#Mike Wheeler you're next

[will80sbyers]

I really don't like bisexuals being characterized as mostly hypersexual in the media, not that that's inherently a bad thing, that's part of life too but it's good to acknowledge that there is a large range of different types of people and many bi people don't actually date or sleep around that much... and that if you're bi and only have been with people of a different gender than your own or only with people with your own gender you're still bisexual anyway because being bisexual is about who you're attracted to not about putting it into action or not

#probably why I'm so happy about Heartstopper #nick nelson #my beloved #bi tag #bisexuality #bi rep #Mike Wheeler you're next #heartstopper #bisexual #bi visibility

[holyvirgilscriptures]

secret relationship byler au where lucas and dustin catch mike kissing will on the cheek, and somehow it doesn't register in their brains that it means that they're dating, but rather it's another special thing only mike and will have. accusing mike of favoritism, they now always demand that he has to kiss both of them on the cheek, too.

#dustin: mike kissing will on the cheek is severely decreasing our chances of surviving his next campaign #lucas: you're so right. mike you KNOW dms should remain impartial #meanwhile mike and will look at them and wonder how hard they've hit their heads #henclair #byler #wheelerson #wheelclair #byler headcanon #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #virgil.scripture

[musicalchaos07]

What the fuck did Mike tell Lucas to explain Will running off in the rain?

Because I doubt he went back downstairs and said to him I told Will "it's not my fault he doesn't like girls" without getting a black eye.

#Lucas is taking Will's side in the fight always #or at least telling Mike you're a fucking idiot #Imagine next season Will tells Lucas about the van? #stranger things #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #Will Byers #Byler

[bylertruther]

kind of crazy how mike said in a moment of vulnerability and weakness that he wants to be needed and to be of use and good at something, and then a large chunk of the fandom just decided to validate all of his worst thoughts & fears and suddenly reduce him to a weak, incapable, mindless, unloved wastoid wimp that's everything his low self-esteem tells him he is and nothing like how the people in his life see him (or what the narrative itself has shown us since the very first episode). even crazier when the people that do that call themselves mike fans lol but i'm 😴😴😴

#mike wheeler #mine #like. i don't think that some of you actually like him. you weren't supposed to agree with him when he was self-deprecating. #mike has been loyal brave kind compassionate courageous many many times. he's been strong for others when they couldn't be. he #grabs whatever he can use as a weapon because he isn't going down with a fight. he attacks and does do damage. people listen to him #when he speaks. they look to him to lead them and help them with both big things and small things. he IS their inspiring leader and he #IS will's knight in shining armor. like... i just don't get it. mike isn't a bad character. he has depth. good sides and bad sides. he's #always involved in the plot. why would you want to take that away? he's always been like that. if you take it away- then what the hell are #you left with? who is mike when you take away everything that he is? just. what? #i would expect that from someone that doesn't pay super close attention to the show or militantly believes him to be a homophobic #straight guy but. but but but.... i just will never get it lol. why did it come NOW after another character LITERALLY TELLS HIM #THAT ISN'T TRUE? it seems almost spiteful. as if the next thing you're going to tell me is that eleven's number is actually nine or smth.

[idiotlovesongs]

The Letters pt. 2

Mike came down the stairs holding a beat-up notebook and a grimace on his face. He had flipped through it on his way to the basement and it did nothing to ease his anxiety about sharing them. He regretted ever writing them down and then bringing them up. It was cowardly of him to keep them, but what was the other option? 

“Did you turn off the music?” Mike asked. The basement was noticeably quieter without it. There was only the hum of the air conditioner to fill the space. 

“Yeah. When did you get shit taste in music?” Will teased. It reminded Mike of how much he had changed without Will.

“Fuck off. As if I don’t hear enough about it from my family.” He rolled his eyes and dropped the notebook on the table in front of Will. He huffed while sitting down, “There it is.”

Will leaned forward to pick it up, and Mike tried not to watch him.

“You’re not gonna read it in front of me, right?”

“You’re gonna make me wait until I get home?” Will raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, no, I can’t let you leave with that.” Mike shook his head. He could not let it get within five feet of Eleven. As much as he loved her, there were just some things he could not let her know. “But you’re also not reading it in front of me.”

“Mike, now you’re just being difficult,” Will knocked their knees together and Mike could feel his stare. “It’s fine, yeah? You know I’m not gonna judge. Not for real.”

“Will,” Mike groaned, putting his head in his hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Will to read it. He just really didn’t want anyone to even look at it. 

“If you don’t want me to read it, take it,” Will offered the book back to him. He didn’t want to give it back. He had his lips pressed into a line and his fingers were toying with the edge of the pages, itching to flip it open, but he wouldn’t open it without the okay from Mike. “I don’t want to know anything you don’t want to tell me.”

“I’m turning the music back on and ignoring you until you’re done.” He pushed the notebook away before standing up and crossing the room to find his box of tapes.

“Mike, really, you don’t have to-”

“La la la, I can’t hear anything. I’m alone in my basement.” Mike hummed loudly, drowning out Will. He picked out a tape that had classic rock songs and slotted it into the deck of his cassette player. He turned the knobs as loud as they could go and flitted over to the pile of books he had next to the couch to pick something out, while he waited for Will to get through six months' worth of letters.

He picked up Neuromancer and took a seat on the floor in front of the couch. This way he wouldn’t be able to see Will’s facial expressions as he read. He allowed himself one look.

Will had his brows knitted in concentration and had his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes were moving fast across the page as if to get it over with for both their sakes. 

Mike wondered what part he was at. What was he saying to Will? Maybe he should have vetted what Will could read. Who knows what he had written down? He was pretty sure one of the letters was written while he was high for the first time with Eddie. His blood ran cold at the thought of what he could have said. He had only vague ideas of what any of them said. Most were written at ungodly hours of the night when he couldn’t fall asleep. There was no chance he actually remembered what he had meant to tell Will.

Will lifted his gaze to Mike, interrupting his train of thought, “Are you going to stare at me the whole time?”

“Man, I sure hope my basement isn’t haunted. I keep hearing this voice, but I’m totally alone,” Mike said with a pointed tone. He turned his head away and scanned the room like he was looking for whoever the voice belonged to.

“Message received, Mike,” Will laughed.

Mike gasped, tilting his face towards Will again. “It knows my name.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet.” Will smiled as he slid off the couch to join Mike on the floor. He pulled his knees up and rested the open journal on them. 

Mike looked back down at his book and felt his face go warm. Whatever he wrote would not be any weirder than what Will has already dealt with. In the grand scheme of things, these letters would just be a little blip in their friendship. Will could handle it. And Mike could handle Will handling it.

pt. 1, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5

#byler #byler ficlet #will byers #mike wheeler #will x mike #mike x will #stranger things #eleven hopper #brief mentions #the next few chapters will probably be the actual letters so look forward to that if that's what you're after

[gayofthefae]

Stranger Things, man. And maybe it's because they don't wanna scare straight people into thinking too hard about it or themselves, but nobody represents that the start of the queer story isn't being closeted. It's being straight. It's believing wholeheartedly and from the bottom of your soul that you are straight. It doesn't start self-awarely in the closet working up to telling people. That's every queer story, but it doesn't. It starts with a straight person, very often secure in their straightness. And I guess maybe it is just that the straight people don't want to half to acknowledge their proximity or fears of being "one of us" or maybe it's just because we're overlooked; maybe it's because no one ever asked, but queer stories more often than not start with a straight person who knows for a fact that they're straight. In a story, that translates to a straight character you know for a fact is straight - because you're seeing it in their perspective. That's the whole point of storytelling. You can seldom see a truly unbiased perspective. I actually don't know if it's possible at all.

So thank you, Stranger Things. Queerness begins with straightness. And almost nobody talks about it (almost: I recommend Love, Victor). Queerness exists on people going through things completely unrelated to queerness and queerness exists on people who haven't started questioning yet, who don't "seem" queer, who don't automatically "know", who date people of genders they ultimately aren't attracted to. Queerness isn't simple. It's depicted too often as simple.

Do I love myself? Yes. Would I give up my queerness? No. Did I cry when Will said "when you're different, sometimes you feel like a mistake" for hitting a little too close to home? Yes. Did I cry when watching Mike try to force himself to be straight for hitting a little too close to home? Yes.

Queerness isn't simple. And it doesn't start with queerness. You don't know it's gonna end at queerness. That's why stories about queerness always felt like they taught about me in an accurate and respectful manner more than represented me. Because there was a long time that I did not think my story was a queer about queerness.

Stranger Things tells stories about queerness that aren't just about queerness. Stranger Things tells stories about queerness that include the "before", that include the "during" the coming to terms with it, not just the after. Not just the closetedness. Most stories I see start post-self-acceptance as if that part is automatic and the most important part is your existence in relation to the straight people in your life who don't know.

Stranger Things tells stories of straight kids who get traumatized, just like me. Straight kids with stories that are just like mine. Straight kids I can relate to. Straight kids who...maybe aren't straight, actually. Stranger Things tells stories of queer kids who are whole people enough that I think the real reason I actually feel represented by them is because I felt represented by them before they were queer. For the first time, I feel represented by queer people because I identified with them before I knew they were queer, just like I identified with myself before I knew I was queer.

They were telling the complete truth when they said their story is for the marginalized, not just about us. It might scare the straight people. "It could be you too". And that's exactly the point. They should be scared. Be scared. Maybe then they'll finally get it. We were scared too. We wanted to close our eyes again and go back to being straight, which almost felt like it should be a possible option. Telling stories for groups instead of just about them is saying, "We aren't educating you about them. You are them. They're you too." The only full way to represent queer people is to represent us as people. And the only way to truly get that across is for us to "blend in" at first.

So this is a formal thank you, Stranger Things. Thank you for representing queer people as people.

#lgbtq healing #lgbtq #will means so much to me for his trauma allegory #his story isn't just about his queerness #and mike means so much to me for his heterosexuality #because it really was convincing wasn't it mike? #will byers #mike wheeler #robin and vickie are still important but they fall into the equally important but oversaturated category of feeling like i am being shown #queer characters and the straight people next to me are being taught about queer people instead of being represented #i am represented in that they are queer #and that is super important also #but if i didn't feel represented before they were queer then it just isn't quite the same #it's very important to get straight people used to SEEING queer people #but it's also very important to get straight people used to EMPATHIZING with them #oh you're upset mike isn't straight like you thought he'd be? #he is too. #he thought he'd be too. #you finally get it #stranger things #queerness #will byers is gay #mike wheeler is queer

[howstrangethingshappen]

will & mike's monologues [video version]

i know, i know... i've made SO MANY posts about this & this song [well, this is my second or third [or maybe 4th??], but it still feels like a lot XD]

i made this edit to go in conjunction with my textpost i made here. basically, this is the video version of that.

i teared up making this i hope y'all cry too cause byler </3

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #crazy together #you're the heart #being different #kill me #these next 2 years are gonna be TORTUREEE

[candied-cae]

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Turn The Radio Up

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Chapter 12/? - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 9,063

Summary: Joyce is headed back with Murray and a certain someone in tow. Which means they all just need to survive a few more hours on their own. They just need to do a few things to take care of business, and wait.

More ST Fics

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Nancy took the boys to the police station, where an officer let them into the Winnebago. And honestly, as she was doing so, she’s never been so grateful she left something behind in the Upside Down. If she didn’t vividly remember dropping that sawed-off felony when they found the trailer empty, she would be in a whole different kind of mess. Instead, they were there for the clothes the Upside Down crew had before gearing up in Warzone attire, and a few things they hadn't wanted to bring through the gate with them. Steve told her that he’d grab Robin’s stuff and run it over to her, so Nancy just picked up her own things and the backpack they’d left behind when they ran everyone into the hospital. There were a few other small items she packed away while Lucas and Dustin got together his clothes and the other walkie.

When they left, the cop marked off the items they were taking from the inventory sheet, just in case they tried to use the opportunity to rob the Jamesons. Which… okay, maybe she could be more offended about the assumption if they hadn’t actually stolen the whole RV itself just a few days ago. So she let it slide, and they piled back into the station wagon.

Overall, it wasn’t a long visit. Nothing to write home about. They threw their stuff into the back and were planning to pick up the other kids to go by the hospital when they heard Steve’s voice come through their walkie.

“Hey guys, we have a bit of a… a thing.”

“A thing? Over.” Dustin questioned him, eyebrows high on his forehead while Nancy focused on pulling onto the street.

“Yeah… it’s not a whole situation, but, um, definitely a thing. Well, it’s two things, actually.”

“Two things? Steve, I need you to start explaining right now. And say 'over' when you’re done. Over.” Dustin said, rolling his eye at Lucas, who silently nodded in agreement.

“Over, whatever,” the voice came through muttered and annoyed.

“So, what’re the things, Steve? Over.” Lucas leaned over to ask this time.

“There's, like, a whole news station outside the hospital, so it might not be a good idea for everyone to come by. Since we planned to keep the Cali Crew’s Epic Return off the radar.”

Which made sense.

It stung that they wouldn’t be able to visit, but they really shouldn’t be seen on television if what the boys said was true. About there being some government faction that pretty much wanted to kill El. That is, if the government lady who told them that while she tried to put them on house arrest was to be trusted. And that debate was a whole other can of worms, as far as Nancy was concerned.

Ugh, just trying to sort through what they knew, what they suspected, what they feared, and what they could even do about any of it... that mental maze was going to give her a headache.

And that was only one thing. It was a big, head-aching thing, but just one. And Steve said there were two. And so, after a pause, he continued.

“And also… Max’s mom… kind of… knows… Over.”

“Excuse me,” Dustin said calmly, before exploding,” WHAT?! Over!”

“I saw her while I visited Max, and Susan said that in the letter she left, Max said she wanted to explain some stuff to her. Over.”

“Some stuff? Over.”

“About what’s been going on.”

“Specifically, Steve. Over.” Dusting urged again, clearly not loving how vague the older boy was being.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask, and I didn’t know what to do- so I told her I’d call her tonight and… explain? Over.”

“Shit, Steve.” the boy said, forgetting to say ‘over’ in his shock.

“Well, what would you do?!” Steve got defensive,” She was, like, crying at me, looking at her kid, and begging to know if she was a bad mom for not knowing what was going on with her daughter! I couldn’t just throw her a ‘What? You’re crazy, lady!’ and skip down the hall! Over!”

“Shit, Steve!” was still all Dustin could think to say back to him.

“Well? Game plan? You guys got one of those for me?” Steve asked.

The boys looked to Nancy, who’s been silently driving this whole time, turning over the options in her head. She’s in charge, on that they all agreed. But that was a big decision. They haven’t… told anyone, who didn’t find out themselves, except for Murray, and that was way different. She’d wanted to, for Barb, for the Hollands. But she didn’t, couldn’t. The best she could do was give them a different lie so they could move on… but what do they do here?

“Nancy?” Dustin asked her.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

He passed it along into the walkie,“ No, game plan here, dude. Over.”

“What if we ask Joyce? Over.”

With that, Nancy snapped her head back a bit and held out her hand. Silent, though her demand was clear. One that Dusting understood in just a moment before he placed the boxy device right into her grip.

“Joyce? You heard from Joyce?” she spoke into it, completely forgoing the walkie-talkie manners Dustin quietly griped about to Lucas.

“Yeah. She called me at the hospital to get in touch with the Byers kids. Said she was going to be on a plane with Murray and be back here tonight. Already sent her to my place so she could let them know.”

“Joyce is getting back to Hawkins? Tonight?” She reiterated.

“Yes. That’s what she said.”

“Okay, okay,” Nancy breathed,” Then we’ll call Susan to come by your house after we get together for the strategy session. Have her come by when Joyce lands, and she can decide what it is, exactly, that we’ll tell her. Got it?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Steve agreed.

Nancy felt better at least having that decision off of her plate before she asked,“ You headed back there now or…?”

“I’ll stay here a bit longer.” he answered,” Talk to ‘em both like the nurse said to. I’ll drop by the station after a while, pick up my stuff and meet you guys back there later.”

“Alright. You know when Robin’ll be free from Church?”

“Should be soon. If you wanted to pick her up and wait at my place with the others, you’re welcome to.”

“Yeah, I’ll snag her with Mike and Erica, and we’ll be there when you get back.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She passed the walkie back to Dustin’s waiting hands, to which he informed her and Steve,“ Neither of you guys said ‘over’ that whole time, by the way. Over.”

“Oh my god-” the older boy bemoaned.

“Do you want to walk back to Steve’s, Dustin?” Nancy threw back at him.

“No! I’m just saying we have had a system of walkie-talkie usage for years! And, now that we need to get everyone on the frequency, you supposedly ‘mature adults’ are the ones who can't follow the rules!” he argued.

“Hey, Dustin?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“You just forgot to say ‘over’. Twice.” He pointed out, voice full of teasing glee that he could knock him down a peg at just the right moment,” Over.”

“ASSHOLE!” Dustin all but screamed into the receiver.

“I’m turning your volume down, little man. Yell and scream all you want, I’m going to relax. Maybe even take a nap-”

Dustin cut his transmission off,“ Steve, you’re supposed to be talking to them-”

Steve cut his short in turn,“ Night night, Henderson. Over.”

Dustin sat scowling in the back seat,” He’s supposed to be talking to them.”

“You really think he won’t?” Nancy asked him, a knowing gaze that made the boy uncross his arms and admit that, yes, Steve was just messing with him because he was being a bit of a turd about the walkies.

The next stop was the Sinclair’s, where Erica climbed into the very back, pinching off her nose as she did so and kicking at Dustin’s dirty laundry while they went to grab Mike. They added him to the backseat and pulled out of the driveway before Ted Wheeler had a chance to realize Nancy wasn’t immediately giving the keys back after the allotted trip to the police station. Then the last stop to make was Robin’s place. And Mike complained the whole way over.

Complained that he and Nancy were blood, so he deserved the shotgun seat. Complained that they should just go straight to Steve’s so they can see the Byers sooner. Complained that they weren’t going to the hospital to sit with Max and Eddie anymore. Complained that Steve was going to rub off and make Eddie stupider by spending time with him. Complained that Dustin and Lucas were traitors when they told him to be nicer to Steve.

God. He was really becoming a little angsty sourpuss in his teenage years.

Eventually, they got Robin in with them, and Nancy practically sighed in relief to have an ally against all the children in the back. While the boys and Erica made some ruckus about something she didn’t even want to understand, Nancy and Robin fell into some kind of small talk.

“So, how was church?” she asked, somewhere between not knowing what else to ask, and real curiosity because it was something she’s never gone to.

“Well, it was church,” Robin said plainly,” It’s still a place that’s mostly boring, if not a little guilt-trippy. Same stiff clothes I never wear otherwise. All the same old ladies my grandma has known since I was a little tike, each wanting to lament about how long it’s been since they last saw me on a Sunday morning.”

“Wow, so you guys really do, like, actually go to church.”

“Yeah. I’ve been in those pews ever since I can remember. Really only got out of it so much recently with how busy I’ve been with school and work. But now that those are both on pause and I went missing - and with a pair of boys, no less -” she used a haughty voice to imitate her mother,” Now it seems like the parents are less understanding of my disinterest in the institution.”

“That’s so… interesting?”

“It’s interesting?” Robin doubted.

“Well, Mike and I never really did the church thing. Our parents aren’t really… ‘devote’, I guess. I mean, our dad’s about as traditional and conservative as they make ‘em, but, eh, I guess God’s never really been our thing.” Nancy explained.

“God’s never really been my thing, either, to tell the truth.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, for the first three or four years, I would pretty much just follow my family in, take our seat, try and roll with it for a few minutes, and then end up using my jacket as a pillow and falling asleep in the pew the whole time. Then I got old enough that they said I couldn’t just keep doing that anymore. So I figured out how to follow along in the hymns, tried to pay attention. I had this aunt that would slip me mints and let me check her watch through mass to keep me contained. That's pretty much how I learned to read an analog clock face." she gave a little laugh at the fact," And I just had all these questions, and I wanted to ask these questions and understand why it is we think this is the way the world is. But then I got the impression that they didn’t really like my questions all that much, so I got quieter. And when I get quiet, I get bored. Which led to me inventing this fear that the priest had, like, ‘holy eyes’ or something. And he would see a lightbulb above my head. All lit up if I cared 'enough' and turned off if I didn’t. I literally terrified myself into thinking he knew I wasn’t really getting with the program, and that I'd be, like, outed or something as a bad Catholic. And then I got out of it well enough. I was busy, it was a good excuse. But now, poof, Robin’s back in those pews, revisiting the idea that the old man in the front of the room can see her burnt-out lightbulb.“ Robin huffed at the end, turned to Nancy, and realized she did it again,“ Sorry, that was a lot. Again. I just mean, I don’t think I ever really did a really good job at it. The whole God thing.”

Nancy looked over at her for a moment, a warm smile playing on her lips, and she shrugged,” I would never call you burnt out. Maybe you were just too smart, too young. I mean, if I had believed in God before all of this? The Upside Down would’ve turned me off of the whole theory pretty fast. You just didn’t have to lose it. Since you weren’t clinging to it in the first place.”

“Maybe. A full-on religious crisis mighta really drove me bonkers after the meat monster.” Robin let out a little chuckle before bothering to ask,“ And how was your morning? At the RV?”

“Not very interesting. It looks pretty much exactly how we left it. A mess. But I got my stuff, and the boys got theirs. And Steve said he was going to stop by after a while to get his and yours?”

“Yeah, there’s a duffle bag in his closet with my name on it. Thought it might be a good idea to add the stuff from the RV as a change of clothes and turn it into a go-bag since we’re waiting for Vecna to come back.” Robin answered simply enough.

“A duffle bag of your stuff?” Nancy asked, voice hinting at suspicion.

“Yeah. For sleepovers.”

“Remind me again,” she glanced over at her,” You’ve been trying to convince me there’s nothing going on there, right?”

“Oh my god, are you back on that again?” she asked, at the same moment that Dustin decided to ditch the others for this conversation instead,“ That’s what I’ve been saying, Nance!”

“Ugh. Can’t a girl have a best friend without everyone making their own assumptions about it!” Robin groaned, rubbing her hands down her face.

“What’s wrong with him, Rob? He’s great!” Dustin argued.

Mike cringed and turned his nose up at the idea,“ No, he’s not. Steve’s sort of the worst.”

“He is not without flaws, Michael.” Dustin drew out his name in protest,” But he’s pretty good. Definitely way above average for guys in Hawkins, right? I mean, I can run a sales pitch on him better than I could for you. Lucas, back me up.”

“You can’t deny that he’s kind of a mess,” Erica threw in.

“Strike that from the record, your honor. That was not the witness I was addressing. I asked Lucas Sinclair to back me up.”

Lucas nodded along to the idea and leaned forward to speak into his hand like it was a microphone,“ This is Lucas Sinclair, and I am willing to go on the record that I like Steve Harrington. He’s a good guy and would make a fine boyfriend to any interested party. Especially, to one who was already in with his friends. As inappropriate as they may be for a boy his age. Thank you for the time.”

“See! So, what’s wrong with him, Robin? I promise I’ll make him fix it if you guys will give it a shot!” Dustin practically begged her.

“Don’t do that to her.” Mike tried to talk him down,” Robin’s making the right decision to ice him out.”

Robin turned around in her seat to look at the boys,“ There’s nothing wrong with him, and I’m not icing him out! I am just a disinterested party. He is my friend. F-R-I-E-N-D. We have a purely Platonic, capital ‘P’ Platonic, mind you, relationship. And it’s great, I love the guy.”

Dustin’s eyes widened hopefully, and he opened his mouth to start something when Robin threw up a silencing finger,“ In a friendly way! I love the guy in a friendly way. And he knows that and feels the exact same way about me! So, if you need to have a good cry because this relationship you’re rooting for doesn’t stand a chance, go for it. But you’ll need to accept it, sooner or later, so you can move on.”

Dustin silenced for a moment, and Robin almost believed he was going to drop it until he added,“ But what if I got him to shave his gross chest wilderness? I think I’m winning him over!”

“No!” she squealed,” That’s not going to change anything about us! Let. It. Go.

“But what if-”

“Zip. It. Henderson.”

Thankfully for everyone involved, that was the end of that conversation as Nancy pulled them up to Steve’s house.

“Behave,” She told them, voice firm.

Various versions of ‘We do!’ came from the back seat as they all unbuckled and opened their doors. It wasn’t long before they were inside with the other four. Jonathan told them about their call with Joyce. She was putting together bags for each of her kids and going by Argyle’s so his mom could pass along something to bring for him.

Apparently, Joyce was about as shocked as the rest of them that Argyle was sticking around for their mess. Yeah, he kind of got roped into it, but he didn’t really have to keep fighting their fight. He could go back to Lenora. Back to his life. Try to pretend like this week never happened to him. But he didn’t. And his mom was just as surprisingly okay with it. Perfectly fine with her kid hanging out in the Midwest with nearly no explanation. Sure, California gave the kids a two-week spring break versus Indiana’s one, so he wasn’t even cutting class yet, but still… It was strange. The only answer he gave was that he’s ‘got to see it through’, and his mom just seemed to trust him.

But at the end of the day, they’d have Joyce Byers back - and Murray Bauman - so they wouldn’t just be a band of kids running around on their own anymore.

And that was good news.

Lucas had picked up Max’s letters for El, Will, and Mike before he’d left home, so he handed them over. They all accepted the envelopes, but seemed to each have a different sense of what they were going to do with them. Mike looked at it like he almost didn’t believe she’d written him one. They always pushed each other’s buttons and said they couldn't stand being in the same room, but they cared about one another at the end of the day. Will was sad to be given it. The letter just showed him how truly scared she must’ve been. She thought she had to write them goodbyes because she thought she was dying. El, on the other hand, wanted to refuse the letter. Wanted to say she didn’t need it because she was going to get Max back, and whatever she wanted to tell her, it could happen then. She didn’t need a piece of paper with goodbyes. She needed to find Vecna and end him for good this time.

Which brought up the bad news. Or news that was bad-adjacent.

El couldn’t find Vecna.

She tried. Put on a blindfold and turned the tv to static, but she couldn’t. They worried for a minute that she was still too drained, but that wasn’t it. They had her check for Steve. And, sure enough, he was found just fine in a stiff hospital chair, humming along to a movie next to Eddie. And then Will said that he could tell that Venca was still out there, somewhere. He could feel just enough to know that. To know that he was hurt and small. He didn’t feel gone, but it didn’t feel like the times when he was already coming back. It was that much less, but still there.

And that fact made a certain kind of dread fall over the room. It’s hard to just sit there while there’s some unknowable doomsday on the horizon. Looming.

But they didn’t have anything they could do about it right then. So Robin took to wrestling through some of Steve’s tapes and to find the most heartwarming one to watch while they waited for Joyce to land.

And it was after a very long voting session that they were settling onto The Sound of Music. Mostly because it was really long and El liked musicals but had never seen that one. And then Robin shared that Steve called it an “Honorary Christmas Movie” because he always watches it every December, despite there being no real Christmas themes. They actually watched it together that past year. Just a few months ago, during one of their infamous sleepovers while snow settled over Hawkins. Then she added that he also calls  Mary Poppins  one… so maybe Steve just thinks Julie Andrews' singing is the only way to enjoy the holiday.

And it was at the mention of Mary Poppins that they switched their votes.  Mary Poppins  first and then The Sound of Music later. Mike crossed his arms and asked if they’d be tired of Julie by then, to which Robin said such talk was blasphemous and he needed more respect for such staples of American film.

So, now that they had plans for their evening made, Argyle and Nancy were set on getting everything ready for the taco night the Harrington House had agreed to. While Nancy didn’t really know what she was doing in the kitchen, she knew how to get people to work, and Argyle knew what they needed to do. So they teamed up and got them all assigned to different jobs in the kitchen to start getting everything prepped.

Time passed, and Steve was sent on his way out of the hospital. He made good on his promise and got to the RV before they handed it back over, and got a hold of the clothes he and Robin left behind. And Eddie’s vest. The denim one with the big backpiece, the patches and pins of bands Steve didn’t know anything about. It had been tossed in the passenger seat after Steve changed into his Upside Down attire. It was kind of gross now, all things considered. Sweat, grime, and blood all over; from when it was thrown at Steve in the wasteland.

It would be good of him to clean it before giving it back when Eddie woke up, but he’s not sure how he should do it. Would throwing it in the wash mess with all the stuff Eddie put on it? Or would it be rude to take the add-ons off first and risk messing up trying to put them all back on? Maybe just scrubbing it by hand in the sink or something would be the best way to deal with it, because just returning dirty, worn clothes couldn't possibly be the right choice. Maybe he’d ask Robin about it later. See if she had any good ideas.

That was just about the last thought Steve really had before he got back and was met with the strangest thing. His house. Full of the sound of voices and the smell of cooking.

Mike was dicing tomatoes and cutting lettuce, Jonathan was stirring ground beef while Argyle seasoned it, Lucas was shredding chicken, Dustin and Erica were plating different toppings, Will and El were setting the dining room table, which by the look of it, they also dusted off or wiped down, and Robin was washing all the dishes that came her way.

It was a sight to see his kitchen so busy.

The first time it’s ever really looked like that. So… homey.

“Now, this can’t be my house. None of the kids I know are this helpful,” he commented, dropping keys by the phone and heading for the stairs.

“We’re goddamn saints, you know!” Dustin called after him.

“Nah, can’t be. Wrong kids,” he answered back as he went to throw his and Robin’s dirty clothes from the RV in the washer, drop off Eddie’s vest on the chair in his room, and make sure his face at least looked like he’d cried less than two and a half times that day. When he returned to the kitchen, he slipped Robin’s beret over her head while her hands were busy in the soapy water.

“Thank you very much for returning this incredibly fashion-forward piece to me, good sir.” she tutted in a hoity-toity tone.

He nodded and jumped up to sit on the counter next to her,“ ’Course I would. But, for the record, couldn’t find your shirt, Rob.”

“What?” she asked as her hands stilled, setting down the plate she’d been scrubbing.

“Your shirt. Well, not the black undershirt. Got that one. But your, like,” Steve motioned around himself as he described it,” … tan button-up - that you never actually button up - with the black leaves, that you wore over the other shirt? Couldn’t find it.”

“How could you not find it?” she questioned.

“I don’t know, dude.” he shrugged to her and leaned back on his hands,” I checked the whole thing, wasn't there.”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll double-check my stuff at home, but I’m telling you I didn’t grab it before we went back into the emergency room.”

“I’m not accusing you of that. Just saying, I swear I looked under and over every inch of that thing, Rob, but it wasn’t there-”

“Hey, hey, Harrington,” Argyle quipped in from where he was preheating the oven,” No distracting my staff. Suds up with her and get those dishes clean.”

“I got to work too?”

“Unless you want to have to wash up from prep along with all the serving dishes later tonight.”

Steve hung his head with a disappointed groan.

“Ándale, ándale, ándale, man!” Argyle snapped his fingers at him until he got back on the floor.

“Alright, geez,” he mumbled, rolling up his sleeves and taking his place next to Robin,” When did he go mad with power?”

Robin dropped her voice and whispered back,“ I think it was somewhere around the time when Nancy decided she needed someone who actually knew what they were doing in here. She gave him authority, and now he’s got a wicked taste for it.”

“You two talkin’ some shmack over there?” Argyle called back over to them, squinting his eyes with mistrust.

“Absolutely not. Not us. We’d never do that.” Steve promised while Robin tried to bite back giggles.

“You’re such a liar,” she smacked his arm.

Steve smiled to himself and bumped her hip with his,“ Maybe.”

Eventually, they had a whole spread ready. Beef and chicken were in the oven at a low temp to stay hot. There were about a dozen different ingredients in the fridge. The table was set with plates, glasses, a bag of chips waiting to be opened, and even some decorative table candles they dug out of a back closet. All that was left to do, was to wait for their company to join them.

So Nancy decided it was time to get to a bit of business.

She pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag and said,“ Alright, first thing first, we need everyone’s favorite songs. Don’t want to get caught like we have before, so we’ll make sure everyone’s got their own tape with them at all times, just in case shit hits the fan suddenly.”

“What kind of favorite are we talking about here?” Argyle asked,” Like all-time favorite? Favorite right now? Favorite for a reason or favorite just because?”

Robin started to explain,“ Doesn’t really matter what kind of favorite. And it doesn’t even really need to be a favorite-favorite if you can’t pick one. The important part is that it means something to you. The music is going to reach a part of your brain that Vecna can’t block you out of. So you’ll want one that’ll put you in a good mood, make you feel better, remind you of a better time, or - if worse comes to worst - show you why you want to live even if he tries to back you into a corner.”

“I’d recommend we all have a mix with a few of our favorites, to be safe. But we also need a list of everyone’s best guesses at their ‘savior song’. Just in case something happens and someone needs to play it for you,” Nancy added.

Argyle shrugged and then answered,“ Then it's ‘Break My Stride’ for me. Can’t sing along to that song and not smile, you know?”

“Alright,” Nancy confirmed and jotted it down on the paper.

Jonathan gave his next,“ ’Should I Stay or Should I Go’. The Clash.”

But then Argyle turned to him and began to ask,” You sure, buddy? Cuz you’ve been listening to a lot of Joy Division. You know? ‘Love Will Tea-’”

“You’ve been listening to a lot of ‘Pass the Dutchie’. Don’t see me refusing your answer."

“Alright. Just checking.”

Nancy looked to the next one,“ Steve?”

There was a barely noticeable pause before he told her,“ ’Everybody Wants to Rule The World’. Tears for Fears."

But just as Nancy was starting to write it down, Robin jumped in,” No, it’s not.”

Steve looked back at her - eyes just like the ones she pointed at him when he met Vickie for the firm time - and he muttered back,” Yes. It is.”

”What is it with you boys and lying about music? This is serious.” she pushed.

”I love that song,” he argued.

”Yeah. I mean, I’d bet it’s probably in your top five,” Robin gave him,” But it is not your favorite, that one I know for sure.”

“What’s the real answer, Steve?” Nancy asked.

Steve kept his eyes locked on Robin as he claimed,“ ‘Somebody to Love’ by Queen.”

Robin narrowed hers in response,“ Also not it. But you’re getting warmer."

"Steve, what about 'friends don't lie'?" Dustin questioned him from the side.

"That's your thing with the other runts. I'm not a part of it."

Robin raised a brow and threatened," Well? You going to say what it really is, or am I?”

”Shut up, Robin.” he warned.

“I’ll say it if I have to, bud. We’re talking about saving your life here.”

“I’ll say yours.” Steve countered, using the only real leverage he could think of at the moment.

“It’s ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba. Want me to share why, too? Sure. It's because it’s a super fun song, and I’ve been listening to it since I was like ten waiting impatiently to turn seventeen. And, now that I finally am, I’ve been playing it almost non-stop. Easy.” Robin answered without hesitation,“ So, you going to be honest or…?”

“Robin…”

”It’s ‘Holding Out for a Hero’,” she disclosed,” Bonnie Tyler.”

And all eyes were on Steve, wide in surprise as he tried to deny it,” She’s lying-”

”Am I? Because you have both the Footloose soundtrack and her single on vinyl. And, remind me again, how many times have you put it on a mixtape? Because, I know you have it on one you keep in your room and on another one in your car, but I feel like there were more, right?”

”That’s not true.”

”Steve,” Dustin cooed to him,” You have that much Bonnie in your room, right now?”

“There’s way more Bonnie than that, bud.” Robin shifted.

And Steve knew that look in Dustin’s eye, the sparkle gleaming with mischief, knew that meant the kid was going to collect the evidence of Robin’s testimony,” Henderson, I swear to God-”

”Hold him down, Lucas!” Dustin yelled as he got to his feet and started going up the stairs to Steve’s bedroom.

And Lucas did as he was asked. He lunged to tackle Steve into the couch while Mike piled on top to help him. Then there were Will and El and Erica and - seriously? How is it fair for five of these little assholes to pin him down like this when all he wants to do is protect his honor?

“Henderson, I’m going to kill you!” he called from the living room as he writhed around, trying to get out from under his captors.

And then Dustin was posed at the bottom of the stairs, the seven-inch disc displayed proudly in his hands,” Bonnie Tyler. ‘Holding Out for a Hero’. And it was the very first song on the mix I found. And I spotted her whole Faster Than the Speed of Night album. Wow, Steve.”

The man went slack under the weight of the other kids now that he’d been caught red-handed,” It’s a good song, man… Bonnie’s talented, alright…”

“Wasn’t gonna argue with you on that, Steve. You’re the one who made a big fuss about it.” Robin said, poking his burning cheek as the children started clambering off him.

“Shut up. Is it someone else’s turn yet?” he grumbled and swatted away her hand,” Why don’t you go, Dustin?”

“It's ’NeverEnding Story’. Pretty sure we all could’ve guessed that - except for the new guy - since it’s Suzie and me’s song.”

Steve rolled his eyes,“ Whatever,” while Nancy moved on.

“Mike? No, don’t tell me, it’s one of the new rock ones you’re borrowing from your nerd superstar. Right?”

Mike shot her a sharp expression, “ ‘Highway to Hell’ off of the AC/DC tape.”

“And is that actually your favorite or just the loudest, coolest sounding one you could think of right now?” she asked him, eyebrows raised like she didn’t trust him.

"It’s the truth," he asserted before looking over at Steve and practically sneering,” Because I'm actually secure in my music taste.”

“I told you to behave.” Nancy quickly scolded,” Alright, El?”

She nodded and told her,“ ‘Angel’ by Madonna.”

She didn’t say why. But it was because she could still hear Max’s voice sing alongside Madonna from their sleepover last year. And she’d needed to cling to that when she was all the way in California, feeling so alone. But she especially needed to cling to it now. It was what she was fighting for. Not just herself, or the world, she was fighting to get Max back.

“And Will?”

Will fidgeted for a second before telling her,“ ‘Boy’s Don’t Cry’ by The Cure,” really hoping nobody’s listened to it nearly as much as he had. He got why Steve had been so hesitant to admit his favorite. It felt so… exposing when the song hit emotionally close to home.

But Nancy didn’t spare another thought,“ Lucas?”

“Uh, yeah, ’Only You’ by Yazoo,” he answered quickly. He had a lot of songs he really liked. Even had more than a few that made him think about Max. But ‘Only You’ was the one he’d been caught on the most recently.

“Erica?”

“Katrina & The Waves’ ‘Walkin’ on Sunshine’.”

Her answer might’ve been a bit more surface level like Argyle’s. It was a fun, bopping song she liked to sing along to. Not everything needed to be some big piece on a person’s emotional state. Sometimes songs are just songs.

Nancy nodded and finished writing it down,“ And, I guess mine’s ‘Take My Breath Away’ by Berlin. So with that, we should all be set, just in case. Tomorrow we can start shopping for anything that we need, and we can make sure we’re ready for whatever happens from this point further.”

They all agreed on the plan and turned on the tv, popping in the Mary Poppins VHS while Steve moaned about Robin just giving away all of his carefully guarded secrets. But at the end of the day, Mary Poppins might just be his favorite movie, so he doesn’t complain much when it starts up.

Robin had asked him about it once. About why he loved this one specifically so much. In all honesty, he always kind of wished for a nanny like her. Miss Mary Poppins. 'Practically perfect in every way'. A woman who just showed up one day and never let Mr. Banks tell her off from trying to raise the kids right. Insisted on making sure they had fun and got to decide that they didn’t care about their father’s job. Fuck investments, it was better to feed the birds. And, in the end, it was because of Mary Poppins being in their lives that he looked at his kids, actually looked at them, and decided to take them kite-flying in the park.

Yeah, he used to dream about someone being able to make his dad do something like that.

And he wasn’t really mad that Robin spilled the beans on his secret Christmas tradition. He’s come to notice that Robin doesn’t just talk a lot in general, she talks a lot about stuff she likes. Steve being something she likes makes him feel like a pretty good friend. Which matters a lot to him, whether or not he’ll say so that often.

He also knows that Robin isn’t casually throwing around the real sensitive stuff. She doesn’t talk to the others about the stuff he tells her late at night when it’s like they’ve got the only light left on in the world. Doesn’t tell people why he likes Mary Poppins and hates answering the home phone. She keeps those conversations to herself. Tucked safely behind her ribs and right next to her heart.

But she’s sharing the little ones. Passing out small pieces of him. Because he needs to let people back in again, and she knows it.

He closed himself off a bit too much after Nancy. At least from people his own age. It was easier with the kids because they needed him. But Steve got beaten, burned, and left behind his senior year in a lot of different ways. He hasn’t been letting himself be vulnerable with people he used to consider his peers.

So Robin helps out. Blabs just enough that he has to be flexible. To bring everyone else just a little closer to knowing Steve Harrington.

And Steve knows she’s doing it. And he’s grateful because she makes it so much easier.

Just about an hour into the movie, though, the home phone started ringing. It was probably Joyce, but just in case it was his parents again, Steve ran to get it while the others kept watching.

Hoping it was Joyce made it easier to pick up.

“Steve Harrington,” he greeted.

“Hi, Steve! It’s Joyce,” her voice answered,” We just landed in Madison and are about to head on over to baggage claim. We’ve got quite a few suitcases, so if you kids send over our ride now, they might still get here before we’re free.”

“Sounds good. Your kids are finishing a movie, but I imagine they’ll be racing to meet you there within the minute anyway. You and Murray looking forward to being squished in the back seat around one of ‘em?” he wondered with a light chuckle.

“Yeah- about that… We will need three seats.”

“You and Murray been eating that much since last summer?” he asked.

“No, no. Just um- can’t really say why over the phone, but we’ll need plenty of room.”

Which certainly added to that suspicion Steve’s been harboring since her first call,“ Okay? I’ll let ‘em know and they’ll be on the way.”

“Alright, see you all in a bit. You kids better be excited, because we do kinda have a surprise.”

“A surprise? Don’t you think we’ve had enough of those?”

“Just trust me. It’s a good one.”

“Alright, Joyce. We’ll see about that.”

Nancy had already said she’d give Jonathan the keys to the station wagon since it’d have the most space for everything. So, by the time Steve was hanging up the phone, all three Byers kids were getting ready to put on shoes and head out the door.

“They’re all good?” Jonathan asked him.

“Yeah, yeah, they got to Madison just fine. Uh- but your mom said they’d need three seats.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. Didn’t really explain, but said there was some surprise and they’d need the room.”

“Okay? Um…” Jonathan looked between Will and El. If he could just send the two of them to see their mom first, he would. But he had to drive.

“You two go,” El said quickly.

“El-” Will tried to argue with her.

“No. It’s okay. I want to finish the movie. Go on and I’ll hug Ms. Joyce when you get back.”

“Okay. We’ll be back soon. Like, an hour, tops.” Will promised her.

“Sounds good.” she squeezed his hand and returned to the living room, jumping back into the couch right next to Robin.

Steve handed Jonathan one of the walkies and a spare house key,” Call us if you need anything.”

“Yeah. Let’s get going,” Jonathan clapped Will on the shoulders and led them through the door.

And then the brothers found themselves alone together for the first time in a while. For the first time since they talked in that pizza shop about being there for each other. And Will… ever since then, he’s started wondering if he should keep an eye out for a chance to… talk about something else. Something important.

“So, your favorite song’s still 'Should I Stay or Should I Go'?” he started, feeling like he needed to warm up the conversation somehow.

“Well,” Jonathan tossed the comment around a beat before deciding,” Not exactly ‘still’. It was my favorite a few years ago, back when I played it for you that one time. And then I liked other stuff, had other favorites. But, uh, I guess ever since - you know - everything happened, it just makes me think about you. About getting you back. So I’m pretty grateful for it.”

“Oh.” Will nodded understandingly, but his voice was a little gone. Like his head was off somewhere else as he glanced out the window to the dark city of Hawkins flying by.

“You not all that into it anymore?” the older brother guessed, sparing a glance at him.

“No.” Will answered honestly, before realizing that was kind of harsh to say about his brother’s favorite song, and backtracked to explain,“ I mean, I liked it too. For a while. Made me think about you, too. But, uh, can’t really listen to it much now without thinking about… almost not coming back. Being trapped under him and barely able to move my fingers, hearing the phone ring, and knowing I put you in danger by being… so… yeah, it's not really my favorite anymore. Sorry.”

“Hey, that’s okay,” Jonathan corrected,” You’re growing up. Your tastes would change even without something like that happening. And I’m not gonna hold a grudge over a song just cause I assumed you liked it still. It’s all good.”

“Yeah. Of course.” he gave a weak laugh to himself and looked down at his hands in his lap.

A silence came up between them while Cyndi Lauper sang through the radio. 'Time After Time'. The song that was playing at the Snow Dance while Will danced with a girl for the first time. When he started becoming sure about something. He picked at the skin around his nails. Worrying himself tense about how exactly he was supposed to go about… what he wanted to go about.

“Jonathan?” he finally asked.

“Yeah?”

“What if…” he bit his lip for a second,” you assumed other things wrong about me?”

And Jonathan could hear the tone in it. Knew that he needed to be serious and careful with exactly what he said. Because he didn’t want to scare Will off. Never wanted Will to be scared to tell him anything, especially the kind of thing he was expecting.

He needed to make sure his little brother knew that Jonathan would be on his side no matter what.

“Then, I guess, I’d just need to figure out I was wrong. And after I knew better, I’d just be happy you shared the news with me.”

“Even if it was something really big. Even if it was bad or- or wrong?” his voice cracked while he kept his vision trained on his fingers. Squeezing them together and doing everything in his power to not look at Jonathan. Because he was terrified… just in case. And then Jonathan’s hand snuck into his gaze anyway. Letting go of the wheel to reach over and wrap his hand around Will’s.

“There could never be anything wrong with you.”

And Jonathan said it like it was the only thing he’d ever been so sure about in his life.

"You’re my brother. No matter what, I’m going to be right here for you. Even if it’s something big. Even if… if it’s something that some people might think is wrong. I wouldn’t think that,” and then Jonathan turned to look at Will for a moment, his brother already glimpsing at him with misty eyes,” And the two of us? We’d be okay.”

Will dared to put Jonathan’s hand between his. He was so scared to believe it. Scared to break Jonathan’s love for him. Scared to tell him something that would make him recoil in disgust and never look at him the same way.

“We would?” he asked, begging for a sign to stop if he was going to ruin them.

Jonathan had to return his eyes to the road, but he said, just as surely,“ Yeah, we would. I promise.”

And, as scared as he was to trust him, Will found it in himself to ask it anyway,” Even if- even if I…” the tear fell before he finished,”… liked boys?”

But Jonathan didn’t pull his hand away. Didn’t recoil from him. Didn’t even hesitate as he looked back over - with the same loving eyes he always held for his brother - and he simply swore to him,“ Absolutely.”

And a shaking smile opened up across Will’s face, his eyebrows creasing together with hope as more tears began to trail down his cheek, and he squeaked out,“ Yeah?”

“Yes.” Jonathan turned back to look at him and squeezed his hand,” I love you, Will. And if you’re gay, then I love that about you.”

“Okay,” Will nodded, seemly to finally really believe that it was happening. He told someone, and it didn’t break everything. He wiped at his eyes as Jonathan continued.

“And if anything ever happens. If someone ever gives you shit about it, or even if you want to talk about guys or something, you can always come to me about it. You don’t have to keep me out of this part of your life because some idiots are assholes about this kind of stuff.”

“Okay,” he said again, laughing a little at the thought of running to his brother about crushes on boys. But he could really see it. His amazing brother, who just kept lifting all this weight off his shoulders, wanted to hear about his little love life. Assuring him over and over again with every word that it was real.

“You know I’m going to hug you ridiculously tight when I park this car, right?”

Will shook his head out, hoping all his crying was over with,“ Was kinda hoping you would.”

“Good.” he smiled, regretfully having to take his hand back for the big turn on the highway.

Then Will added,“ Can we not… tell anyone else, though? Not yet?”

“Of course. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. And I won’t, for that matter. But, for the record, I’m pretty sure everyone would be cool with it if you did. I think you picked a pretty good batch of friends.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Thank you. For telling me. I really am glad I get to know you a little better now. You know you’re my favorite person.”

“Stooop,” Will groaned and turned over in the seat to look back out the window with a weak laugh, wiping furiously at his eyes again,” I don’t want mom to ask why I’m crying. She’s gonna have a heart attack.”

“Fine. I’m still going to give you that hug, though. If you end up a snotty mess, that’s on you.”

Will huffed and rolled his eyes,“ Deal.”

Will changed the radio station and turned up the music, now with that heavy secret no longer his alone to carry, and ‘Don’t You (Forget About Me)’ was playing at just that moment. So they let the Simple Minds take them away as they continued toward Madison. Where Jonathan indeed pulled his younger brother into his arms and held him there with everything he had until Will reminded them that they should probably head in to help the grown-ups load up the car.

And when they found their mom at the baggage claim... When they saw her with not only Murray at her side but Jim Hopper on the other… it was beyond anything they could’ve possibly expected to see.

Joyce ran over to them and wrapped her boys in an embrace while Will commented over her shoulder,” Some trip to Alaska.”

“Yeah. It really was. That’s the surprise, which we can explain more about later, but are you both alright? Is El?” she worried over her boys, just as anyone could’ve guessed she’d do. Wiping hair out of their faces so she could look them over herself.

“We’re okay.” Jonathan excused,” But how- how is he-?”

“It’s a long story. One we couldn’t say over the phone given how many times they’ve been bugged, and since- well, Doctor Owens is... who even knows anymore. We wanted to tell you, but-”

“It’s okay. And we have a walkie in the car, so we can let them know on the way back. I mean- El’s going to be- This is just… a really good surprise for her right now.” Will smiled just imagining giving El her dad back.

“Is that everything?” Jonathan asked, eyes wide at the six bags piled up beside Jim, impatiently tapping his foot.

“There’s one more.” Murray answered,” And since we’re all waiting, would anyone care to explain why there was an emergency while we ran to pick up a lost American hero?”

“That’s also a long story.”

“Great. Just love those. Don’t you just love long, complicated stories about life-or-death emergencies, Jim?” Murray asked him as he propped an elbow on Hop’s shoulder and leaned over on him. The man looked tired, annoyed, just overall pretty bothered by all the time he’s spent cramped between Murray and Yuri in the helicopter flight over. And all the hours since when they've been so busy he hasn’t gotten any real peace.

He was irritated and ready to be somewhere with a bed that he can call home for the night, and Murray’s attitude wasn’t helping,” What I would love, would be a nap, a pair of earplugs, or to get going. So can we please get going?”

“Patience. We’re waiting on your daughter’s bag, after all. Honestly, if I knew you’d be this crabby when we brought you back home, I wouldn’t have gone with Joyce to get you.” Murray shook his head next to him.

“I’m loading the car,” he grumbled as he picked up his and Joyce’s bags from the mound.

“So, he hasn’t changed much,” Jonathan commented, stepping forward to grab the handle of his suitcase while Will did the same.

“No, he hasn’t,” his mother agreed with him.

“But he does look weird now,” Will mentioned,” What’s up with that?”

“It’s ‘cause he’s all skinny.” the other brother quipped.

“Okay, be nice. Things were a little crazy in ‘Alaska’, but-” Joyce’s eyes widened and she pointed at the conveyor belt,” Oh! Murray! There’s her suitcase!”

He quickly grabbed it and handed it over to her.

“Okay, now we can go,” she said as she took the bag and they all started heading out the doors,” Anyway, you think it’s not a good look for him?”

“No. It’s weird. Hop isn’t supposed to be skinny.” Will insisted.

“Well, I imagine we can fatten him back up now that we have him home again. Speaking of, none of us have eaten much all day. What’re the plans for dinner?”

“There’s a make-your-own-taco buffet thing waiting at Steve’s house,” Jonathan answered as they all passed their bags to Jim to pack in the back.

“Oh, thank god,” Hopper commented as he slammed the rear door of the station wagon. It might not be Enzo’s, but it was going to be the best meal he’s had in nearly a year. He started rounding for the driver’s seat and clapped his hands to get everyone to hurry up,“ Come on people, let’s go!”

“Hop. Breathe a second, we’ll be there in like thirty minutes.” Joyce tried to assure him, taking to the passenger seat herself while Murray and the boys tucked themselves in the back.

“Not even. I’m driving, and I’m speeding, and if anyone has a problem with it, or wants to pull me over, they’ll have to t-bone me,” he said as he turned the key.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what Nancy would like to hear you say while we borrow her car. Everyone’s buckled in, right?” she turned around to check.

“They better be.” He shot back as he peeled out of the airport parking lot,” And Nancy doesn’t have to know what I say about the only set of wheels I have to get me to my kid.”

They bickered a little bit more as the car sped down the road back home. But there was a certain… air about the way they were doing it. There was an unspoken fondness in it.

Will leaned over to Jonathan and whispered,“ Am I crazy, or is there something going on there?”

“I think there might be,” he answered.

“Oh, there absolutely is,” Murray added with a sure nod.

“Some business conference.” Will muttered to himself, impressed,” Go, Mom.”

#This update took longer than usual bc of all these songs #It's a fun side project I'm taking up. But holy shit is it taking a long time to put together. #And when I thought I was finally ready to publish I remembered that Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet album didn't come out until August '86 #I had to re-figure out Mike's songs bc my top 2 choices were off that album #Anyway #I got to do a bunch of character stuff I've been looking forward to! #The Argyle+Nancy team up! More ex-Catholic stuff for Robin! The ST Fic required fav song convo! Will's really sweet coming out! #And I got to push my 'Hoper was hotter when he was fat'? And I'm gonna make him fat again? #Oh it's a good day. #I'll get back to it. Because next chap - we're getting to that sweet sweet El and Hop reunion. And possibly another big return... 👀 #Have a good day and don't forget to check out the playlists if you're interested! ❤️ #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steveddie #Steve x Eddie #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckney #Ronance #Robin x Nancy #The Fruity Four #Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Stranger Things 4 spoilers #Stranger Things 4 volume 2 spoilers #stranger things fanfiction #ST4 fanfic #Steddie Fanfic #Ronance Fanfic

[apomaro-mellow]

Steve let out the greatest sigh he'd ever heaved. "I can't believe I have to fuck him."

Robin's head whipped to him so fast like he just said he was gonna jump off a building. "You don't have to."

"No I'm gonna", Steve said, eyes not leaving Eddie. He was biting his thumb like he couldn't wait to get alone with him.

Robin looked back at Eddie, who was filling up his plate with things from the picnic table. "I don't see it."

"Because you're a lesbian."

"With taste. And standards. I mean what exactly has got you twirling your hair right now?"

"I mean look at him!"

Eddie had a plate in one hand that already had an open burger on it. The fingers of his other hand danced like they were trilling a piano as he was deciding on what to put on the plate next. He grabbed some chips on the side and then placed the plate down to figure out what he condiment he wanted.

Eddie put his hand on his chin like it was the utmost important decision. Then he grabbed the mayo and the mustard in one hand and squeezed them in a swirl.

"You gonna kiss him with must-ayo breath?", Robin snickered.

"I wish I was that burger", Steve said as he watched Eddie sink his teeth into it. Steve bit his lip while Eddie was licking som stray sauce off his fingers and Robin felt uncomfortable.

"Um, do you, Eddie, and the burger want some privacy."

If Steve was being honest, he didn't fully trust himself to be alone in a room with just Eddie and whatever he was currently feasting on.

--------------------------

Eddie wasn't drunk. He wasn't even buzzed. No this particular evening, he was simply loopy on lack of sleep. He'd meant to go to bed, honest. But an idea popped into his mind and things kept adding in a delicious stew of inspiration and he just stayed up all night.

When Steve heard that, he nearly cursed him out for driving like that to his house.

"We were supposed to meet today, Steeeeve."

"It could've waited."

"Hmm, one doesn't make the king wait."

Eddie collapsed onto his couch and Steve thought he might conk out right away, but he was valiantly staying awake. Steve sat next to him and thought he might wait to see just in case Eddie fell asleep in the next 15 seconds.

Instead, Eddie reached out slowly with his pointer finger and booped Steve's nose. "It's so pointy", he said in a croaky voice. "Bet the girls loved that."

Steve snorted. "What?"

"When you ate 'em out."

"Dude!", Steve laughed. Eddie was always pretty candid, but this was another brand.

Then Eddie began to draw circles on Steve's face with his finger, all while drawing out that croaky sound before saying "Phooone hoooome."

Steve giggled and Robin finally spoke up from the loveseat.

"Yeah, I'm still here. But you know, movie night can wait or whatever."

----------------------

Steve's hands were in his face as he sat on the edge of his bed. Robin was patting his back reassuringly.

"There, there."

"It's just... Robin you should've seen him."

"I've seen him, babe."

"Not like this he was just-he was so into it!"

Steve had gone to pick up Eddie from the Wheeler's. He figured he'd find the other either with Mike, or maybe even Nancy. But no. Eddie had been in the backyard, in the middle of a very intense game of pretend with Holly. It had taken Steve everything not to strip and beg Eddie to give him his own babies.

"Have I...always been this much of a slut?", Steve asked.

Robin thought for a second before answering. "Yyyeah. But also, you've always been a goofball. Now that I think about it, you and Nancy had kinda an opposites attract thing. But maybe you don't need to opposite. You need someone as silly as you."

"Steve!", Eddie nearly crashed through his door. "We're making a blanket fort downstairs, you in?"

Steve rubbed his face and looked to Robin, admitting defeat with his eyes and then looked to Eddie. "Yeah. I really do."

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #platonic stobin #steve is in the closet about his goofiness #and nothing else #robin has to tell him yeah yall are made for each other #ur both clowns

[ikarakie]

mike has a panic attack.

it's sudden and it's terrifying and eddie has no idea what to do. one minute they're all yelling and laughing and just playing d&d, and the next, mike is collapsing to the floor struggling to breathe. gasping out the same two names over and over again. the panic attacks eddie's had before were never, never this bad. for a fucking awful moment he thinks he's about to watch wheeler die.

lucas stays with him, crouched by his side and talking in gentle tones. murmuring words of assurance that, while good, don't seem to reach his friend. dustin had sprinted out of the room yelling into a walkie talkie as soon as mike went down, so eddie has no fucking idea what he's up to. not that he's able to focus on much other than the kid (because, god, he's so young, what the hell has happened to him?) trying and failing to just breathe.

he tries the shit that worked for him, trying to get him to breathe in time with his counts, but it's like mike's ears are full of cotton. there's not even a hint of recognition in his eyes as either him or lucas speak.

dustin returns exactly three minutes later, trailed by the last guy eddie would've ever expected to walk through the doors of hellfire club. steve harrington zeroes in on mike like a hawk, crosses the room quickly and crouches in front of him. lucas scoots away, visibly relieved to see steve, so eddie reluctantly does the same. mike's knees are to his chest and he's heaving sobs so powerful they wrack his entire body. for about thirty infuriating seconds, steve just watches.

"oh god- oh fuck- fuck- will, will-" mike is saying, through stilted breaths. "will, el- el- i can't- they're-"

"mike." steve's voice is like honey, low and soothing in a way lucas' can't be yet. mike snaps his gaze up, finally proving his ears work. "where are you right now?"

"hawkins lab-" mike chokes, and eddie just listens, dumbfounded. "hawkins- starcourt- fuck-"

"no," steve says gently. mike stares at him, slightly less glazed. "where are you?" he asks again, a little more pointed. a few seconds pass. mike's eyes dart around the room.

"hellfire." he whispers, barely audible. steve nods, asks if he can come closer, if he can touch mike. the kid nods frantically, and then his hands are being peeled from where they were curled protectively against his chest. they're placed against steve's instead, and they spend the next few minutes breathing in tandem. harrington demonstrating and mike doing his best to follow.

his breathing eventually evens out, thank god, and the heart-wrenching sobs simmer down into quiet tears. mike all but throws himself into the embrace steve offers, tucking his head under the guy's chin and seemingly making himself as small as possible.

"it's okay, you're okay." steve promises, speaking into mike's hair as he gently rocks them back and forth. "they're okay. they're just fine, both of them. you looked after them so well, bud." he keeps whispering reassurances and sweet, kind words into the little cocoon he's crafted. mike stays curled up there for a while, making a wet patch on steve's shoulder.

then finally sounding more like himself, grumbles, "just 'cos we're hugging doesn't mean i like you." after maybe four or five minutes have passed. steve just huffs a laugh, because despite his words, mike is still clutching steve's arms as he pulls back.

"of course not." steve agrees. mike smiles as his hair is carefully ruffled. turns and reaches for dustin and lucas, who waste no time in piling themselves onto their friend. steve doesn't go far though, keeping a hand in the hair at the nape of mike's neck.

it's only then that he finally makes eye contact with eddie, who's watched the whole thing go down with a sick curiosity. because... who was this guy? this was not king steve, or the asshole, cookie-cutter jock steve harrington that eddie knew of. eddie had thought dustin's nickname for him of 'number one babysitter' had been an exaggeration; that maybe he'd watched them a grand total of three times back when he and nancy wheeler dated, and dustin had developed some fixation on him.

but... no, here he was. having brought hard ass michael wheeler down from easily the worst panic attack eddie had ever seen with the ease of someone who's done it a million times. (and wasn't that a harrowing thought?)

"you mind cutting it a bit early tonight, man?" he asks, softly, and it takes eddie a second to register that he's speaking to him. "i know you've still got, like, 20 minutes, but-"

"no, no," eddie cuts him off, kind of desperate for wheeler to get home and rest. "shit, man. that was... yeah, of course, take him." steve smiles appreciatively (an annoyingly pretty expression eddie never imagined him capable of, let alone directing at him), and turns back to the kiddie hug pile.

"hey, boys? mike?" he calls, all gentle and warm. it makes eddie's heart ache; even more so when all three turn to steve with big, shiny eyes. mike's peek out from dustin's arms. "how about we head off now, and stop at that payphone on the corner of glenview on the way home? give the byers a call in california?"

mike nods, hinging on desperate. dustin and lucas give him one more good squeeze before agreeeing themselves. steve corrals them all up, bids a fucking goodnight to the present company, (plus an extra one for eddie specfically), and shuffles them out of the room. eddie, and the rest of hellfire, are left stunned in the wake of babysitter harrington.

(when mike tries to apologise the next day, eddie absolutely refuses to accept it- and, at lucas' timid request, writes the mind flayer he'd introduced out of the campaign entirely. the next session, it's like the thing never existed.)

#basically eddie introduced a mind flayer and it sent mike spiralling #bc he would be fucked up after watching his best friend be possessed #and his gf nearly die and then lose her powers #and i think he'd associate the mf with the byers leaving hawkins so itd be extra fucked #stranger things #prompt #steve harrington #steddie #imagine #eddie munson #stranger things prompt #steddie fic #steddie prompt #steve and eddie #steve and mike #steve and the party #good babysitter steve #babysitter steve #stranger things headcanons #stranger things hc #the party #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #hellfire club #the party stranger things #pre steddie #steddie ficlet

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 6

part 1 | part 5

October

It's Wednesday night, which means dinner at the Hendersons. Steve finally decided to show his face — and no, not because Dustin's doorstep song and dance had any effect on him; it was partly because he was sick of hearing muted metal music from across the street and mostly because he hadn't left the trailer in three days and he was starting to feel and smell like shit.

So, anyway. Dinner. Ma Henderson's pulled out all the stops: prepped a homemade lasagna, stocked the fridge with full-sugar sodas and bought the good brand of key lime pie; invited the Sinclair and Wheeler kids to make a little party of it. (Nancy was 'unfortunately too busy to attend,' thank fucking god.)

But then Ma got stuck late at work, so now it's all hands on deck. Mike and Erica are setting the table — Steve can hear Mike bitching at her because she told him the knives go the other way, dumbass; Lucas is at the fridge filling cups with ice and Pepsi and muttering to himself about how much better Coke is; Steve's got an eye on the oven, waiting for the cheese on the lasagna to bubble up juuust right; and Dustin is using "prepping the salad" as an excuse to corner Steve and annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

“What do you mean it’s hard?” Dustin whines, dropping a handful of shredded carrots into the wooden bowl. “Just talk to him!”

Steve takes a deep breath. Mourns, briefly, for the night he could have had; the girls he could be doing hand stuff with in the back of the Beemer instead of putting up with this kid's shit. “I don’t wanna Just Talk to Him." He bends to peek through the oven door. "And, also: get off my ass about it, alright? I came to dinner, I'm heating up the lasagna. I'm, like, participating or whatever. What more do you want?”

“For you to talk to Eddie! Obviously!" Dustin's tossing the greens so aggressively that it kinda feels like he wishes he was pummeling Steve instead, and when he throws his hands up, little flecks of iceberg lettuce go raining to the floor.

Steve eyes the leafy green confetti. "You're cleaning that up."

"Come on, dude," Dustin begs. "It's been two weeks! What's the point of having friends who are next door neighbors if they refuse to get along?”

Behind them, Lucas supplies in a weirdly strangled tone: “This really doesn’t seem like the way to get him to talk to Eddie."

Thank you. Steve couldn't agree more. He turns to tell him as much and realizes the reason Lucas' voice sounded like that is because he's trying to make one trip to the dining room at any fucking cost. He's got an armful of drinking glasses and three cans of Pepsi tucked under his chin, and he's about to fumble the whole wobbly stack.

"Jesus Christ, man, cut that out!" Steve swoops in to grab the cans before they can join the lettuce shower Dustin just made. He doesn't care how much he loves Claudia, he will leave without helping if they splatter soda all over this floor. Mews the Second can lick it clean for all he cares, he's so for real. "Two at a time," he says sternly, taking the extra cups from Lucas’ hold and handing him back a reasonable amoint. He sends Lucas out of the room with a knee to the ass.

"Hey!" Lucas pouts.

"Hey yourself," he grins.

Lucas sticks out his tongue like a child (because he is one, Steve reminds himself), and when he shoulders the swinging door to the dining room he almost brains his little sister, who makes a graceful side-step and comes strutting through undeterred.

"Are you two nerds done playing good cop, annoying cop with Steve?"

"Ah-!" Dustin gawps. "I better not be the annoying cop!"

"Uh, yeah. Obviously, you are." She props a fist on her hip, a little tyrant in the making, and Steve’s ribs go tender with a fond, vaguely proud ache. He really loves her so much. "Now scram. I need to borrow Steve."

On second thought.

Surely at some point these kids, like, owe him money or some shit for the amount of weary sighs they've caused him to let out. Like, financial compensation for the years taken off his life? Something?

"Yes, Erica?" he asks, nostrils flared; eyes closed.

"You should talk to Eddie."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." Steve looks up to the ceiling, pleading for anyone to grant him strength, then he turns to pull the lasagna out of the oven and watches the bubbles sizzle and pop in the hot cheese until he no longer feels like blowing up at a little girl. "Okay. Okay. And I should listen to you because…?"

Screw financial compensation.

He deserves a presidential medal for how calm he's keeping his tone.

Erica's glaring fiercely at him when he glances her way, and why is every kid he knows such a brave, confrontational little shit? "Because," she explains, "He's being mean to my brother."

Oh, fuck no. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice dropping to an urgent hiss as he feels his hackles raise. Like hell is he letting some Billy 2.0 hang around his kids. "Is he, like- Is he saying shit about you guys?"

She spares him from trying to find a tactful way to ask what he's really asking. "No," she says shortly. "But he is being a bastard about him joining the basketball team—"

"Language—" Oh, what's the point.

"—and those two nerds out there? Are obsessed with him. Especially Mike. Like, ob-sessed.” She writes the letters out in the air in front of her to really drive home the point. “Mike likes whatever Eddie likes, so you need to convince Eddie to like Lucas before Lucas loses his friends over this stupid 'jocks versus freaks' crap." She lowers her voice and jabs the skywriting finger into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "And if you tell Lucas I said any of this? It is on. sight, Steve. I will crush you."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, we good?"

"Uh huh," Steve stammers. "Y-yep. Understood."

Wow. So dignified, Steve. Really loved how you let a ten year old intimidate you. He's saved from any further bullying by the sound of keys jangling in the lock.

"Dusty!" Claudia calls out through the door, "Dustybunny, can you come help? My hands are full!"

In the dining room Steve hears Dustin groan while Mike and Lucas start immediately tearing into him for the name, mocking 'Dustybunny; oh, Dustybun!' in stupid sing-song tones.

"So I'm just gonna..." Steve says awkwardly, inching toward the door. "Go get that."

"Mhmm." Erica gives him an unimpressed look. "You do that."

—

"Oh, Steve, sweetie, thank you!" Claudia says when he opens the door, cheerful and sweet as always. He goes to take her bags from her, but she drops them all at her feet and steps forward to give him a hug, a firm and tender thing that makes an annoying lump form in his throat.

"How are you?" she asks, stepping back to look at him; eyes raking over his face, hands on his cheeks. Really looks. She frowns at whatever she sees. "How's your mom?"

"Can you please just talk to me?" Steve begs, shivering in the hallway because they haven't budgeted for turning on the heat just yet. Wasn't supposed to get this cold for another pay cycle. He tugs the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. His limbs feel stiff and tense, a budding anxiety like there’s a bomb in the base of his spine.

"Steven, darling, not now," his mother sighs as she sinks demurely onto the couch. "Then when!" he explodes. He doesn't want to yell at her, but, "Seriously, when? When are we going to say anything to each other that actually fucking matters, mom? I feel like I barely even know you anymore!"

"Yes, and I feel a migraine coming on; are you quite finished?"

"….She's fine," Steve answers.

Could be true, for all he knows.

The wrinkles between Claudia's brows deepen, like she wants to press the subject but decides to hold her tongue. "That's good to hear," she settles on after a moment, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek before stepping away with a subtle look that’s not mad, just disappointed.

Steve kind of wants to cry.

"Mom! Food!" Dustin hollers from the other room.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I swear I try to teach him manners."

"Well, good luck with that," she grins, the shadow of tension between them dissipating. Her mood is good like that. Resilient. Strong. Immune to outside force.

Steve’s moods, on the other hand, are more like those stainless steel fridges that promise to remain spotless but then end up covered in grubby handprints. (Exhibit A: he’s doing it right now.)

Thankfully Claudia’s got enough sunshine in her for the both of them. “Come on,” she says, extending a hand and wiggling her fingers for him to grab hold. “Let's eat."

—

part 7

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #dustin henderson #claudia henderson #erica sinclair #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler

[sillylittlerock]

next time you're sad, anxious or depressed, just remember the wise words of mike wheeler:

#helped me through some tough times fr 😔✊ #localvillagegate #byler #stranger things

[eddie-van-munson]

Class Ring (Eddie Munson x Reader)

***********

PART TWO PART THREE

Summary: Eddie and the Reader are married and none of the Hellfire boys realized it. Just a little blurb based on this post by @gayheadphones! Let me know if I should add to it!

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Sexual Refrences, a Little bit of Making Out

(I will get a "Read More" cut on this ASAP. Requests are WIDE open! PLEASE leave requests!)

***********

"Harrington." Eddie bellowed, spreading his arms proudly from where he was perched upon his throne. "Approach your Dungeon Master."

"Jesus, man. If you're gonna make it weird I'll just go." Steve rolled his eyes, shuffling foward  as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm not making it weird. Sit your ass down." Eddie pointed to an empty lawn chair that had been pulled up to the table. Eddie flipped through his book for a new character sheet.

Dustin plopped down next to Steve, "This is Gareth. He's the drummer in Eddie's band-"

"Corroded Coffin." Eddie corrected as Gareth waved at Steve.

Dustin rolled his eyes, "This is Jeff. He shreds  for..." Eddie shot him a look. "Corroded Coffin"

Eddie gave him a satisfactory nod.

"And of course you know Lucas, Mike, Erica. Where's Y/N?" Dustin frowned, noticing the empty chair.

Eddie stretched his arms lazily behind his head, kicking his boots up onto the table. "She's being a babe. Making us-"

"Bagel Bites!" You announced carrying a messy, hot cookie sheet full of the, slightly burnt, snacks. "Get 'em while they're hot."

You tossed the tray haphazardly onto the card table where the boys had slung their jackets and backpacks. Eddie bit his lip through a grin, patting his thighs for you to come sit as the others swarmed the tray.

You blush, giving him a coy look as you stalked over to where he was sprawled across his throne. He grinned mischeiviously as you sat in his lap, letting your arms slide up his chest and around his neck as he pulled you into a messy kiss.

You smiled against his lips as he pecked yours one last time, mussing your hair playfully. You scrunched your nose.

"Get that shit out of here!" Dustin yelled through his bite of Pizza Bagel.

Eddie pulled you into another showy kiss out of spite, lifting you further up into his lap and giving your ass a playful slap, but the kiss quickly broke into laughter at the other boys groans.

"C'mon man. How do you expect us to play if you two are having sex on the damn table?"

"Hey!" He yelled, pointing at Mike accusatorily. "I will make love to my woman wherever and whenever I damn well please!" You whacked his thigh with a roll of your eyes and he giggled, rubbing your back fondly as you laid your head against his chest.

The last bagel bite polished off, the boys sat back down. Mike crossed arms, "How come Y/N gets to be here every week? I thought we had a no girlfriend rule?"

Steve snorted, "You guys are just swimming in female attention, huh? That's why you made the rule?"

Eddie ignored him, "Three reasons, Wheeler. A, Y/N's a part of Hellfire. She's got a character. She's on the roster. She's a damned good player." He tugged a lock of your hair playfully. "B, I can do whatever the hell I want. Hence the title, Dungeon Master."

Steve chuckled to himself.

"And C..." The room went quiet as Eddie smirked. "Y/N's not my girlfriend." You giggled softly.

Mike rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Just because you haven't made it official or something doesn't mean she's not-"

"Yeah, Munson. She's hanging all over you-

"What do you mean she's not-"

"Wait..." You and Eddie frowned, looking at one another.

"Did I never tell them?" Eddie laughed, eyes going big, "I thought they knew!" You turned in his lap, back against the front of his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist. He quirked a brow suspiciously. "Nah, They're fucking with us."

"No we aren't!"

You looked at Eddie again and he laughs, shrugging, "I could've sworn I've told them. Like, multiple times."

"Told us what? What, are you like, friends with benefits or something?" You and Eddie both broke into laughter, which only annoyed the boys further.

Dustin looked to Steve, who had realized very quickly what was happening, and was now just smiling to himself in amusement. "Dude, just tell us!" He whined

"Look at her hand, man." Steve shrugged, sitting back in his chair. Y/N tilted her hand towards Dustin, revealing a dainty ring.

"So what?" Dustin frowned, exasperated. "She has a class ring!"

Eddie laughed, grinning. "No, Henderson. She has a wedding ring."

The room froze, before ultimately erupting with a chorus of confused high school boys.

"What? Wait...What?"

Mike looked bewildered. He met Y/N's eyes. "You're married? Who the hell are you married too?"

"To me, asshole!"

Steve laughed heartily as he watched the scene, grinning.

"Since when are you two married?" Lucas looked at the two of you skeptically. 

"I was 19 and she was 18 so that's??" He counted on his fingers. "Two years ago now."

"I don't buy it." His basketball shoes squeaked as he sat back down in his chair, cockily.

Eddie didn't budge, just pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans and flipped through it. You laughed against his skin as he skimmed past two condoms to find a dog-earred wedding photo. He passed it to Lucas, who the boys immediately swarmed to see it for themselves.

Eddie chuckled softly and you looked up at him over your shoulder. He pulled out a second photo that'd been tucked away behind it. A much dirtier photo he'd taken of you, naked and his, on your wedding night. He grinned mischeiviously and kissed you below your ear, nipping at it playfully. "I think I'll keep that one to myself, hm?"

 You blushed, burying your face in his chest with an flustered smile. "Jesus, Eds, why is that in your wallet?"

"Because it's incredibly valuable." He explained, as if it should have been obvious. He shrugged sheepishly, ears going pink. "And uh...you never know when you might need it." You snorted, returning his earlier gesture with the playful tug of one of his curls.

"So you guys got married after Y/N graduated? So like, after your first senior year?" Mike thought aloud.

"Highschool sweethearts, baby. Almost seven years, now. That's a record."

"Are you guys gonna have kids?"

"Dustin." Steve scolded, only to be replied to with an indignant, "What!?"

You just laughed, "Why, Henderson? You looking for a babysitting gig?"

"Oh my god. Absolutely not."

You grinned, and Steve laughed as you shot him a knowing wink.

"We've been....casually trying." Eddie admitted, embarrassed. He scratched his neck, ears going pink.

"Holy shit! You guys have been....and we didn't even know!?" Mike looked offended.

 Lucas looked disgusted, "God, please tell me you haven't tried in here."

"Right where you're sitting, man." Eddie teased. Lucas shot up from his chair, making you fall into another fit of giggles.

"You know, I'd totally forgotten you two got hitched." Steve admitted. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Mr. And Mrs. Munson."

"In the flesh, Harrington." He shot him finger guns.

***********

#eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie imagine #eddie imagines #eddie x reader #eddie x you #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munsen x reader #eddie munsen imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munsen

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Mean Eddie series, part five.

Mdni. This is a tiny bit angsty but mostly complete fluff because I think we need that after the last four parts. 💞

This is the final part.

If you have any requests then let me know 💞

💌💞

You approach Eddie during lunch. He immediately stops chatting to his friends and gives you his full attention. Fuck what were you doing? Did you really want to give Eddie the chance to hurt you again?

He must have left the flowers for a reason though and you're determined to find out why. Was it his way of an apology? An olive branch? Did it mean he missed you?

Fuck. The constant loop of anxiety and questions were making you stressed. His eyes light up when he sees you and you're sure you're experiencing whiplash. One minute he was an asshole then the next he was excited to see you?

Be strong. Don't be fooled by those pretty eyes again, you steel yourself and ignore the way your heart skips a beat. You can do this.

"I got your flowers. They were beautiful, thank you. It's not going to fix you being an asshole though" Eddie smiles softly and nods.

"I know that princess. I just wanted to make you smile", ooh he could be a charmer when he wanted to be.

"Wait, what the hell is going on?" Mike asks confused and Dustin rolls his eyes along with Lucas and Gareth.

"Dude, wake up. There's obviously something going on there. Do I have to tell you everything?" Dustin sighs exasperated and Mike looks between you and Eddie.

"She's from the dark side" he yelps and Eddie fixes Mike with a warning look. "Yeah, no shit Wheeler, I don't want to hear one word against her. You got it?"

Mike nods and you can't help but be amused and slightly touched by Eddie's protectiveness. Still could he not have been more like this earlier?

"Could you not have had that attitude earlier Eddie?" His cheeks darken and he holds your gaze.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I've been a dick but I'll make it up to you. However long it takes for you to forgive me. I'll wait"

...

💌

Eddie is endlessly patient, he picks you up from school every day and takes you home. He kisses your hand before you head into your house and says, "Until next time sweetheart"

It's lovely but there's still the fact the two of you really need to talk and the next time that he drives you home you turn to him and ask to talk.

"Eddie, so much has happened and I need to know what we are, I'm confused. One minute you're blowing hot and cold and now you...

Eddie intertwines his fingers with yours "I miss you" he murmurs and you're confused.

"But you said this was just sex. Nothing has changed" he swallows and his brown eyes soften when they look at you.

"That's what I thought, but not anymore, I miss being with you" you've dared to hope before and got your heart broken. You can't keep doing this to yourself.

"You miss the sex" you murmur and he shakes his head looking frustrated.

"Yeah I do because it's fucking mind-blowing princess but I miss you. Being with you, your giggles and your sweetness and just you. I miss you" oh. Well fuck.

Could he not have realised this any sooner, you wipe away your tears and hesitantly step forward and slip your hand through Eddie's. He tightens the hold and brings your hand up to his lips, kisses over your knuckles softly.

"Munson. You have shitty timing" you joke but there is a tiny bloom in your chest of elation.

"I know, I could have figured my shit out way sooner princess but I want this to work. I'm serious" you can tell and squeeze his hand.

"No more fuck ups. I mean it Eddie" you warn him and he gives you a sweet smile.

"Milady, you will be spoiled rotten and treated like the princess you are" his eyes are full of reverence and you can tell he means it.

"Well my brave knight, take me to your castle" he obliges and you head off to his.

💞

Six months later.

"Eddie be serious" you giggle as he trails off from where he was reading you The Hobbit and kisses you, peppers kisses over your forehead and cheeks then your lips.

"Can I help it that my girl is so beautiful and I want to kiss her all the time?" Charmer. You snuggle closer to him and he strokes your hair,

"Love you princess" he says as he holds your gaze and he makes your heart soar and gives you that pesky butterflies, giddy feeling.

"I love you too Eds" he's still smiling, all cute dimples and sweetness. There's a storm outside and it adds to the cozy atmosphere as you snuggle closer to him and he continues to read to you.

Six months since the day you gave Eddie a second chance and every day feels like heaven.

💞💞

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #mean eddie munson series #eddie munson

[myosotisa]

there are bones in my closet - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖  summary: You can't control what your scars have done to you, but you can control what you're going to do about it and who you're going to trust with them.

‖  tags: hurt/comfort, post season 4 volume 2. contains content referring to anxiety, depression, ptsd, unresolved trauma, and their symptoms. you comforting Steve and Steve comforting you. written all in one sitting and unedited, so sorry if there are mistakes. i'll go back and fix them at some point.

‖  word count: 3.8k

You both had scars; seen and unseen.

Some of his were physical. Puckered pink and tight scar tissue on either side of his torso, a smaller section on one shoulder. A straight, light line of discoloration across his throat. The special glasses he had to wear and the pills he had to take to keep the migraines at bay.

The rest were less obvious. A tensing of his shoulders whenever something flew by him and he wasn’t expecting it, even if it was as small as a bee. White knuckle grips, and sometimes a full body flinch, at the crack of thunder or flash of lightning. An uneasy feeling that led to irritability when he had to go outside while it was foggy. Wide, panicked eyes when he woke up in the middle of the night with a scream in his throat. His protective nature morphed, shifted, grew into something that could sometimes feel stifling. The anxiety that accompanied the fear behind the protection.

When you first got closer to Steve Harrington, it was easy for you to tell he had ghosts following him wherever he went. You knew because you had them too.

A tendency to jump or freeze at a loud noise or when someone raised their voice. Hints of subtle pain hiding behind your eyes around the holidays, your birthday, when people talked about their family and you forced a smile. How you could go from the life of the party, talking and laughing and helping everyone, and start to go quiet so quickly, sometimes entirely without warning. The way it wasn’t unusual for you to disappear for days at a time, no one knowing you were simply buried in your covers and unable to emerge. And sometimes, even when you were right next to him, right next to anyone, you would still feel so far away.

Steve was haunted by things that had long since died and you were too.

The first time you saw the signs in him was early April 1986.

You’d barely known him then. Both of you had known of each other in school but that was pretty much it – orbited different planets in the same solar system. When you met him again, or for the first time really, at the donation drive at the high school, he wasn’t at all what you remembered. King Steve was wearing a little name tag and folding shirts, pants, towels, and anything else set before him and then organizing it into piles just like one of your colleagues had asked him to.

Although pretty busy trying to wrangle a few other volunteers who seemed to have bitten off more than they could chew when it came to washing the bedding on the cots lining the gym, you couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him. How he had a heated but whispered argument with Robin Buckley from a year behind you, and then smiled like a proud father as she made peanut butter sandwiches. Turned into an absolute mother hen when a curly haired brunette walked by him with a limp, leaving his station to usher him over to a set of chairs and gave him what looked like a finger wag before ruffling the boy's curls. He only went back to folding when an older man, who you recognized as one of the people staying here, came and sat down next to the boy, waving Steve off with a shaky hand.

A few other preteens came by and talked to him, the only one you recognized being Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother Mike. He spoke with all of them with what could only be described as fond annoyance – like how you would talk to a younger sibling or a best friend. It intrigued you, for lack of a better word. An earthquake had shattered Hawkins and here was Steve Harrington: folding an endless number of fabrics that just kept growing, greeting anyone who tried to talk to him with a charming smile, and looking out for a select group of what appeared to be his friends.

After a particularly long conversation with two local moms, you noticed it. The smile was more forced, his responses less enthusiastic, shoulders rolling forward and eyes closing with a deep breath when he thought no one was looking at him.

He looked exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix.

When another local came and chatted him up, carrying most of the conversation as Steve replied politely, and then clapped him on the back – he choked. A tightening of his chest, his neck, his eyes squeezing shut as he let out a few coughs. The man looked worried, asking him if he was okay, if he had hurt him. Then brown eyes blinked open wide again and flickered around wildly. His shoulders started to fall and rise faster, a flush creeping up his neck.

Your bleeding heart cracked a bit more as you stepped inbetween the man and him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” you glanced back at the man, who gave a hesitant shrug before making an escape, and you returned to the wild eyes of Steve. “Volunteer coordinator here, do you think you could come help me with something?”

There was water collecting in the corners of his eyes as they glanced from you to the room like he was looking for a way to escape. His voice was slightly hoarse when he tried to respond, “I… I, uh-”

Lightly pressing the tips of your fingers to the clenched fist of his hand, you lowered your voice as quietly as you could. “Just come with me.”

His eyes squeezed shut, a single errant tear sliding down his pink cheek, before he gave a stunted nod.

You could feel eyes on your back as you walked with him off of the floor and into the swinging door of the kitchen.

Struggling with the weight, you pulled open the heavy metal door to the walk in fridge and motioned him inside. He didn’t question it as he stepped in and you followed behind him.

The space was small but not claustrophobic, large wire shelves on either side as the heavy door softly closed behind you. Eyes searching, you landed on a long plank of what looked like frozen pork ribs.

“Hold this please,” was the only thing you said as you thrust it into his hands. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion but he took the slab, the ice cold object ending up nestled into his chest. Perfect. “Thanks, now just wait here a minute,” you inched past him, both of you having to rotate in order for you to get past without touching each other, “I have to grab one more thing.”

You didn’t. You didn’t need the ribs either. But you opened up the faded white ice chest in the back of the walk in and started digging through it, looking for nothing. Your companion didn’t say a word in the enclosed space, but you could tell the cold was doing its job as his breathing started to slow down. After pretending to dig for another few minutes, you stood up straight again and let the lid fall closed before hopping up to sit on top of it.

Steve was standing there dutifully and holding the frozen meat close to him just as you’d asked. The flush rising up from his chest had been replaced with pink nose and cheeks from the cold, dry air, and his chest rose and fell at a more reasonable rate. The panic in his eyes had abated and the tears blinked away as his head slightly swiveled to look around the metal container you both were in.

“You can put the meat down now if you want.”

He startled a bit, gaze returning to you having not realized you were sitting there watching him. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t actually need your help,” you offered plainly, motioning to the pork he was basically hugging. “The cold helps the panic go away.”

His head drops to look over the plastic bundle in his arms. “The…? No, I wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to explain.”

A few moments passed as Steve’s grip on the meat shifted before he set it back on the shelf you had taken it from. Now free, his arms crossed over his chest and he shifted on his feet slightly. You took your own few moments to slow down, to breathe. To let the cold air recover you as much as it could before you had to go back out there.

Go back to grieving widows and broken families and people suddenly without homes or possessions. People crying, screaming, trying to make sense of something senseless. Some looking out for ways to help, some desperately seeking help no one could reasonably provide. You would keep going until your heart bled dry and then just a little farther, just to go back to your empty apartment and do it again the next day.

But it was what you could do. It was something you could do. A way you could help.

Rescuing Steve Harrington from having a panic attack in a crowded school gym was a way you could help even when you felt like you were falling apart at the seams.

His voice is gentle when he asks, “how did you know…?”

That he was panicking? That the cold would help? That he needed help?

“Guess when you know what it feels like, you know what it looks like.”

He seems to quietly consider your answer as he quietly considers you. Eyes searching, posture guarded, energy unsettled. You want to show a kind smile, open palms, telling him sweet words that will settle him, do the job that you’re supposed to be doing here.

But you’re so exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix. And you just need a few more minutes before you put the act back on.

Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to have found it, because his arms fell from his chest, one lowering to rest on his hip as he leaned the opposite shoulder against the shelf beside him.

“Do you, uh, have any other tips and tricks?” He hesitantly asks, his gaze locked on your dirty sneakers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

The first time he saw yours was early June 1986.

The two of you had spent a steadily increasing amount of time together as he continued to volunteer to help at the makeshift shelter and you continued coordinating. When it was possible, the two of you would end up on a station together and you’d get a few more clues into what exactly were the skeletons in Steve’s closet. Hushed conversations about a friend in the hospital, about a friend they’d lost, about one they’d gotten back. Stories like you heard every single time you worked, but these felt different. The more you watched, the more you saw the string that tied all of them together. How it wasn’t just Steve looking out for his people, but them looking out for him and each other too.

A group of people that made no sense to be together but bonded in a way that couldn’t have happened peacefully.

Sometimes he would be talking to one of them – one of the preteens, or Robin, or Nancy Wheeler, or Jonathan Byers, or Joyce Byers, or the newly revived Sheriff Hopper – and would nervously glance your way like they didn’t want you to hear. You pretended not to.

If you could have stopped listening, you would have. But you heard and processed everything around you whether you wanted to or not.

Regardless of some of the strange things that floated into your ears, you never said a word about it. Never talked about the scar on his neck, or the scars on his sides you had gotten peeks at when he reached for something up high. Never asked why sometimes his whole body would start to react as if he was in a life or death situation, never questioned what triggered those moments. Never mentioned that when you weren’t working together, you could feel his eyes on you like a hawk, like you were one of the people he looked out for now too.

Never admitted how terrified that made you.

In return, he never asked why you would suddenly disappear for an hour and re-emerge with frozen fingers. Never pressed when you told him you were fine even though you couldn’t say it convincingly. Never forced you to talk when you fell silent or made you feel like you had to act a certain way or fulfill a certain need for him.

He just needed someone. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who saw the weight, saw the string that wound tight to him and his friends, saw when the mask started to crack and needed to be whisked away from prying eyes, and didn’t ask to know anymore than that.

You needed someone too. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who could see past the performance, see when the shadows drew in tighter and started to choke you, see that you were trying so fucking hard all the time. You needed someone who would understand that you were going to fight tooth and nail against the idea of needing someone – a trapped animal lashing out at anyone who tried to get close because they didn’t know if they were going to set it free or make the killing blow.

You didn’t know Steve could be that person until he proved it.

The day had started off shit. You’d woken up in a haze and debated if this was one of the days that would make you bury your head in the sand and wait for the storm to pass. Your first mistake was deciding to get up and go back to work anyway.

Your second mistake was putting Butter Handy Andy on dish washing duty.

You’d been talking to Vickie McAdams about the supplies you all had available for making dinner tonight when a huge crash came from inside the kitchen. Completely unprepared for a sudden noise that loud, you couldn’t hold in the yelp, couldn’t mask the way your entire body tensed, couldn’t help the way you immediately stopped in the middle of your sentence. Frozen, heart stuttering an uneven rhythm in your chest, the contents of your stomach kicking up, and people were staring. People were staring. Everyone was looking at you and thinking there was something wrong with you and you’re weak and broken.

Sweet, sweet Vickie, with a concerned furrow to her brow and a calm smile, asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

It took 75% of what you had left to put the act back on.

“Yup, just spooked me a little.” You laughed and then she laughed and then it felt like you had saved it, fooled them, protected yourself. It felt like the eyes were off of you.

Well, all except 2.

Your third mistake was stepping in between two men who had started an argument by the missing persons board.

Already running on fumes, you really should’ve thrown in the towel an hour ago. But giving up wasn’t a skill of yours and all that awaited you at home was silence and skeletons, so you kept the engine running. The disagreement had started quietly but quickly escalated into a screaming match in front of everyone in the room. Having forgotten yourself, gotten lost in the role you were playing as a coordinator and a leader, you’d immediately approached and tried to talk them down. Neither paid any attention to you and more people were starting to gather, either to watch or concerned they needed to do something. A baby nearby started to wail and the murmur of the gathering people grew and all the noise continued to grow into a tidal wave that rushed in your ears.

One of the men raised a fist like he was going to throw a punch. You rocketed forward, putting yourself between them with your hands out to try to stop him. And you did – the forward motion of his fist stopped. But then his other hand fisted in the fabric of your shirt near the collar and he tossed you away like you were nothing. You stumbled and then fell, gasping out in pain and shock as your tailbone made contact with the shiny, wooden floor.

The crowd descended then; pulling the two men apart before either of them could come to harm. People rushed for you, throwing out questions of ‘are you hurt?’, ‘what were you thinking?’, ‘are you okay?’ as hands you didn’t know forced you back to your feet. There were so many eyes and so many questions and so many hands and everyone was so close and everything was so loud and you couldn’t see and you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t move and you couldn’t talk.

You ran.

Pushed your way through the small circle of near strangers that had formed around you and settled into a run toward the swinging kitchen door. Through the door, past where Andy was still dropping pots and pans into soapy water without a care in the world, past the walk in fridge, and out the back doors. The sun was setting but the air was still hot and humid and choking you as you kept fucking running. You didn’t know if anyone followed you, you didn’t even try to look. You just listened to the frantic beat of your heart that told you to keep going or else it would be the end of you.

Your feet carried you to a familiar place that you hadn’t seen in a few years. You ran out of breath and had to stop just as you reached the bleachers along the mile track behind the school. They were coated in shades of orange, making the dusty track beyond them look even older as the sun carried down toward the horizon.

Despite your lungs and legs not being able to run any further, you were still thrumming with adrenaline, muscles tensed, chest tight, heart and mind racing out of control. You couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get back in control.

A hand lightly tapped your shoulder and you swung.

Steve Harrington dodged your fist like a man who had taken more than his fair share of punches.

“Woah, hey, just me,” he offered calmly, hands coming up in a surrender gesture. The wire rim glasses were a recent addition, only a month or so old. You’d overheard one of his friends joke that maybe if he had taken one less knock to the noggin he wouldn’t need them. Hurt eyes or not, they flickered over you, caught sight of the heaving of your chest, the blood shot eyes, how you panted out between your teeth and arched your back like a cornered animal.

You certainly sounded a bit like one as you barked, “What the fuck do you want, Steve?”

He instinctively stepped back at the venom in your tone, eyes widening slightly in surprise. His mouth opened, closed, opened, and said nothing. The fear in his eyes quickly abated and then his expression fell. Not into one of pity or worry, like you normally expected. No, Steve looked at you like someone who knew, but didn’t know. Someone who understood. And it broke you.

Denim covered knees hit dust as you fell on them hard enough to hurt. You didn’t feel it, the physical pain, too distracted by the agony of your bleeding heart cracking your chest wide open. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face into your sweaty hands and shook with the force of your tears. Gasping in a few sharp gulps of air as the cries continued to force themselves out of your mouth.

Firm, warm arms circled your shoulders and forced you off your knees and onto your ass and thigh, legs off to one side as your upper body made contact with a solid chest. His grip around you was tight, almost bone crushing, and despite the way you thought it would trigger you more, it was grounding. Something solid, something real, something physical while everything else felt like sand running right through your fingers. Despite the unexpected comfort offered, your sobs continued.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, barely audible due to your crying. “You’re safe.”

The word ‘safe’ made your bleeding heart shatter into pieces, another sharp wail leaving you as your nails started to dig into the skin of your face. Almost like he knew, Steve momentarily released one of his arms to force your hands away from your face and press them into his chest, encouraging your fingers to fist in his shirt instead. You obliged subconsciously, hands twisting in his loose t-shirt as you pressed your eyes into his shoulder instead. Satisfied, he returned both arms to his tight circle that held you pressed to him.

You don’t know how long you both sat there on the track behind Hawkins High School. Long enough for the automatic lights to flick on over the field and the sunset to dip into golden reds and purples as night crept closer. Long enough for your ass to fall asleep and for your crying to stop and for your breathing to return to normal and then even longer than that.

He didn’t pull away until you did, and even then it was with reluctance.

Making eye contact for the first time, you didn’t think before the words tumbled out of you. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like his shirt wasn’t damp with your tears and he hadn’t followed you out here while you ran like your life depended on it.

Wanting to argue that you had plenty to be sorry for, instead you shifted gears to the part of you that desperately wanted to give some kind of excuse or a reason to what had just occurred. “I swear, I normally don’t-”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted you with a kind smile, one hand giving your knee a soft squeeze before returning to his own lap. “You don’t have to explain.”

The shattered bits of your heart that lay in the wasteland of your chest thumped once, twice.

“Thank you,” it came out of you as barely a whisper.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, eyes warm and gentle. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

Thumped once, twice beneath the fear.

“I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

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thanks for reading!! if you liked it, please give it a reblog and leave a comment, as they make my day &lt;3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #stranger things hurt/comfort #myos ideas #myo4harrington

[poisonedprose]

₊˚✧ smile for the camera, baby

aged up!mike wheeler x fem!reader smut

warnings: 0.6k words, mike takes suggestive pics of the reader, fingering (f), slight exhibitionism, (lowkey kinda jonathan core)

masterlists

Mike eyed the Polaroid that lay on his nightstand while you lay atop him, your only clothes being his hellfire shirt and a lacey pair of underwear. "Hey baby, wanna take some pictures?" He whispered, unsure if you were even awake, but alas you were and you were confused. "Pictures?" You were intrigued but you still laid still, not moving from your comfortable spot on his chest.

"Yeah, some pictures." He dragged his hand over the hem of your panties. "Think you'd make a pretty great model." He lifted the fabric slightly and let it snap back, spreading a burning sensation on your skin. You didn't quite know what he was getting at but you were more than ready to comply. 

His hand soothed over where he had just snapped your panties, waiting rather impatiently for your answer. "Okay." Your voice was still filled with sleep but you were more than capable of figuring out exactly what Mike was getting at. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he sat up on the bed and reached over to grab the camera.

You didn't know why, but a part of you was, well, excited about this. "Come 'ere." He pulled you closer to him as you rolled onto your back, a giggle emitting from your lips as he does so. He smiled at you, happy that you were actually enjoying this. Mike lifted the shirt by just a little, letting the fabric pool just above your belly button.  He brought the camera up to his face, looking through the lens to get a good angle. 

Even though the room was dark and the lights were off, he was still able to see your pretty panties through the camera. "Ready?" He asked and you nodded though he wasn't really looking at you. The camera flashed as he took the photo, letting the Polaroid print out.  Mike took the Polaroid out of the camera and laid it on the bed, already moving you into a new position as he waited for the picture to show up.  

He pulled you up from your position on your back. "Get on your hands and knees, okay?" Mike had never really been this dominant with you and it was honestly turning you on. You complied with his request, turning around and positioning yourself on your hands and knees as fast as your sleepy body could. You could hear Mike whistle at the sight as he rubbed a hand over your ass cheek. 

"Can I take these off, pretty girl?" He asks, referring to your underwear. "Yeah." You bite your lip as you feel the camera being set down on the bed and his fingers hook around your waistband. He slid them down slowly and courtly. He was never rough with you, no matter how desperate he was. 

"Oh, wow, look at you." You could feel his slender fingers rub up and down your folds mere seconds after he pulled your panties down as far as he could. You inhale a sharp breath at the touch, especially with how cold his hands are. "You enjoying this, sweetheart?" It was rhetorical, he could feel how much you were enjoying this. 

Without waiting for an answer he picks up the camera again, once again looking through the lens and trying to get the perfect angle. The idea of having a picture of your bare, glistening cunt for him to keep forever excited him. The idea of keeping it in his wallet where all his friends might see it. 

The room lights up again as he takes the picture. "Oh, yeah, that's gonna be a good one." Mike jokes as he places the picture next to the previous one. One of his hands comes up to rub your ass, sliding up and under your shirt. "You up for one more? Maybe without this shirt even though you look so hot in it." He smirks and suddenly you're even wetter than you were before.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ 🌾 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊

#! ♡ ₊˚✧ st . #i hate this sm but #this has been a wip for 4 months #pt2 of are we still friends almost done! #stranger things #mike wheeler #mike wheeler x reader #mike wheeler smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut