n a i h v t y

laur • 25 • she/her joe/steve pedro/joel obsessed

[naihvty]

welcome 🍵💖✨📖

• lauren • she/her • 20 something •

write/read for joel miller + steve harrington

asks are open!

masterlist / most recent

what i’m currently reading : rivals by jilly cooper

my current fave song : back on you by djo

all things 18+ here! pleaseeee leave if you’re a minor!

note: banners by @/kodaswrld

[lowkeyinslutera]

my pants are off

[andvys]

joe… stop

[freakytikigifs]

Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller THE LAST OF US 1.01

[pedrohub]

PEDRO PASCAL Vanity Fair

[zendayacolemann]

PEDRO PASCAL Vanity Fair

[naihvty]

this shoot is honestly insane

[lottevence]

Tastes Like Trouble

༉‧₊˚.⋆✴︎˚｡⋆. ݁₊ . ݁

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: just being back from your trip to europe for a few months, the last thing you expected was to find your bestfriend being friends with 'king steve' AND for him to claim that he left highschool days behind.

trope: enemies to lovers, slowburn

Chapter One: You Again?

Coming back to Hawkins felt like stepping into a memory you didn’t exactly miss.

Same cracked sidewalks. Same rusty signs. Same suffocating silence in the air that clung to your clothes like dust. You weren’t even back for a full day before Robin dragged you into the fluorescent-lit pit of hell known as Family Video.

“You’re gonna help me pick out a movie,” she declared, already yanking you past the door. “Because if I have to alphabetize one more box set, I will snap and start filing things under ‘existential dread.’”

You snorted. “Sounds organized.”

She smirked, about to retort—when a bell jingled from the back room.

You turned. And immediately regretted it.

Steve Harrington stood there in his full 80s glory—hair too perfect, polo shirt smugly tucked in, like the universe hadn’t let him know it was 1986 and his reign ended years ago. His expression shifted the second he saw you. A flicker of recognition. Then something harder to place.

“Oh,” you said flatly. “King Steve. Didn’t realize royalty worked retail.”

He blinked, then laughed. “Wow. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“I could bring it back,” you offered, saccharine-sweet. “Retro’s in, right?”

Robin’s eyes bounced between you two like a tennis match. “Oh no,” she mumbled. “No, no, no. Not this dynamic. Not again.”

Steve leaned on the counter, completely unfazed. “So… you’re the one who ran off to Europe with a backpack and a bad attitude.”

“And you’re the one who peaked in high school,” you shot back without missing a beat like it was a some kind of slur.

He looked genuinely amused now, which only made it worse. “You’ve been talking about me, Buckley?”

Robin groaned. “You know me, i talk about everything! I may have said some stuff when we had just started working together.”

Steve pressed a hand to his chest like he was wounded. “I’m reformed. I’m, like, humble now. Nice. Friendly.”

You crossed your arms. “Sure. And I’m Miss Indiana.”

“Missed you too,” he said with a wink that made your stomach flip—out of annoyance, you told yourself.

Robin glanced at the ceiling like she was praying for strength. “This is going to be exhausting, isn’t it?”

“Deeply,” you muttered, as Steve gave you a look that said game on.

Chapter Two: You’re Not As Funny As You Think

The night started simple enough—Eddie’s place, too much pizza, a stack of movies no one actually planned on watching, and the vague promise of “chill vibes.” You weren’t sure why you agreed to come. Maybe it was the way Robin asked. Maybe it was the boredom. Or maybe it was some strange pull you refused to name.

You walked in and saw Steve Harrington immediately—manspreading on the couch like he owned it, a Coke in one hand, a cocky grin already forming the second his eyes met yours.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, brushing past him to sit on the opposite armchair.

“Aw,” Steve said. “You missed me.”

“Like I miss mono,” you shot back, grabbing a paper plate.

Robin plopped beside you, kicking her feet up on the coffee table. “Play nice,” she warned, pointing at you both like a tired kindergarten teacher. “If I have to referee, I’m charging extra.”

Eddie came in next, grinning widely “God, the tension in here could set off a smoke alarm.”

“It’s not tension,” you said flatly.

“It’s just her charm,” Steve added, taking a sip. “Sharp as a butter knife.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “I’ve met bricks with more personality than you.”

Robin hid a laugh behind her drink. Eddie didn’t bother hiding his. “I give it a month,” he muttered.

“A month for what?” you asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Robin said quickly, elbowing him.

“Anyway,” Eddie said, louder, “we’re playing cards or we’re watching something?”

“Cards,” you and Steve said at the same time.

You turned to glare. “Don’t copy me.”

“Right, because everything you say is revolutionary,” he deadpanned.

Robin dealt the cards, mumbling, “Oh my god, just kiss or kill each other already.”

You locked eyes with Steve, and something flickered—annoyance, definitely. But also something… electric. Brief. Dangerous.

You looked away first.

He smirked like he knew it.

You were definitely not staying for the movie.

Chapter Three: Smoke Signals

As said before you didn’t plan on staying.

But then Robin had that look—eyebrows up, pout halfway formed, like she was going to guilt-trip you for a decade if you left now. So you stayed. You grumbled your way through helping grab bowls of popcorn and a questionable-looking bag of Sour Patch Kids from Eddie’s kitchen. You pretended not to hear Steve’s comments as you passed him the soda.

By the time the movie was picked—something ridiculous and loud—you needed air more than anything else.

You stepped out onto the trailer’s rickety porch, lit the cigarette you’d kept stashed in your jacket, and took a long drag. The first hit burned a little in your chest. The second less so. The third felt almost like quiet.

The stars above Hawkins didn’t shine as much as they used to. Or maybe you just stopped looking for them.

The screen door creaked behind you.

You didn’t turn around. “I’m not putting it out.”

A pause. “Wasn’t gonna ask you to.”

His voice was softer out here. Less performative. Almost… real.

Steve stepped up beside you, hands in his pockets, leaning against the railing like this was something you two had done before.

You didn’t offer him the cigarette, but he didn’t seem to expect it.

“You always smoke when you’re uncomfortable?” he asked after a beat.

You took another drag. “Only when I’m around people who think they know me.”

He let that sit in the air between you for a moment, the silence settling into something heavier than the smoke curling around your fingers.

“Okay,” he said finally. “That was kind of a good line.”

You glanced at him. “Don’t get used to it.”

He smiled, and for once, it wasn’t smug. It was tired. A little honest.

“I’m not like I was in high school,” he said suddenly.

You flicked ash off the edge of the porch. “You mean you’re not a self-absorbed jackass anymore?”

Steve gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. That.”

Another pause.

You looked at him again—closer this time. Not the hair, not the polo shirt, not the dumb smirk. But the quiet eyes behind all of it. Still brown. Still guarded. Maybe a little more cracked.

“People don’t change that much,” you muttered.

“Sometimes they do,” he said, not quite looking at you. “Sometimes they have to.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t.

Instead, you offered him the cigarette.

He took it with two fingers, slow, careful, like you were handing him something sacred.

And when his lips brushed the filter where yours had just been, something in your chest moved.

You ignored it.

You told yourself it was nothing.

Chapter Four: Background Noise

You didn’t speak on the way back in.

He handed you the cigarette stub before opening the screen door, and you dropped it into an old soda can perched on the porch rail. Neither of you mentioned what happened outside. Not the silence, not the glance, not the warmth still buzzing on your fingertips.

“There’s no way this guy survives the opening scene,” he declared, pointing at the screen. “He’s wearing a red shirt and confidence. That’s death in movie language.”

“You missed your calling,” Robin mumbled. “Should’ve been a prophet.”

You dropped onto the floor beside her, stealing a handful of popcorn. Steve sat across from you on the rug, closer than you’d like but not quite close enough to call it out. His shoulder bumped Eddie’s. His knee almost brushed yours. Almost.

Robin leaned down to whisper, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, eyes on the screen.

She watched you a second longer than necessary. Then nodded.

Ten minutes in, Eddie was shouting at the characters. Fifteen minutes in, Robin was giggling at her own commentary. Twenty minutes in, Steve passed you the candy without a word, and your fingers brushed again.

You didn’t flinch. But your breath hitched.

The movie continued—something about ghosts, bad decisions, and worse acting. But it all felt like background noise. You were aware of everything else: the scratch of the rug under your hand, the sound of Steve shifting his weight, the quiet laughs he didn’t let out too loud.

He was different when no one was looking. Or maybe you just never looked closely enough before.

But when the scene jumped, loud and sudden, and you instinctively reached for Robin’s arm and accidentally grabbed Steve’s instead, you didn’t let go right away.

Neither did he.

And when you finally did, he didn’t say anything.

He just looked at you, like he saw something he wasn’t expecting.

You looked away first again.

But you were starting to wonder if that was becoming a habit.

Chapter Five: Don’t Start

Robin was already halfway through her orange juice when you showed up at the coffee shop.

You slid into the booth across from her, sunglasses still on, even though it wasn’t that bright inside.

“Okay,” she said, not even greeting you. “So. Are we gonna talk about it?”

You didn’t take off the sunglasses.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, picking up a menu even though you already knew you were getting pancakes.

Robin leaned in, resting her chin in her hand. “You sat next to him.”

“There was limited floor space.”

“You didn’t roll your eyes once.”

You squinted at her over the menu. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I live for drama,” she replied. “Also? You touched his arm. Voluntarily.”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “It was an accident.”

“Mhm. And the part where you didn’t immediately recoil in disgust?”

“Muscle paralysis. Tragic, really.”

Robin laughed, loud and delighted. “I knew it. You like him.”

You froze with your hand halfway to your water glass. “I do not.”

“You don’t hate him the way you used to.”

“I’m capable of being civil. Sometimes. When I’m in a generous mood.”

Robin grinned like she was watching her favorite show. “So generous these days."

“I still think he’s full of himself,” you said finally.

Robin nodded. “Sure. But…?”

You picked at the corner of the napkin. “But he’s less of a jerk now. Maybe.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” you said quickly.

Robin smiled behind her straw. “Whatever you say.”

You kicked her under the table. She kicked you back, grinning the whole time.

Chapter Six: Table for One

The morning shift wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours.

You liked the rhythm—coffee pots refilled like clockwork, the smell of pancakes and burnt toast clinging to your skin, and the low hum of 80s ballads playing from the ancient jukebox in the corner. It was quiet, mostly. Familiar.

And then he walked in.

You didn’t see him right away. You were busy wiping down the counter, a pencil tucked behind your ear and your focus glued to the coffee machine hissing in the background. But he saw you the second he stepped through the door.

Steve Harrington froze.

You were wearing a black-and-white waitress uniform, the retro kind with the cinched waist and short sleeves, a silver name tag glinting on your chest. The outfit shouldn’t have worked. It should’ve been plain, forgettable.

But on you?

It looked like somrething out of a damn movie.

Your golden hair fell in loose, effortless waves down your back—slightly frizzy from the summer air, but in a way that looked almost…deliberate. You hadn’t noticed a thing. You were moving like this was just another Tuesday.

Steve swallowed hard, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, and slid into a booth by the window.

That’s when you finally noticed him.

Your shoulders stiffened for half a second, then relaxed into something more practiced—cool, casual, untouchable.

“Great,” you said as you approached, pulling out your order pad. “Didn’t realize Family Video gave out lunch breaks.”

Steve looked up at you with a crooked grin, but his eyes didn’t match it. They were softer. Focused.

“Didn’t realize you were working on giving me a heart-attack.” He mumbled.

You blinked. “…Excuse me?”

He shrugged, all fake nonchalance. “Nothing. Just—this look?” He motioned vaguely toward your uniform. “Works. Unexpected. But yeah. Works.”

You stared at him, suspicious. “You come here to bother me, Harrington?”

He leaned back in the booth, eyes still on you like he couldn’t help it. “I came for coffee. The emotional damage is a bonus.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks felt warmer than they should’ve. “One black coffee. Got it. Anything else? Sarcasm? Unwanted flirting?”

He smirked. “Surprise me.”

You scribbled something on the pad—Harrington: insufferable—and hot coffee. Then turned on your heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Behind you, Steve exhaled into his hands and muttered under his breath.

“Yeah. Definitely in trouble.”

Chapter Seven: Third Party Commentary

You dropped the mug of black coffee in front of him with a practiced thud.

“No cream, no sugar. Just like your personality.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Careful. You’re dangerously close to flirting.”

You gave him a look. “If I was flirting, you’d know. You’d be terrified.”

“Oh, I’m already terrified,” he said, eyes following you as you wiped your hands on your apron. “In a… weirdly enjoyable way.”

You snorted. “That says more about you than it does about me.”

The bell above the diner door jingled, and you turned—instinctively straightening, only to see Robin walking in with her usual whirlwind energy, combat boots scuffing the tiles.

Her eyes landed on Steve first. Then on you.

Then she grinned. That devilish, all-knowing Robin Buckley grin that made your stomach drop.

“Well, well, well,” she said, sliding into the booth beside Steve without asking. “What do we have here? Harrington, are you lurking again?”

“I’m not lurking,” Steve said, flustered. “I’m supporting local businesses.”

Robin grabbed his coffee, took a sip, and made a face. “Supporting their sewer system, maybe.”

You crossed your arms and glared at her. “Don’t you have work?”

“I’m on my break. And clearly so is he—” she looked between the two of you, squinting. “Wait. Hold on. Did I just walk in on a moment?”

“There was no moment,” you said quickly, a little too quickly.

Steve smirked. “There might’ve been a moment.”

You kicked the edge of his booth without thinking. “There wasn’t.”

Robin gasped theatrically. “Did you just flirt-kick him?”

You turned to walk away, cheeks burning. “You two are unbearable.”

Robin shouted after you, “That’s not a denial!”

From the kitchen, someone called your name, probably to grab another table’s order. You disappeared behind the swinging doors, jaw clenched, heart pacing like it hadn’t gotten the memo that this was supposed to be casual.

Back at the booth, Robin turned to Steve, eyebrows raised.

“So. How long you been staring at her like that?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He just looked down at his coffee, then back at the door you’d vanished behind.

“Since before the coffee.”

Robin sat back, whistling low. “Yup. You’re screwed.”

Chapter Eight: Just My Luck

You didn’t even bother changing out of your uniform.

The heat was clinging to your skin, the collar of your dress stuck slightly to the back of your neck, and your feet ached from ten hours of non-stop motion—but you needed a movie. Something stupid. Something loud and distracting. And maybe a little Robin time to complain about customers who snapped their fingers for refills.

Family Video’s air conditioning hit you the second you walked in—cool, a little too sterile, and eerily quiet.

“Robin?” you called, weaving through the aisles.

No answer.

You passed the horror section, the romance section, paused briefly at Ferris Bueller’s Day Off—then heard someone clear their throat behind you.

“I think she left, actually.”

You turned.

Of course.

Steve stood behind the counter, slouching a little, wearing his Family Videos vest and a crooked grin that had way too much confidence for someone who worked next to a stack of VCR cleaner kits.

“She what?”

“Date night,” he said, tapping a pen against the counter. “Vicky picked her up like ten minutes ago. I’m all you’ve got.”

You blinked. “Great.”

He tilted his head. “You sound thrilled.”

You walked over to the counter, resting your elbows against it. “I was promised Robin. Not Harrington.”

“Ah, my government name. Cold.”

“I’m off the clock,” you said with a sigh. “Don’t expect charm.”

“I never do,” he muttered, but he was smiling.

You started scanning the wall behind him. “Alright, King of VHS. Recommend me something dumb. No rom-coms. No action. No plot twists that make me think about life.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “You’re a blast, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

He disappeared into the aisles without another word. You could hear the soft scuff of his sneakers as he moved through the racks, flipping through boxes.

You took a breath.

Why did it feel so quiet when it was just the two of you?

Steve returned with a tape in hand. “Beetlejuice.”

You raised a brow. “That’s your idea of dumb?”

He shrugged. “It’s weird and chaotic. Felt like it matched your energy.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but your mouth twitched despite yourself. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“Almost,” he echoed, handing you the case.

Your fingers brushed again, and this time, neither of you pulled away immediately.

The moment was stupid. Fleeting. Charged like static under fluorescent lights.

You grabbed the tape and cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You started walking away, then paused near the door. “Hey,” you said without turning around, “You’re not as annoying as I thought.”

Steve leaned against the counter, voice casual but eyes sharper than ever. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

You pushed open the door with your hip and stepped into the late-summer air.

He didn’t need to see you smiling.

Chapter Nine: Nothing Fancy

The movie didn’t hit quite right.

Maybe it was the quiet. Or maybe it was the way Steve’s voice echoed in your head when you laughed at the weirdest parts. You’d rolled your eyes, turned the volume up, and told yourself you were being insane.

And then you couldn’t sit still.

So you pulled on a hoodie—one of those oversized ones that swallowed you up—and wandered out into the warm, hazy night. The gas station a few blocks away was still open. The flickering “Open 24 Hours” sign buzzed as you stepped through the door.

You walked past the cooler section with no real plan—just loitering with intent.

“Didn’t peg you as a midnight snacks kind of girl.”

Your heart jumped in your chest before you turned and saw him.

Steve. In a worn flannel. A little rumpled, a little tired, standing by the candy aisle holding a bag of Red Vines like it owed him money.

You stared. “Didn’t peg you as someone who eats candy that tastes like wax.”

He smirked. “It’s nostalgic.”

“For what? Bad decisions?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Touché.”

You wandered over, grabbing a bag of chips without really looking. “What are you doing out?”

He shrugged, leaning his weight into the shelves. “Couldn’t sleep. Was thinking about that stupid movie.”

Your stomach flipped a little.

“Oh,” you said, too casually. “Did you end up watching it?”

He looked at you. Really looked. Then nodded. “Yeah. Thought about texting you a running commentary.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you?”

Steve looked down at the bag in his hands. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Something in your chest tugged.

You shifted your weight, suddenly very aware of the distance between you, the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights, and how this place somehow felt more honest than anywhere else in Hawkins.

“I wouldn’t have minded,” you said softly, then immediately regretted saying it.

He glanced up again. “Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip to hide the small smile creeping in. “Yeah.”

The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t tense.

It just was.

Finally, Steve cleared his throat. “You wanna split these with me? Or are you strictly a chips-for-one kind of girl?”

You looked at the Red Vines, then at him.

“Only if we sit on the curb like delinquents.”

He grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Ten: Red Vines and Real Talk

The curb was still warm from the day’s sun.

You sat with your legs crossed, hoodie pulled over your knees, the half-crushed bag of Red Vines between you. Steve passed you one without asking, and you took it, even though you still thought they tasted like flavored rubber.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

The gas station light buzzed above, casting a soft glow over the parking lot. A single moth fluttered against it, desperate and aimless. Somewhere down the road, a dog barked once and then went quiet again.

“You were kind of scary in high school,” Steve said eventually, like it had just occurred to him.

You looked over at him, brow raised. “I was scary?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling apart a Red Vine and chewing slowly. “You walked around like you knew everything and didn’t care what anyone thought. People either wanted to be you or disappear when you looked at them.”

You snorted. “That’s rich. Coming from King Steve. You literally had people part the halls for you.”

“Yeah, and it sucked.”

His voice wasn’t bitter. Just… matter-of-fact.

You turned slightly toward him. “You didn’t seem to mind it back then.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know any better. I thought being liked meant I was doing something right.”

You were quiet for a beat. “And now?”

Steve didn’t look at you when he answered. “Now I’d rather be known.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. You looked down at the candy in your hand and twisted it around your fingers.

“No offense,” you said, voice quieter, “but I didn’t think there was much going on under the surface back then.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s fair.”

You glanced at him again. His jaw was softer in this light. Less defined. Less guarded.

“I hated you for a while,” you admitted.

“I know,” he said. “You weren’t subtle.”

You both laughed, but yours died a little too quickly.

“I think I hated what you represented more,” you added, voice barely above a whisper. “Like… everything I didn’t fit into. Everything I didn’t want to be, but also kind of wished I could have—just to make things easier.”

Steve turned toward you fully then, elbow on his knee, brow furrowed like he was seeing you for the first time. Not just looking—seeing.

“You were never easy to ignore,” he said.

You swallowed hard.

“Still aren’t.”

The moment stretched between you like a tightrope—one breath, one lean, one word away from something that felt like a cliff.

You reached for another Red Vine just to do something with your hands.

He smiled a little. “Still think they taste like wax?”

“They’re awful,” you said, biting into one anyway.

And for the first time in a long time, sitting barefoot on a curb at midnight with the boy you used to hate—you didn’t feel so out of place.

Chapter Eleven: Tables Turned

Steve was mid-alphabetizing the horror section when the bell over the Family Video door jingled.

He didn’t look up at first. “Be right with you,” he called over his shoulder, stacking VHS boxes like it was his life’s calling.

“I’d hope so,” came your voice—cool, lazy, unmistakably smug.

His head snapped up so fast he almost dropped Poltergeist.

You stood just inside the doorway, in cutoff shorts and a faded band tee that clung to you in all the right places. Your hair was down again—wild and golden and a little wind-tossed, like you hadn’t meant to look good but somehow still managed to.

He blinked. Twice.

You smirked.

“You gonna help me find a movie, Harrington?” you asked, sauntering toward the counter.

Steve cleared his throat and tried to play it cool. “Uh—yeah. Sure. What kind of movie?”

You leaned against the counter, arms folded, grin sharp. “I don’t know. Something fun. Something I can watch with a guy if I ever accidentally have one over.”

He choked slightly. “A—guy?”

“Mhm.” You tilted your head. “Unless you’re volunteering.”

His ears went red instantly. Not pink. Not flushed. Red.

“I—I mean, depends on the guy,” he stammered, then winced. “Not—not that I’m saying I’m the guy. Or—well, like, I am a guy—but not—God.”

You let out a laugh, sharp and melodic.

“Relax,” you teased, plucking a copy of The Lost Boys from the shelf without breaking eye contact. “I’m just messing with you.”

Steve stared at you like you’d just punched him in the gut and smiled while doing it.

You leaned in slightly, dropping your voice just enough to make it dangerous. “You always get this nervous when a girl flirts with you, or am I just special?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “You’re—uh. Definitely something.”

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Smooth.”

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breathy laugh. “God, you’re gonna kill me.”

You grinned, straightening. “That’s the plan.”

And with that, you placed the movie on the counter and walked away—cool, composed, lethal.

Steve stood frozen, watching you go, a single thought spinning on repeat in his head:

He was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

Chapter Twelve: Busted

Steve was still behind the counter, staring at the spot where you’d stood just moments ago, when Robin walked in.

She clocked his dazed expression immediately. The far-off look in his eyes. The slight pink still lingering in his ears.

She didn’t even say hello. Just walked up, leaned both arms on the counter, and stared him down.

“Okay,” she said. “What the hell happened?”

Steve blinked at her, slow, like he was coming out of anesthesia. “She was here.”

Robin’s eyes widened. “She?”

“She,” he repeated, dragging a hand down his face. “She came in. She flirted.”

Robin leaned in closer. “Like, casual flirted? Or murderous sexy villain flirted?”

Steve made a strangled noise. “Weaponized. It was weaponized.”

Robin burst out laughing. “No way. She flustered you?”

“Robin, I forgot how to speak words. I think I might’ve implied I’m not a guy.”

“Oh my god,” she wheezed, slapping the counter. “She reverse-Harrington’d you.”

Steve dropped his head into his arms. “I’m never going to recover.”

Robin grinned so wide it looked painful. “I told you she was dangerous.”

“You didn’t tell me she was gonna walk in here looking like a rockstar and end my bloodline with a smirk.”

Robin reached over and patted the top of his head like a tired puppy. “Poor baby. Did the scary pretty girl make your brain go fzzzt?”

He groaned again, face still buried. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“…No. I really don’t.”

Robin leaned back, looking way too pleased with herself. “You know what this means, right?”

Steve glanced up warily. “What?”

“It means,” she said, already pulling her walkie out of her bag, “that I have to tell her everything.”

“Robin—”

But it was too late. She was already pressing the button.

“Breaker, breaker. This is Wingwoman One to Certified Flirt Machine, do you copy?”

Steve lunged for the walkie. “Do not tell her I called her a flirt machine!”

“Oops,” Robin said. “Too late.”

Chapter Thirteen: Your Move, Harrington

Robin’s thumb was still pressed on the walkie button when a familiar crackle of static burst through, followed by your voice—calm, slightly amused, and dangerously smooth.

“This is Flirt Machine reporting in. I repeat, Flirt Machine has entered the frequency.”

Steve groaned, slumping behind the counter like he could physically escape the embarrassment.

Robin’s grin stretched even wider. “We have eyes on one Very Flustered Steve. He’s hiding under the register.”

“Adorable. Is he breathing okay?”

Robin peeked over the counter dramatically. “Breathing’s erratic. Eyewitness confirms intense blushing.”

You didn’t respond for a second. Just a beat of silence on the line—and then:

“Tell him if he wants to save what’s left of his dignity, he can bring snacks and come watch The Lost Boys with me.”

Steve blinked. Sat up.

Robin stared at the walkie. “Wait. Was that a—did you just—invite him?”

“Well, someone has to explain the vampire lore to me, and Harrington seems like the type who overanalyzes movies he pretends not to care about.”

Steve stood there, mouth open, every thought short-circuiting in real time.

Robin slowly turned toward him, raising her eyebrows with a grin that screamed do it, you idiot.

Steve cleared his throat. “I—uh. Yeah. Sure. I can do that.”

Robin grabbed the walkie again.

“Flirt Machine, Target Steve has accepted the mission. ETA: however long it takes him to fix his hair and pick a bag of chips he won’t share.”

“Noted. Tell him to knock like a normal person. And if he shows up with licorice, the door stays shut.”

Robin cackled. “Copy that. See you soon, Agent Chaos.”

You clicked off.

Steve stared at her, still half-in-disbelief. “She just… invited me.”

Robin clapped him on the back. “Oh, Stevie. She didn’t just invite you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then what did she do?”

Robin smirked.

“She dared you.”

Chapter Fourteen: Late Night, Low Lights

Steve stood outside your door with a bag of chips, two sodas, and a heart rate that probably needed medical attention.

He had changed shirts twice. Briefly considered bringing two movie options just in case. It was just a movie. Just a hangout.

Just you.

He knocked.

You opened the door a few seconds later, backlit by the soft glow of string lights inside.

Your band tee was gone—replaced with a loose tank top and soft flannel pajama pants. Your hair was still slightly messy, like you’d just run your hands through it instead of bothering with a mirror. Barefoot. Comfortable.

Dangerous.

“You brought chips,” you said, eyeing the bag.

“Cheddar,” he said quickly. “Not wax candy. I learn.”

You smirked and stepped aside to let him in. “So proud.”

The living room was cozy, not too neat—blankets tossed over the couch, the movie already paused at the title screen. He recognized the faint smell of popcorn and something floral—maybe your shampoo.

He sat on the couch while you headed to the kitchen.

“You want a glass for the soda or are you a straight-from-the-bottle kind of guy?” you called.

“Straight from the bottle,” he said. “No time for formalities when vampires are involved.”

You returned with two drinks, handing him one as you plopped down beside him—closer than you had to be.

“So,” you said, pulling the blanket over your legs. “You going to tell me why you were looking at me like I kicked your puppy earlier today?”

Steve laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Was it that obvious?”

“Mmhmm.”

He sighed. “You just… caught me off guard. Usually I’m the one making other people flustered.”

“Poor baby,” you teased. “Did I ruin your streak?”

“I think you ended it,” he muttered. “Permanently.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile.

“I’ll try to go easy on you,” you said softly, eyes flicking to the screen.

The movie started. You didn’t move away. Neither did he.

Halfway through, your arm brushed his. Then your knee. And by the time a vampire exploded in dramatic 80s fashion, your head was leaning slightly against his shoulder.

Neither of you acknowledged it. But his hand brushed your knee a little too intentionally. And your heart beat a little too loud for just a movie night.

Chapter Fifteen: Almost

The credits rolled, but neither of you moved.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the flickering TV screen now blank except for the softly glowing pause icon.

Your head was still resting lightly on Steve’s shoulder, and his breath was steady but shallow, as if he was trying not to betray how much this moment meant.

You could feel his body shift just slightly, the heat from his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Your heart hammered loud enough you were sure he could hear it.

Steve’s hand hovered just above your knee, fingers twitching, caught between moving closer and retreating.

He swallowed, lips parting slightly as if to say something, then closing again.

Your breath caught.

His gaze flicked up to meet yours — dark, searching, hesitant.

You held his eyes, daring him to bridge the space.

The air between you thickened, charged with everything unspoken.

Steve’s hand finally moved — just an inch, a whisper closer.

Your breath hitched.

Then, just as his fingers grazed your skin, a sharp noise from the kitchen—an old clock chiming the hour—broke the spell.

You both jumped apart, breaking eye contact, suddenly aware of how close you’d been.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushed deeper now.

“I—uh—guess we should, uh, maybe watch the rest of the movie series later?”

You laughed softly, the tension melting just a bit.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

The moment was gone, but the promise lingered like a spark, waiting to catch fire.

Chapter Sixteen: Robin’s Recon

Steve was nursing a coffee behind the Family Video counter, trying to act like he wasn’t still thinking about last night.

Robin strolled in, all casual confidence, her eyes immediately locking on him with that mischievous sparkle.

“So,” she said, leaning over the counter with a sly grin, “how’d your movie night with Ms. Can’t-Stop-Flirting go?”

Steve choked on his sip, nearly spitting coffee everywhere.

“What? Nothing! It was—uh—fine. Totally normal. Just two friends watching a movie. Nothing weird.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Steve,” she said, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I saw the way you looked at her when she walked in yesterday. Like you just got hit by a truck you didn’t see coming.”

Steve’s cheeks flamed redder than ever.

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

Robin chuckled. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England.”

She tapped her finger against her lips, pretending to think.

“Honestly, you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

Steve groaned.

Robin smiled wider.

“But hey, good luck. You’re going to need it.”

She winked and walked off, leaving Steve to stew in the best kind of trouble he’d ever gotten himself into.

Chapter Seventeen: Backyard Glow

The sun was just dipping below the trees, casting long golden shadows over Steve’s backyard. The pool shimmered quietly, still and inviting, while the camping chairs were scattered around in a loose circle, some with empty beer cans perched on their armrests.

You settled into your chair, the warmth of the day still clinging to your skin as you cracked open a cold one. Steve was leaning back in his seat, casual and relaxed, tossing a bottle lightly between his hands. Robin had her legs stretched out, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she sipped her drink.

Eddie was the last to arrive, carrying a small paper bag with a knowing smile.

“Got what we need,” he announced, pulling out a neatly rolled joint and a lighter. “This’ll take the edge off.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Finally, the real entertainment.”

Steve chuckled. “You know, I’m all for chill nights, but you always manage to kick it up a notch, Eddie.”

You watched as Eddie lit the joint, the smell of pine and something sweet curling into the warm evening air. One by one, the group passed it around, slow inhales and gentle exhales blending with the laughter that bubbled up easily.

Robin leaned over to you. “You good?”

You nodded, feeling the buzz unfurling in your chest like a soft tide. “Yeah. This is nice.”

Steve caught your eye from across the circle and gave a small, almost shy smile. You returned it, and for a moment, the noise faded into background hum.

Eddie was talking animatedly about a crazy movie plot he’d just seen, his hands painting pictures in the air.

“Man, that ending was wild. Like, who writes this stuff?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “You do realize it’s a horror flick, right? They kinda have to go wild.”

“Exactly!” Eddie grinned. “Makes it fun.”

The joint made its way back to Eddie, who took a slow drag and passed it along again. You leaned back, letting the quiet warmth settle in.

Steve’s voice broke through softly. “Hey, you wanna swim later?”

You blinked, surprised, but smiled. “Maybe.”

Robin elbowed him playfully. “Look at you, finally asking.”

Chapter Eighteen: Deeper Water

At some point, Robin had sprawled across the couch and knocked out mid-sentence, one arm flung dramatically over her face. Eddie was curled up in a mismatched blanket on the floor, snoring faintly with a half-empty bag of chips under his hand.

Steve was sitting at the edge of the pool, feet in the water, jeans rolled up to his calves. When he heard you step onto the concrete, he looked over his shoulder.

“They’re out cold,” you said.

He grinned. “Knew that would knock Eddie out. Robin was a surprise, though.”

You came over, sitting beside him and dipping your feet in too. The water was cool against your skin, shocking and perfect.

You leaned back on your hands, looking up. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Nights like this.”

Steve tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “When everything goes quiet. When you’ve got nowhere to be and no one’s watching. Feels like… a different version of life. Like nothing matters but this exact second.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. I know that feeling.”

The joint made everything feel a little softer. The pool lights under the surface made the water look like it was glowing. You turned to him, and his gaze was already on you.

“You still wanna swim?” you asked.

His grin returned, slower this time. “Hell yeah.”

You stripped down to your bra and underwear without a word, standing and walking to the edge. He tried not to stare, but he absolutely failed.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled.

You turned your head just enough to smirk. “You coming or what?”

He was already pulling his shirt over his head, jeans off a second later. You both jumped in, the splash echoing across the empty yard. The cold hit hard at first, but then it felt good. Like it washed everything off you.

You floated on your back for a moment, watching the dark above, then drifted closer to where Steve treaded water near the deep end.

“You ever think about how different we used to be?” you asked softly.

He nodded, water glinting off his collarbones. “All the time.”

“I hated you,” you whispered, but your voice wasn’t cruel. It was honest. Soft.

Steve’s voice was lower now. “I thought you were too cool for me.”

You looked at him. Really looked.

“But I wasn’t,” you said.

“No,” he said, moving a little closer, water rippling between you. “You were real. And I didn’t know how to handle that.”

Your hands brushed beneath the surface. You didn’t pull away.

“You’re different now,” you said.

“So are you.”

You weren’t sure who moved first—maybe both of you. But suddenly his mouth was close. Breath ghosting over your lips. His eyes searching yours like a question.

You answered by kissing him.

It wasn’t soft—not at first. It was heat and hunger and tension unraveling all at once. His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you closer as your legs drifted and tangled together. You kissed him like you had something to prove—maybe that the version of you he used to see wasn’t all there was.

Steve kissed you like he was afraid he’d wake up.

You didn’t come up for air for a while.

When you finally did, foreheads touching, breath shaky, you both just floated there in the water, caught in something quiet and real.

No past.

No noise.

Just this.

Bonus: “You’re Kidding Me.”

Robin was the first to stir, blinking awake on Steve’s couch, groaning like she’d just been hit by a car. “Ow. My neck. My spine. My soul.”

She sat up slowly, glancing around. Eddie was still passed out on the floor, curled like a possum in a pile of throw blankets.

No sign of Steve.

No sign of you.

Robin narrowed her eyes.

She stood, stretched, and padded toward the kitchen just as Eddie woke with a theatrical yawn and a dramatic, “I think I saw God in my dreams.”

“Cool,” Robin muttered, grabbing two mugs. “Help me find the sinners.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“They’re not in the guest room,” Robin said. “Or the couch. Which leaves…”

Eddie’s grin slowly stretched as realization bloomed.

“No. Way.”

Robin didn’t wait. She walked straight to Steve’s bedroom, didn’t knock, didn’t hesitate.

She flung open the door.

And froze.

You and Steve were tangled in his bed, half-covered by the sheets, limbs unmistakably not platonic. His hand was curled against your hip. Your face was tucked into his chest. One of your legs was across his.

You both blinked at her in half-conscious horror.

Robin’s jaw dropped.

Behind her, Eddie leaned in, saw the scene, and gasped like he’d just discovered a secret affair in a soap opera.

“Oh my god,” he whispered.

“Shut the door!” Steve hissed, sitting up, hair a mess, eyes wide.

Robin didn’t move. Just blinked. “You swam.”

“Robin—”

“You swam and then you swam,” she said, voice pitching up.

You pulled the sheet up over your face.

Eddie cracked up, full-on laughing now, doubled over. “I knew it! I told you! I saw the way you were eyeing each other at the pool like horny teenagers.”

“You are teenagers,” Robin shot back. “Emotionally.”

Steve groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Can you please—both of you—leave so I can die in peace?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Robin said. “This is my Roman Empire now.”

You peeked out from the sheets, cheeks burning but eyes defiant. “If you tell anyone—”

“Oh sweetheart,” Eddie said, hand on his heart. “We’re telling everyone.”

Robin grinned. “After we get details.”

Steve buried his face in the pillow. “Kill me.”

“You did that yourself, loverboy.”

[beetlebongos]

breakfast

[elliexer-moved]

lunch

[fever-dream-deactivated20180711]

dinner

[nathankujo-deactivated20220101]

dessert

[back-that-sass-up]

cool what the FUCKING HECK does this mean tho

[whatheballs]

you had to be there

[probablyin-bed]

holy fuck

[loveu2themoonandtosaturn]

Oh, my, my, my

a/n: first and foremost let me apologize because this was supposed to just be a stream of consciousness yap sesh and instead it became… whatever the fuck this is. i hope you bitches like childhood friends to lovers. bone apple teeth. eddie munson x fem!reader. zero warnings. this is 2% angst, 98% fluff. not beta’d so… if you see a mistake please message me, it will eat me alive.

thinking about eddie x reader and Mary’s Song… it’s quite fitting, don’t you think?

I was seven and you were nine…

With his mother gone and his father in and out of prison so much that the judge finally revoked his custody, only giving him limited visitation and, after the hair shaving stunt, even that will go away, a young eddie moves to forest hills trailer park. there’s a little girl there, can’t be much younger than him. she’s shy, hides behind her mothers legs, but can’t help but stare at eddie.

he thinks it’s out of judgement until the next weekend when he wakes up on a saturday morning and walks outside to take out the trash because damnit he refuses to be a deadbeat like his dad and he will help his uncle with the chores, he spots you, that little girl, out on the road, and he contemplates saying something about how that’s dangerous but before he can, you see him first, and you offer to share your sidewalk chalk with him. you two talk for hours, making a game out of getting up and running out of the way of the cars, seeing who can race to safety the fastest. you lose track of time until your mother calls you in for lunch. she asks if you would like to bring your new friend.

and that marks the start of a beautiful friendship.

your mom jokes with wayne that the two of you will be attached at the hip until you’re old and gray.

wayne jokes back that he should start collecting coins in a jar for the wedding fund now, while they’ve still got time.

i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn’t that little girl you used to see…

Eddie’s first senior year is nearly at its end. You’re excited for him, so proud of him. you made the leap to dating over the previous summer, something that made wayne and your mother both breathe a sigh of relief because good grief it sucks watching two kids be hopelessly in love and not know how to say it, but it almost felt like it came too late. he’ll be graduating soon, you think, and leaving you behind, but you still want that for him, want what’s best.

it’s confusing to you when he suddenly becomes so closed off, when it feels like he’s keeping something from you. he’s still with you but it feels… different.

the two of you are out at lover’s lake one night (read: morning bc the time on that clock has an a.m. behind it by this point) in the back of his van with the doors wide open and you start talking about throwing a graduation party. he says he doesn’t need one and you think he’s being humble, modest, so you try to convince him, and that, for whatever reason, seems to set him off. he gets out of the van and starts stomping away and you’re confused, of course, so you run after him, ask him what’s wrong, and then eventually he just says it: he’s not graduating. he’s failed, and they’re holding him back.

this is the first time you’re hearing about it. something about the fact that he didn’t think he could tell you… it stings.

he can’t help himself; to him, he knows that this is going to be the thing that drives you away, the realization you surely must be coming to that he’s not good enough for you. he doesn’t see the point in doing anything other than helping to push you away.

suddenly he’s talking about how he’s sorry he can’t be some brilliant perfect boyfriend, how he knew he couldn’t tell you because God forbid you, little miss never had to study a day in her life, you, who school and social life seem to come so easily to, had to be stuck getting dragged down by some high school flunk.

now that? that does a lot more than sting.

tears are already welling up in your eyes, and your voice comes out so weak when you ask him…

is that what you really think of me?

and he’s heard you upset before, seen it, held you when you cried, but that’s just it… he’s always been the one to comfort you, to protect you from those emotions.

realizing that this time, he’s the cause?

he fucked up. and he regrets it like all hell.

he starts to apologize, starts to say he didn’t mean it, but you’re not having it, doing your best to harden your face as you brush past him back toward the van and tell him to take me home, eddie.

the ride back to forest hills is agony. he wants to say something, wants to fix it, wants to make it better, but you’re not even looking at him.

the only sign that you’re even still awake are the intermittent stuttering breaths that he knows are just the sounds of you trying to hide your tears.

once you’re back at the trailer park, you don’t even wait for the van to roll to a complete stop before you’re hopping out and running up to your front door. he tries to follow, he does, tries to apologize again, but he hardly gets the words out before you’ve shut the door in his face. hard.

he knocks, begs you to just come talk to him, but you shut off your front porch light and he can hear the sound of you walking away.

you’re distraught and you cry yourself to sleep, ignoring your suddenly awoken mother and her questions, wanting nothing more than to forget this stupid night ever happened.

the last thing you expect when you wake is for your mother to be asking you to do chores first thing in the morning, but there she is with a trash bag that you’re expected to take out.

maybe if you were more awake you would have noticed the knowing look on her face as she sent you out the front door.

but then you cross the threshold and hear a rustling to your right and.

there’s eddie.

still in his clothes from last night.

having sat on your front porch all night waiting for the chance to just talk.

i’m sorry.

i thought you deserved better than me, that i needed to prove that, push you away so you’d do the right thing and get rid of me.

i’m too selfish though… i can’t be the one to hurt you.

I can’t be the one to lose you.

maybe all isn’t forgiven in that moment…

but it sure is by the time your mother calls the two of you in for lunch.

a few years had gone and come around…

sure, it took eddie another year to graduate but goddamnit, he did it. best part? he got to walk the stage with you. got to watch you try to stifle your giggles as he flips off the principal, just like he said he would.

the two of you got to go out and chase your dreams together, with corroded coffin getting discovered when a music exec, desperate for anything alcoholic, stops at the hideout on a random tuesday night after a shit day. needless to say, your boy turned that night around for him.

you finished college, and got a job that lets you travel. you get to see the love of your life take on the world by storm, doing exactly what the two of you used to do when you’d play pretend together in the woods; you cherish those memories, but you find you like the real thing even better.

it’s everything you could have ever wanted for both him and yourself. it’s perfect.

we were sittin’ at our favorite spot in town…

you and eddie were back in hawkins for thanksgiving, happy for the break from traveling, even happier to see friends and family as you all converge on the tiny town.

after living in each others orbit for so long, eddie knows that you’ll want to go on a walk after dinner. something about it helping the food settle. he’s unconcerned about the why; he’ll happily walk with you anywhere.

you find yourselves walking hand in hand through the woods you grew up in, ending up in the clearing you two always used to spend hours in, sword fighting with sticks with you were younger, laying on worn blankets and staring up at the stars as you got older.

the old stone you two used as a bench in your youth is still there, still in tact. you sit together as the late november sun starts to go down and for a while after.

eddie always thought the moonlight and the sparkling stars above you made you look like an angel.

you’re distracted, seeing if you can still name the constellations the two of you spent so much time memorizing when you were younger. You don’t notice the way he stares at you.

you don’t notice when he slides off the rock, either, kneeling on the ground before you.

and you looked at me, got down on one knee…

are you kidding me, munson? yes!

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle…

the ‘party’ was an apt name, you thought, for the group of ragtag friends you’d made along the way to get here. it was really only natural to throw ‘wedding’ in front of it.

the wedding was perfect, striking the ideal balance between yours and eddie’s styles as well as some elements of tradition.

eddie swore up and down he would remain totally stoic, certain he’d maintain his rockstar image throughout the ceremony.

but when the doors opened and he saw you for the first time, wayne walking you down the aisle? instant waterworks. he can’t help it. you’re so beautiful and angelic and perfect and after today you’ll be a family, a real family. you’d think he was upset with the way he was blubbering if it weren’t for the 10-mile wide smile plastered across his face.

luckily, you had hopper officiate and, having done this before, he knew better than to trust eddie when he said he’d be chill. the first thing he put in his pockets when he was getting dressed was the very handkerchief eddie was drying his eyes with by the time wayne was giving you away.

you both said your vows, ones that left all your friends and family misty-eyed, robin grumbling about someone cutting onions.

eddie doesn’t even let hopper finish before he says i do.

neither do you.

and you know this is only the beginning of a beautiful life together.

take me home where we met so many years before…

a few years after the wedding, the band decides to take a break, not forever, just long enough to focus on the families they’d made.

you and eddie move into wayne’s old trailer, him retiring from the plant and buying a cabin in the mountains. you each get a letter from him once a week, and you both promise to visit in the winter when the pond next door has frozen over and all the tree tops are covered in snow.

you don’t tell eddie about the stomach bug you’ve been fighting the past couple weeks, nor about your suspicions when you realize how long it’s been since you bought a box of tampons.

you don’t tell eddie when you swing through the pharmacy, buying the test, telling yourself it’s just for your peace of mind.

you do tell eddie, or rather, yell for him from the bathroom, when you see two lines and not one on the stick.

you see him see those lines, hear his oh, shit, and then watch as the biggest grin spreads across his face.

you feel it when he kisses you stupid, littering your face in them when you need to come up for air.

you feel the way he holds you close and see the look in his eyes when he says

let’s do this.

we’ll rock our babies on that very front porch…

the twins look so much like eddie, it’s almost sickening. your baby girl got your nose and a little more of your hair texture, and your baby boy got your eyes, as evidenced by your husbands teasing when he cries that he frowns just like you when you cried about (insert pregnancy hormone sabotages here). you barely even had an impact on the skin tone, something that has you mumbling something about stupid punnet squares under your breath, no real heat behind it as you look at your genuinely cherubic infants.

twins are exhausting, and they both got colic just like their dad did, and you didn’t know it was physically possible for things this tiny to poop so much.

but you know you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

especially when you see the look on eddie’s face when his own son betrays the order of the diaper change, pissing all over your poor, sweet husband before he could get the new diaper back on.

parenthood is hard.

but at least you know you’re doing it with each other.

after all this time, you and i…

sending twins off to college proves to be a challenge for you and eddie; it’s hard to pack boxes efficiently with tear-filled eyes.

you couldn’t be more proud of your kids though. you hope they’ll do alright; this isn’t their first time being separated. after all, your son and daughter had very different ideas about what sounded like a “fun” summer camp to attend, your daughter being much more interested in the science camp her uncle dustin always reminisced than the music camp her brother was dying to go to. but still.

a mother worries.

so does a father.

you’re both wrecked as you see them off on their first big ventures into adulthood, spending the rest of the evening in the house together wondering where all that time went. you only break up the pity party to take a phone call, overjoyed to find it’s from your daughter.

the usual pleasantries, asking if the drive was alright, if the room is okay, end when eddie asks your daughter how the roommate situation is.

said daughter is horrified to report that her roommate is actually a total metalhead, and is obsessed with her dad. she thinks she might actually lose her lunch if she hears her roomie ogle over her corroded coffin poster and mutter about how much hotter eddie got once he became a father.

apparently reminders of him being old enough to be her father don’t do much.

and she’s far too scared of the potential consequences of informing her roommate that she is spending far too much time eye-fucking a man who so happens to be her father, lest said roommate suddenly wants to come home with her for fall break or something.

you laugh, and can’t help but tease, saying her roommate is right, he did get hotter after you had the two of them, and that she and her brother don’t have way more siblings only because of the miracles of modern surgical medicine.

ew, mom.

you look over to see your husband blushing like he did on your first date. still got it.

you and him keep talking to your daughter until she insists she’s got to go, having an early morning tomorrow with freshmen orientation, and you both remind her she is loved and that you two are always in her corner.

you hang up the phone on the kitchen wall, but before you can leave, you hear eddie turn on the radio, a ballad that is not at all his style crooning over the airwaves.

when you turn, he’s asking you to dance.

you sway in each other’s arms until your legs could give out, trading sweet kisses and murmured words.

he tells you he’s so thankful that he got to do this life with you, that he’s had every adventure with you, that you chose him.

you tell him that, if given the chance, you know you’d do it all again.

[girldickdotcom]

"learn to be bored" "being bored is good for you" "be at peace with yourself" NO! 4 SCREENS AT ONCE!!!!!!

[naihvty]

reblogging this on my phone while I have 2 pc monitors up in front of me and youtube playing on my ipad

[rickgrimes-cupid]

Sunday reading – Steve Harrington x fem!reader

An idea based on this post by @neiptune

Written with the help of: @naihvty

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: sexual content – no real plot to this, just sex. Cunnilingus, finger fucking, slight fisting. Nipple play, dirty talk, and biting. MDNI. 18+

Please reblog to support me, tysm.

It was a typical Sunday morning, you and Steve were lying on his bed. The rain was heavy against the window as you read your book.

Your head was on his chest, with one of your hairs twirling his chest hairs. As you turned the page of your book, you noticed Steve had moved his hand closer to your underwear.

“Come on, baby, put your book down,” he whispered into your ear.

“Steve, I’ve just got to a good bit,” you laughed, trying to push him away from your neck.

“But how can I just sit here whilst you look so delicious?” he groaned, pushing his weight onto his arms.

You laughed at him, not lifting your head from your book. You weren’t lying; the book had become rather interesting.

“Okay, FINE. Read your damn book,'' he dramatically sighed with a playful eye roll.

He allowed you to read your book for a few moments before his hand snaked down your stomach to hook the trace of your underwear.

You were struggling to focus on your book with his hands so close; you bit your lip and tried to ignore him.

“But if you let me, I’d be kissing down your body. Biting at every curve until I reached your clit, you know I love eating you,” he breathed.

Teasing you even more, talking over your shoulder into your ear. He pushed himself off you so that you were lying on the bed rather than on him.

For a few seconds you had to squeeze your eyes shut as he had moved your boobs from out of your top and was kissing, biting and pinching your nipples.

You try and focus on your breathing, but with every bite and suck, you find it hard not to squirm. Your knuckles are gripping hard onto the pages of your book as you try to distract yourself from him.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong? I thought you wanted to read your book. Hmm? struggling?” He teased, lifting his head slightly away from your nipples.

You couldn’t answer him, not wanting to admit defeat. So your shaky breath ruffled a few pages as you stared at the words in front of you.

He was getting needy at this point, flicking your nipples with his fingers as they hardened with his mouth. It made you shudder at the sensation; you didn’t dare to look at him, for you knew that he would be smirking.

’‘’Baby, please. I’ll just eat you out; you can still read. ‘I’m not stopping you from reading,’ he pouted at you; his hands were already hooking your trousers off.

You didn’t stop him from moving your trousers off your legs; you invited him to do so. He knew you so well; you were struggling to read your book, and all you could concentrate on was him.

His lips were kissing your thighs, biting the inner part of your thighs as his hand reached up to your stomach. Accidentally knocking your book out your hands,

‘’Oh, I'm sorry, baby, don’t stop reading,’’ he sighed, his teeth reaching the lace of your underwear.

You were both breathing heavily; his hands moved away from your stomach, and he shifted slightly so that was holding the book for you. It allowed you to relax into his movements; he had moved, ripping your underwear off with his teeth, exposing your pussy.

Your legs wobbled as he licked your clit softly causing the book to shake in both your hands,

‘’I’m sorry baby, making your book wobble’’ he panted as his tongue slid down from your clit towards your entrance.

Your body rising as his tongue slowly slipped inside you, your hands were no longer on the book. Gripping onto the thin sheets beneath you, you closed your eyes for a second but he told you to keep them open for him.

Within seconds, his tongue was replaced by one of his fingers, and his tongue resumed its position on your clit before all his fingers were deep inside you. His mouth was humming against you as you moaned, and your book was shaking as your body twitched.

He had quickened his pace; all his fingers were inside. You were stretched out on the bed, panting heavily as he edged you close to your first orgasm.

As your body twitched, his fingers were moving quickly inside you as he kept fucking you through your orgasm.

He didn’t give you a break, tasting every last bit of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck, Steve. You’re going to make me cum again,” you shuddered.

Your words drove him to switch up his movements, making it harder for you to avoid another orgasm.

Sweat was clinging to your body as he moaned onto your clit, you were soaking his mouth and fingers.

“Steve, I can’t cum anymore,” you whined desperately.

Your body was twitching from slight overstimulation, but he looked at you deeply, and you could see the desire in his eyes.

He quickened his pace for a few moments until he felt you clench around his finger before removing them slightly. He rubbed his fingers across your clit and entrance, making you feel dizzy.

But you focused on your breathing as he continued until you squirted hard.

“Such a good girl, you have done so well,” he cooed at you.

His eyes flickered with excitement before he resumed his position and licked most of your cum up before you couldn’t hold in the rest of your orgasm.

Very slowly he removed his fingers from inside you, allowing you a slight moment to catch your breath before shoving your fingers down your throat.

Your body was rising and falling as you choked on his fingers, tasting yourself.

Lying in the puddle of his making, he removed his fingers and softly leant forward to kiss you.

“So was your book good, baby?” He smirked at you.

You could see the imprint of his cock in his boxers as he slipped onto the bed next to you. Pulling you into an embrace and reaching over to pick up your book,

“How about we start again?” He whispered seductively in your ear.

[naihvty]

kind eyes - part 2 (steve harrington x reader)

part 1 - here

masterlist here

summary: your week carries on, and after what feels like an eternity, Steve returns to your coffee shop. He’s back with his kind eyes, which seem like they have more to say that he’s letting on.

word count: 1.1k

tags: slow burn, used to be a dickhead but now he’s not, no smut in this chapter but there will be eventually, idk what I’m doing I just wrote this all today I haven’t written in ages, not reallyyyyy proof read sorry

a/n: hiiii here’s part 2! feels like a bit of a filler/drabble (as all my writing feels) but hope you like it anyway lolz. hoping to make part 3 slightly longer so something decent actually happens during it !!!

7 days later, you’re at work, just like any other day. You’re working the full shift, opening the shop in the morning. The hum of the coffee machine fills the void of silence that you find quietly comforting on mornings like these.

You drift through the morning, picking up the pace to accommodate the morning rush. You enjoy making small talk with the regulars, whose order you know without even asking, and who always remember your name and ask you about your day.

After lunch, the rush dies down, along with the tiny spark in your belly that Steve might walk through the door. You feel slightly pathetic that even one week on, you’re still holding out hope that he will come back.

But, sure enough, and much to your surprise, there he is, being shuffled through the door by Robin who seems adamant that Steve enters the shop. You drop your head in an attempt to hide the smile that creeps onto your face at Steve’s glare as he stumbles in, quickly glancing around to see who saw their interaction, determining how embarrassed he should feel.

“Good afternoooooon!” Robin sings as she confidently strolls towards you, Steve seemingly dragging his feet a little behind her.

“Afternoon Robin, h-hey Steve. What can I get you guys, same as last time? It was an almond milk latte and a mocha, right? ” You reply, sending a smile in both of your directions, your eyes catching with Steve’s. He reciprocates, holding eye contact for a second longer than feels normal, but then looks away as if to brush off the unspoken sensation.

“Yeah, good memory! Right, Steve?” Robin replies, jabbing an elbow into his ribs and earning a small “oomph” in return.

“Yeah, that’s great, thank you” Steve mumbles as he taps his card, paying for their order.

Have you done something wrong, you thought? Have you upset him? He didn’t seem like the chipper guy who came in last week, and certainly not the same person who was belly laughing away at the table after cracking jokes with Robin.

You watch Steve shuffle away, as his and Robin wander off back to the same window table as last time. You just manage to catch the glare that Steve casts towards her. Now you really wondered if you’d done something wrong. You brush it off and serve the next person while trying to forget about the awkwardness.

The guy who usually runs drinks to tables is, of course, currently on his break, leaving you to trudge on over to Steve’s table, tray in hand.

“Almond latte and a mocha. Sorry to interrupt you guys, enjoy.” You gently state, feeling bad to interrupt the hushed conversation that was going on.

“Hey, thanks. No don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything. Actually, I, errr- I was wondering if…” Steve starts, before the trill of your managers voice cuts through the ball of intrigue and excitement rumbling in your belly.

You turn you head swiftly, tearing your eyes away from Steve to see her waving you over. And she is not one who you should keep waiting for long.

“I’m sorry, I have to… I’m sorry.” You tell him, an apology bigger than you can put into words swimming around in your eyes as you turn away, tray tucked under your arm. Curse your manager, CURSE her. Now you’ll never know what Steve was going to tell you. He was wondering… what? Wondering if you could remake his drink? If you could grab him a spoon? Dammit, he probably wanted a spoon. Why would it be anything else?

A couple of hours later, you’ve just about recovered from your embarrassing of cutting Steve off mid conversation. The shop shuts in 15 minutes, so the shop is nearly empty minus Steve, Robin, and Alice, one of your regulars who always comes in near closing time for a last minute caffeine hit.

You run through the closing checklist, which is ingrained in your brain at this point, and being the only member of staff left, you have the joys of closing and locking up.

Alice leaves, shouting goodbye to you as she tucks her book under her arm and pops her cup on the side. You loose a genuine smile, tidying up after her and filling up the dishwasher.

You see Robin and Steve, at last, get up to leave. You say a soft goodbye in their direction, and get smiles in return, though the one from Steve seems tinged with sadness. You shake it off and sigh as they begin to walk down the street.

You flip the sign from open to closed, and just as you’re about to slip the key into the lock of the door, you see a blur of a figure with a mop brown hair run past the window and stop abruptly at the door.

“Steve?” You frown, confused as you look back to the window table to see if he’s left something of his there that he’s come back to retrieve.

He pushes the door open, stepping over the threshold and very much into your personal space. You catch a whiff of his cologne, woodsy and fresh, mixed with a tinge of hairspray. Too close. Toooo close for Steve to be standing next to you. Yet, you don’t make a move to put space between with you.

Steve looks slightly out of breath, and starts to babble, “do you want to go for a coffee sometime? With me? I mean, it doesn’t have to be coffee. I guess that would feel like being at work for you. It can be a drink, or some food or something. If you want? Just to catch up, or something? It was really nice seeing you last week. And today. Only if you want to, obviously. But I would like that. Please?”

Before you have time to process all of that, you hear a firm yes leave your lips. What the hell are you doing? Saying yes to Steve Harrington asking you out. Surely just as friends though, right? As if Steve would want anything more. He just wants to catch up, as friends, even though you were never friends at school and literally don’t know the first thing about each other.

“Really?” He grins. “Okay, give me your number. I’ll call you, okay? This is great!” He opens his phone and hands it to you. As you put your number in, you notice the grin is still plastered to his face and you can’t help but reciprocate.

“Okay”, he repeats, “I’ll call you. Speak to you later, yeah?” You nod back wordlessly, watching him leave and jog back the way he came, you assume to Robin who’d be waiting for him.

Is that what he wanted to say to you earlier when your manager interrupted? He’s gonna call you. Soon. Steve is gonna call you, and take you out. You can’t quite believe what’s just happened and you replay the events in your head as you lock up for real this time and make your way home.

THE Steve Harrington is going to call you. Imagine that.

a/n: banners by @/kodaswrld

[naihvty]

my requests are open!! ✨

please send in some asks/requests! smut/fluff/whatever!

for:

steve harrington

joel miller

I have a couple of ideas floating round in my head but would love some inspiration!

I can’t guarantee I will write them quickly, but will definitely do them as soon as I can!

banner by @/kodaswrld

[djotummy]

boyfriend reveal

[naihvty]

my dearest, talented loz. can I pls request “if we were alone right now, what would you do to me? “ reader asking steve during a late night phone call 🤭

my love!! let's not acknowledge how long it's taken me to write this. i started, stopped for months then rushed and finished it this morning. I MISS AND LOVE YOU I HOPE YOU ENJOY <3333

best friend steve x reader phone call

word count: 2.4k

tags: nsfw! 18+, NO MINORS PLS, phone sex, steve being a horny fuck, reader is also a horny fuck but can you blame them, i'm not very good at thinking of tags, they are both in love with each other but they just don't know it, reader is female but no other description, not really proof read sorry xo

"It's late, Stevie I should probably go to sleep... I have work tomorrow," you huff as you adjust yourself in bed, snuggling further under the warmth of the covers in your cool bedroom.

"No no stay up with me, c'mon, you're not tired! Just a little longer!" Steve pleaded, trying not to sound too desperate by saying anything he possibly could to keep you on the phone.

He was in love with you. He knew it. Did you know it? Why would you. He was always stealing glances at you, whenever he physically could, eyeing up your frame, gaze lingering just a little too long on areas that friends shouldn't be looking at for a prolonged period of time.

Your gaze always seemed somewhere else. Anywhere else. He'd come to accept it really, keeping the fantasies playing out in his head just that. In his head. Countless scenarios where clothes were discarded on the floor, flushed skin on show, whimpers escaping your mouth, and all because of him. The things he could do to you, show you, make you feel. You had no idea how much he wanted you.

"Steve? You there?" The sound of your voice snapped him back into the 21st century.

"Yeah yeah, sorry. Yeah. I'm here. What was it that you said?" Steve rambled, the slight breathlessness in his voice not escaping your senses.

You wished you could see into Steve's brain sometimes. Be in there, think what he was thinking. You could sometimes hear the cogs turning in his head every time you caught him looking at you. You hope he didn't notice you staring back, when his attention was elsewhere. You couldn't let him know that all you wanted to do was stare at him. Drink him in. His hair, his eyes, the hair that peaked above his button up shirts that he wore to parties, where there was always one button undone too many.

You tried not to let yourself daydream for too long when you were around him, which was all the time, seeing as you were inseparable best friends. It was just too hard not to. Those big hands roaming around the curves of your body, that deep voice groaning and grunting in your ear as he bucks his hips into yours. Bad thoughts. VERY very bad. But that knowledge didn't stop them from happening.

"Whose the one that's not listening now, huh?" Steve teased, breaking your train of thought. Just as well, you could feel your underwear getting damper by the second.

"C'mon, what're you thinking about?" He probed.

You wish you could tell him, you really wish you could tell him. You just didn't realise you were mumbling out-loud to yourself.

"You wish you could tell me? C'mon sweetheart you know you can tell me anything. Safe space here. What's in that pretty head of yours?"

FUCK. You needed to stop doing that. Talking to yourself without even realising. One day it will get you into trouble. It kind of just did.

"Nothing! Nothing! I'm okay Stevie, sorry, what did you wanna talk about? You better think of something good to keep me awake, I told you, I'm getting tired!" You teased, trying your best to brush off the fact you might've just open a can of worms that you just couldn't face dealing with. Rejection, for starters.

"You are not getting out of this one. Tell me now before I come round and get it out of you in person. And you really don't want that. You know I'll win".

Fuck. You're fucked. You're utterly fucking fucked. You can't lie your way out, he knows you too well to see straight through you when you're avoiding something or not telling the truth. What do you even say? I was thinking of you Steve. I was thinking of you fucking me into tomorrow morning. God, you would die if you told him that.

"I'm putting my coat on! Tell me before I get in my car." Steve insists.

Maybe if you told him he wouldn't even believe you. Or he'd be so taken aback that he'd change the conversation, or even let you go to sleep.

"Uhhhh. You Stevie. I was thinking about you. Not in a bad way. God no, there's no way of thinking about you in a bad way. In a good way! But not a weird way. Just, you." You ramble. So much for keeping your fucking cool. Idiot.

"Me sweetheart? What're you thinking about me for?" Steve asks innocently, letting out a small chuckle. Good think you can't see the shiver that went down his spine hearing you say that he is at the centre of your thoughts.

You speak before you can think about forming a sensible reply.

"I always think about you Steve. You're my best friend. I see you every day, and you mean a lot to me. Is that a crime?" You huff, not realising you'd gotten so defensive.

"Woah woah woah. No need to get like that. My coat is off. I'm back in bed. Calm down honey." He soothes. You try not to imagine him in bed, shirtless, arm tucked behind his head showing off his large muscles. You fail. You rub your legs together as you feel a throb in your core. There is no way you should be doing this, or feeling like this while on the phone with Steve.

"Sorry, sorry Stevie." Something aches in your chest as you realise once again that your feeling will never be reciprocated.

"You're doing an awful lot of shuffling round there honey, you okay? Something got you worked up?" Steve jokes, pulling a quiet gasp from you as you freeze in place in your bed. You didn't even realise that you'd been moving that much by subconsciously trying to get some sort of friction between your legs to soothe the ache that the images in your head had created.

Steve's imagination runs wild as the tension over the phone could be cut by a knife. He pictures you in bed, in your skimpy pyjamas and he wishes to the gods that you'd be touching yourself whilst talking to him. He's had phone sex a few times before with other girls, but it'd just turned out badly with awkward silences from bad, but desperate attempts at connection.

"Do you really want to know what's on my mind?" You blurt out. What are you doing. What the FUCK are you doing. You did NOT agree to confessing your feelings and darkest desires to Steve Harrington, your best friend, over the phone at 11 o'clock at night. Or any time of night for that matter.

"Shoot honey. Safe space here. Ya got nothing to worry about." Steve's soothing tone runs a shiver down your spine.

You can't hold back any longer. You've wanted to tell him for such a long time. Now or never.

"I like you Steve. I like you, okay? And I know you don't like me back but I don't want to ruin our friendship so I shouldn't even be telling you this but I can't take it any longer. You drive me FUCKING crazy okay? I just wanna, I just wanna..." Words start to fail you. Oh god. Oh god. What have you done. You have ruined everything. And all you can hear on the other line is silence.

Steve's head spins whilst silently willing you to finish your sentence. God, he wants you. He wishes he had kept his coat on and got in his car to get the confession out of you in person. He probably would have pinned you to the bed and taken you right there and then. He can feel his underwear shifting as his cock hardens. He's past the point of thinking straight now.

"If we were alone right now, what would you to do me?" He asks softly.

You splutter as you take in the words he's just asked you.

"Wh-, what?"

"If we were alone right now, what would you do to me?" he repeats. You can't gather anything from his tone of voice.

"Stevie are you sure-"

"Answer the question."

"Oh-okay." You whisper.

Where do you even begin. What wouldn't you do to him. What the fuck is even happening. Does this mean he feels the same?

"I would, uhhh. I would. S-Stevie I can't even fucking think straight. I can't string a sentence together. Wh-what would you do to me? Please. I need to know." Your voice trembles. Your thoughts are a blur. All that you know is that you need Steve. You need him there. You need his voice, his touch, everything.

"You sure you wanna know sweetheart? I've known what I would do to you for a pretty long time. Not sure if you're ready to hear it." He retorts, his voice dripping with honey and sweetness.

"Please, Stevie. Please tell me. I'll do anything, please just tell me. I can't take it anymore." You beg.

"Okay baby, okay. I'll tell you. But I want you to touch yourself while I tell you, okay? I want you to feel good. Don't hold back. I wanna hear you. Hear how good you feel while I'm telling you what I'd do. What I wish I was doing to you right now, okay?" Steve gently instructs. He's barely comprehending what's going on. It all must be a dream. The best dream he's ever had. He'd happily stay in this dreamland forever.

You whimper a response back, which he takes as a yes.

You slowly snake your hand down into your pyjama shorts.

"Stevie I'm so wet. Wish you could feel it. Want you here."

"I know, honey. But just relax. It's gonna feel so good, okay?" He reassures. All you can do is nod to yourself and slowly peel your panties away from your slick cunt.

"I'd make you feel so good, baby. If I was there with you. Just imagine. Close your eyes. I'd start with my fingers. Just one, don't wanna stretch you out too quickly. I just know your pussy is tight. So, so tight. Need to stretch you out before evening thinking about giving you my cock. Don't wanna hurt you".

Your finger slowly rubs circles around your clit. Your moans are loud already, any previous embarrassment has completely left your body filling you with only want, and need. Your eyes flutter shut as you imagine Steve in front of you, towering over you with his strong presence. That it's his hand instead of yours that's making you feel so good.

"God you sound wet baby. You're this wet already? And I'm not even there with you? And I've not even got to the best part. I bet you taste fucking incredible. Don't know how many times I've thought about making you come undone for me. Screaming my name. Just want you to feel good baby, want you to be mine. Wonder how many fingers you could take? I bet even two would be a stretch for you.”

You whimper at the thought. Whilst it always feels good when you touch yourself, you can make yourself cum no problems, you just know that being touched by Steve would be on a different level entirely. Those big hands roaming your body, thick fingers stretching you out, aching but it such a delicious way.

“God Stevie, feels good. Feels so good, I wish you were here, I-, wish you were touching me. Want you to kiss me, and touch me, a-and, god please I’ve wanted this for so long”, you babble. So many thoughts consumed your head you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Steve couldn’t fucking think straight. His cock was hard, bursting at the seams of his underwear, straining, begging to be released. Hearing your breathy whimpers and moans, envisioning you touching yourself was riling him up in a way that he didn’t think possible. Yeah, he’d been with his fair share of girls, but no one made him feel like this, the way that you did.

He snakes a hand down to his boxers, palm rubbing his cock gently over the top of them. He stifles a moan as he feels pre-cum leaking out of his pink, swollen tip.

“How’s it feel, honey? Talk to me. You wanna know what I’m doing? Wish you could feel how hard I am, fuck. So fucking hard already and I’m not even there in person with you. I’m rock-fucking solid, baby”.

Your fingers leave you and come up to circle your clit. You’ve never felt this wet before, Steve has a way with words that was driving you insane.

“Feels good, Stevie, so good… just wish it was you touching me, please, I need to feel it, feel your fingers inside me,” you moan, a delicious familiar feeling rumbling in your lower stomach. Not yet, you thought, you didn’t want this to end.

Steve lets out a groan at the sound of your desperation, wrapping a hand around his thick shaft, slowly starting to pump up and down.

“Wish your hand was round my cock, baby, just know it feels so much better than mine. You want that, honey? You wanna wrap your hand round my cock? Wanna feel your pretty mouth on it, too. Just know it feels good.” Steve mumbles, his already jumbled thoughts turning even further into mush as he keeps a steady pace fisting his cock. He’s embarrassed to admit he feels his release building. You’ll be the death of him, the absolute death of him. How will he last more than 5 seconds inside you when even just the thought of you has him nearly cumming in under a minute?

“I’m close, Stevie, so close, feels so good,” you whimper. “Are you close? Can I cum, please? Wanna cum together, wanna hear you, please Steve…”

“Fuck, yeah I’m close, baby. Want you to come for me, wanna hear you scream my name. And the next time you do, just know it’ll be because I’m there, fucking you. That want you want?”

You nod, words failing you as the coil in your stomach starts to unravel. “Fuck, Stevie, yes! I-I, fuck!” You wail, clenching around nothing as your orgasm blinds you.

Steve follows suit soon after, ropes of his seed spilling onto his chest, hot breathy moans escaping his lips, whispering your name as he rides out the high.

Reality settles back in after a few moments of silence, coming back down from cloud nine to the quiet on both ends of the phone.

“Well, fuck. Guess we aren’t just friends anymore, honey.”

[naihvty]

thank you sm for all the love on this!!! 🫶🏻 might fuck around and try to write a part 2 👀

[kassy-djomunson]

need that

[naihvty]

wanna bite his tummy :(

[sandmandaddy69]