up from his torso and looping them around his neck. he could feel goosebumps rising in the wake of your warm touch.
your noses brush against each other, lips teasing as they barely leave a featherlight touch.
steve, getting impatient, pulls you impossibly closer, smashing his lips against yours. it was a mix of soft and desperate as if he’s been thinking of what it would have been like to kiss you. it was. if not, then it was even better than what he dreamed of.
you smile against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. your mind is clouded; you’re drunk on his sweet strawberry-chocolate flavored kisses, the scent of his musky perfume, and the smell of his hairspray.
you slowly pull back only to have steve chase your lips again for a quick peck. “you’re a great kisser,” he murmurs.
“i know,” you tease, pulling him back down for another kiss as you can’t help yourself, only pulling away on the account of actually needing air to breathe.
“good night, steve,” you pull away slowly, his hands slipping away from yours as you walk up to your front doorstep.
“i miss you already!“ he calls out.
“go home, pretty boy.”
“good night, sweetheart!” he grins.
“drive home safe, farrah fawcett.”
“hey! i told you that in confidence.” steve exclaims, unbothered by your screaming neighbor yelling profanities at him. it was late.
you look back at him with one last smile before disappearing behind the door, you lean against it, grinning from ear to ear as you squeal in the safety of your own home. you walk around the shop-apartment with your giddy smile never faltering even once.
unbeknownst to you, after making sure you got in safely, steve is punching the air, whooping, and jumping on his feet as he did his own little celebration. he looks back once more before getting into his car, playing a billy joel song.
it frustrates him beyond belief how a woman could easily make him weak in the knees, how you, with one look into your eyes, accompanied by a glint of a smile, could make him feel as if he could crumble into lovesick wreckage, how your featherlight touch could effortlessly yield him into submission — but he supposes that he does not mind because you’re not just any woman nor is this just any feeling. he made a promise to himself that he would never fall in love again, never will he accept the risk of getting his heart broken once more, but for you — when he’s with you — he would risk getting his heart broken time and time again if it meant being in your presence. he’s never felt so seen, so loved, so adored, until he met you.
he’s willing to patch up a broken heart if it means loving you.
it’s dizzying, it’s so overwhelmingly beautiful — the feeling of being in love. the feeling of being in love with you. and in two years' time, the whisper of those three little words, those of which are common amongst those who love and are loved, and yet it holds a special meaning that no one but the two of you can understand.
it’s a promise. an oath. a secret that you will continue keeping that no matter what, it will always be you and him against the world, that even if everything else fails, your love for each other is what will keep you going.
because you did not end up staying a while, you stayed with him, and you’ll stay with him until forever falls apart.
summary: steve is the only partner you need in surviving the apocalyptic pandemonium happening in your mind.
warnings: ! hinting at depression, subtle allusions to being suicidal, intrusive thoughts, non-sexual nudity, self-indulgent. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed
word count: 2.4K
you are on fire.
one day it’s a tiny match fire. a campfire, sporadically. but without even a signal — a fire alarm — it will turn big enough to engulf a house and its neighboring ones in flames.
but it doesn’t matter how big or small the flame is; you are on fire.
the smoke is clouding your mind, filling your head with dark and heinous thoughts. there are no windows to blow the smoke out, there are no doors, too. it is just a box, a metal safe, a locked tank. you do not have a key to open the doorless space.
it’s stuck there, the smoke. you are, too. you have to hold your breath for a minute… and then two… and then three… you need air. you try not to cave into the hazing fumes, try not to inhale the smoke — but you need to breathe, or else you’ll die. you shouldn’t or it will fill up your lungs, but you can’t hold it in any longer,
so you gasp for air.
you inhale the smoke. it clouds your body, your mind. it adds fuel.
you are on fire, and it’s enough to burn the world.
steve is worried.
no one’s seen you for the past two days. he tried calling your home phone and visiting your house but no one ever answered. your bedroom window was always closed and the curtains were always shut.
he sighs, toying with the badges on his uniform vest as he watches the clock tick. he has fifteen more minutes before his shift ends. he’s been restless and tense the whole day and it’s concerning robin, who’s just as worried.
“steve,” she calls out to him, receiving a halfhearted hum from her best friend. “hey, why don’t you go check on ‘em again?”
“we have like, a few minutes more before closing,” he mumbles.
“clock out early, i’ll close the store.” robin reassures him. “just give me the keys and i’ll lock up for you.”
“are you sure?” he asks, standing up straight to his full height. his hands hover over the keys in his pocket. “because i can wait. what’s another minute or two, y’know?”
“go,” she says, giving him a light push. “just… check up on y/n for me, too. i miss her.”
steve gives her a firm nod, tossing her the keys — which she did not catch, steve should have known better — and heads over to his car.
when steve knocks on your door, someone opens it this time.
“oh, steve,” your mother sighs in relief, opening the door wider, waving him inside. “it’s a good thing you’re here, sweetheart. y/n hasn’t gotten out of bed since yesterday.”
steve’s concern grows at that. his fingers immediately rake through his hair, giving it a gentle tug to keep him grounded.
“would you be a dear and talk to her for me?” she asks, shuffling around the house in a manner that makes him dizzy. “i have work in a few and i can’t even get her to eat. i’m going to be late.”
he didn’t even have time to reassure her that he will; he will talk to her daughter for her, he will make sure she was alright, will take care of her, will be there for her — but she rushes out the door before he could even say it.
parents! steve sighs in agitation.
there is a knock on your door. you wait for a beat… and then two… and then you hear it swing open. you don’t bother looking up to see who it is — but you can imagine what the landscape looks like for them.
the room is dark and void of anything, the only light that serves as their beacon comes from the open door. and like a spotlight, it will lead them to the lump on your bed; you.
there’s faint movement, they will notice: up and down. breathing.
they will sigh in relief.
and then their eyes will move to your mess of a room, which once upon a time was cleaner than any fully-furnished room models you see in malls. bowls and mugs and empty water bottles are discarded in every nook and crevice of the space.
they will move the dishes aside and replace them with a tray of food they prepared for you.
they will pull the curtains open and you will squeeze your eyes shut at the blinding light, hiding further under the blanket.
“s’this the latest ikea room interior you follow?” steve jokes, attempting to lighten up the mood. his chest tightens when you do not do as much as move or chuckle.
steve. you miss him.
but you don’t look at him. your heart is in chains, bound to an empty feeling. they were heavy, weighing the emotion down further. you don’t want to look at him. you don’t want him to see you.
so you ignore the stinging pain that seems to be the only emotion that fills the gaping hole in your chest. you shut your eyes once more.
“what, you’re not even going to look at the way i styled my hair for you today?” steve tries once more but when you barely moved, he sighs — his hair messy from the way he’s been running through it all day.
he’s disappointed in you. you’re disappointing him.
he deserves better, you think. steve deserves better. he deserves the moon and the stars. the milky way, the universe. he deserves someone who will never shut down once the world starts crashing in on them.
someone who will not light up on fire.
with every touch, with every kiss, with every sweet whisper at night — you’re burning him, and with every scorching contact, you’re going burn him out.
but steve, he’s like a flow of water in the river. calming, peaceful, grounding.
he makes you feel grounded. he’s your safe space, your haven. he is every nature of solace.
he dwindles your fire, watching as it gets smaller and smaller until the only light you see comes from the moon and stars in the sky, they shine brighter with your evanescent flame.
so water and fire? they shouldn’t go together, but somehow, you and him just make it work.
you hear shuffling outside the thick material of your blanket, and then the light clinking of dishes, footsteps moving in and out of the room. and then you hear water running from your bathroom.
you haven’t showered in three days.
you feel the bed dip beside you and steve hesitantly pulls the blanket away from your face. “hi, baby,”
he waits for a few seconds until he hears you whisper, “hi.”
steve smiles, it’s progress. “i ran you a warm bath, why don’t i join you so we can save some water, hm?”
you shake your head.
“c’mon, sweetheart,” steve pursed his lips. “do it for me, yeah? can you do it for me?”
you sigh, slowly peeling the blanket away from your body as you pull yourself up to sit beside your boyfriend. you notice his concerned gaze and it makes you want to throw up — you try to make yourself smaller bit by bit until you are nothing… but steve intertwines his fingers with yours.
you look into his eyes, the very same ones you fall in love with every night. he looks into yours, and it’s the same ones he falls in love with every day but there’s a distant look in them, tears glazing over with dark bags underneath your eyes.
you’re here, steve thinks, but at the same time, it was as if you weren’t. it was like the person in front of him right now is merely the ghost of you.
you look away from him, eyes scanning the expanse of your room. he cleaned your room. with a quiet sigh, you lean your head against his shoulder. he cleaned your room.
steve frowns, he can practically hear the gears turning in your head. he kisses your forehead before delicately pulling you up to your feet as if you would break with one sudden move. he whispers, “let me take care of you, okay?”
it took everything in you not to burst into tears right then and there, and it burns your throat by doing so. you take a shuddering breath at the feeling of his warm hand on your waist. your heart aches at his tenderness, wanting nothing more than to let him hold you.
he carefully undresses you with your meek consent, quietly complimenting you as he leaves soft kisses in the wake of your skin — like a caress of silent adorations he dare not say but show.
he guides you into the heated water, stripping off his own clothes before settling behind you, pulling you in between his legs and against his chest.
you let your head drop against him, letting yourself feel him on your skin.
steve was lathering you up with the body wash he loves so much when your body suddenly wracked with hushed sobs — like you didn’t want him to know you were crying.
“hey, hey, hey,” steve whispers, carefully turning you around to look at you. “what’s wrong, baby?”
“just…” you whimper, gripping his arm. “jus’ hold me.”
“yeah… yeah, i can do that,” he murmurs, pulling you closer than ever, arms wrapped around you like a safety blanket — skin-to-skin, an underestimated form of intimacy.
you don’t know what you’re apologizing for. there are millions of thoughts running through your head right now and you cannot decipher which of them you're asking for clemency.
but he kisses your free-falling tears away and continues whispering sweet nothings to you.
it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay, i love you i love you i love you…
he stayed in the tub with you until you were ready to get up. he was nothing if not patient and loving.
he’s starting to extinguish your fire and you don’t deserve him.
he dresses you in your favorite sweatpants and the fluffy yellow sweatshirt he was wearing earlier, putting it on for you when you were too numb and lethargic to move. he plants butterfly kisses on your exposed skin and runs his hands over your body to give you warmth.
steve lets you settle back in bed, draping the blanket on your body before going through one of your drawers with his clothes.
you weren’t looking at him when he sat beside you, not when he was looking at you with such fragility, not when he stroked your hair or traced the apple of your cheeks with his thumb.
you slowly lift your arm up to invite him under the blanket. side-by-side, you were facing each other, but neither of you said anything. steve kisses the crease in between your eyebrows, the tiny scrunch on your nose, the frown on your lips.
and then he gently taps your forehead. “let me in?”
a beat.
“how do you do it?” your voice was nothing above a whisper, the words only muttered for only him to hear — it was raspy, soft, as if your vocal cords were surprised by its sudden friction.
“do what?”
”i don’t know,” you shrug, trying to suppress the growing pain in your heart. “get up every morning and just… start living life.”
”it’s not easy, that’s for sure,” steve’s lips curve into a sad smile. “sometimes i wish time would just stop and give me even half a minute to just breathe, y’know? away from the demons, away from this living nightmare, just… simply away from reality.”
you hum. “how do you do it then?”
“you.”
“me?”
“yeah,” steve smiles, pulling you in his arms. “you get me going every day, sweetheart,”
“i don’t deserve you,” a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. “you’re too good to me, steve harrington.”
he kisses the crown of your head, pulling you closer than ever. “don’t say that. you’re my person, y/n. i love you,”
he says your name with so much love, so much adoration, it hurts. he loves you, and you do, too, so much. but what good will your love be for him if you’re slowly setting him on fire alongside you?
“we’ll work it out together, okay? whatever this is,” steve starts, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i’ll help you go through it, no matter what it takes, but you have to let me in. i’m your partner, sweetheart, i love you. let me take care of you.”
and with that, the fire died down. all of what’s left of you are the ashes and smoke of the aftermath, but you’re steadily coming together.
“let me take care of you,” he repeats, giving you the soft look that’s reserved for you and only for you.
and you let him. you let him wrap some bandages over your burns and give them a kiss. you let him press his body against your cooling one. you let him sing you to sleep. you let him take care of you.
steve sighs softly when you finally fall asleep, looking more at peace than you were earlier. he kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger for a while.
he never wants to let you go, he keeps his arms wrapped around you as a way of shielding you from anything that would dare make you feel as if you’re undeserving of all the love you’re given. when in truth, it’s all you are worthy of and more.
steve shifts a bit, careful not to wake you up so he can close the curtains of your room, but his attempts to be careful were futile when you stirred awake.
“steve?” you mumble, half-asleep. mind blurry and words slurring. “i’m sorry, don’t leave me.”
his heart shatters. he shut the curtains quickly and made it back beside you within the speed of light. “never leaving you. i’ll stay with you until the end of time and more.”
“you promise?”
“with all my heart and soul… go back to sleep, sweetheart. i’ll be here when you wake up.”
this was so heartbreaking but validating at the same time. your writing is amazing and the extended metaphor with the fire was brilliant ❤️🔥
i think this hurt the most i’ve definitely thought about this before
“how do you do it?” your voice was nothing above a whisper, the words only muttered for only him to hear — it was raspy, soft, as if your vocal cords were surprised by its sudden friction.
“do what?”
”i don’t know,” you shrug, trying to suppress the growing pain in your heart. “get up every morning and just… start living life.”
summary: steve is the only partner you need in surviving the apocalyptic pandemonium happening in your mind.
warnings: ! hinting at depression, subtle allusions to being suicidal, intrusive thoughts, non-sexual nudity, self-indulgent. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed
word count: 2.4K
you are on fire.
one day it’s a tiny match fire. a campfire, sporadically. but without even a signal — a fire alarm — it will turn big enough to engulf a house and its neighboring ones in flames.
but it doesn’t matter how big or small the flame is; you are on fire.
the smoke is clouding your mind, filling your head with dark and heinous thoughts. there are no windows to blow the smoke out, there are no doors, too. it is just a box, a metal safe, a locked tank. you do not have a key to open the doorless space.
it’s stuck there, the smoke. you are, too. you have to hold your breath for a minute… and then two… and then three… you need air. you try not to cave into the hazing fumes, try not to inhale the smoke — but you need to breathe, or else you’ll die. you shouldn’t or it will fill up your lungs, but you can’t hold it in any longer,
so you gasp for air.
you inhale the smoke. it clouds your body, your mind. it adds fuel.
you are on fire, and it’s enough to burn the world.
steve is worried.
no one’s seen you for the past two days. he tried calling your home phone and visiting your house but no one ever answered. your bedroom window was always closed and the curtains were always shut.
he sighs, toying with the badges on his uniform vest as he watches the clock tick. he has fifteen more minutes before his shift ends. he’s been restless and tense the whole day and it’s concerning robin, who’s just as worried.
“steve,” she calls out to him, receiving a halfhearted hum from her best friend. “hey, why don’t you go check on ‘em again?”
“we have like, a few minutes more before closing,” he mumbles.
“clock out early, i’ll close the store.” robin reassures him. “just give me the keys and i’ll lock up for you.”
“are you sure?” he asks, standing up straight to his full height. his hands hover over the keys in his pocket. “because i can wait. what’s another minute or two, y’know?”
“go,” she says, giving him a light push. “just… check up on y/n for me, too. i miss her.”
steve gives her a firm nod, tossing her the keys — which she did not catch, steve should have known better — and heads over to his car.
when steve knocks on your door, someone opens it this time.
“oh, steve,” your mother sighs in relief, opening the door wider, waving him inside. “it’s a good thing you’re here, sweetheart. y/n hasn’t gotten out of bed since yesterday.”
steve’s concern grows at that. his fingers immediately rake through his hair, giving it a gentle tug to keep him grounded.
“would you be a dear and talk to her for me?” she asks, shuffling around the house in a manner that makes him dizzy. “i have work in a few and i can’t even get her to eat. i’m going to be late.”
he didn’t even have time to reassure her that he will; he will talk to her daughter for her, he will make sure she was alright, will take care of her, will be there for her — but she rushes out the door before he could even say it.
parents! steve sighs in agitation.
there is a knock on your door. you wait for a beat… and then two… and then you hear it swing open. you don’t bother looking up to see who it is — but you can imagine what the landscape looks like for them.
the room is dark and void of anything, the only light that serves as their beacon comes from the open door. and like a spotlight, it will lead them to the lump on your bed; you.
there’s faint movement, they will notice: up and down. breathing.
they will sigh in relief.
and then their eyes will move to your mess of a room, which once upon a time was cleaner than any fully-furnished room models you see in malls. bowls and mugs and empty water bottles are discarded in every nook and crevice of the space.
they will move the dishes aside and replace them with a tray of food they prepared for you.
they will pull the curtains open and you will squeeze your eyes shut at the blinding light, hiding further under the blanket.
“s’this the latest ikea room interior you follow?” steve jokes, attempting to lighten up the mood. his chest tightens when you do not do as much as move or chuckle.
steve. you miss him.
but you don’t look at him. your heart is in chains, bound to an empty feeling. they were heavy, weighing the emotion down further. you don’t want to look at him. you don’t want him to see you.
so you ignore the stinging pain that seems to be the only emotion that fills the gaping hole in your chest. you shut your eyes once more.
“what, you’re not even going to look at the way i styled my hair for you today?” steve tries once more but when you barely moved, he sighs — his hair messy from the way he’s been running through it all day.
he’s disappointed in you. you’re disappointing him.
he deserves better, you think. steve deserves better. he deserves the moon and the stars. the milky way, the universe. he deserves someone who will never shut down once the world starts crashing in on them.
someone who will not light up on fire.
with every touch, with every kiss, with every sweet whisper at night — you’re burning him, and with every scorching contact, you’re going burn him out.
but steve, he’s like a flow of water in the river. calming, peaceful, grounding.
he makes you feel grounded. he’s your safe space, your haven. he is every nature of solace.
he dwindles your fire, watching as it gets smaller and smaller until the only light you see comes from the moon and stars in the sky, they shine brighter with your evanescent flame.
so water and fire? they shouldn’t go together, but somehow, you and him just make it work.
you hear shuffling outside the thick material of your blanket, and then the light clinking of dishes, footsteps moving in and out of the room. and then you hear water running from your bathroom.
you haven’t showered in three days.
you feel the bed dip beside you and steve hesitantly pulls the blanket away from your face. “hi, baby,”
he waits for a few seconds until he hears you whisper, “hi.”
steve smiles, it’s progress. “i ran you a warm bath, why don’t i join you so we can save some water, hm?”
you shake your head.
“c’mon, sweetheart,” steve pursed his lips. “do it for me, yeah? can you do it for me?”
you sigh, slowly peeling the blanket away from your body as you pull yourself up to sit beside your boyfriend. you notice his concerned gaze and it makes you want to throw up — you try to make yourself smaller bit by bit until you are nothing… but steve intertwines his fingers with yours.
you look into his eyes, the very same ones you fall in love with every night. he looks into yours, and it’s the same ones he falls in love with every day but there’s a distant look in them, tears glazing over with dark bags underneath your eyes.
you’re here, steve thinks, but at the same time, it was as if you weren’t. it was like the person in front of him right now is merely the ghost of you.
you look away from him, eyes scanning the expanse of your room. he cleaned your room. with a quiet sigh, you lean your head against his shoulder. he cleaned your room.
steve frowns, he can practically hear the gears turning in your head. he kisses your forehead before delicately pulling you up to your feet as if you would break with one sudden move. he whispers, “let me take care of you, okay?”
it took everything in you not to burst into tears right then and there, and it burns your throat by doing so. you take a shuddering breath at the feeling of his warm hand on your waist. your heart aches at his tenderness, wanting nothing more than to let him hold you.
he carefully undresses you with your meek consent, quietly complimenting you as he leaves soft kisses in the wake of your skin — like a caress of silent adorations he dare not say but show.
he guides you into the heated water, stripping off his own clothes before settling behind you, pulling you in between his legs and against his chest.
you let your head drop against him, letting yourself feel him on your skin.
steve was lathering you up with the body wash he loves so much when your body suddenly wracked with hushed sobs — like you didn’t want him to know you were crying.
“hey, hey, hey,” steve whispers, carefully turning you around to look at you. “what’s wrong, baby?”
“just…” you whimper, gripping his arm. “jus’ hold me.”
“yeah… yeah, i can do that,” he murmurs, pulling you closer than ever, arms wrapped around you like a safety blanket — skin-to-skin, an underestimated form of intimacy.
you don’t know what you’re apologizing for. there are millions of thoughts running through your head right now and you cannot decipher which of them you're asking for clemency.
but he kisses your free-falling tears away and continues whispering sweet nothings to you.
it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay, i love you i love you i love you…
he stayed in the tub with you until you were ready to get up. he was nothing if not patient and loving.
he’s starting to extinguish your fire and you don’t deserve him.
he dresses you in your favorite sweatpants and the fluffy yellow sweatshirt he was wearing earlier, putting it on for you when you were too numb and lethargic to move. he plants butterfly kisses on your exposed skin and runs his hands over your body to give you warmth.
steve lets you settle back in bed, draping the blanket on your body before going through one of your drawers with his clothes.
you weren’t looking at him when he sat beside you, not when he was looking at you with such fragility, not when he stroked your hair or traced the apple of your cheeks with his thumb.
you slowly lift your arm up to invite him under the blanket. side-by-side, you were facing each other, but neither of you said anything. steve kisses the crease in between your eyebrows, the tiny scrunch on your nose, the frown on your lips.
and then he gently taps your forehead. “let me in?”
a beat.
“how do you do it?” your voice was nothing above a whisper, the words only muttered for only him to hear — it was raspy, soft, as if your vocal cords were surprised by its sudden friction.
“do what?”
”i don’t know,” you shrug, trying to suppress the growing pain in your heart. “get up every morning and just… start living life.”
”it’s not easy, that’s for sure,” steve’s lips curve into a sad smile. “sometimes i wish time would just stop and give me even half a minute to just breathe, y’know? away from the demons, away from this living nightmare, just… simply away from reality.”
you hum. “how do you do it then?”
“you.”
“me?”
“yeah,” steve smiles, pulling you in his arms. “you get me going every day, sweetheart,”
“i don’t deserve you,” a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. “you’re too good to me, steve harrington.”
he kisses the crown of your head, pulling you closer than ever. “don’t say that. you’re my person, y/n. i love you,”
he says your name with so much love, so much adoration, it hurts. he loves you, and you do, too, so much. but what good will your love be for him if you’re slowly setting him on fire alongside you?
“we’ll work it out together, okay? whatever this is,” steve starts, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i’ll help you go through it, no matter what it takes, but you have to let me in. i’m your partner, sweetheart, i love you. let me take care of you.”
and with that, the fire died down. all of what’s left of you are the ashes and smoke of the aftermath, but you’re steadily coming together.
“let me take care of you,” he repeats, giving you the soft look that’s reserved for you and only for you.
and you let him. you let him wrap some bandages over your burns and give them a kiss. you let him press his body against your cooling one. you let him sing you to sleep. you let him take care of you.
steve sighs softly when you finally fall asleep, looking more at peace than you were earlier. he kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger for a while.
he never wants to let you go, he keeps his arms wrapped around you as a way of shielding you from anything that would dare make you feel as if you’re undeserving of all the love you’re given. when in truth, it’s all you are worthy of and more.
steve shifts a bit, careful not to wake you up so he can close the curtains of your room, but his attempts to be careful were futile when you stirred awake.
“steve?” you mumble, half-asleep. mind blurry and words slurring. “i’m sorry, don’t leave me.”
his heart shatters. he shut the curtains quickly and made it back beside you within the speed of light. “never leaving you. i’ll stay with you until the end of time and more.”
“you promise?”
“with all my heart and soul… go back to sleep, sweetheart. i’ll be here when you wake up.”
summary: the four times eddie knew he was a goner and the one time he told you.
warnings: no spoilers! don’t worry, you’re safe here. profanities. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed <3
word count: 5.1k
i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love mötley crüe.
eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him.
and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…
eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.
so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”
you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”
“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.”
you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.
“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.
“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”
after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.
“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!
he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”
huh.
you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it.
you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.
he isn’t a bad sight to see.
his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.
his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.
all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.
“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”
you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”
“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”
“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.
“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”
he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.
… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,
i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,
and like a supercharged rocket ride,
you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.
“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”
“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”
eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”
“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”
it came out as gibberish but the point came across.
“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”
“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.
that was strike one for eddie munson.
ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.
you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.
and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”
“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.”
eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it.
“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.
motherfucker.
“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.
you should really start thinking twice.
said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.
“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.
“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”
“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”
you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.
“you bitch!”
with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you.
eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk.
“holy shit…”
“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy.
“twenty.” he blinks.
you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”
eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.
“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.
you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.
and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around.
and the rest was history.
that was strike two for eddie munson.
iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.
“is this… MADONNA?”
eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.
he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady.
dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”
eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”
it was his. you left it for him.
dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.
you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.
you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.
just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too.
if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.
“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.
eddie slaps his hands away from his face.
aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.
“did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.
he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”
“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”
eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”
you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”
you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.
you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.
that was strike three for eddie munson.
iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.
“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”
as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”
you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”
“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”
“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”
“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”
“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”
“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”
“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”
“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”
you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”
“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.
“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.
“and twice,” you agree.
as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.
you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.
mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.
the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.
his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.
“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”
“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”
“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”
you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”
eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.
“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”
“no! i shan’t yield!”
giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.
you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.
you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain.
a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second.
“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.
“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.
eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”
he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”
“idiot.” you snort.
eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van.
a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van.
“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”
you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.
he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”
“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”
adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”
he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.
the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.
his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.
should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?
the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.
“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”
“yeah.”
eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?
that was strike four for eddie munson.
but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.
v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.
“harrington? fucking harrington?”
“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.
“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.
“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”
he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”
you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”
“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”
“and robin.”
“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.
“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”
“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.
“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”
“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”
you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”
eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair.
“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”
“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.
you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”
“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.
“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine.
“that’s mine!”
“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”
“you paid for those with my money.”
eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”
“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”
“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”
the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”
“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”
he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”
eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that.
you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.
“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”
although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”
“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.
he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”
you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”
eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.
“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”
“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.
eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”
he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again.
his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.
with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.
“are you sure?” you hesitate.
“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners.
and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.
“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”
eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”
you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”
and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.
robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up.
“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”
you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”
eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”
you shrug.
he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.
“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically.
eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”
“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you.
“i have no idea.”
some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.
“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”
“frozen waffles?” robin questions.
“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna – that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”
you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love.
“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”
you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie.
he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”
“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.
your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.
“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.
you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”
“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”
“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.
“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.
“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”
that was strike ??? for you and eddie.
“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”
“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”
“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”
summary: steve is the only partner you need in surviving the apocalyptic pandemonium happening in your mind.
warnings: ! hinting at depression, subtle allusions to being suicidal, intrusive thoughts, non-sexual nudity, self-indulgent. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed
word count: 2.4K
you are on fire.
one day it’s a tiny match fire. a campfire, sporadically. but without even a signal — a fire alarm — it will turn big enough to engulf a house and its neighboring ones in flames.
but it doesn’t matter how big or small the flame is; you are on fire.
the smoke is clouding your mind, filling your head with dark and heinous thoughts. there are no windows to blow the smoke out, there are no doors, too. it is just a box, a metal safe, a locked tank. you do not have a key to open the doorless space.
it’s stuck there, the smoke. you are, too. you have to hold your breath for a minute… and then two… and then three… you need air. you try not to cave into the hazing fumes, try not to inhale the smoke — but you need to breathe, or else you’ll die. you shouldn’t or it will fill up your lungs, but you can’t hold it in any longer,
so you gasp for air.
you inhale the smoke. it clouds your body, your mind. it adds fuel.
you are on fire, and it’s enough to burn the world.
steve is worried.
no one’s seen you for the past two days. he tried calling your home phone and visiting your house but no one ever answered. your bedroom window was always closed and the curtains were always shut.
he sighs, toying with the badges on his uniform vest as he watches the clock tick. he has fifteen more minutes before his shift ends. he’s been restless and tense the whole day and it’s concerning robin, who’s just as worried.
“steve,” she calls out to him, receiving a halfhearted hum from her best friend. “hey, why don’t you go check on ‘em again?”
“we have like, a few minutes more before closing,” he mumbles.
“clock out early, i’ll close the store.” robin reassures him. “just give me the keys and i’ll lock up for you.”
“are you sure?” he asks, standing up straight to his full height. his hands hover over the keys in his pocket. “because i can wait. what’s another minute or two, y’know?”
“go,” she says, giving him a light push. “just… check up on y/n for me, too. i miss her.”
steve gives her a firm nod, tossing her the keys — which she did not catch, steve should have known better — and heads over to his car.
when steve knocks on your door, someone opens it this time.
“oh, steve,” your mother sighs in relief, opening the door wider, waving him inside. “it’s a good thing you’re here, sweetheart. y/n hasn’t gotten out of bed since yesterday.”
steve’s concern grows at that. his fingers immediately rake through his hair, giving it a gentle tug to keep him grounded.
“would you be a dear and talk to her for me?” she asks, shuffling around the house in a manner that makes him dizzy. “i have work in a few and i can’t even get her to eat. i’m going to be late.”
he didn’t even have time to reassure her that he will; he will talk to her daughter for her, he will make sure she was alright, will take care of her, will be there for her — but she rushes out the door before he could even say it.
parents! steve sighs in agitation.
there is a knock on your door. you wait for a beat… and then two… and then you hear it swing open. you don’t bother looking up to see who it is — but you can imagine what the landscape looks like for them.
the room is dark and void of anything, the only light that serves as their beacon comes from the open door. and like a spotlight, it will lead them to the lump on your bed; you.
there’s faint movement, they will notice: up and down. breathing.
they will sigh in relief.
and then their eyes will move to your mess of a room, which once upon a time was cleaner than any fully-furnished room models you see in malls. bowls and mugs and empty water bottles are discarded in every nook and crevice of the space.
they will move the dishes aside and replace them with a tray of food they prepared for you.
they will pull the curtains open and you will squeeze your eyes shut at the blinding light, hiding further under the blanket.
“s’this the latest ikea room interior you follow?” steve jokes, attempting to lighten up the mood. his chest tightens when you do not do as much as move or chuckle.
steve. you miss him.
but you don’t look at him. your heart is in chains, bound to an empty feeling. they were heavy, weighing the emotion down further. you don’t want to look at him. you don’t want him to see you.
so you ignore the stinging pain that seems to be the only emotion that fills the gaping hole in your chest. you shut your eyes once more.
“what, you’re not even going to look at the way i styled my hair for you today?” steve tries once more but when you barely moved, he sighs — his hair messy from the way he’s been running through it all day.
he’s disappointed in you. you’re disappointing him.
he deserves better, you think. steve deserves better. he deserves the moon and the stars. the milky way, the universe. he deserves someone who will never shut down once the world starts crashing in on them.
someone who will not light up on fire.
with every touch, with every kiss, with every sweet whisper at night — you’re burning him, and with every scorching contact, you’re going burn him out.
but steve, he’s like a flow of water in the river. calming, peaceful, grounding.
he makes you feel grounded. he’s your safe space, your haven. he is every nature of solace.
he dwindles your fire, watching as it gets smaller and smaller until the only light you see comes from the moon and stars in the sky, they shine brighter with your evanescent flame.
so water and fire? they shouldn’t go together, but somehow, you and him just make it work.
you hear shuffling outside the thick material of your blanket, and then the light clinking of dishes, footsteps moving in and out of the room. and then you hear water running from your bathroom.
you haven’t showered in three days.
you feel the bed dip beside you and steve hesitantly pulls the blanket away from your face. “hi, baby,”
he waits for a few seconds until he hears you whisper, “hi.”
steve smiles, it’s progress. “i ran you a warm bath, why don’t i join you so we can save some water, hm?”
you shake your head.
“c’mon, sweetheart,” steve pursed his lips. “do it for me, yeah? can you do it for me?”
you sigh, slowly peeling the blanket away from your body as you pull yourself up to sit beside your boyfriend. you notice his concerned gaze and it makes you want to throw up — you try to make yourself smaller bit by bit until you are nothing… but steve intertwines his fingers with yours.
you look into his eyes, the very same ones you fall in love with every night. he looks into yours, and it’s the same ones he falls in love with every day but there’s a distant look in them, tears glazing over with dark bags underneath your eyes.
you’re here, steve thinks, but at the same time, it was as if you weren’t. it was like the person in front of him right now is merely the ghost of you.
you look away from him, eyes scanning the expanse of your room. he cleaned your room. with a quiet sigh, you lean your head against his shoulder. he cleaned your room.
steve frowns, he can practically hear the gears turning in your head. he kisses your forehead before delicately pulling you up to your feet as if you would break with one sudden move. he whispers, “let me take care of you, okay?”
it took everything in you not to burst into tears right then and there, and it burns your throat by doing so. you take a shuddering breath at the feeling of his warm hand on your waist. your heart aches at his tenderness, wanting nothing more than to let him hold you.
he carefully undresses you with your meek consent, quietly complimenting you as he leaves soft kisses in the wake of your skin — like a caress of silent adorations he dare not say but show.
he guides you into the heated water, stripping off his own clothes before settling behind you, pulling you in between his legs and against his chest.
you let your head drop against him, letting yourself feel him on your skin.
steve was lathering you up with the body wash he loves so much when your body suddenly wracked with hushed sobs — like you didn’t want him to know you were crying.
“hey, hey, hey,” steve whispers, carefully turning you around to look at you. “what’s wrong, baby?”
“just…” you whimper, gripping his arm. “jus’ hold me.”
“yeah… yeah, i can do that,” he murmurs, pulling you closer than ever, arms wrapped around you like a safety blanket — skin-to-skin, an underestimated form of intimacy.
you don’t know what you’re apologizing for. there are millions of thoughts running through your head right now and you cannot decipher which of them you're asking for clemency.
but he kisses your free-falling tears away and continues whispering sweet nothings to you.
it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay, i love you i love you i love you…
he stayed in the tub with you until you were ready to get up. he was nothing if not patient and loving.
he’s starting to extinguish your fire and you don’t deserve him.
he dresses you in your favorite sweatpants and the fluffy yellow sweatshirt he was wearing earlier, putting it on for you when you were too numb and lethargic to move. he plants butterfly kisses on your exposed skin and runs his hands over your body to give you warmth.
steve lets you settle back in bed, draping the blanket on your body before going through one of your drawers with his clothes.
you weren’t looking at him when he sat beside you, not when he was looking at you with such fragility, not when he stroked your hair or traced the apple of your cheeks with his thumb.
you slowly lift your arm up to invite him under the blanket. side-by-side, you were facing each other, but neither of you said anything. steve kisses the crease in between your eyebrows, the tiny scrunch on your nose, the frown on your lips.
and then he gently taps your forehead. “let me in?”
a beat.
“how do you do it?” your voice was nothing above a whisper, the words only muttered for only him to hear — it was raspy, soft, as if your vocal cords were surprised by its sudden friction.
“do what?”
”i don’t know,” you shrug, trying to suppress the growing pain in your heart. “get up every morning and just… start living life.”
”it’s not easy, that’s for sure,” steve’s lips curve into a sad smile. “sometimes i wish time would just stop and give me even half a minute to just breathe, y’know? away from the demons, away from this living nightmare, just… simply away from reality.”
you hum. “how do you do it then?”
“you.”
“me?”
“yeah,” steve smiles, pulling you in his arms. “you get me going every day, sweetheart,”
“i don’t deserve you,” a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. “you’re too good to me, steve harrington.”
he kisses the crown of your head, pulling you closer than ever. “don’t say that. you’re my person, y/n. i love you,”
he says your name with so much love, so much adoration, it hurts. he loves you, and you do, too, so much. but what good will your love be for him if you’re slowly setting him on fire alongside you?
“we’ll work it out together, okay? whatever this is,” steve starts, intertwining his fingers with yours. “i’ll help you go through it, no matter what it takes, but you have to let me in. i’m your partner, sweetheart, i love you. let me take care of you.”
and with that, the fire died down. all of what’s left of you are the ashes and smoke of the aftermath, but you’re steadily coming together.
“let me take care of you,” he repeats, giving you the soft look that’s reserved for you and only for you.
and you let him. you let him wrap some bandages over your burns and give them a kiss. you let him press his body against your cooling one. you let him sing you to sleep. you let him take care of you.
steve sighs softly when you finally fall asleep, looking more at peace than you were earlier. he kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger for a while.
he never wants to let you go, he keeps his arms wrapped around you as a way of shielding you from anything that would dare make you feel as if you’re undeserving of all the love you’re given when in truth, it’s all you are worthy for and more.
steve shifts a bit, careful not to wake you up so he can close the curtains of your room, but his attempts to be careful were futile when you stirred awake.
“steve?” you mumble, half-asleep. mind blurry and words slurring. “i’m sorry, don’t leave me.”
his heart shatters. he shut the curtains quickly and made it back beside you within the speed of light. “never leaving you. i’ll stay with you until the end of time and more.”
“you promise?”
“with all my heart and soul… go back to sleep, sweetheart. i’ll be here when you wake up.”
summary: meeting the one who could make your heart stop whilst simultaneously being the reason why your heart beats is rare, and steve just so happens to be one of the lucky ones who found them during a slow monday in family video.
warnings: no major s4 spoilers, just a love-sick steve. gif credits to @emziess
word count: 4.3k
steve groans in despair.
it was barely a busy day in family video. it usually wasn’t during mondays.
he throws the stress ball against the wall and lets it bounce back into his grasp. robin was out back, it was her turn to rewind tapes and place them back on their respective shelves while he was stuck at the counter.
when he doesn't manage to catch it, he doesn’t bother getting up to grab it. instead, he calls out, “hey, robin?”
without waiting for her response, he eventually decides to meddle in his coworker’s love life. “do you know what i just found out about vickie today?”
there was a pause. a beat, just before robin responds, “yeah? — actually, no, i don’t think i want to know.”
“she,” he stops for a bit of a dramatic effect. “returned fast times paused at 53 minutes and 5 seconds and—“
“so? m-maybe she realized that she didn’t like fast times exactly at 53 minutes and 5 seconds so—“
“and do you know who pauses fast times at 53 minutes and 5 seconds?” he asks, waiting for a reply. but when it doesn’t come, he swivels in his chair and answers himself. “people who like boobies, robin!”
“ew! gross. don’t say—“
“boobies!”
“—boobies.”
“and it’s not a big deal, okay?” steve reassures, sending her a knowing grin. “i like boobies. you like boobies.”
“vickie likes boobies. definitely.” he exclaims, swiveling around in his chair again as the overhead bell notifies him of a customer. “it’s… boobies…”
and that was when he caught sight of you; headphones on as you twirl the wire, heading straight towards the romance section. there was a glow that seemed to follow you, and if you were going to ask him, it wasn’t because of the shitty lighting of family video, it was because he thinks you’re an angel.
steve’s breath got caught in his throat and he believes that his heart was just robbed out of his chest. he slowly puts his hand on his chest, just right where his heart is supposed to be, and surely enough, it is still there, gradually beating rapidly as he continues to stare at you.
“…teve… steve… steve!” he snaps out of his trance when something hits his head. his gaze falls on the ball bouncing on the floor. he looks up to see robin looking at him with a question mark above her head.
“are you even listening?”
steve didn’t even bother responding to her as he started making his way towards you. he could still faintly hear music playing from your headphones around your neck as he stopped by beside you.
“uhm, busy night?” he questions, awkwardly posing by the shelves. he leans all of his weight against it, bicep rippling, but it’s a beat before he realizes how much he’s performing for you — he’s downright smitten and downright cringing.
from the counter, robin frowns as she looks at you and then at her best friend. “damn it, steve,” she mutters, walking back to the break room as she mumbles something about how it should have been her instead of him.
“uh, yeah, you could say that,” you respond, letting your eyes linger a little longer in the romance section as you head straight towards the new releases. “i mean, if you count eating a tub of ice cream whilst escaping the cruel reality of real life type-of-busy, then yes.”
“well, if it’s any help, i would recommend-” he plucks a random movie from the shelf and looks at the cover. “ah, the breakfast club. this is a must-watch. it’s filled with romance, friendship, and a little bit of a high school adventure.”
you look at his name tag then back at him with a grin, and he swears he could melt into a puddle right then and there. “and you’re sure i’ll like it, steve?”
“oh, no, sweetheart, you won’t like it. you’ll love it.” he doesn’t know where the pet name came from but the way it easily rolled out of his tongue convinces him that it feels just right.
you ignore the heat rising up to your cheeks as you snatch the vhs off his hands. “and if i don’t end up loving it?”
“well, then i guess i’d have to make it up to you,” steve shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “but if you do end up loving it, then… then the new diner downtown sounds good for a first date, right?”
you purse your lips trying to hide the smile that threatens to spread as you make your way towards the counter. “you better start praying to the stars, steve, because i’d be really disappointed if i wind up hating it.”
he grins at your words, making his way around to ring up your selected films. as soon as it was bagged up and ready to go, neither of you felt like saying goodbye yet but alas, you had a movie to critique.
steve walks you to the exit and opens the door for you, like the gentleman he is.
“i’ll see you around, steve.”
“see you later… alligator.” it was then that steve realized that he never caught your name. he spews out silent curses as he closes the door, but nevertheless, he runs straight to the break room and steals the marker in robin’s hand.
“hey!”
YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII
YOU RULE - I
“no way!” robin exclaims at the tally. “i will never believe that you just made that happen.”
“oh, you better start believin’, rob, cause i’m back in the game, baby!”
steve runs straight into the family video’s entrance, dramatically opening both doors with a bit of force. his hair flops up and down slightly as he pants, “anything yet?”
robin pops her head out of one of the shelves she’s been organizing. “nope.”
steve lets out a heavy sigh. with every day that you don’t return, his heart that he once thought was stolen was slowly countered in small damaged boxes. no bubble wrap, no fragile warning, nothing that would ensure that it was handled with care. “it’s nearly been a week, robin.”
“well, if it’s any consolation, i think you’re a great guy, steve. it’s her loss anyway, who in the right mind would miss out on the opportunity to go out with king steve? especially with that babe-slaying hair.”
“very funny.” steve mocks a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes. he goes over to robin with a drag in his steps. “it’s just that- i really thought she would be the one, you know? there was something about her that just… pulled me in. she’s not like any other girl i’ve ever seen, robin.”
“she’s- she’s a goddess. an angel. it’s like she was made to make up for the world’s imperfections, like every flaw in humanity does not matter because she graces every ground she walks on,” he continues. “it’s hard to believe that we’re even breathing the same air as her. it’s-“
before he can go on with his poetic spiel, keith leans against his office doorway and says, “i knew it was your dulcet tones i heard, harrington.”
steve and robin simultaneously roll their eyes, getting back to organizing.
“a girl dropped by the other day looking for you, by the way.”
steve freezes. “girl? what girl, keith?”
“dunno, was a pretty one though,” he winks, munching on his cheezy chips. “if she didn’t nearly bite m’head off, i woulda kept her for myself. anyway, there’s some shit she left for you, it’s in here with the tapes i told you to rewind decades ago-“
before he could even finish, steve runs towards his office, effectively knocking over the human-sized cardboard cutout of phoebe cates.
and just as keith said, the breakfast club vhs, alongside the other films you picked, was neatly stacked in the corner of his office. there was a folded beige card taped on top of it.
—— ✦
I.O.U. a date.
redeemable for… a romantic milkshake for two at kelly’s diner on the 21st of may. 7 pm sharp.
to: steve (with the killer hair)
from: y/n (sweetheart)
p.s. don’t be late, romeo :-)
—— ✦
steve blinks. and then again. and once more for extra measures, just to make sure he wasn’t making it up. he reads your name, and then aloud as if testing the way it rolls on his tongue. he’s never seen a name that suited a person like it did with you.
steve feels robin’s presence beside him before he sees her. “you see this, too, right?”
she hums.
“… and do you know what this means?”
robin groans.
YOU SUCK - IIIIIIIIIIII
YOU RULE - II
it takes steve a while to realize that today is the 21st of may. he blames keith for his lack of preparation. what is he supposed to wear? something simple? casual? smart casual? he knows kelly’s milkshake shack was straightforward, but nothing too bad for him to worry about.
he was worried about how to impress you. what type of flowers do you like? do you even like flowers? what type of chocolates do you love? do you love the milky ones? dark chocolate? the one with almonds? what if you’re allergic to chocolates? but even then, steve thinks flowers and chocolates aren't enough for you.
you deserve the world, the stars, and the moon. you deserve it and more. but what a pity it is that this gesture of adoration and worship is what the world would deem unreachable. unrealistic. superfluous.
nothing is superfluous for you, he thinks. despite that, steve decides to stick with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. nothing could go wrong with that now, could it? he questions himself as he starts his trek to the flower shop a few blocks down.
the first thing that he notices is the soft music playing on the record player. the second thing he noticed is how every flower is blooming and twinkling, not a fading one in sight. the last thing he noticed was the lack of a clerk at the counter.
“uhm, hello?” he calls out hesitantly.
muffled but still coherent, he receives a response from the back room. “one second!”
there was something about her voice that sounded familiar, and yet he couldn’t pinpoint who it could be. he shrugs it off. whilst waiting, he takes a look around the shop, criticizing which would be the perfect pick.
“what flowers do you have in mind?” the voice calls out once more. he could hear some shuffling on the other side.
“i was actually hoping you could help me out.” steve replies somewhat bashfully. “maybe something that’s simple but breathtaking? like nothing too extravagant but something… ethereal.”
he wasn’t sure if they caught what he just said, but before he knew it, the curtain separating the rooms was drawn.
“busy night?”
steve stops shuffling through the vinyls and spins on his heels. “oh, yeah, scored a date with the prettiest girl in-“
you grin at the astounded boy in front of you, eyes wide and jaw slack. you delicately push the bouquet of pretty pink chrysanthemums and yellow dwarf sunflower in his hands, grinning up at him like a tease. “you were saying something about scoring a date with the prettiest girl in hawkins?”
“i- wha?”
“chrysanthemums symbolize devoted love, loyalty, happiness, and these lil sunflowers symbolize adoration.” you state. “i love the sentiment, by the way.”
“you work here?” he finally speaks, watching as you step back to organize the lone stems by the counter.
“i mean if it isn’t obvious,” you shoot him a pointed look.
“y-yeah, right, right.”
“my aunt used to own this shop, but she said she couldn’t take it anymore after some supernatural shit kept happening in this town apparently.” you huff. “i think she just needs to take her meds on time.”
“yeah, probably.” steve chuckles nervously before clearing his throat. “so, uhm, i don’t really remember seeing you around until a few days ago, is this your first time in hawkins?”
“save the getting-to-know questions for the date, harrington.” you smile up at him. “anyway, how about you pick me up two hours from now, i’ll forget that you ever bought me flowers from my own flower shop, and then we can continue this over some sweet milkshakes?”
“yeah,” he nods, his reply was barely even a whisper. there was a look of adoration in his eyes, a dopey lovelorn smile on his lips. “sounds like a plan.”
before steve gets in his car, he pauses by the door, looking back at you with one last glance before he gets stuck with the question, is this what love at first sight feels like?
steve never wants to lose that feeling.
and surely enough, steve is back two hours later with the bouquet in hand, hair styled to perfection, and the feeling of love at third sight stuns him.
steve looks at you like it’s the very first time he’s seen you, and he feels like his heart drops. every
he stares at you and there is an indescribable sensation in his chest that he couldn’t express. it gives him an urge to try every pick-up line in the book; make himself look like an idiot by asking whether you fell from heaven. because steve genuinely believes it. is that so silly of him to think?
there’s a warm fuzzy feeling deep within that void. it’s the type of feeling that makes him want to tell his friends all about you, his mom even, to the world if possible.
there was a pep in your step as you make your way toward steve, noting how handsome he looks in his shirt and corduroy jacket, jeans seemingly well-ironed. his hair is gelled – you’d have to ask him what hair products he uses later – and it makes you want to run your fingers through it.
“looking as gorgeous as ever, sweetheart.” steve compliments you with his ever charming smile. he gives you the bouquet that he’s been hiding behind his back. “these are for you.”
you take it from him and take a whiff of the sweet smell. “wow. these are beautiful, steve. i wonder who picked them for you.”
“oh, you know, just the cute little owner who works in the flower shop.” he grins. “oh, wow, would you look at that. we’re actually standing in front of it right now- oh, and good god, here’s the cute little owner i was just talking about.”
“dork.”
“what flavor do you want?”
“strawberry-chocolate has always been my go-to.”
“really?”
“what’s with the judgemental look? it’s heavenly!”
“but that’s so… so basic. i’ve pegged you to take more on the crazy flavors.”
you playfully roll your eyes at him as he guides you to a booth, hand respectfully placed on the small of your back. you look at him with a teasing grin. “i bet you love vanilla, though.”
steve scoffed, sitting in front of you. “i do not.”
he does, but he wasn’t going to admit that.
“you totally do,” you snicker before busying yourself with the menu.
“what can i get y’all today?”
“we’ll get a large strawberry-chocolate milkshake,” steve quips, looking at you for a moment before, like clockwork, adding, “with two straws, please.”
ignoring the rapid beating of your heart, you shake your head at him, “you do this with all the girls you go out with?”
“nah, only the ones who like basic ass milkshake flavors,” he grins, leaning back against the couch. “been reserving all my suave moves just for you.”
you scoff playfully, putting a hand on your chest. you can feel your heart beating as you take in his appearance under the neon lights of the shack. “should i be honored?”
“yeah,” steve nods fervently. “i’m actually glad you went out with me, meaning we don’t have to worry about your bad taste in men, too. i would have been really concerned.”
you laugh at him, and steve beams. you throw a balled-up tissue paper at his face, effectively snapping him out of his little inner dialogue about how your laugh was one of the best things he’s ever heard. “you literally love vanilla milkshakes and you’re trying to call out my apparent bad taste?”
“not vanilla,” he shoots you a glare, the curl of his lips failing to keep up with his act. he throws the tissue back at you. “seriously.”
you raise your hands in defense, trying to prevent the laugh threatening to leave your lips. before either of you could say anything else, the milkshake was served.
steve scooches closer towards the table as he places the milkshake in between you. he thanks the waitress and dips the two straws into the drink.
“just a fair warning though,” steve warns, moving closer to take a sip. “you might get enchanted by my pretty brown eyes with this close proximity, i was told you can get lost in them.”
you continue sipping with a smile, eyes momentarily flicking down at his lips before looking back up into his eyes. his eyes are pretty, you will let yourself willingly get lost in them if you can.
steve does the same, and as his eyes settle back into yours, the two of you let out tiny hushed laughter after the sudden eye contact.
“tell me if you need a map,” he sips, letting out a soft groan at the taste of the milkshake. he’s beginning to understand why you love it so much. “i think you’re starting to get lost.”
“did the heart eyes give it away?” you grin.
the conversation easily flowed like a river after that. secrets, and smiles, and laughter were shared between you two and it lasted for hours, more than what the two of you have signed up for. but neither of you was complaining.
steve learned a lot more about you than he ever did with anyone else. he learned that fleetwood mac, starship, and queen were the artists that claimed your top three. the breakfast club instantly became your favorite after his recommendation. and that you really, really want to learn how to rollerblade.
you, on the other hand, learned steve’s music taste was all over the place, but he secretly loves billy joel after seeing his parents dance to his music when he was younger, a vulnerable memory that he loves to preserve. he tells you all about dustin and the gang, and how the former was like the little brother he never had. he told you about how he was a bit hesitant about getting himself out there again after nancy, his ex, because she was the first person he’s ever loved and apparently it was all bullshit.
you both knew each other better than anyone else, not even your friends nor his knows about the things you told each other. and before you know it, you find yourselves in lover’s lake after getting kicked out for staying after closing — neither of you realized that the two of you were the only people left, save for the staff who kicked you out.
you look up at the starry sky with a content sigh, basking in the chilly air, the soft music from steve’s car, and well, steve.
“i don’t think i’ve had as much fun as i did today,” you say.
steve tilts his head to look at you, a small smile pulling at his lips before he teases, “good to know.”
“stop,” you push his face away. “i’m serious.”
he laughs, settling with a soft smile as he answers, “me, too, sweetheart.”
you look at him, and purse your lips. “i’ll be staying awhile, y’know?”
“what?” his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. you want to give it a kiss.
“you asked me, earlier today, why you’ve never seen me before,” you recall. “i’m planning on staying for a while, just until i have everything figured out.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you nod. “i wasn’t going to, originally, until i found a reason to stay.”
steve smiles, he’s been smiling more than he ever did his entire life, and it’s not one of those flirty smirks or small smiles, they were the genuine and contagious ones. he’s convinced that his jaw will ache from all the muscle movement but he doesn’t mind, not when you told him prior that you loved his smile.
“yeah?” is all he can ask.
you hum in approval.
“what, our ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana doesn’t offer you enough?” he teases.
“well, your ever so beautiful hawkins, indiana so happens to offer the best milkshake,” you shrug nonchalantly. “i guess that’s enough reason.”
he gasps dramatically, putting up an exaggerated act by clutching his chest with a pained groan. “you offend me, woman.”
you laugh. “fine, you, too, pretty boy.”
“me, too, by the way.” steve murmurs after a while, ignoring the thumping of his chest. you feel some shifting from his side, so you look down to see him closer and his palm facing upwards, as if offering it to you. “maybe… maybe we can figure it out together?”
you look up at him, taking another moment to appreciate his beauty, before interlacing your fingers with his. “i’d like that very much.”
“thank you for tonight, steve,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt as he puts his car in park. he gets out of the door and around the vehicle to open yours. “seriously.”
“no need to thank me, sweetheart,” steve smiles, tucking a stray hair away from your face. “i had fun with you tonight.”
you stop yourself from feeling the warmth of your cheeks, instead, you move a bit closer to him. “although, there’s one thing missing...”
steve frowned, his hands hovering just above your waist, hesitant to touch you. “what is it? — agh, i knew i should have gotten you the — robin said it would be too much and i —“
“steve,”
“hmm?”
“it’s not whatever you think it is.”
“oh… what is it then?”
you loop your fingers around his belt loops, tugging him closer to you. steve gasped softly, hands finally settling on your waist. “a kiss.”
“oh,”
you hum, moving your arms up from his torso and looping them around his neck. he could feel goosebumps rising in the wake of your warm touch.
your noses brush against each other, lips teasing as they barely leave a featherlight touch.
steve, getting impatient, pulls you impossibly closer, smashing his lips against yours. it was a mix of soft and desperate as if he’s been thinking of what it would have been like to kiss you. it was. if not, then it was even better than what he dreamed of.
you smile against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. your mind is clouded; you’re drunk on his sweet strawberry-chocolate flavored kisses, the scent of his musky perfume, and the smell of his hairspray.
you slowly pull back only to have steve chase your lips again for a quick peck. “you’re a great kisser,” he murmurs.
“i know,” you tease, pulling him back down for another kiss as you can’t help yourself, only pulling away on the account of actually needing air to breathe.
“good night, steve,” you pull away slowly, his hands slipping away from yours as you walk up to your front doorstep.
“i miss you already!“ he calls out.
“go home, pretty boy.”
“good night, sweetheart!” he grins.
“drive home safe, farrah fawcett.”
“hey! i told you that in confidence.” steve exclaims, unbothered by your screaming neighbor yelling profanities at him. it was late.
you look back at him with one last smile before disappearing behind the door, you lean against it, grinning from ear to ear as you squeal in the safety of your own home. you walk around the shop-apartment with your giddy smile never faltering even once.
unbeknownst to you, after making sure you got in safely, steve is punching the air, whooping, and jumping on his feet as he did his own little celebration. he looks back once more before getting into his car, playing a billy joel song.
it frustrates him beyond belief how a woman could easily make him weak in the knees, how you, with one look into your eyes, accompanied by a glint of a smile, could make him feel as if he could crumble into lovesick wreckage, how your featherlight touch could effortlessly yield him into submission — but he supposes that he does not mind because you’re not just any woman nor is this just any feeling. he made a promise to himself that he would never fall in love again, never will he accept the risk of getting his heart broken once more, but for you — when he’s with you — he would risk getting his heart broken time and time again if it meant being in your presence. he’s never felt so seen, so loved, so adored, until he met you.
he’s willing to patch up a broken heart if it means loving you.
it’s dizzying, it’s so overwhelmingly beautiful — the feeling of being in love. the feeling of being in love with you. and in two years' time, the whisper of those three little words, those of which are common amongst those who love and are loved, and yet it holds a special meaning that no one but the two of you can understand.
it’s a promise. an oath. a secret that you will continue keeping that no matter what, it will always be you and him against the world, that even if everything else fails, your love for each other is what will keep you going.
because you did not end up staying a while, you stayed with him, and you’ll stay with him until forever falls apart.
summary: steve flirts with the cool beautiful tourist who visits family video for her girlfriend.
warnings: profanities. suggestive comments. embarrassed steve. gif credits to @dykejaskiers
word count: 1.4k
steve doesn’t know how everything went off the rails or why he suddenly has six kids under his wing – seven if you include robin. he used to be king steve, now he’s mom steve to a pack of fifteen-year-old shitheads.
where are their parents? it’s a question steve wishes he has an answer to.
the said shitheads were currently huddled at the corner of family video. it was a monday so they were the only ones keeping him busy. he had to drag the staff room’s television out and let them choose a film from the newly shipped releases after getting blackmailed by dustin.
“farrah fawcett.” dustin mouthed. he was lucky keith was out for a two-week vacation.
steve glared at him like there was no tomorrow — other than the mean blackmailing, it was peaceful. they were quiet, aside from occasional comments and laughter. steve basks it all in.
robin is out back, rewinding tapes, and steve is, yet again, stuck by the counter whilst looking out for the kids because where else will steve be without his children?
the overhead bell rings, signaling a customer, but steve couldn’t even bother to look up as he mindlessly flips through a magazine. he drones aloofly, “hi, welcome to family video. my name is steve and i’ll be helping you find the perfect film for yadda yadda yadda.”
“you think you can help me find a good rom-com, steve?”
his head snaps towards the lovely voice, magazine nearly dropping from his hands as he gapes at the sight of you. hawkins is a small town and you must be a tourist because it would be foolish of him to miss someone as drop-dead gorgeous as you.
“h-hi, my name is uh- harrington. steve. steve harrington.”
“hi, steve harrington,” you smile, a hint of mischief in your sultry voice. you knew who he was, you’ve seen him in the manifold of polaroids robin has. you decide that you want to have some fun.
steve’s knees nearly buckled, chills ran through his bones, and goosebumps rose on his skin. your voice was airy, like a soft breeze alleviating the heat of a feverish man under the scorching sun.
he feels his hands start to get clammy, was it getting hot in here? he lightly tugs at the collar of his god-awful shirt. “what was your question again? i’m sorry, i must have gotten lost in your eyes for a bit.”
you scoff in amusement, ignoring his outdated pick-up line. “rom-coms? do you have any new releases that are worth watching?”
max snickers at the sight of a tomato-red steve, she nudged the others and paused the movie to watch steve instead. it was better than whatever movie lucas picked.
steve directs his attention to the kids and glares at them. he takes a deep breath before turning his gaze back to your expecting one.
“well, if it’s romcoms you’re looking for, we don’t have any good ones yet,” he starts, tilting his head to the side to flash you his ever-charming smile. “but, y’know, i heard that pretty in pink is good.”
robin shuffles out of the back room and grins at the sight of you. she heard steve’s poor flirting attempts and decided to bring out the scoreboard, but when her eyes settled on you, her grin widened even more.
“yeah?” you muse, leaning against the counter. you notice robin’s presence.
steve gulps at the proximity, he wasn’t lying when he said he gets lost in your eyes. “yeah… i can- i can take you to the movies and we can watch it together?”
you hum as if in thought, playing with the charms on your bracelet before you look up at him with a smile. you ask sweetly, “you think i can invite robin to come with?”
robin stifles her laughter.
“rob-” he pauses, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “robin? buckley? my robin buckley?”
“well, yeah,” you shrug, lips curling into a smirk. “i mean, i don’t think it’ll look good for me if i go out with my girlfriend’s best friend to the movies alone, don’t you think?”
steve’s jaw drops.
the kids burst out laughing.
robin snickers, making her way towards you. “i thought you were staying at home today, baby?”
steve grimaces at the pet name.
“well, i thought i’d visit my best girl,” you smile, leaning into her embrace as she wraps her arms around you. she pulls you in for a kiss.
“-and flirt with her coworker slash best friend?” steve asks bitterly, a small pout on his lips. his glare steers to robin. “and you! you let me go on with it – what is wrong with you, seriously.”
dustin and max cackle at his demise. tears were forming in their eyes from their laughter.
“you were doing the flirting,” robin points out. “she was asking you for movies. you know, like what you’re paid to do?”
steve grumbles, but he isn’t mad or annoyed. he’s actually happy for robin even though he felt cross that she never told him about her cool girlfriend from the city.
“aww, it’s okay, steve,” you coo. “we can still go to the movies. if it helps, i know robin will let you hold my hand if you get lonely.”
he shoots you a sarcastic smile.
“i will, actually,” robin agrees, wrapping her arm around your shoulders. “i know how you cry when the guy and the girl finally get together.”
“okay, you’ve had your fun.” he rolls his eyes, hands resting on his hips as he looks at the giggling children. mom steve mode activated. “and you shitheads, do you want to walk home later?”
robin grins, intertwining her hands with yours. she drags you towards the backroom, sneaking behind steve as he continues to scold them. you hear the faint sounds of the television after a few seconds.
you hop on top of the low shelves in the room, grabbing one of the lone vhs tapes as robin shuts the door. you snort, showing her the tape with wiggling eyebrows. “may the foreskin be with you.”
she pulls a face of disgust as she settles herself in between your legs. “that’s actually so fucking gross, i can’t believe people are into these.”
you laugh. “don’t kink shame, robs. might i remind you that you absolutely love being-”
robin scoffs, pinching your thighs. “you’re being malicious.”
you smile, putting the tape down to wrap your arms around her neck, her own promptly snaking around your waist to pull you just a little bit closer. you pull her into a soft kiss, mumbling in between pecks, “missed you,”
“you know i missed you more,” she says, moving forward to kiss you again, and again, and again. it was an act that she will never get tired of. it was dizzying, the feeling of you, the feeling of your love.
the kiss was heated, lips pressing together like the final piece to complete the puzzle – the feeling of domestic content as you step back to admire your work. it’s bruised and red, a feat of passionate love and adoration.
your hands roam wherever they can, trailing and leaving goosebumps in their wake – an unconscious matter of habit; memorized after spending time after time of lingering touches and ardent intimacy.
you’ve never loved anything more than you loved robin. it was endless, the love you have for her, and you never quite failed to remind her, to show her. it goes on a long way; like going on a trip to find the other side of the rainbow where you’ll find a pot of gold.
but the happiness doesn’t stop at the gold; it’s where fortune leads you.
and it’s infinite because with the gold in your hands, life keeps getting better every waking moment. you’re lucky.
with robin, you are golden.
a soft moan slipped out of your lips as her tongue slipped into yours.
steve makes himself welcome in the room, leaning against the doorframe. “you aren't paid to sneak in your girlfriend and make out with her, you know?”
robin hums, a soft smile gracing her lips. her eyes never wavered from yours. “wish i was,”
you are golden but she will always be your golden girl.
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