#Steve Harrington is a silly little guy and you can not stop it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taintedcigs · 10 months

Text

dancing with our hands tied part II — s.h

you can find part I here

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!, ANGST, making out, swearing, drinking, alcohol mention, JEALOUSY!!! eddie's a bit of an asshole i am sorry, but so is steve sometimes!! and so is reader? idk!

summary: in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex. (wc: 8k+)

a/n: this is part 2 of this fic here !! pls make sure to read it before this!! anddd, im sorry for how confusing the first part was, BUT HERE'S THE HIDEOUT INCIDENT!! and i didn't use POVs this time and i kinda gave up on dates ugrhh. also i have a little bonus content at the end even tho its so a lil silly!!! also did not proof-read this, pls ignore any mistakes or ill scream n d*e

Friday, February 7, 1986 || The Hideout.

Steve stole a glance in your direction, and immediately realized the mistake he had made.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why did you have to be so fucking perfect? Why did you have to have the most contagious laugh that immediately brought a warm smile to his lips?

Steve leaned against the bar as he watched you further, reveling at the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you gave Robin a giggle, nose scrunching as you mimicked whatever story you were telling, drawing him in without even having a clue on the effect you had on him.

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, his heart pounded inside of his ribcage when you looked at him like that, as if your eyes were smiling at him. He held your gaze, giving you a subtle nod.

God, if Steve didn’t tell you how he felt about you soon, he was sure he was going to explode.

He turned back to the bar, head filled with the idea of opening up to you, he had to do it soon or else—

“Harrington!” Eddie beamed, interrupting his thoughts as he grabbed onto Steve’s shoulders, “You mind helpin’ me out?” He grinned, causing Steve’s brows to furrow.

“Can you put in a good word for me?” Eddie muttered, hand pointing toward the booth, “What are you talking about?” Steve muttered, his eyes following him.

“Y/N.” Steve hoped to God that Eddie didn’t notice the shock in his eyes, blinking quickly as he tried to control the jealousy building within him.

“I swear I’ve had the biggest crush on her,” Eddie exclaimed. Steve couldn’t help the way his face fell; he wondered if Eddie could notice it, but by the way he grinned at you, Eddie probably had no fucking clue about his feelings for you.

“Since when?” Steve sounded bitter, chewing at the inside of his mouth to stop himself, “Uh, since forever, dude,” Eddie said, chuckling.

“Put in a little good word for me, yea? I know you guys are close and shit,” Eddie gushed as he squeezed Steve’s shoulders again, and Steve was tense now, his entire body almost burning with rage and resentment.

Maybe it was wrong for Steve to be petty about this; maybe it wasn’t fair to you that he spent the rest of the night ignoring you; maybe it wasn’t right for him to act this way, but Steve had been on this rodeo before.

He was always the second choice, and he knew that he was never going to be someone’s priority. Because of that, his reaction was warranted; at least that’s what he believed. Ignoring you completely while he bitterly watched Eddie make moves on you was the only way he could cope with it.

And it was driving him crazy, knowing that Eddie was getting under your skin with the advice he got from Steve and learning everything about you from him.

At first, it was all just some passive aggressiveness, until it turned into something bigger, until you finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Because there stood Steve, across from the gang’s booth, leaning over the wall as he whispered something into Tammy’s ear—Steve’s ex.

With her shiny blonde hair and her big eyes, she threw him a hearty giggle, sticking to his side, while Steve barely blinked, allowing her to drool all over him.

You had no right to be jealous, not when Steve had no clue about your feelings, not when Steve didn’t owe you a thing, but you couldn’t help the frown on your face as he ignored you all night and was fine with stupid Tammy Thompson being all over him.

Your throat burned with the number of shots you took, you could never handle your tequila, but the numbness was exactly what you needed. Your mind was getting dizzier with Steve being pushed back into your thoughts.

You could feel yourself getting lighter and lighter with each sip, gaze barely holding over Steve’s direction anymore when Eddie had been keeping you company the whole night.

To think Steve was supposed to be your close friend felt like a joke now. The more he was with the blondie, the more you felt your stomach churning, gaze drifting toward Eddie to keep yourself from looking in his direction.

You felt desperate.

Steve probably saw you as the girl who was wrapped around his finger, the girl who followed him around like a puppy. Maybe that’s why he was ignoring you, trying to keep you from clinging to him.

You fidgeted in your seat; not being able to get up and tear her off of him was killing you, and your head was pounding because of the amount alcohol in your system.

It was getting harder to ignore the jealousy that gnawed at your insides.

Eddie didn’t seem to notice anything, but Steve did.

With each shot you took, with each step you took closer to Eddie, Steve couldn’t help the sharp pain he felt in his chest, the same rage of jealousy gnawing at him as well. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it, too, so he buried it deeper and deeper until he could make sure those feelings for you were impossible to reach.

You were going to be dating Eddie, and Steve needed to get over you as fast as he could.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t mind the attention coming from his ex.

By the time Steve arrived back at the booth, Nancy and Jonathan were already gone, you were in the bathroom—possibly puking your guts out, and Robin was getting ready to leave.

“What the fuck happened here?” He asked, concern washing over his face. “She drank a bit too much,” Robin mumbled, knowing how much Steve cared about you.

“You should maybe check on her, yea?” She gave Steve an all-knowing look, causing him to shrug.

“I can’t—” Robin interrupted him with a death glare.

“I would, but I have to go or my mom will actually kill me this time,” She groaned, saying her goodbyes before leaving in a hurry.

“Dude, I gotta bail too,” Eddie puffed his cheeks as he put on his leather jacket. “What?” Steve asked, baffled.

“She’s wasted!” He exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up quickly, causing Eddie to shrug, “She’s probably puking her guts out right now, she needs you.” Steve’s eyes narrowed; he couldn’t believe that Eddie would even think about leaving you alone in a condition like this.

“Gross, dude,” Eddie said, making a face as he cringed, causing Steve to roll his eyes.

“Real fuckin’ mature, Munson.”

“You drop her home, man, I’m too fuckin’ hammered for all of this.” He gave Steve’s shoulder another tight squeeze; this time Steve was sure his blood was boiling, his eyes darkening with each word Eddie spoke.

This asshole had the audacity to use him to try to date you, and he couldn’t even fucking treat you, right? Steve shook off his thoughts before he could do something he knew he would regret.

Eddie was his best friend, and he could never let his feelings for you get in the way of you actually being happy.

“Are you going to get a cab?” Steve asked, “Yeah,” Eddie muttered mindlessly.

“Then give me your jacket.” Steve’s tone was now cold, almost demanding, and his demeanor changing within seconds was throwing Eddie off,

“No fuckin’ way,” Eddie chuckled mockingly, he didn’t notice the serious gaze Steve holds.

“Dude, your house is five minutes away, you’ll be fine, just give me your jacket,” He demanded again.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Eddie spat.

“Because you asshole, it’s the middle of February and Y/N is wearing a fucking dress, it’s the least you could do for leaving her like that.”

“Why don’t you give her yours?” Steve didn’t know how to control the rage coursing through his veins.

“Do you see me wearing a fucking jacket?” Eddie was sure he had never seen Steve like this, with those veins in his forehead visible as he could feel his fists clench. Eddie’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Steve’s bizarre behavior.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie mumbled before taking off the jacket with a few huffs escaping from his lips.

“There, you happy, man?” Eddie hissed, almost tossing the jacket toward Steve, “Fucking ecstatic,” Steve replied with an angry smirk.

Steve sighed before he made his way to the bathroom. Not knowing what was waiting for him inside, he knocked on the door hesitantly and asked, “Y–you okay?” The shakiness in his voice was exposing him.

A faint ‘Yeah’ was all he heard before you unlocked the door.

And there you laid on the dirty bathroom tiles, your hair disheveled, make-up smudged, and you could barely get your head up from the toilet seat.

Steve’s heart sank, guilt settling in his insides again like an old friend. He knew he couldn’t always take care of you, and he knew that you’d be with Eddie soon, but he couldn’t help but feel the crushing weight of guilt when all of this could’ve been avoided if he was just there for you.

And his mind was still reeling about the fact that Eddie dared to leave you like this.

Would the fucker even be able to treat you right?

“Want me to help you?” He asked, hands itching to reach out and hold you, but you dismissed him like it was nothing, like he didn’t mean anything to you anymore, and it had only been an hour since Steve had learned that Eddie was into you.

“No,” Even when you were this messed up, you held onto your grudge, shutting out any feelings of understanding or empathy toward Steve, even though he was only trying to help you out.

“I can help, to, you know—hold your hair and stuff,” He stuttered, he had never been this nervous around you.

You flushed the toilet as you attempted to get up, “I’m not—I didn’t throw up,” Your words were slurred.

“If you… if you feel like throwing up, I can—”

“No!” You exclaimed a bit too loudly, throwing him a cold stare. “I’m just trying to help you, Y/N.” His tone sounded disappointed, but you could care less when he had acted like a jerk most of the night.

“I don’t need your help,” You snapped while flushing the toilet, trying to stand still, your head growing dizzier each time you moved.

Steve breathed a heavy sigh and said, “Here.” He ignored your protests as he helped you up, warm hands were tight around your waist. If you weren’t this embarrassingly drunk and a huge mess, you would’ve started getting your hopes up.

But not after today, not after he ignored you to be with Tammy Thompson all fucking night.

“I got it!” You spat, trying to free yourself from his hold. “Let me help, please.” This was the most genuine he had been tonight, his voice almost pleading as he threw you that pitiful look, and you hated it.

You hated being the one Steve pitied and not the one he pined after, but you swallowed your pride when you realized you couldn’t even walk properly.

You barely questioned everyone’s absence when your mind was filled with Steve.

And once he dragged you out of the bar, you couldn’t help the petty words that escaped your lips; you couldn’t stop them even if you wanted to.

“You can get back to your girlfriend now,” You muttered bitterly, your voice clear. There was venom in your tone, and your grudge was poison with the way it seeped into your words.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve sighed, and you lightly pushed him off of you as you stood still on your own.

“Does the name Tammy Thompson ring a bell?” You narrowed your eyes. You wish you could tape your mouth right now and stop yourself from spilling so much of your feelings to Steve.

“What does that have to do with anything, Y/N?” His tone remained cold now; your heart was in his hands, and he was squeezing it each time he distanced himself from you.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” Each time you dismissed him, you unknowingly tore open the old wound in his heart, keeping it fresh.

“If—if you wanted to take care of me so badly, then why did you ignore me all fuckin’ night?” Your face heated with anger, and your tone was tinged with frustration.

“Should go back to fuckin’ blondie over there,” You muttered under your breath, avoiding eye contact with him, unable to conceal the bitterness you were holding onto.

“Oh my god,” The realization dawned on Steve at a crawl.

You were jealous of him.

“You are jealous,” Steve couldn’t help the annoying smile on his lips, much to your dismay. You were jealous of him, and as selfish as it was, it was amusing to him.

“What?” You snapped, eyes narrowing, “I’m not jealous—” The look Steve threw at you was enough to break you. “Jerk,” You mumbled under your breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, it dooooeees,” He said, dragging his words out to annoy you further, as he took a step closer to you, almost closing the distance that he had been keen on protecting the entire night.

He was frustrating, so fucking frustrating, spinning your head faster than all the booze in your system. You couldn’t help the way your eyes grew mellow when he looked at you like that, you wanted to take all of him in.

This entire day was beginning to grow tiring, from Eddie’s sudden interest in you to Steve’s emotional whiplash, and now, since you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for one goddamn second, he was aware of your unnecessary jealousy.

“I’m not doin’ this with you,” You slurred again, hands wrapping around yourself almost as an attempt to conceal yourself from him, he could see right through you, and it was making you feel things you were not ready for.

“W—where is Eddie?” Those were the worst three words that could come out of your mouth. Just when Steve was basking in the glory and the hope that you were jealous of him, you decided to bring up Eddie, and with just his name rolling off your lips, you were re-opening his wounds.

Why not him?

Why was it never Steve?

Steve gulped; physically, he wasn’t sure what step to take would be better, to put a distance between you and him or to put a distance between him and Eddie.

And even though he knew he would regret doing this like there’s no tomorrow, even though Eddie doesn’t fucking deserve this decency, or you, Steve decided that he can’t do this to his friend.

“At least he’ll take me home!” You exclaimed so confidently that Steve couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped his lips.

“Yeah, I’m sure he would.” Steve quipped, grinning. He was mocking you again, unaware of your growing frustrations.

“What the hell is your problem?” You narrowed your eyes. “Unlike you, he didn’t ignore me all night to be with his ex, and he gave me his jacket.” Steve chuckled at that, again, frustrating you more and more, each time he opened his mouth.

With an irritated frown, you shot a sharp glance at him and asked, “Is everything a fucking joke to you?”

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” You crossed your arms against your chest, “You don’t give a fuck about anyone but yourself!” You snapped, not even knowing know why you uttered those words, you knew better than anyone that Steve wasn’t selfish; he never once put himself in front of his friends, but you were aiming to hurt him, and he was ready to bite back now.

“You are so fucking ridiculous, I—I can’t do this with you,” You murmured dejectedly, not being able to help it when your voice cracked; he was so embedded in your brain that you couldn’t form coherent words with the space he took up in your mind.

“You have no idea what you’re even talking about,” He whispered, shaking his head. If only you knew.

“Did you actually stop to think about how shitty it makes me feel when you give me these stupid emotional whiplashes?” You asked, and if you dared to get closer to him, you might’ve lost the purpose of the argument, your gaze drooping down to his lips every few seconds.

Steve stared at you blankly; you were unable to make anything out of his expressions, he looked at you as if you never existed to him, on a fucking whim.

Your lips tremble, a telltale sign that you would break soon.

His no response spoke volumes to you, “Of course you didn't.” You gave him a dry chuckle, filled with bitterness, and turned on your heel to walk away from him.

The slight breeze of February air hit you harder than Steve’s words.

He sighed a heavy breath when he heard you gasp at the coldness, hand reaching out to your arm before he spun you to meet his gaze again,

“Watch it, Y/N.” The words slipped past his lips forcefully, his chest puffing down with each breath he took. He was so fucking close that one move from you would change everything.

The tension was palpable; unspoken words and emotions hung in the space between the two of you.

And there it was.

There were his emotions again, filling his gaze quicker than you realized. If you weren’t this shitfaced, you could possibly do something about the ever so slightly distance between you, your foreheads almost touching. But your mind was spinning with endless possibilities. “Or what?” You teased; maybe it wasn’t the right time to do so, but you wanted to push him, make him break, the same way he did to you.

How far was he willing to take it?

His grip on your arm tightened; it wasn’t harsh, but tight enough to send shivers down your spine. And you couldn’t determine a single thing he was thinking again, eyes locked with each other without a single word being spoken.

You could sense his mind wandering off to find you a proper answer, trying to pick his words carefully, but you didn’t want that.

You wanted to know what he was thinking—what was going through his mind when he looked at you like you meant something to him, like he was ready to risk it all.

It was momentarily, but you could see it all—the sudden flint of confidence that didn’t waver enough to be convincing.

It wasn’t long until he returned to the cold demeanor he had been reserving just for you. “No, you’re not fucking worth it,” He muttered, taking a step back before he bit the inside of his cheek—hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded his senses, but he could care less; if he hadn’t done it, he would’ve poured his heart out.

He would’ve risked it all just to see those sparks in your eyes, but with five words, he had managed to kill it, slitting all the possibilities with the sharpest knife he could find.

“W–what?” Your voice cracked, and you fucking hated it. You hated being this weak in front of him, with tears ready to spill every time you had an argument, even over the smallest things.

“Just–Fuck! Look at you,” He didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to burn this bridge with you, but he knew he had to for his own sake and for you to be happy with Eddie.

“You—you’re all over the place, always relying on others to take care of you, just one fucking night I didn’t baby you…” He shook his head. “And you act like I’m fuckin’ insane for doing that!” His voice was calm and collected, and that was what was throwing you off. How could he relay your insecurities in front of you, crush your heart to pieces, and pretend as if what he was saying was okay?

You couldn’t help it when tears flooded your vision. You tried not to let them get to you, but the alcohol in your system was far too dizzying and hormonal to stop your emotions from flowing. You didn’t know why he decided to utter those words, but it hurt.

Each of the gazes you shared and each word that transpired, deepened the wound in your insides that you didn’t even know existed, your feelings were at the surface, and you were vulnerable at his expense.

But Steve didn’t care.

“I—I can’t believe you’d say that,” You whispered, blinking the tears away when you took a step back, the hurt subsiding when it transformed into rage. “Fuck you,” You spat, your words weren’t slurred this time, but your vision was blurry again, barely taking another look at him when you started to walk away.

And he didn’t call out after you; he didn’t even flinch.

You were all alone.

You let your emotions overtake you as you started sobbing, sniffling every once in a while as you tried to comfort yourself.

Eddie could drop you home, you tried to reassure yourself, you knew there was a payphone close to The Hideout, if you could just walk a few more minutes, you could just call him—but holy fuck, did your feet hurt. You cursed yourself for not listening to Nancy when she told you to wear more comfortable shoes.

You were wobbly now, tears pouring down your cheeks, your smudged mascara distorting your view further, and it was dark out, so fucking dark that it started to scare you.

Your mind reeled more and more, and your chest felt trapped with each shallow breath you took. Eddie would’ve never uttered those words to you, your angry mind decided, Eddie wouldn’t flirt with girls—his exes—in front of you.

Eddie would never give you this sort of emotional whiplash.

And most importantly, Eddie would never leave you like this.

You felt so tired, just wanting to sleep, but you knew you couldn’t turn back now. Your feet were aching, but you’d rather they blistered than see Steve again.

You sat on the ground, relief washing over you when you got rid of your shoes, and the dirty, cold concrete ground felt so comforting that you nuzzled into the leather jacket, arms wrapped around yourself to provide more warmth as you sniffled into it.

You’re not sure if you can ever be with Steve anymore.

Sure, you could still be friends because you did have many big, stupid fights—granted, none of them were like this; this was different.

This was the first big fight you had with him since you realized your feelings for him, and it hurt.

Steve was not who you thought he was.

He was never going to love you.

He only saw you as his friend, and right now, even that was questionable.

And there you were, pathetically pining after him while he was drooling all over other girls, chasing him down and making a mess of yourself just for him to leave you like this.

You sniffled again; Eddie would never, and he actually was interested in you.

God, how you wished he could find you now, take you home, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear as he tried to mend what Steve broke.

You knew it was selfish, but it was the only way.

Maybe if Eddie could make you forget him completely, he could remind you that you weren’t a mess and that you were perfect.

Your vision blurred again, hot tears were stinging your eyes, but the ground was so comfortable.

Steve was right, you were a mess, you were a huge fucking mess, and you were pathetic, but you didn’t care as you hugged yourself further, head falling into your lap as you let yourself fall more and more into the deep pit of despair.

And that’s the last thing you remembered.

You didn’t remember Steve running after you as he realized how much he fucked up; you don’t remember Steve seeing you curled up into a ball, almost falling asleep.

You don’t remember Steve lifting you up and carrying you before anything bad happened to you.

You don’t remember the apologies Steve muttered into your ear on the ride home, how he checked every few seconds to make sure you were okay, his hands never leaving yours as he wanted to punch himself for even putting you in a position like this.

You don’t remember Steve whispering sweet nothings into your ear when he tucks you in, and you don’t remember him almost staying till the morning to make sure you were okay and didn’t get sick.

The last thing you remember was the fight.

You woke up the next morning with a groan, and you were sure no painkiller was going to help the pounding in your head.

You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked in the mirror, your hair was an absolute mess, the top that adorned your neck was covered with alcohol stains, your make-up was smudged, and you only had one earring.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You sighed, taking off the dirty clothes as you put on a comfy shirt, your room was as messy as you were, bag on the floor while its contents spilled out, and… a leather jacket?

Slowly but surely, last night’s events came to you in a blur. The last thing you remembered was the fight you had with Steve.

Both of you spewed some hurtful things at one another, and that’s the clearest you could remember it.

You examined the leather jacket sprawled over the floor, and your brows knitted together, Steve didn’t even have a jacket on last night; you remembered because Robin made fun of him for not bringing a jacket in February when Steve whined about being cold.

You read the tagline; E.M.

Oh god.

Was it… Eddie? Did he drop you off when you were embarrassingly drunk?

Was Eddie the one who took care of you the whole night while Steve threw you away like a piece of paper?

You remembered the hurtful things he said to you; your mind was too jumbled up to even recall the nice things he said to you afterward.

You knew you have to talk to him, mend your friendship, but all you could think about now was Eddie, how he took care of you, and how he was there for you.

That day you called him, and he told you in detail how wasted you were and how he had to carry you home. You made up with Steve afterward too, both of you muttering apologies to each other as you promised not to let stupid things get out of hand.

And that day, Eddie took you on your first date with him.

NOW

“Buckley, you mind ringing these up for me?” You beamed, throwing her an innocent smile, your eyes wandering off to Steve’s absence next to her.

You gave her the ‘Evil Dead II’ and ‘Dirty Dancing’ VHS tapes nonchalantly, waiting to ask her about Steve.

Robin’s eyebrows shot up, “What kind of a double-feature is this supposed to be, huh?”

“A very fun one,” You said with a slight smirk, handing her a couple of bills.

You scanned the store, he was nowhere to be seen, of fucking course. “Harrington running from me again?” You almost cursed yourself for saying that out loud, but you couldn’t help it, something snarky would’ve slipped out eventually.

You saw Robin almost freeze, her mouth hanging open as her brain short-circuited to find a quick answer.

“I—It’s fine,” You mumbled. “Just tell him I would really like to talk to him. Once his weird tantrum is over?” You commented; it was snarky again, but he deserved it.

Five days had passed since the party, and Steve had been avoiding you like the plague, not returning your phone calls, and sneaking out the back each time you visited Family Video, and it was driving you crazy.

Determined to talk to him, you spent the last few days re-evaluating everything. You wanted to ask him what the fuck he meant—was everything that led to you dating Eddie a lie?

And did Steve never think to tell you this, even once the two of you broke up? His audacity was pissing you off, more than ever now that he was avoiding you.

Then small things started coming back to you in a flash, like the drunken confession you made to him last week.

But you were still clueless about The Hideout. You racked your brain away, but you couldn’t remember it for the life of you. Even the fight with Steve was so vaguely burned into the back of your brain, you simply didn’t want to remember it, or the hurtful words he uttered to you that night.

You had decided to forgive and forget, had no intention of going back to that head space, until recently, when Steve decided to blurt out that he was the one in Hideout, leaving without explaining anything further.

You tried to fish it out of Robin, but she acted clueless, and you tried everything you could do to reach out to Steve, but it was useless.

So that only left you with one thing.

Eddie.

Eddie had told you the day after The Hideout incident that it was he who took you home, detailing everything that happened that night.

You were basically breathless by the time you made it to Eddie’s trailer, knocking on the door, until it hit you.

What the fuck were you doing? Knocking on Eddie’s door when he had no fucking clue what was happening, when he had no idea you and Steve had kissed.

When he had no idea that you knew.

You shook your head in embarrassment as you turned around, about to leave, coincidentally and to your dumb luck, that’s when Eddie had decided to open the door.

He stood speechless when he saw you, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “Y/N?” He asked, tone barely audible.

“Hi.” You muttered, accepting Eddie’s invitation as he stood aside for you to enter, and you squeezed by him with a quick ‘thank you’

“Look, I know you’re wondering why the fuck your ex showed up at your door but—”

“Oh, don’t worry.” He interrupted

“I do have an idea,” He smirked slightly, causing you to throw him a confused look, you were about to open your mouth, ask a million questions, but he didn’t let you.

“I know everything,” He muttered, and you couldn’t decide his facial expressions. “Steve told me about all of it.”

“And I already told him there was no bad blood between me and you and that it was fine that you guys kissed—”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“What?!?” You exclaimed, not expecting Steve to babble about it to Eddie when he had been avoiding you.

“Look, honey, Steve was all blabbering and shit when he came to see me, tellin’ me all this shit about how much he liked you and how sorry he was,” Eddie said with a concerned look.

“And I told him it was all fine, Christ—when did we even date, like 2 years ago?” You didn’t answer him and he sighed.

“I always knew the two of you had something for each other, I mean, why’d you think I got so jealous anytime you guys hung out together alone? He was definitely—“” He rambled for what felt like minutes, and you were quick to interrupt it, eyes blinking rapidly as you tried to process what the fuck was going on.

“Stop!” You exclaimed, “That’s… uhm– good to know, but not what I came in here for,” You muttered, eyes wandering to the ground.

He threw you a quizzed look, brows knitted up together, “I–I wanted to ask you about something,” You gulped.

“Well, spill it out, sweetheart, you’re makin’ me all nervous and shit.” He gave you a dry chuckle.

“What–what exactly happened that day?” You knew he was going to ask what the fuck you were talking about, so you cut him off before he got a chance to speak.

“At The Hideout… Two years ago.” You could see Eddie almost panic visibly, he didn’t expect it, and did it really matter now, after everything?

“Shit… why won’t you ask Steve about all this?” He scratched his head, it was all awkward, you coming here, asking him something that was two years ago, Steve telling Eddie about the kiss while refusing to acknowledge you…

It was embarrassing, really, and with each passing minute, a rage fueled inside of you. Sick of the hiding, and the lies. You just wanted the truth, and for Steve to not run at the first inconvenience.

“I would, if he didn’t avoid me like a fucking child,” You spat under your breath, causing Eddie to chuckle. He shook his head again.

“Right, so… I’m assuming since it was two years ago, you won’t be mad at me, right?” He asked, an innocent look spreading over his face, almost fearing as he saw how angry you were at Steve.

You almost rolled your eyes, these two idiots were making your blood boil. “Just want the truth, Munson, then I’ll be gone, I promise.”

“Right!” He chuckled nervously before telling you everything that happened that night.

You called Eddie right after you found his jacket, blabbering like an idiot as you thanked him a million times. While Eddie had no fuckin’ clue what had happened, he was still trying to get over his own hangover, but he wasn’t going to completely shut you down, not when he wanted you this badly, not when you were in the grasp of his hands.

As soon as you hung up, promising him a date, he called Steve, and he didn’t even have to beg him to play along; Steve was just... okay with it.

Steve knew the moment Eddie told him about his little crush that the two of you had no chance and that Steve would only be a little thought in the back of your mind, while Eddie would be the first choice, because why wouldn’t he?

Why would you choose him over Eddie?

And with all the sudden information flooding your mind, you weren’t sure how to react, how to vent all these emotions running through your veins, so you did it the only way you knew how; anger.

You checked the clock; 10.08

Steve’s shift should’ve ended long ago by now, you barely mumbled a goodbye to Eddie when you left, mind focused on one thing.

Steve.

You arrived at his door with your lips tightening and your jaw clenching, you weren’t going to give up now; you were going to talk to him. Now or never.

You knocked on the door so hard that you were sure your knuckles were bruising, and Steve was baffled when he opened the door, mouth almost agape as he looked at the sight in front of him.

“You know what you are? A fucking coward,” You mumbled, not giving him a second to process anything as you shook your head.

“You are a selfish fucking coward! Do you think you can make decisions for other people? You think you can just take their choices away and pretend like everything is fucking fine!” Steve didn’t utter a word when you let it all out, your words meshing with each other, and you could feel your blood boiling each time you spoke, but it was… weirdly relieving.

All that pent up anger was finally coming out.

“And you told Eddie?!? You fucking talked to him but didn’t have the guts to even face me! Five days, five fucking days, I followed you around, you fucking jerk!” You spat, your eyes flashed with anger as your face came closer to him, he didn’t even flinch, eyeing you curiously, those deep honey glazed eyes were warming the more he looked at you.

And Oh God, was his gaze inviting, so warm, but you couldn’t soften up… not when you still had so much to say.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for me? No—no… Fuck that! I don’t even give a fuck if it's embarrassing, I’ve been–I’ve been living a lie and you–it’s your fault…” You mumbled the last part, chest heaving, when your fiery gaze met his, he was itching to talk, and you could tell.

“That—that’s a bit dramatic don’t you think?” He muttered, causing your eyes to narrow, “Look why don’t we just go inside and have an adult conversation? No need for these tantrums—” And that hit a nerve.

“Don’t,” You muttered, closing your eyes, the rage bubbling up to the surface again, gnawing at your skin, waiting to welcome you.

“Don’t you fucking dare to tell me to have an ‘adult conversation’ when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague!” You exclaimed angrily, face heating with anger, Steve nodded, understandingly. He didn’t mean to sound like a jerk, he just wanted to talk to you. He had been debating what to do these last five days, and shutting you out during that was obviously stupid, but that’s how he handled everything, wallowing it all until he chewed his emotions, keeping them hidden.

“What was I supposed to do?” He asked, almost defeated, and it made you want to chuckle, he was sending you over the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” It wasn’t a question; it was stupid for Steve to even attempt to open his mouth.

“You could have talked to me!” You took a deep breath; your anger wasn’t going to help, and if you didn’t talk to Steve as soon as possible, your head might have exploded.

You sighed as Steve stood aside, leading you to the living room, and your anger subsided with each step you took. The familiarity of the house was engulfing you, and you wanted to scream.

What if Steve had told you this would change nothing?

What if this was it for the two of you?

Your head was swirling, and it hurt, both physically and emotionally. It was taking a toll on you and Steve could sense it.

“What—what really happened… that day?” You asked, voice barely audible as you avoided his gaze.

Steve sighed as he took a seat next to you on the couch, hand itching to lay on your thigh, squeeze it to make you feel comfortable, just so you would look at him, but he resisted it, hand flexing as he placed it between the two of you.

“You–you remember our fight?” He mumbled, causing you to nod. “We both said some stupid shit to each other—”

“Well, you started it—” You gazed up at him, and this time he threw you a look, causing you to close your mouth as if to signal him to continue.

“And—and you left… and the second you did, I just felt this horrible fucking pit in my stomach, I could never—I could never leave you like that,” His voice was shaking, hands flexing again as he inched closer to you.

“I found you on the street, Y/N, almost passed out, and I lost my goddamn mind for leaving you alone—even for a second, I ca—I can’t fucking imagine what I would even do if anything happened to one–one fucking strand of your hair—just the thought makes me sick to my stomach—Jesus.” He muttered, face still toward you as you could trace it now, the worried lines etched onto his forehead, a frown taking upon his usual plump lips, voice cracking as you could sense it, the utter worry and desperation in his voice.

You couldn’t open your mouth, words failing you as you opted out to hold his hand instead, a small gesture, but one that made Steve’s entire stiffness disappear. One touch from you warming him up immediately.

“I took you home as fast as I could—I tucked you in, made sure you didn’t get sick, and then I left.”

“Why?” You asked, meekly.

“Why did you let me believe it was him? Why did you ignore me that night?”

“It–it doesn’t matter now,” He mumbled, and your brows furrowed again, fury still locked up inside of you.

“It fucking does!” You snarled, insides burning with anticipation and anger.

“Stop being a fucking coward,” You yelled, you didn’t want to scream at his face, but he left you with no choice. If you wanted to talk to him, you had to get some things out of him, no matter how much it angered you.

“Just tell me, Steve, full transparency, I want it all out.”

Steve’s silence caused a groan out of you, “If you don’t, I’m gonna leave… for good,” You whispered.

You were bluffing; you weren’t going to go anywhere without getting some closure, but Steve didn’t know that, and he had never seen you this riled up, so he sighed when you got up.

“I didn’t want to lose you!” He got up after you, staring at your back for a full minute until you turned around to meet him, a quizzed look overtaking your features.

“What?”

“God! I wanted to—Shit. I wanted to tell you about how I felt, but then Eddie came and he told me all about how he had feelings for you, and, uh, I just panicked— so fucking hard. I knew you would have chosen him, and I had that rejection one too many fuckin’ times, and I—I knew I couldn’t handle it from you!” He exclaimed, breath ragged as his brown orbs looked at you with such sympathy that you wanted to drop everything and kiss him, tell him that he would always be your first choice.

“I knew you would choose him and—”

“I didn’t want to be a second choice again, Y/N, I was so fucking scared—” You shook your head.

“Steve you—god, you have no fucking clue about anything,” You chuckled dryly, interrupting him.

“When you ignored me for Tammy that night, when you told me that I wasn’t ‘worth it’ that’s when I decided to contain my feelings for you, I knew you didn’t like me for anything more than friends—I always thought we had a ‘will they won’t they’ kind of relationship but that night, confirmed it for me,” You looked away, almost ashamed, face burning up.

“I felt so fucking desperate—like you wanted to push me away like I was an idiot girl who was clinging onto you, and now everything is just so confusing that I don’t even know what is going on.” Your hands ran through your hair.

“But you were and will always be my first choice,” You didn’t mean to smile, but it just appeared, anger washing away. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You muttered, and Steve’s entire demeanor changed, his body relaxing as he realized how much of an idiot he had been.

“What?” He asked, baffled, a small smile overtaking his lips before you could say another word.

“Yeah,” You murmured, taking a step closer to him,

“So… we’re both idiots, huh?” He asked, basking in the way you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes as your warm aura engulfed him.

“Hmmm… I’d say it’s more you than me,” You mumbled, scrunching your nose, as Steve huffed playfully, inching closer and closer to you. You didn’t know where this took the two of you, but your mind was so busy when he was standing this close to you.

One strand of his hair fell onto his forehead, and all you wanted to do was run your fingers through them, kiss every inch of his face, run your lips along his soft ones, feel his calloused hands on your curves, grabbing desperately, meek grunts leaving his lips, both of you breathless.

And that’s exactly what you did—without a care, you closed the distance between the two of you with an annoyed huff, fingers running through his shiny hair.

His hands were quick to land on your hips, grabbing them like he was afraid of you slipping away, once again. And it all felt so easy and familiar that you could feel your head spinning.

His lips brushed against yours softly. You didn’t want this moment to be over, wanting to cling to him forever. Everything he did made you feel foolish and insane, and you understood why being in love felt like losing your mind, again.

Steve groaned into your lips, kissing you harder, once, twice, his lips never fully letting go of you, and you didn’t know if it would ever be enough for you, utterly craving nothing but him.

Your mind was jelly at this point, everything was tangled together while the question of ‘What’s going to happen now?’ lingered in your mind. Did he still want you? Did he still want to be together? Why didn’t he just come to you after talking to Eddie?

You tried to shake them off, tried to focus on the way Steve’s hands stuck to your body, like they belonged there, and the way his lips moved along yours, like it had always been this way.

You wanted to continue, wanted so badly to not let this moment go, but the bickering voices in your head were too much, and you pulled away slowly. Steve almost groaned when he felt the absence of your lips. He blinked once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Do that again.” He unintentionally let out, gaze filled with lust as his pupils were blown wide, and a small giggle left your lips. “You are an idiot,” You whispered, your gaze settling on him.

Was everything going to be okay?

How were you even going to manage to make this work?

And with that, your expression soured, “Steve,” You said seriously, causing him to look up at you with concern all over his face. “I don’t want to get hurt again.” You murmured, forehead touching his.

“I won’t hurt you, ever.” His gaze was intense, and it made you feel giddy, worries washing away in seconds. You don’t know how he fucking did it, but it worked.

And you trusted him like no one else.

You couldn’t help it when your lips twitched into a smile. “You promise?” You gushed.

“With all my heart, honey.” He whispered, taking a deep breath.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, dreaming about this...”

“I would never, ever do anything to hurt you.” He muttered, his hands tucking the strand of hair that was blocking him from placing messy kisses all over your face.

“I couldn’t handle losing you, not again,” He murmured before leaning in to press more kisses all over your soft lips.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bonus scene: just for shits n giggles idk

“What movies did you get today?” He asked with a childish grin on his lips.

“If you weren’t avoiding me, you would’ve known, pretty boy.” You exclaimed dramatically, crossing your arms against your chest.

Pretty boy.

The only thing that stuck in Steve’s brain was that he was your pretty boy.

And this giddy feeling inside of him was never going to go away, he decided.

He huffed playfully before he grabbed your bag, causing you to gasp. “Let’s see…” He murmured as he tried to find the VHS tapes.

“Aha!” He exclaimed as he grabbed the two of them, turning the cover to see what movies you rented.

“Oh my god,” He murmured. “A double-feature? For us?” He couldn’t help the way his lips twitched into a smile, so warm that you wanted to bathe in the glory of making him this happy.

“Mhmm… First, Evil Dead II for me, and once Stevie gets scared, we’ll put on Dirty Dancing.” You give him a wink.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” He groaned. “You are so fucking perfect, I’m gonna lose my mind.” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

another a/n: so this is a bit messy bc i had too many ideas and this is the best i could do to fit them all in, i hope this doesn't feel that disconnected from the first!! work has been kicking my ass lately so my mind is all mushed lmao!! feel free to leave ur feedback and pls comment, like or reblog to support me ily <33

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things imagines #stranger things fic #steve harrington #ex!eddie munson

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fuckmymunson · 1 year

Note

Umumumum a sex tape eddie fic would make me feel some type of way 😌

❥ a/n: Umumumum I'm a whore mwah. I DON'T CARE imma live my truth.

❥ TW: 18+ Smut! Modern!Eddie basically. Kinda cnc? (cuz reader doesn't explicitly agrees to be recorded so yeah), dirty talk, sex, and cum and sex and that stuff. Not proofread AS USUAL. Hehe

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ʚ♡ɞ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

“That’s it— good fucking girl” Eddie groans as you lower yourself on his hard cock, reverse cowgirl style. “Squeezing me so damn tight— shit” His left-hand grips your waist with bruising force, and his right-hand searches through his messy bed, smirking when he gets a hold of your phone. “Go on, bounce on this cock, slut”

You nod almost too quickly for your own liking and despite the stretch that aches in your tight pussy, you start moving your hips up and down. The dragging of his thick, hard cock inside you has your eyes rolling to the back of your hand, the red led lights of his bedroom bathe your body in the sexiest way— Eddie is in heaven. He slaps your ass, groping it and squeezing the flesh meanly. He lets you bounce on top of him as your hot moans fill his bedroom, his shaky hand struggles to open the camera on your phone. He makes sure to turn on the flash, before snapping his hips upwards, meeting you halfway down.

The action, paired with the sudden flash that shines behind you breaks your gasp into a loud moan. Eddie begins to thrust upwards, fucking you without mercy. The camera shakes with every thrust and he’s 100% sure the video will be blurry as fuck, but he doesn’t care.

“Eddie!” You whine, looking over your shoulder just to find your boyfriend holding up your phone, recording directly the way his cock slides in and out of your warm cunt, coated with your wetness. He looks like he is in a trance. “What a—are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing, sweets?” He asks as if you were dumb. He scoffs, pretending to be annoyed, and slaps your ass again making you yelp. “I’m recording how I destroy this tight little pussy of yours, of course”

“Let’s let the whole world know you are a fucking whore for this cock” He growls and slaps your thigh. You moan loudly again, clenching around him making him hiss in pleasure. “Fuck, such a slut for pain, I know”

“Perhaps I can send this to all of those fucking guys that try to flirt with you, uh?” He asks, reaching to grab your hair and yank it, forcing you down his dick again. This time he hits an even deeper spot inside you, making you almost scream his name. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it—”

“Or maybe I’ll even send it to Harrington, I saw him very friendly to you that day, w—when you were wearing that mini skirt” He growls, the memory of how he caught Steve eyeing your legs and thighs adding fuel to his urge to fuck you silly.

“Eddie!” You scream his name when he slaps your ass even fucking harder than before, the burning sensation becoming almost unbearable. “Please, please, don’t—, I—I can’t” You don’t even know what you are begging for.

For him to stop? For him to not record you? For him to let you cum? Your mind was foggy with pleasure and humiliation.

You briefly pictured Steve unlocking his phone, just to be greeted by this sight.

The image itself made you moan again, your pussy squeezing Eddie’s cock.

“That’s it, I know what you are thinking, bitch” Eddie spits, leaving your poor ass for a minute. “I bet you want that uh? I bet you want the whole world to know how much of a disgusting whore you are, so hungry for cock”

All you can do is nod, perhaps he is right.

“I know you do, princess” He coos at you, feeling his climax approaching faster than usual. He makes sure to angle the camera just right for the moment his swollen balls empty inside your pussy.

“Cum i—inside me, please” You manage to request with a hoarse voice, between moans and Eddie just can’t believe he just got that on camera.

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

He fucks you harder, the bed creaking dangerously under your combined weight. He moans weakly as he buries himself deep inside you one last time, his cock twitching over and over as he fills you up with his cum. The sensation’s simply magical, something you could never get tired of. He records it all, the way his balls tighten and how it slides out of your pussy when he pulls out and his softening dick rests on his thigh. He also records how his hand reaches down, circling your abused hole just to push his seed back inside with an obscene, wet squelch.

You move slowly to lie down next to him, but he stops you midway with a hand on your back.

“Where the hell do you think you are going?” He asks breathlessly. “You haven’t cum yet. You are gonna sit on my face and record me eating your pussy leaking with my cum until you squirt all over my face” You moan at his explicit words, feeling your stomach (and pussy) fluttering. “And if you miss a single second of it, I’m gonna record you sucking my cock until you pass out and post it on twitter”

︵‿︵‿‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ʚ♡ɞ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

asdfgjsrieufhkeksjd, imma go to bed mwah.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson scenarios #modern!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie by omel!#instead of sleeping!#omel is writing!#omel answers!

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headkiss · 1 year

Note

little steve request/idea… just sitting and playing with his big hands .. i can’t stop thinking abt them since watching this 😩😩

ah yes steve’s hands <3 ty for your request! | 0.6k fluff and hands!!!

Steve has pretty hands.

Often, your gaze will drift to them without meaning to. When he unscrews a tight lid, when he reaches for the remote, when he puts a hand on your thigh.

He doesn’t even have to try.

You’ve made a habit of using his hands as some sort of stress ball. You’ll pull one into your lap and fiddle with his fingers or run your fingertips over the skin of his knuckles. Even better, on the days he wears a ring or two, you twist them around.

Steve doesn’t mind one bit. At least one of his hands is usually on you in some way, and the added contact only makes him smile with a silly little flutter in his chest.

Now, you sit beside each other in a booth at the diner despite having nobody else with you. Steve likes to be close to you and you like to be even closer.

“Milkshake with two straws?” He asks you, looking over the menu.

“Such a cliché, Harrington.”

“I prefer romantic,” he nudges your shoulder with his. “Come on. I’ll even let you pick the flavor.”

You’re easily convinced.

You and Steve look over the menu together, heads bent and almost leaning against each other. You’re sharing one menu when there’s a second one laying on the table.

Soon enough, you order. Steve lets you pick the milkshake as promised and gives you time to order first. He’s a proper gentleman very often, but on dates most of all.

You’ve been with him for long enough, and still, he treats every date like the first (minus the nerves).

“Did I tell you I saw spider guy at work again?”

Spider guy is a man who comes into the library and only ever checks out books about spiders. He’s become a staple in your work weeks.

“No! How many books this time?”

“Three!” You laugh and Steve can’t help but laugh with you. “And two of them he’s already checked out multiple times. How interesting can spiders be?”

“Hey, maybe he’s actually Spider-man and he’s trying to study his abilities.” He holds his hand by his mouth, like he’s holding a microphone, putting on a new reporter voice for the next bit. “This just in: there’s a superhero in Hawkins!”

Before you knew him, you never thought Steve would be so funny. He’s the type that can say something completely normal and turn it into a joke just by switching the tone of his voice.

He makes you laugh with ease, an unguarded sound.

Steve’s still pretending to be a reporter when your food is brought out. You tug his fake microphone-holding hand down and into your lap to make him stop. You won’t be able to eat if you’re giggling the whole time.

You both thank your waitress, and you start to fiddle with Steve’s fingers in that habit of yours. His hands are big, and the one in your lap is lax, letting you fidget with it like he can’t even feel it.

Today, he’s wearing a plain band around his thumb. You twirl it around his finger, tugging it off and sliding it back on.

You pick up your fries with the hand furthest from him, the other keeping his own hand trapped in your lap. You love his hands and the way they feel in yours, the way the skin goes from soft to calloused.

“What’s that!?” Steve gasps, looking out the window.

You turn your head to look and see absolutely nothing exciting. You turn to Steve with a deadpan look on your face, though you’re fighting a smile.

“Sorry, thought I saw Spider-man out there!”

“Steeeve.”

You squeeze his hand in yours despite your fake annoyance. He enjoys it very much.

While eating a burger one-handed isn’t the easiest thing in the world, Steve manages. He much prefers keeping his hand in your lap, anyway.

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stevie-petey · 7 months

Text

episode two: the weirdo on maple street

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp. “Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your review sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

summary: you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

rating: general, but there's cursing as usual and steve being... well, steve - but hes still season 1 steve so give him some time

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, use of y/n, and there's more angst in this chapter with some fighting between reader and jonathan, so fair warning.

words: 10.1k (the longest thing ive ever written)

before you swing in: i'm almost done with chapter 4, so here's a sweet treat as i cram for exams lmao. some housekeeping: should i do a tag list ? i got a few questions about it, so pls let me know soldiers. also, i feel the need to clarify that i adore nancy but for plot reasons - reader and her don't really get along (but they def will later, trust me). season 1 nancy and steve are just so silly. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this loooong chapter. the rest definitely aren't as lengthy due to plot, but wow. i amazed myself. carry on !

Your jeans drip onto the Wheeler’s carpet, and you’ve definitely left a wet imprint on the couch cushion beneath you. The other boys are dripping as well, but all their attention is on the girl in front of them.

After finding her in the woods, your motherly instincts kicked in, immediately removing your coat to place on her and gently ushering her to your bike and demanding that the boys go back to Mike’s. Your mom is home, so your house was out of the question, and it’s always been easy sneaking into the Wheeler’s, anyways.

Once you all had made it back, you guided the girl onto the couch and sat next to her. You refuse to let her go too far from you, having no idea where she came from or why, but regardless you know she’s too young for any of it to have been good.

Which leads you to now: wearily watching the boys stare at the girl as if she’s some science experiment, asking her a million questions a second.

Bless them and their little prepubescent minds.

Lucas reaches out to touch her, and before you can nudge him away, Mike slaps at his hand. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas retaliates, which honestly? That’s fair. The girl hasn’t said anything yet, even after your multiple attempts to get her to do so. No matter how much you try, you can’t coax a response out of her.

“I bet she’s deaf.” Your brother offers, suddenly clapping his hands to scare her, making both you and her flinch. “Not deaf…”

You roll your eyes at him. “Guys, she’s probably just really scared right now. We should give her some space,” you look at both Lucas and Dustin, “and time,” now you look at Mike. The three boys deflate a bit.

“She’s probably cold,” Mike says after a moment of silence, and you nod at his suggestion. Seeing your agreement, he walks over to a basket of clothes and takes out some pajamas.

While Mike is away, thunder rumbles and the girl jumps, unconsciously getting closer to you. You wrap an arm around her reassuringly, making note that she doesn’t like loud noises. If anything, she’s showing more and more signs of trauma response, which makes you uneasy. You remember Hopper saying something about Will being in danger. What are the odds that this little girl was running from something as well?

“Here, these are clean.” Mike’s return breaks you from your thoughts, and you take the clothes from him and stand up. You thank him, then offer your hand to the girl. She looks at you uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Let’s go get you dressed in some warm clothes. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“She’s super nice.” Dustin says, trying to help.

Lucas adds, “Yeah, you can trust her.”

“She’s alright.” Is all Mike offers.

You give them all an appreciative smile, even if Mike is being a bit of an ass, and then you feel a small, cold hand wrap around yours. The girl stands up, looking around shyly, and you lead her to the bathroom. When you go to close the door, she stops you.

Mike has followed, seeing the interaction. “You don’t want it closed?”

Her voice is quiet, solemn. “No,”

You and Mike look at each other, and he voices what you’re thinking. “So you can speak.”

He looks excited about this new information, and you shove his head out of the doorway. She needs to get dressed. “We’ll leave the door cracked, okay?”

She nods at you, and you stand guard outside the door. It’s not that you don’t trust the boys, but Mike has only known her for ten minutes and he’s already been nicer to her than you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. The only other person he’s this soft spoken to is Will, so you’re protective of her.

You can hear the boys discussing tonight’s events from the living area while the girl gets dressed. They sound scared, and a part of you can’t blame them. While you’re fairly certain that the girl isn’t dangerous, it’s still a creepy situation. Once again, Hopper’s new theory surrounding Will floats through your mind. This all can’t be some coincidence.

Sighing, you approach the boys and catch a bit of the conversation.

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” You hear Lucas saying, and you figure they’ve finally pieced together that there’s no way any of you can tell anyone about the girl. None of you were supposed to be out tonight. As much as you know you should tell an adult, you also need to be able to help Jonathan with finding Will. If your mom locks the house down, you’re doomed.

“Lucas is right,” the boys turn to you. “We can’t go to anyone about this just yet, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to hide her. She’s been through something terrible, it’s obvious. Tonight, I say she gets some rest. We can figure out what to do later.”

Mike nods, for once agreeing wholeheartedly with you. “She’ll sleep here tonight-”

Dustin’s eyes widen in horror, “You’re letting a girl-”

You clamp your hand over his mouth, motioning for Mike to continue.

“Thanks, Y/N. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst,”

They think she’s from Pennhurst? You think, but don’t verbalize it.

“Or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

You gotta hand it to Mike Wheeler, he may be a pain in the ass, but he’s a smart pain in the ass. The plan is pretty sound, so long as he follows through with it. However, it’s him following through with it that leaves you a bit unsure.

He looks at you for approval, and you hesitantly nod. “It’s a pretty good plan, Wheeler. So long as you stick to it.”

Lucas and Dustin nod along with you, there’s an unspoken sense of doubt that Mike will actually be able to turn the girl over to his mom. Then she walks out, dressed now in some of Nancy’s old clothes. She draws into herself when you all turn to her, shy. You walk over and offer your hand again, which she accepts.

“Mike, go find her something to sleep on. Dustin, we gotta go soon before mom notices we’re gone.”

Both boys comply, with Mike searching for a sleeping bag and Dustin packing up his stuff. You crouch down next to the girl, so that you’re face to face, and give her a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. My name is Y/N, I hope Mike over there doesn’t give you a hard time tonight.”

Mike flips you off, having heard you. “If he’s annoying,” you lean in close to her now, whispering in her ear. “You have my permission to pinch him.”

The girl giggles, finally relaxing a bit, and you warm with pride. She’ll be okay, she seems like a very resilient girl and you’ll oddly miss her.

The two other boys are waiting for you upstairs. You all wish Mrs. Wheeler a good night and head out. Thankfully the rain has now stopped, so the bike ride home isn’t bad. You stop at Lucas’ turn to make sure he gets home safely before finally arriving at your place. As Dustin begins pedaling into your driveway, you don’t follow.

“I’m going to go see Jonathan, he didn’t answer my calls earlier and I just…”

Dustin waves at you, not even bothering to turn around. “Yeah yeah, go see your boyfriend. If mom asks, you’re asleep.”

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Are you seriously going to argue with me after I offered to cover for you?”

Your brother gives you a pointed look, and you know he’s right. “Touche.”

Dustin goes to leave, but you quickly grab at his jacket. “Before I forget, swear to me that you’ll keep me updated if anything weird happens, okay?”

He nods at you, knowing better than to argue, and gives you a mock salute as he heads inside.

The living room light is on when you arrive at the Byers home, despite the late hour, but you aren’t surprised. You knock on the door and wait. When no one comes, you knock again, a bit louder this time. After another few moments, the door swings open.

Jonathan has a finger over his lips in a shushing manner, motioning to Joyce who is passed out on the couch. You nod, letting him know you understand. The two of you go to his room and when he closes the door, you finally get a good look at him. He looks worse than he did earlier, the bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot.

“You’re soaked.” Jonathan says.

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so you play along. “Got caught in the rain. Are some of my spare clothes still in your bottom drawer?”

He nods at you, going over and grabbing a t-shirt and pajama pants for you. You accept them gratefully and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Your bones are cold, the rain seemingly having penetrated the layers of your skin. In the mirror you see that your own eyes are bloodshot; you don’t look much better than Jonathan, really.

When you return Jonathan is sitting on his bed, so you join him. It’s silent between you, all you can hear is his breathing. You stare straight ahead, so does he, and you wait. You’ve only seen Jonathan like this a handful of times, where the stress and anxiety becomes too much for him. He shuts down, draws into himself, and all you can do is wait for him to return to you; he always does.

“Mom got a call tonight.” Jonathan’s voice is hoarse, and he looks frail. You wonder if he ever did end up making the spaghetti you prepared for him.

“Who was it?”

He swallows heavily, taking a moment to respond. “She said it was Will.”

“Will?” You look at him now, searching for any signs on his face, his voice lacks emotion. By the way he stares blankly ahead, as if he’s not really present with you right now, you know that it hadn’t been Will on the other end.

“She started freaking out, going ballistic,” his voice cracks a bit, so you take a chance and reach for his hand. He lets you take it, giving you a squeeze, before continuing. “She was screaming, begging whoever it was to give Will back.”

Jonathan pauses again. You don’t say anything, because no words will help. He’s never been the type for comforting words, anyways. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t him. Lightning struck and our phone got charred. It wasn’t Will.”

Now it’s your turn to squeeze Jonathan’s hand. He doesn’t deserve any of this. None of the Byers do. Out of the entire town, they’re the family who deserves the most that life can give. Will, too good. Jonathan, too selfless. Joyce, too loving. They’re the best damn people you know.

“I tried calming her down, but she was hysterical. She’s only asleep right now because she worked herself up too much and passed out. I’m worried she-'' Jonathan shakes his head, as if ashamed by his own words. “I’m worried she’s going crazy, Y/N.”

He’s quiet again, but you can tell he’s about to break. His knee is now bouncing up and down and his breathing has become slightly ragged. Everything from today has been building up, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. You’re also worried about Joyce, a part of you skeptical to believe her, but the little girl you found tonight in the rain? Something was definitely weird about Will’s disappearance, but you’re hesitant to tell Jonathan just yet. For all you know, she could’ve simply been a girl who got lost and will be returned to her family tomorrow.

You don’t want to worry Jonathan any more than you need to.

“I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have taken that shift.” He gasps out, and like a dam the tears begin to fall. You’re quick to pull him into a hug and he crumbles into you. His body shakes with violent sobs and he clutches at you as if afraid you’ll leave.

“You can’t blame yourself.” You whisper, stroking a hand through his hair. He cries even harder, the force of it almost enough to knock you over, so you situate yourself so that you’re fully on the bed, laying against his pillows, with Jonathan crying into your chest beside you.

“He’s g-gone.”

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Your own tears threaten to come out, but you force them down. You have to be here for him, he needs you. The only other time Jonathan has so openly cried was when Lonnie left years ago. He’s been holding everything in since then, all those years of looking after his family, taking care of his brother, getting harassed by assholes like Tommy Hagan.

Neither of you say anything else, and you know that Jonathan needs to let it all out. You soothe him as best as you can, running a hand through his hair, stroking his back, reassuring him over and over again that none of this is his fault until your own voice becomes hoarse. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but sometime during the night Jonathan finally falls asleep, and you follow shortly after him.

—

Sunlight streams through Jonathan’s spare bed sheet that he’s pinned over his window, serving as a makeshift curtain, waking you up. You stretch, careful not to wake the boy beside you, and crawl out of the bed. You’re antsy, already knowing that today will be another long day. After grabbing some clothes from your designated drawer and getting dressed, you head into the kitchen and start making a quick breakfast. Just as you’re finishing up, Jonathan comes out of his room, dressed and ready for the day.

Neither of you say anything about the night prior, instead silently working around each other in the kitchen with years of practiced ease. He hands you the salt shaker right when you need it, you grab the pieces of toast that he popped into the toaster, the two of you never once get in each other’s way. You get deja vu, remembering all the times you’ve slept over with Dustin, you and Jonathan making the boys breakfast while they slept in.

The only indication that last night really happened is a forehead kiss from Jonathan, his lips soft against your head. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the touchy one, so it’s always a nice surprise when he initiates the touch, and his forehead kisses were a welcome rarity.

When the plates have been made, Joyce gets up from the couch and stumbles over to the table. You quickly help her sit down, and for the first time since Will’s disappearance you’re able to really look at her. She looks like Jonathan, only worse. The bags under her eyes are darker, her hair is more matted, and you believe she’s still wearing the same shirt you saw her in the night that Will went missing.

“All right, mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan tries to place her plate on the table, but Joyce stops him, worried about the poster of Will.

Jonathan gives you a look and you run over to the table, grabbing the poster so that he can set the plate down.

Joyce gives you a tired smile, “Thank you, Y/N, but I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, mom.”

“Jonathan’s right, Mrs. Byers. You need to eat, we gotta keep your strength up.” You feel like you’re talking to a child, but in a way, you suppose you are.

The woman lights a cigarette instead, and faintly you wonder how many she’s had within the last 48 hours; you’ll need to wash your clothes when you get home. She begins to ask Jonathan to go to Xerox to make as many copies of Will’s poster as possible. You sit down in front of her, silently eating, knowing there’s no place for you in this conversation.

It’s not that the Byers are ashamed that they have little money, but you know it’s rude to listen in. They make do with what they have, and Jonathan has never felt embarrassed with you knowing it.

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Joyce says, causing you to speak up.

“I’ll go with him and help hang them up, it’s no problem.”

Jonathan turns to you. “You have that chem test, remember? I’m not letting you miss that.”

“Shit…” you bury your face into your hands. You completely forgot about that after finding the little girl last night and dealing with Jonathan. You’ve heard about how impossible the chem exams were, and science has never been your best subject. That was Dustin’s thing, your thing was more humanities.

“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll ace the exam,” Jonathan reassures you before turning to his mom. “And I’ll handle the posters, it’s okay.”

Joyce has been lost in thought during your conversation with her son, only beginning to speak again when she’s asked how many copies will be efficient. Once she starts speaking again, it’s almost like she’s physically unable to stop. She begins to ramble, finally exposing the crumbling woman that you’ve only heard about, now understanding Jonathan’s fears for her.

“Mom-”

“If we… ten cents-”

“Mom!” Jonathan raises his voice a bit, now grabbing at his mother’s hand. “You can’t get like this, okay?”

The look on Joyce’s face kills you. She looks so lost, ashamed of her behavior, and you cast your head down; this is a private matter. Joyce profusely apologizes to him and all Jonathan can do is gently reassure her that it’s okay. All of this is okay.

Their tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the front door, revealing Hopper on the other side. His presence makes you uneasy, so you stay in the kitchen and begin to clean up with Jonathan while Joyce attacks him with questions.

“A little bit of trust here, alright? We’ve been searching all night.” You hear the cop say. Your hand clenches the sponge, rubbing a bit harder at the plate you’re cleaning. If they’ve been searching all night, why are they here now?

“Went all the way to Cartersville.” Ever since Will disappeared, you’ve been building a wall of hope within you that he’ll be found safe and sound. However, with every passing day, with every new situation that occurs, you can feel a piece of the wall collapse. You can feel it now; the search party went all the way to Cartersville.

“And?” Joyce asks.

“Nothing.” The cry that Joyce lets out causes you to drop the plate you’ve been cleaning, shattering on the floor. You curse, immediately bending down to pick up the pieces. Luckily it didn’t shatter into a million bits, but you still feel horrible for breaking one of their dishes.

Jonathan bends down as well to help, and the commotion catches Hopper’s attention. He sees you scrambling to clean up the mess and sighs with annoyance. “Does she live here or something?”

You and Jonathan look at each other, a slight smile on your faces, and only respond to Hopper with a synchronized shrug. You basically do live at the Byers’ at this point, you have been for years now. It was the same for Jonathan: if you weren’t at his house, he was at yours.

Joyce wipes some of her tears away. “Y/N is family, she’s here to help.”

Hopper ignores this, instead bringing up the phone call from the night before. Joyce leads him over to the phone, and you join them once you’ve collected the remaining pieces of broken glass. When you see the phone, you can’t help but gasp. Jonathan’s words from last night are accurate, the phone is charred.

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper says.

Joyce waves her arms out, disbelieving. “The storm? You’re saying that that’s not… weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper begins, but you cut him off.

“It’s really weird.”

He glares at you. You mumble a quick sorry and back away a bit while Jonathan asks if the call can be traced. Hopper focuses back on the situation at hand, informing him that it isn’t possible and then questions if Joyce even heard Will in the first place. The question makes you cringe, knowing it’ll only make Joyce more agitated and hurt.

“Flo said you just heard some breathing.”

It’s the way he phrases the question, the way he emphasizes the word “just”, that bothers you. This woman has just lost her kid, what kind of mother wouldn’t know her own child’s breathing?

“Even if it was ‘just’ some breathing, I’d know it was my brother. Will is her son, she’d know better than anyone.” You find yourself saying. The words weren’t meant to leave your mouth, but the appreciative look Joyce casts your way outweighs the fear from Hopper’s glare.

“It was him. It was Will, and he was scared. Then something-”

“It was probably just a prank call,” Hopper tries to reason with her, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You respect the guy, you do, but could he at least attempt to listen to Joyce?

You excuse yourself before you say anything else, heading back into the kitchen to collect the two posters you and Jonathan made. While the others talk, you grab his things and pack his bag for him. You know he’ll probably skip school today to get the copies done in time, maybe keep an eye on his mom, so you make a mental note to inform him later that you’ll help with putting the fliers up the second you’re done with the exam. He needs someone there for him.

When you’ve grabbed the last of Jonathan’s things, Lonnie’s name is mentioned. You freeze, standing right outside the hall from them, only a wall between you. If Lonnie is somehow involved in this, you’ll kill him yourself. He was always cruel to Will, even when you were around to witness it. You hate him more than anything in this damn world.

“It’s been long enough, I’m having him checked out.” Hopper declares, storming out of the house.

You count to three in your head, and the second you get to three, Jonathan is following after Hopper. You knew he would, hating his father the most out of everyone who has had the displeasure of meeting him. You follow behind him, heading outside to talk to the Chief.

“Hey, Hopper. Let me go.”

Hopper takes a drag from his cigarette, facing the two of you. “I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s,” Jonathan says, looking at you for backup.

You do your best to try. “If Will’s there, that means he probably ran away. Cops will scare the poor boy, he’ll think he’s in trouble.”

“And he’ll hide. He’s good at hiding.” Jonathan finishes for you.

Hopper stares at you both, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette and blowing it in your direction with a curious look in his eyes. “You two are sickening to be near, you know that?”

You and Jonathan share an annoyed look. A kid is missing, and you still have to clarify that you aren’t together? “It’s not like that,” Jonathan says.

“Sure, you know cops are good at detecting lies,” Hopper approaches him now, grabbing his shoulders. For a brief second you’re afraid he’ll hurt him. “And we’re also good at finding, okay? Stay here with your mom. She needs you.”

Hopper punches at Jonathan’s shoulder before facing you. “And you,” you brace for whatever he’s about to say, knowing you probably aren’t his favorite person at the moment. He points at Jonathan, “He needs you.”

His words hang in the air several minutes after he’s gone. You glance at Jonathan, but he doesn’t meet your eye and instead he goes back inside. You sigh, following after him because it’s what you do. Hopper’s right, he needs you.

Jonathan’s in the living room, speaking softly to his mom when you enter. You don’t disturb them but rather snatch Jonathan’s keys from the counter and wait for him by the door. Like Joyce said, Xerox opens in about thirty minutes and you have a chem exam to take. If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the copies with him and be back in time before school.

The ride to Xerox is tense, you know Jonathan is upset that he’s been sidelined by Hopper. You also know that he’s torn between wanting to help his mom and staying out of his house as much as possible. If it weren’t for your god damn chem test you’d offer to skip and hide out at your place, but you can’t. Jonathan wouldn’t let you risk your future for him (even though you would, in a heartbeat, a million times over).

The man at Xerox gives Jonathan a look of pity, clearly recognizing Will’s picture on the poster. It’s your favorite photo of him, smiling with all his teeth and happy as can be. From what you’ve heard, the whole town has been conducting search parties for him. Jonathan ignores the look and asks for the 200 copies to be made.

It’s just you and him in the store as you wait for the prints to be done. The guy said it’d be about a ten minute wait so you wander around the store. Jonathan clearly is in a no talking mood, so you occupy yourself with whatever you find. You wish you’d brought your backpack to Jonathan’s last night so you could at least study a bit while waiting, but you didn’t. It’d be a miracle if you pass this exam.

Jonathan wanders around as well, so you give a quick look around and find the employee. He’s standing over the printer when you approach. “I’d like to pay for the copies, please.”

“You can pay after they’re done-”

“No, I can’t let him see,” you point over to Jonathan, who is now looking at some stationary. “Please, just let me pay now so he can yell at me later.”

The guy gives you a shrug, clearly not getting paid enough to care. “Okay, it’ll be $20. Just leave the money on the counter over there, the prints should be done soon.”

You nod and do as you’re told, leaving the $20 bill on the counter while Jonathan isn’t looking. He can kill you later, right now you want to make up for not being able to help with hanging them up. There’s literally hundreds to get through, he can’t do that all alone.

When the posters are done and Jonathan collects them, you wish the worker a good day and then wrap your arms around him and use all your strength to drag your friend into the car. He doesn't fight back at first, too confused by your actions, and you’re almost out the door before he sees the man pocket the money and wave at you. The dots connect in his head and Jonathan begins to fight against you.

“Y/N, let me pay-”

“Nope. Not happening!”

“We both know I’m stronger-”

“Debatable, honestly, seeing as how we’re almost to your car.”

“Let go!” He tugs harshly as his arm, which you’ve got a secure hold on, causing you to stumble a bit.

You plant your feet more firmly against the ground and use all your weight to pull the boy forward. You’re a few feet away from the car, just one more solid pull should do the trick. “Stop fighting this, Byers. I’ve already paid-”

“Which you shouldn’t have!”

“Keep fighting and drop all the posters, I dare you.”

Jonathan looks down at the posters in his spare hand, realizing that you’re right. If he doesn’t give in soon, they’ll topple over. He lets out an agitated groan, throwing his head back, and then marches over to the car to unlock it and fling himself into the driver’s seat. “Just get in.”

You do a small victory dance and hop in the car.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

He hesitates only for a moment. “God, I hate that I do.”

You smile, buckling your seatbelt. Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive to school. He’s less tense this time, at least. The small little wrestling match between the two of you seemingly did some good, then.

When you pull up to school, you once again apologize to Jonathan for being unable to help. He waves you off, understanding.

“It’s okay, I promise. I can’t have you failing out of high school because of me.”

You roll your eyes. “One test won’t make me become a high school dropout, Jonathan.”

He ruffles your hair, which you slap him for. “You can join me after, okay? Good luck, bug.”

“Fine, but I’m taking some posters with me so I can hang up on my way to my locker.”

“Deal.”

You run to your locker, flinging it open and letting out a sigh of relief when you spot your chem cards. Honestly, you really should’ve prepared better for your little sleepover at the Byers. You glance at the watch on your wrist, noting that you have roughly fifteen minutes to memorize all the elements in the periodic table as well as some chemistry definitions.

Just peachy.

You tie your hair up so you can focus better and grab the note cards. If you review the cards as you walk to class, you can save at least three minutes of studying time. You tuck the few remaining posters of Will under your arm and begin to head to your class, getting absorbed in all the elements and words. As you’re skimming a card about protein being K, you run into Nancy and Barb, who also seem to have the same idea as you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Nancy greets you, Barb waving to you as well.

They’re being nice, so you try to make conversation. “Studying for Kaminsky’s test?”

They nod at you and Nancy sighs, “Yeah, his exams are the worst.”

You laugh a bit, for once on the same page as her. “I know. I spent last night at Jonathan’s, I completely forgot about the test until this morning. I’m screwed.”

Barb raises her eyebrows at you while Nancy suddenly looks sad. “Oh, I’m sorry about Will. I know you and him are close.”

“Yeah, it must be hard taking care of Jonathan right now.” Barb voices.

You give them both an awkward smile. “Thanks, I guess? It’s just, there’s still hope, so…”

The three of you stand there as your voice trails off. It’s painfully awkward. While you’ve known Nancy since you were 12, and at some point you even called her a close friend of yours, the second you entered high school she became distant. You never blamed her for it, people simply grow up and grow apart. Now you only ever interact with her if it concerns the boys.

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp.

“Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your cheat sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

His friends laugh, but Steve has a bit of heart to look guilty, so you count that as something. His shame doesn’t last long though and the goofy and sweet boy who made sure you were okay after almost hitting you with his car is gone.

Steve plays off the situation as if it were nothing. “Let me make it up to you, Henderson. I know you’re probably stressed out of your mind dealing with boyfriend troubles because of Bill-”

“His name is Will,” you grit out, remembering now why you dislike Steve so much. Everything was about impressing his friends, and while you can sympathize with him, it doesn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole.

“Right, Will. Anyways, I was just about to inform Nance over here that my dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, ya know, she doesn’t trust him.”

“Good call,” Tommy says, and you glare at him.

Steve carries on. “So, are you guys in?”

“In for what?” Nancy asks.

“No parents, a big house?” Carol says, as if Nancy is a giant idiot.

You feel bad for her being treated so poorly by her boyfriend’s friends, so you lean in and whisper, “A party, Nancy.” Then you look at Steve. “And no, I’ll pass.”

Steve pouts. “Can’t leave loverboy alone for a couple hours?”

You scoff, shoving the poster against his chest, using more force than probably necessary, but the satisfying grunt he lets out pleases you. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you sound jealous. Unfortunately, I do know you, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

“Meow,” says Carol as she and Tommy laugh.

You ignore her and push past the group to get to class. You’ve wasted enough time, you have to study. Steve lets you, hurt by your words, but tries to play it off, instead focusing his attention on Jonathan up ahead hanging up some posters. You both see him at the same time and as you start to approach him, you hear Steve and his group mock him.

“God, that’s depressing.” Steve says, and you’ve never wanted to hit a man more than you do right now.

You glance at Nancy, trying to convey your disappointment in her. She’s a nice girl, she shouldn’t be with an idiot like Harrington. Who the hell makes fun of a guy with a missing brother? Nancy doesn’t meet your eye, which pleases you. She should feel guilty.

As you near Jonathan, Nancy calls after you to wait up. You listen, mostly because you’re surprised she even followed, and together you walk up to him. “Hey, bee. I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

Jonathan looks up at your voice, surprised when he sees Nancy next to you. He gives you a look that you conclude is a what is she doing here? look and you can only shrug as if to say I have no clue how I ended up in this situation.

Nancy doesn’t see this exchange. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Jonathan responds, still confused.

Nancy looks at you uncertainly, but you refuse to leave. Screw your exam, if she even considers voicing her boyfriend’s opinions to Jonathan then you’ll personally see that she fails alongside you. “I just… I wanted to say, you know… I’m sorry, about everything.”

Oh, she’s being nice. You’re still unimpressed, but Jonathan motions to you to stop staring her down, so you reluctantly listen.

“Everyone’s thinking about you.”

You all turn towards Steve and his group, who are clearly listening in, and you snort at her words. “Right, obviously.”

“Y/N.” Jonathan warns.

“Sorry.”

“It sucks.” Nancy continues, and you have to give her some credit. You’re being a blatant bitch, but she’s still trying. You feel a bit bad now, which honestly makes you dislike her a bit more. Damn morals. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid.”

The bell rings, ending Nancy’s little monologue. “I have to go, chemistry test. Y/N, want to walk together?”

She really makes it impossible to be a bitch to her. “Sure, just give me a second.”

You lean close to Jonathan and lower your voice. “Good luck with your dad, bee.”

“How did you know I’d go-”

“Because of course you would. Now go, give him hell for me, will ya?”

Jonathan nods, relieved you aren’t pushing the topic. You know that Lonnie is a sore topic for him, for the entire Byers family, really. You only knew Lonnie for a year or so before Joyce left him, but you’ll never forget his spiteful words and the bruises that Jonathan tried to hide from you. He needs to do this alone, father and son.

You see Nancy watching, and just to spite her you kiss Jonathan’s cheek, relishing in the fact that she looks away, and you wish him luck once again before following her to class.

The test isn’t as bad as you’d feared, and the rest of the day goes by with relative ease. You don’t see much of Steve and his group and you’re thankful for that. Nancy also keeps her distance, no longer attempting to be all buddy buddy with you. A part of you feels bad about that, because honestly the thought of someone thinking you hate them makes you feel physically ill, but as long as Nancy is with someone like Steve, there’s not much you can do about that.

After school you stop by all of Jonathan’s classes and collect the work he’s missed over the last few days; he has enough to worry about, so you figured you could help do some assignments for him. It’s nothing unusual, truth to be told. There was a time you were out for two weeks straight due to the flu one year and Jonathan did every one of your assignments, so it’s about time you returned the favor.

Once you have what you need, you hang up the remaining flyers in your bag and begin your journey to work. You’ve used up all of your sick days helping the Byers, and while Mrs. Waters has insisted on letting you have more time off, you figured the distraction would be good for you. Jonathan will want some space after confronting his dad, and as much as you hated Lonnie, something told you he had nothing to do with Will.

Just when your shift is almost done, your coworker, this young kid named Alex who you’re honestly surprised can legally work, informs you that your mom is on the phone and wants to speak with you. You stack the remaining books in your hands and thank him, walking over to pick up the call.

“Hey, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie! I was just calling to tell ya that Dusty is at the Wheeler’s tonight for dinner, so my plan for ribs won’t work without him. I was wondering if darling Johnny could feed you tonight? I know the two of you have that little sneaky food game.”

Your posture, once slumped over and uninterested, now straightens out. Why the hell is Dustin having dinner at the Wheeler’s? They never do that. “Uh, sure mom that won’t be an issue.”

Your mom lets out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Jonathan! I’ve always liked him…”

Your mom may be the biggest Jonathan supporter you’ve ever met. “Yeah, he’s your favorite. I know,” you shift a bit to catch Alex’s attention, mouthing to him that you need to leave work early. “Hey, did Dustin by chance say how long he’ll be at the Wheeler’s? I can swing by and pick him up after my shift.”

“Oh, I think he’s staying the night there. He mentioned something about Mike not finishing his part of their little science project?”

They’re calling the little girl a science project now? Boys are so typical. “Oh, I see. Well, I gotta get back to work, mom. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Your mom wishes you goodbye and warns you not to be out too late. You hum, already trying to figure out the quickest route to the Wheeler’s house. You can’t say you’re surprised that Mike didn’t follow the plan, but you also can’t say you were prepared for this either.

Alex comes back with your boss and you quickly make up a lie about not feeling well. Mrs. Waters gives you a pitying look and tells you to go. You’re incredibly grateful for her, she’s like a grandmother to you and has always been so kind.

You quickly bike to Mike’s house, going over a grand speech in your head for the boys. Logistically speaking, you’re not sure if they can even harbor the little girl in his basement. Would it be kidnapping? Could kids even kidnap other kids? You aren’t sure and you definitely aren’t willing to find out.

You arrive at the house just as Nancy and Barb are pulling out of the driveway, presumably to Steve’s grand house party. They wave at you awkwardly and you don’t have it in you to wave back. You park your bike next to their doorstep and knock on the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wheeler asks after opening the door.

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could hang out with the boys tonight? Jonathan’s busy and I promised Dustin I’d help with their campaign.”

Mrs. Wheeler cocks her head at you. “But I thought there was a special assembly at the school for Will? Nancy and Barb just left for it.”

You feel your blood boil a bit. There was no assembly for Will at your school, and it was really damn low of Nancy to use his disappearance as a cover story for her stupid party. She’s known Will since he was practically a baby. You have no idea how someone could be so unaffected by a missing child, let alone one who has been at your house every damn weekend for years now.

“Oh, that!” You force yourself to remain calm; there isn’t time to snitch on Nancy, Mrs. Wheeler would only have more questions for you. “Yeah, I’m, uh, skipping it. Jonathan doesn’t want to go, so after he’s back from his errands I’m heading over to his place to, you know, comfort him?”

The woman stares at you for a second, trying to determine if there are any lies to your words. You’ve never been the best liar, but being the oldest Henderson child has unfortunately prepared you for being quick on your feet when needed.

“Well, come on then. They boys just went downstairs, and if you can please remind them to bring the plate of food back up here I’d really appreciate it.”

You thank Mrs. Wheeler and let yourself in. Her words have all but solidified your suspicions: Mike kept the girl.

When you descend the basement steps, it’s almost comical how the kids scramble to hide the girl like little cockroaches. They run around and Dustin screams something about covering her before the poor girl is being manhandled into a sheet as Mike screams at Lucas and Dustin to calm down.

“Guys! It’s just me! Jesus!” You shout, shoving past Mike to rush over to the girl and free her from the sheets. She looks more frightened than usual, but at least she’s alive.

“God, why am I always the one you push?”

You shush Mike, smoothing back the girl’s hair and offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember me, sweetheart?”

The girl nods and softly says, “Y/N.”

“Very good. I’m going to scream at my brother real quick, so why don’t you cover your ears for me so you don’t get too frightened?”

“Wait, what-”

The minute her ears are covered, you turn to Dustin and begin screaming. “Are you brain dead and not understand the words ‘tell me if anything weird happens’ or do you simply lack the appropriate empathy needed for a concerned sister?”

Dustin ducks his head in shame. “Y/N, look-”

“No! I’m all for helping you guys with your adventures and whatever, but Will went missing and then she appears and Mike,” you turn to him and he hides behind a frightened Lucas. “You said you’d stick to your plan. Now tell me, did you?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dustin looks no better as he cowers behind the others. Lucas simply shrugs, knowing that this would happen. You never, ever, yell at the boys; the few times you have in the past, all hell had broken loose.

“Y/N-”

“Zip it, Henderson. I’m so pissed off at you right now and if you want to make it to thirteen I suggest you keep quiet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you guys catch me up on what you’ve so sweetly kept hidden from me.” It’s worded as a question, but the boys know better than to deny you.

You sit on the ground so that you’re next to the girl and then motion for the three boys in front of you to start speaking. They look at Mike, giving him a nudge, and he hesitantly steps forward to begin speaking. “Her name is El.”

The girl, El, looks up at you and smiles. You return the smile and knock your shoulder against hers in a playful manner. “Nice to meet you, can I ask what El is short for?”

“Eleven,” she says, and you want to question the name further but the look on Mike’s face stops you. Now is not the time, you guess.

“El, she’s… different.” Mike continues, looking around nervously. He’s acting as if someone could break in any second and snipe you guys, and a part of you doesn’t doubt it can happen. “She has these powers, like, mind control powers.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself. El looks at you, looking unoffended, seemingly expecting this reaction. However, Mike groans at you. “Y/N, this is serious. She-she knows about Will.”

At this, your smile fades and you feel an overwhelming sense of hope take over you. You find your arms wrapping around El before you can control yourself and you give her a tight hug. She stiffens in your arms and you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I just… sorry.”

She laughs a bit, softly saying that it’s okay.

“Do you really know Will? Where he is?” You ask, almost too scared to say the words out loud. If she’s telling the truth… you shake your head in an attempt to dispel any false hope. You don’t know this girl, she could be lying.

Before El can say anything else, Mike speaks for her. “She does, but there’s bad men out there who want to hurt her. I think they’re after Will, too.”

You freeze. “Bad men?”

“Yes, this is why we didn’t want to tell you!”

“I wanted to tell her,” Lucas says, which causes Mike to glare at him.

You wave your arms at the two boys, breaking up their fight. “Mike, what do you mean by bad men? Honey,” you look at El, “did someone hurt you? Are you in danger? Should I call the police?”

“No!” All three boys shout at once.

You look at them, at the genuine fear in their eyes, and sigh, “Okay, if you can give me a good reason not to call the cops, I won’t.”

“Did you not hear the part about El having powers?” Dustin asks.

“Gee, Dustin. You’re right! It’s like her having powers is totally believable and reassuring to the situation at hand!”

“I can show you,” El speaks up.

You all face her now. “You can?”

She nods at you, getting up and grabbing your backpack that you threw on the ground when you walked in. She rustles through it while you and the boys look at one another. After a few seconds, El grabs one of your comic books and places it on the table. She looks at you and tilts her head, indicating for you to sit down next to her; you do as you’re told.

El straightens out your comic and then closes her eyes, going completely still. The air around you shifts and you can practically feel the static electricity encasing you; the hair on your arms stand up. The pages of the comic begin to flick up, fluttering as if someone is thumbing through them in rapid succession. You watch as the Spidey panels flash before your eyes, the pages flying faster and faster until it becomes almost frightening to be near. Then, once it gets to its last page, the comic flies up into the air and hovers for a few seconds, right in front of your face.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, your eyes wide.

Just as quickly as it began, the comic drops back onto the table. You look up at El and see that her nose is now bleeding, which rips you back to reality. The chair scrapes against the ground as you get up to help her, dabbing at the blood with a tissue that had been laying on the table.

“Do you believe us now?” Mike asks, a smug look on his face.

You gently wipe away the remaining blood from El’s face, looking her in the eye and directing your words to her. “I’m listening, sweetheart. What can you do to help us find Will?”

El smiles, pleased to have earned your trust, and you get the feeling that this little girl is the most powerful thing in all of Hawkins, maybe even the world. At her request, Mike places his DnD board on the table and arranges the pieces for El to use. She sits down and closes her eyes once more.

Lucas gives you a doubtful look. “What’s the weirdo doing?”

You flick his head, not enjoying the name calling. Honestly, you thought you raised these boys better than that.

El seems to accomplish whatever she was doing and picks up the wizard piece, murmuring, “Will.”

You feel your heart stop. Will always insisted on being the wizard whenever they played the game. He was Will the Wise, forever and always. El couldn’t have simply guessed that, and you know it’s her-

“Superpowers,” Dustin finishes your thought for you. The two of you exchange a glance and you notice the slight glee in his eyes. Under different circumstances, you’d also find this all pretty cool.

Mike sits next to El and begins to ask some questions about where she last saw Will. She gives him a look that you can’t quite decipher before swiping her arm across the table and spilling the pieces onto the floor. She then flips the board over, having it now face upside down, and places Will’s piece back down.

You knit your brows together, trying to follow along. El’s movements are methodical and carefully planned, being unable to find the right words due to her poor speech, and you try to piece together the information you’ve been given.

“I don’t understand,” Mike says, being extra gentle with El. You’ve never seen him so soft spoken before and you’re grateful at least one of the boys doesn’t view her as some monster. Which reminds you that you need to have a conversation with Dustin about respecting women, but for now you’ll hold off.

“Hiding.” says El.

He’s good at hiding, Jonathan’s words echo in your head.

“Will is hiding?”

El nods, now looking more nervous. You can tell that Mike is getting closer to information that she doesn’t want him near, which finally causes you to ask the question that’s been heavily on your mind. “From the bad men?”

Now El gives a slight shake of the head, and Mike presses on. “Then from who?”

Without saying anything, El places a second piece onto the board right in front of Will’s. It’s a piece you’re unfamiliar with, with two snake-like heads that loom over the small wizard piece. Whatever it is, you know it isn’t good judging the way Mike, Dustin, and Lucas look at each other in fear.

You turn to Dustin and whisper, “What’s that piece?”

Your brother puts his hands behind his head and sighs deeply, a new resigned look on his face. He looks as if he’s just aged thirty years, which you find a bit dramatic. “It’s the Demogorgon.”

“The Demo-what?” The name sounds familiar, but you can’t remember anything about it.

Mike looks at you and for once his voice holds no annoyance when he says, “There’s a lot we still have to catch you up on.”

–

Your head is spinning as you bike to Jonathan’s with all the new information you’ve just received. Demogorgons, magical vortexes, kids with damn superpowers. It’s all a lot for you to take in, and while you fully believe that El is something entirely different from a normal little girl, how can you be sure that it’s connected to Will? While his disappearance still confuses you, it’s illogical to jump to supernatural conclusions.

Dustin had begged you to let him spend the night at Mikes in order to keep talking to El, and you only agreed because you figured you’d be at Jonathan’s again tonight anyways. He’s been MIA all day and you’re worried as usual, but you made him and Mike swear to you that they’d stay put in the house. At least this way they’re in one place, so if they screw around they’ll be easier to find.

When you arrive at the Byers home you notice that Jonathan’s car isn’t in the driveway, which only confuses you further. Where the hell is he? You gave him all day to deal with Lonnie and cool off, trusting that he wouldn’t do anything stupid for twelve hours, and yet…

You fear he’s done something stupid.

You don’t have time to think too much about Jonathan’s absence because a frantic Joyce runs out the door screaming. She runs straight past you and into her car, and the house begins to light up like a christmas tree. You can hear The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go, a song that Will once had on repeat for three weeks straight, and you can feel the same static electricity in the air that you felt when El used her powers in front of you.

Joyce suddenly gets out of the car and spots you, pointing towards her house. “You see that too?”

You swallow. “Yeah,”

She nods, as if your confirmation is all she needs to determine her sanity, and then marches inside. You stand in the yard, motionless. You’re terrified, and after learning about El tonight, you don’t have it in you to discover any other supernatural beings in Hawkins at the moment. Sighing, you follow after the woman because Jonathan isn’t home and someone needs to talk her down from whatever panic attack the flashing lights have inevitably caused.

“Mrs. Byers-”

“Y/N, you can’t tell me there isn’t something,” Joyce waves her hands in front of her face, almost grasping at the air, “weird about all of this. That was Will’s song, the lights were flashing in Will’s room, something came out of Will’s wall-”

“Something came out of his wall?”

“Yes! I’m not… I promise I’m not crazy, okay? You saw it, please tell me you saw it.”

You bite your lip, now thinking about El. You swore to Mike you wouldn’t tell anyone about her, and honestly you’re not sure that you should tell Joyce about her right now. You’re still unsure if El is being honest with you, and you can’t just give the woman false hope for her son. It’d kill you if you were wrong about El. But seeing the lights, hearing the music, the thing in the wall… There’s something that she’s not telling you.

“Mrs. Byers… I’m not quite sure what I saw, but we just had a bad storm and it could be faulty wiring.”

Joyce slumps her shoulders, frustrated that you aren’t conspiring with her. You just… you can’t. Not yet. Not before you figure out what the hell El is doing in Hawkins. You refuse to worsen Joyce’s already chronic anxiety and paranoia; Jonathan would never forgive you if you fed into her delusions, but it kills you to lie to her.

“Look, I do think that something is weird about this entire situation, “ Joyce’s face lights up, but you’re quick to add, “however, there’s no proof. You, I mean-Mrs. Byers, you’ve seen things in the past. You’re stressed, and anxious, and all the other synonyms.”

The woman lets a few tears drop from her eyes, now embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I-I’m sorry, honey. I just-”

You grab her hand. “I know,”

Her smile is brittle, a ghost of the once beautiful smile she’d give you, and your heart breaks for her.

After your conversation, Joyce excuses herself to her room. She looks even more exhausted than before, so you leave her alone and hole yourself up in Jonthan’s room.

You glance at your watch and note the late hour; you’re starting to worry now. Jonathan didn’t mention anything besides Lonnie and the posters, so you don’t know what else he could be doing so late. He wouldn’t go searching for Will without you.

You wake up to Jonathan returning an hour or so later, apparently having fallen asleep while waiting for him.

“Y/N?” His voice is gruff and surprised.

You groan and rub your eyes. “Turn the light off, bee.”

He doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

The tone of his voice wakes you up a bit, making you sit up and look at him more clearly. His shoulders are tense, his eyes are hiding something, and his overall demeanor is hard to read. “I had something to tell you, but is everything okay?”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Y/N, this is my house, just… just get out.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re confused by his behavior, now starting to become a bit defensive and hurt by his dismissal.

“You can’t just let yourself in whenever you please.” Jonathan puts his camera on his desk, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jonathan, we literally have always let ourselves into each other’s houses whenever we please.”

He rolls his eyes at you and rips off his jacket, throwing it at you. “Get out!”

You catch the jacket before it hits you in the face. “What the hell, Jonathan!”

“Listen, I get that you think you’re a part of the family, but you’re not. You’ve been here for days now, it’s getting old.”

His words cut through you and leave vicious wounds against your skin. He doesn’t mean that, he can’t mean that. You and him were family. He’s never, ever insinuated anything less. He wouldn’t dare. Your Jonathan would never act like this to you, and the only time he’s ever been this cruel to you was when he accidentally dropped Lonnie’s last beer in the fridge and was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help; he’d shown up with bruises later that night.

Then it hits you. He did something, something that makes him feel guilty; he keeps glancing at his camera. You soften your voice, “Bee, what did you do?”

He whips around, now yelling. “Nothing! Just get the hell out of my house! It’s getting pathetic!”

You swallow back the angry tears that build in your throat. Fine. Whatever. Let him be a raging bitch after everything you’ve done for him these last few days.

“Fine, I will.” Grabbing your backpack you snatch the assignments you were supposed to give Jonathan and slam them against his chest. “Here’s all your fucking assignments, by the way.”

He seems to come back to himself, blinking away the anger and shame. “Bug…”

“You don’t get to call me that.” And with that, you don’t spare Jonathan another glance.

–

When you get home, the house is eerily quiet. Dustin is at Mike’s and your mom leaves you a note saying that she’s spending the night at your aunt’s. Great. Looks like it’s just you and Mews tonight then.

After everything that’s happened tonight, you never found time to eat dinner, and your stomach is loudly growling. You drop your stuff in your room and then reheat some leftovers, feeling like a pathetic child. You know that Jonathan didn’t mean what he said, but the words had come too easily to him to have just been a way to dodge his guilt. There had been some truth to them. Maybe you were pathetic for always fretting over him.

Dinner is quiet tonight.

You wait for the phone to ring, for Jonathan to call you and apologize, but the call never comes.

You’ve never felt so alone before.

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familyvideostevie · 10 months

Text

august: a no good at waiting one-shot

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins. You and your enemy-turned-friend-turned-love-of-your-life Steve Harrington are feeling a little restless as summer passes. Your anxieties will not leave you alone: Are you going to move in together? Does Steve want to leave Hawkins? What will you do if he goes somewhere else? It all comes to a head on a day spent at Lover's Lake.

fluff, angst, miscommunication, musings about making choices, and lots of love! [5.4k]

this is a one-shot set after the events of no good at waiting, a farmer's market au, so it's best if you read that first! | au masterlist

Everything is perfect.

Well, not exactly. But you're happy.

Okay, again, not the whole truth. You're mostly happy. You love living in Hawkins, you love working at New-Bee's and the library, and you love Steve. Your boyfriend, your short-lived enemy, your favorite person. Who is kind of pissing you off right now.

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins not knowing what you wanted or who you were or how things were going to go. This summer has been fantastic -- dates with Steve and nights with your friends, drives to amusement parks and county fairs and visiting Robin's campus. It feels right to be here and you're glad that you decided to stay. You think that maybe you've finally figured out how life is supposed to feel: like this. Like love.

But at the moment, Steve has you in a bit of a rut. A few months ago he told you he really wanted to go on a trip this summer. Something just the two of you, a week or two, exploring a new place. You loved the idea because you love doing anything with Steve, but for some reason he's hardly mentioned it since then. And with the end of summer fast approaching, you know your chances at getting away are running out. As far as you can tell, he hasn't planned anything secret. Sure, things have been busy: El broke her arm last month so Steve took on extra shifts, there was a huge storm that flooded some of the fields, you got a promotion and the library and thus more hours, his car needed new breaks. The stars haven't aligned but there also hasn't been any...effort.

And that's just one thing.

The other thing, which is maybe bigger and actually makes you a bit mad, is you've been focused on figuring out how to move in together. You live at Bob's still and while you spend a lot of time at Steve's loft you've talked about finding a place of your own and your loose goal was to have it sorted by the fall. But he talks about both the move and the trip like they're just dreams, far away things that will never actually happen. He's vague whenever you bring up the new apartments going up on the old mall property, about the for sale signs you sometimes see around town. He tells you that it'll work out, that he wants to be sure you guys have enough money to be comfortable.

Does he not want to move in with you? It's a silly thought, sure, but what else are you supposed to think? He's spending every minute he's not with you at the farm or on errands he's been calling "Hopper Missions" on some property just outside of town. It's like he's filling the time so there's no room to discuss the future, like he wants to pretend it'll be summer forever.

Being in an adult relationship is hard. It's lots of decisions and compromise and learning how to talk to each other even when you don't want to and you wouldn't trade it for the world. You know it'll all work out, you just wish that it was worked out already, so you could enjoy the end of the summer and stop worrying that your boyfriend doesn't want to live with you. You know that you should just tell him how you're feeling, but that's easier said than done. Every time you try you wonder if you're being oversensitive or ungrateful or reading into things too much and you back out. Feelings are hard, okay?

You're mulling over the weight of all of these thoughts at the market on one warm Saturday morning in August. Market day is routine by now. It was fun to be here for the start of the season back in May, but you prefer the high summer days when there are endless fruits and veggies to buy and everyone is full of energy and excitement at another day. By now you run the stand practically alone -- local kids free for the summer help you stock in the morning and unload and cover when you're otherwise occupied. You've expanded to four standard candle scents and try out a seasonal one every month or so and the soaps were a very popular graduation gift. You've just tried your hand at chapsticks and they're doing really well.

Most people in town call you by your name when they come say hi. It's a little slow this month, with seasonal allergy honey sticks being less and less popular as the season winds down. So you feel okay retreating into your thoughts until someone clears their throat. You snap out of it and find El standing in front of you with a paper bag. There's a crease between her brows as she watches you.

"Hi," you say. "Is that for me?"

She nods. "I said that you looked sad so Steve told me to bring you something because he's 'up to his ears in husk'. He said you didn't eat breakfast." She uses air quotes. You soften.

"Thank you," you tell her. She keeps looking at you for a few moments before giving you a smile and trotting back to the Sara's tent. Inside the bag is one of her newer experiments -- peach scones. It's fantastic. You munch on it and keep smiling at anyone who comes by, though it's maybe not as effusive as you'd like. You really want to talk to someone about how you're feeling (a voice in your head says that person should be your boyfriend but you ignore it) but you're not sure who to go to. Robin is in Boston visiting Nancy at her hot-shot job at the paper, Eddie and Wayne are on a fishing trip somewhere in Michigan, and you're not about to chat to high schoolers about your love life, no matter how much you like them. You're not sure anyone around here notices your mood like your friends do.

"Why do you look like you swallowed a lemon?"

Well, anyone but your friends and...Murray, it seems. The guy is a little weird, sure, but he's friends with Hopper and Joyce and he really buys "a fuck ton" from the market every week, as Steve once said.

"Hi Mr. Bauman," you say. He frowns.

"Cut that Mr. shit out," he says, though it's not harsh. You do this dance every time he comes to buy an alarming amount of honey. "Your mood is going to ruin the honey."

"I...don't think that's how it works," you say. He levels you with a stare that you think must have served him well when he was a journalist in Chicago, as you've learned he was. "I'm thinking about a place to live?"

"You sure?" he says, poking fun at your uncertainty. "You can live anywhere. Trust me. Cars aren't great, but they'll do. I'd avoid tents. Very damp."

"I guess I was thinking a house," you admit, looking at your fingers. You've never put this into words before and you're not sure why you're doing it now. "Somewhere not too big, maybe with some land so I could get a dog. Not in town but not too far from town." You sigh. "It's a dumb dream."

Murray doesn't say anything. You look up at him and he looks confused. His gaze darts between you and the Sara's stand where you can see the back of Steve's head. "Not the dumbest I've heard."

He slaps down a bill and picks up his usual jar and walks away without another word. Whatever, he's a weird guy.

The day winds down and you're a little too warm to be comfortable and you're just sweaty enough that you want to take a shower and you've stewed in your feelings for too long. Of course this is when Steve comes over. Handsome as ever in his work jeans despite the heat and a Sara's t-shirt he's cut the arms off of, he looks like the lead in a teen movie.

You're loading up the crates to take back to the truck. He squeezes your hip in hello before he starts to help. "How did New-Bee's do today?" he asks.

You shrug. "Average. You?"

"Every damn person in this town wanted corn," he says. "I swear it felt like we sold more than we did for the fourth!"

You hum. It's unfair that your mood has plummeted just as he's shown up and you don't want to take it out on him, even if you consider it a little bit his fault. Steve, for his part, is being a typical boy and doesn't notice. "Hey, listen," he says.

"Listening," you mutter.

"Let's go to the lake tomorrow." That gets you to look at him. He wipes his forehead with his pocket bandana.

"The lake? Why?"

"Everyone says it'll be hotter than today and I think we deserve a day to relax, don't you think?" He squints at the sky, shading his eyes. His arms look lovely like this. "I know we haven't gone on that trip so this is like, a mini trip! Staycation? I think that's what it's called."

"I don't know if a day at the lake in town counts as a vacation, Steve," you say. But even as the words come out you find yourself wanting to go because its something to do. You haven't been swimming in the lake despite Steve's summer bucket list item of skinny dipping. You've actually only been to the lake in general a few times, which is a bit strange since it's such a big place in your relationship. You kissed for the first time at the bonfire on the shore, you told him you loved him in the cab of your truck on a cold night.

"So, is that a no?" He's looking at you with a confused expression.

"It's a yes. Is anyone else coming?"

"No, just us. We can have a picnic or some cute shit, yeah?" He rests his hand on your lower back and maybe it's a combination of the heat and your mood and the universe but you don't want him to touch you right then so you pull away from it. You don't look at him.

"Are you sure you don't have super secret Hopper shit to do?" Silence behind you.

"No," Steve says, dragging the word out. "Hey, are you alright? Did I do something?"

You ignore his question. "Are you going to come get me in the morning?" Usually, you'd go home, shower, and then stay over at Steve's place. This is a clear line in the sand that you're not sure is fair to draw.

"Sure," he says. "But, seriously, what's going on?" You do look at him then. He's got a frustrated set to his shoulders and his brows are drawn like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

You chew on your lip, hands in fists at your sides. "Nothing," you say. He gives you an incredulous look. "Okay, I just don't want to talk about it right now." The last thing you need is to not talk about it but you can feel that you're getting actually bothered about this and you don't want to have a discussion that gets taken over by your mood.

"Okaaaaay," he says. It annoys you even more. Your own shoulders creep up to your ears. "I'll help you pack up and then --"

"No," you say sharply. "I can do it myself."

"Woah, woah, woah," he says. "Okay, alright!" He holds his hands up in the air and the fight wooshes out of you.

"I don't want to fight with you, Steve."

"Who said we were fighting? Do we have something to fight about?"

You close your eyes and tip your head back. It all comes out in a rush. "Steve, I love you and we spend so much time together and I keep trying to get you to talk about looking for a place and you just won't and you want to go on a trip but you won't actually plan it and you want to go to the fucking lake tomorrow and it's like you want to do anything except talk about this stuff and I don't really want to be around you right now."

You don't feel any better for having said all of it. In fact, your chest aches and your nose stings. You don't know if you can look at him.

"I didn't know you were that upset about it," he says finally. It sounds frosty.

"I didn't tell you."

"I can see that," he says. You still don't look at him.

The market is really closing up around you, fewer voices and commotion. You wonder if anyone heard this argument. "I can pack the rest. I'll see you tomorrow." You could have told him you don't want to go but maybe the lake is where you can squash this once and for all.

Steve seems to take the dismissal at face value because you hear him sigh. Part of you wants him to fight you on it right here right now, to sort it out so you can stop feeling so worried all the time. But he doesn't. Instead, you hear his steps and then feel the heat of him as he gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Okay," he says. "See you tomorrow."

And then he's gone.

"Fuck," you say to yourself. You shake yourself out of it and try to pack away the rest of the stall with as much speed as you can muster without breaking anything. The scar across your palm is faint by now but you aren't eager to get another one.

You're almost done bringing the crates to the truck when you hear your name. Will stands in front of your stall, a hesitant smile on his face. He's a sweet kid -- 18, soon, you think, so hardly a kid at all -- and you've gotten to know him a little more since you asked if he wanted to draw the labels for the chapsticks.

"Hi, Will," you say. "Sorry I didn't see you."

He's holding a single sunflower. "Sorry to bother you," he says. "This guy is the only one left today and El said you looked a little down earlier so I thought maybe you'd like it?"

You blink a few times. "Did you, uh, hear all of...that?" You vaguely gesture behind you as if the ghost of Steve is standing there with his arms crossed.

Will looks at you for a second, considering something. Then he holds the flower out and says, "Hear what?" Tactful kid.

"Thanks, Will." He tells you to have a good day and goes back to the flower stand. The sunflower stem is velvet-soft in your hand and the petals are a brilliant yellow. It's a bit lonely on it's own but you will put it in a wine bottle and keep it on your windowsill.

Imagining it there, the only stem, standing as tall as it can in the sunshine in your bedroom, makes you want to cry.

The thing you're most scared of is Steve wanting to leave Hawkins after all. You knew it was a genuine possibility when you started dating, knew that he wanted to explore the world just as you started to make yours here. You told him you'd go with him anywhere he wanted and you meant it then. But now you're not so sure. You love Hawkins and you love Steve. You don't know what you're going to do if one of them demands you leave the other.

Your mind churns as you go to bed and as soon as you wake up. Maybe he doesn't want to plan a trip because he's afraid he won't want to come back. Maybe he's afraid to move in together because he doesn't want to invest time and money into something he'll leave behind. Maybe he's already got plans and he's trying to figure out how to tell you.

"Stop it," you tell yourself in the bathroom mirror. You're prone to this kind of overthinking; it's why you made the huge mistake of running from him last fall. And while you know him so much better, know yourself so much better, sometimes it's hard to believe that you not only deserve nice things and a nice life full of love but that you already have them. And that's why you don't know if you can leave even if you told him you could.

You sit at the kitchen table in your swimsuit under shorts and a wax-stained New-Bee's t-shirt and feel a bit sick about yesterday. You know that Steve will come get you -- he would have called if he didn't want to go anymore. You don't leave each other in a lurch like that, even if you've fought. But you're worried that you've ruined the chance of a fun day that hasn't even happened yet.

The frustration with Steve still simmers under your skin. But you want to table it to have a bit of fun, if you can. You hear the crunch of his tires in the driveway and you grab your stuffed bag and head for the door. You're greeted with the sight of Steve getting out of the car and smiling at you a little hesitantly. He's in bright red swim trunks and a ratty Hawkins High t-shirt and sunglasses.

"What is this, Baywatch?" you ask him, breaking the tension. He laughs and meets you on the porch stairs to give you a quick kiss. You chase his lips a little but he doesn't call you on it.

"Well, I was a lifeguard," he says.

"Which I bet you did just so you could look hot in the chair."

"Obviously," Steve says. He takes your bag from you. "Actually, I taught kids to swim, too. Jesus, what's in here, a watermelon?"

You roll your eyes. "Just the essentials. Sunscreen, a book, some sandwiches, grapes, a water bottle, spare clothes, a towel, a hat --"

"Okay, okay, damn," he laughs, putting it in the back seat. You get in the car and he heads for the lake, windows down. He was right about the weather -- it's much hotter than yesterday already. It could be a nice day. You want it to be a nice day. But the churning your gut demands you address the elephant in the room.

When Steve reaches for the radio you catch his hand in yours.

"Steve," you say. "I do want to talk about yesterday." He doesn't look at you, chewing on his cheek and tapping the wheel in what you know is a nervous habit.

"Yeah," he says. "We probably should. But I also want today to be nice, okay?" He kisses the back of your hand.

"I do, too."

It's not much but it's enough for now. It doesn't take long to get to the lake. Steve takes you to a different part than where you had the bonfire and where you told him you love him. This area has a dock and some grass and a shore of sand and rocks that you can see from where he parks the car.

"There's no one here," you say, unloading the backseat. "Are we even allowed to swim?"

Steve grabs the blanket from his trunk and you spread it out on the grass. "Yeah," he says. "Five years ago or something they finished a project with some scientists or some shit to make sure the lake was good for swimming. They built this but honestly I don't think a ton of people come here." He shrugs. "Or they knew we were coming and left it to us."

"Lucky us," you smirk. You spread out your items on the grass before shimmying out of your shorts and t-shirt. Steve wolf whistles. "Gross!" you tell him.

"Sorry," he says, not looking sorry at all. "That's a nice color on you. Have I seen this before?" His eyes rake over you and you plant your hands on your hips instead of crossing your arms.

"Have we been swimming before?" you ask him.

He grins. "Good point." He pulls off his shirt in one motion from the collar like boys do and without another word sprints down the small hill and onto the dock, jumping off the end and into the water with a yelp and a splash.

"Such a child," you mutter, but you're endeared. He surfaces and shakes out his head like a dog.

"Okay," he says. "It's kind of really fucking cold."

You stop in your tracks, feet just on the edge of the dock. "Really?"

"No," he says. "It's only a little cold. Nice, though." You look skeptical.

"Did you put on sunscreen?" you ask, stalling.

"Yeah." Steve swims in slow circle. "Did you? I'll do your back," he says with an eyebrow wiggle.

"I did it already," you say primly. You knew that if you ended up touching too much on this date, you'd never get to talk about the stuff you need to talk about. "So no back rub necessary." Steve shoots a stream of water at you with his mouth. It gets your knees.

"It is cold!" you squeal. Steve looks too pleased with himself. "It's on, Harrington." You take a few running steps and cannonball into the water.

Honestly, once you've been under for a few seconds it's not so bad. You surface and find Steve grinning at you. "That was cute," he says. You splash him.

After acting like children for a little you both float on your backs, hands clasped, watching the sky. Your conversation and teasing fades and in its place returns your anxiety and frustration from yesterday.

Steve seems to think you're hungry. "Let's eat something," he says. "And put on some more sunscreen."

He gets up on the dock first and runs to get your towels. He wraps yours around your dripping shoulders and you stand in his arms for a second, hand pressed to his heart to feel it beat. You love him. You will work this out. You wonder if it's possible for something to go wrong not because you don't love each other enough but because you love each other too much.

"I made you a great sandwich," you say, pulling away. "And you need more sunscreen, too. Your nose is getting red."

"Wait, really?"

You settle on the blanket and lay out your lunch. Steve pulls berries from his own bag and you eat in a silence that is only a little tense until he tosses a strawberry top into the grass and sighs.

"So, I'm guessing now is the time to talk about it?" he asks.

"Do you not want to?" You don't want this to be a fight but you don't know what else it's going to be.

"No, of course I do," he says. "We need to, clearly." He crosses his legs, his tanned stomach rolling in the way you adore over the waistband of his swim trunks. God, you love him. That's why you have to figure this out.

"We do," you say, squaring your shoulders. "I'll start." The frustration returns full force. "What the hell have you been up to, Steve? You're busy all the time and I don't need to know what you're doing because I do trust you. I just don't get why you can't tell me what you're doing on these weird errands and you won't talk to me about going on a trip or moving and I thought those were both things we wanted."

"I do want those things --"

"I've been looking into what we can afford in Hawkins and thinking about places we could go and I'm busy busting my ass at the library when I'm not at New-bee's so that we can live somewhere nice. And it just seems like you don't actually care that much about moving in together because --"

"I do, care," he says over you. "I just don't want to live in Hawkins."

Time slows down. Your heart thunders in your ears. "What did you say?"

Steve looks stressed. He reaches for you but you don't want to touch him so you cross your arms. A look of hurt crosses his face but it fades quickly.

"Let me explain," he says. "I can explain it all. If I had known you were feeling this way I would have much earlier. Why didn't you tell me?"

You shake your head to clear it. He doesn't want to live in Hawkins? Well, what does he want? Does he want you, still? "Because I didn't think you'd make me feel this way," you say hoarsely.

He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to go on a trip this summer, yeah. I thought it would be fun. And then, like, two months ago, I started thinking about how I didn't actually want to leave Hawkins, but I also don't want to keep living the same life in Hawkins, if that makes sense."

Two months? Two months? The timeline rolls around in your mind. He's been thinking about this for two months and he didn't tell you?

Steve is still talking, apparantly not noticing your distress. "And we talked about looking for a place so I realized that maybe a trip wasn't a good use of our money even though I know we both work hard and are doing fine. And then I was on a drive the weekend you went to visit your family, remember?"

You nod. You'd gone home for a weekend and missed him terribly the entire time. Steve taps your ankle and you realize he wants you to reply. His eyes are wide like he's scared and he runs a hand through his hair. What is he scared of? "Yeah," you say hollowly. "I called you every night."

"You did," he says. "The first night you left I went for a drive all around the county, basically. Just to get out of town but not go too far. To do anything other than mope at my place after we hung up. And that's when I found it."

You aren't following. He leans forward and taps your cheek with his knuckle. "The most perfect damn place in the world."

"Don't tell me you bought a piece of land, Steve," you say. It doesn't seem like a thing he'd do and wouldn't make sense if he's just going to leave.

Your boyfriend just smiles at you. "No," he says. "I didn't buy it. Well, not really."

"Not really?" you say, incredulous. What the fuck is going on?

"I'm almost done explaining, I swear, honey." He runs a hand through his damp hair again. "It's maybe half an hour out of Hawkins proper. It's a real nice little farmhouse with lots of open space around it and I saw it and it felt like I'd been struck by lightning, or something."

The pieces start to fall into place but you don't dare hope. "Dramatic," you say.

"Hey, don't make fun of me!" Your joke seems to encourage him. "It looked like no one lived there so I figured out what the address was and turns out that weird guy Murray owns it."

Murray? Who you say yesterday at the farmer's market and who listened to you tell him about your dream property? That he, apparently, happens to own?

"He's not that weird," you mumble.

"He is weird but I don't give a shit because he doesn't use it and after talked to me he agreed to rent it to us for barely anything if I fixed it up a little first. So that's what I've been doing."

Steve looks at you, eyes wide and waiting. You blink a few times and try to take it all in.

"So let me get this right," you say. "When you haven't been working at Sara's or spending time with me, you've been fixing up a house that you're going to rent from Murray? And you told me none of this? For two months?"

Steve frowns. "When you say it like that I sound like the bad guy. Also, we're going to rent it." He seems to realize you haven't agreed to anything by the way his face falls and okay, maybe you're being a little unfair. Yes, he lied, a little bit, but it wasn't anything harmful. You just got in your head about it.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me," you say, feeling small. "I was starting to think that you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Steve reaches for you and you let him take your hands this time.

"Didn't actually want to live together. Didn't want to go on a trip. I don't know." You sigh.

Steve looks genuinely upset at that you've thought this. "Honey," he says, voice rough. "All I want is to live with you. This house is for us. Now that I'm saying it out loud I'm realizing I probably should have told you that at the start."

A whole house. You've imagined your first place together to be a dinky apartment on the edge of town. But a house? It's a dream come true. You bring Steve's palm to your cheek and lean into it.

"I thought we were good at communicating," you say softly.

"Apparantly not," he says wryly. "I'm sorry for not telling you. I just...wanted to make it nice and official first, I guess." His thumb strokes your cheek. "But you should have told me how you were feeling a long time ago."

"Yeah," you agree. "I'm sorry. Would have saved me some heartache and you some hard work. I could have helped!"

"You still can," he says, eyes lighting up. "It's not quite done. I still need to paint the outside."

You scoot forward so you're almost in his lap. "Where did you learn to fix up a house, Steve?"

"Hopper," he says. He fiddles with the strap of your bathing suit. "He's been helping. So I really was doing Hopper stuff, kind of?" He licks his lips. Another nervous tell. "So, what do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"About the house. I know it's a lot and we're still kind of young but renting means we can change our minds and --"

You put your head in your hands. "Steve," you say, voice thick. "I'm still getting over the fact that I thought you didn't want to move win with me and finding out that instead you've found us a house."

His hands circle your wrists. "Only to rent!" he says a little desperately. "I mean, you might not even like it!" You allow him to pull your palms away. Your nose starts to sting.

"I will," you say.

"Oh no," Steve says. "You look like you're going to cry." He pulls you fully into his arms and flops onto his back on the blanket, taking you with him. You land on his chest with an oof.

"I've been really scared," you say into his bare chest. "That you were going to leave and I don't know if I can follow you because I love it here even though I love you, too."

"I know," he says. "But I think this is perfect. It's close but not the place we've been. It's ours until we want something different. And I don't think I want to leave because I want to be wherever you are."

"It's so grown up." You sniffle and he rubs your back.

"I know," he sighs. You can feel his heartbeat under your cheek. "What the fuck."

"What the fuck," you echo and laugh wetly. "Is the yard big enough for a dog?"

"Sure is," he says. "Do you want to drive by when we head home?"

"I do." He hums.

You sit in silence for a few breaths. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, but please tell me things next time, okay?" He looks down at you through long lashes.

"Deal," he says. "I love you back, but please tell me how you're feeling, okay?"

"Deal." You roll off of him and sit up. "Can we go see our house now?"

He grins toothily. "Hell yes we can," he says. "Well, it's not ours yet. Seriously, we have to work that out with Murray. I think we need a lawyer to draw something up? I don't really know how all that works --"

You kiss him in the middle of his sentence. "We'll figure it out."

"You're right," he says. He kisses you again. "We will."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#no good at waiting #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au

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inknopewetrust · 2 years

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭

Summary: Eddie Munson made it big. Now, when he returns to Hawkins for a hometown concert with his band, he is reminded of the girl he's been in love with for the past 6 years when Steve Harrington calls. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader WC: 13.6k Warnings: 18+; Minors DNI; smut; piv; language; rough sex; bathroom sex (unprotected–wrap it before you tap it babes); some dirty talk; this is a whole ass fic. This is porn WITH plot besties. Quick Links: Masterlist

“You’re a pervert, Eddie Munson,” You laughed, he smiled.

“Well, can you blame a guy? Look at you.” The way his eyes trailed. He was hunting and you were perfect prey.

“I can’t really… but you can.” Your bottom lip passed through your teeth quickly—barely grazing it as the top of your shoe ran along the inside of his leg. He was fucked.

There were more than five drunks inside of The Hideout.

The last few years had brought out a different side of Hawkins, hell, Indiana to this little bar in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. It wasn't often that there were empty seats, that the bar wasn't overwhelmed with patrons, or that everyone inside hadn’t flocked to the dive for a taste of metal.

Corroded Coffin had made it—in a… regional success type of way.

Every year, the band returned to Hawkins after moving to the city to get more gigs. It acted as a reunion of sorts––bridging their past and present into a three-hour concert inside of a small bar where they had originated outside of Gareth’s garage. And much to their surprise when they had returned for the first time a few years before, the entire town had wanted in. For the first time they had felt accepted—but only because they had garnered some fame, not because they were cool, good people.

And Eddie always felt that superficial fanaticism seep through the walls that separated the band from the crowd because the only people he believed truly cared for him and his music rarely came. Steve, Nancy, Robin, the gaggle of kids (they will always be kids to him) from Hellfire, and you. Separate ways had led to a hundred different paths and rarely, if ever, did he see one of them lead back to Hawkins.

He had been completely and utterly enamored with you the moment he saw you stab a horrid, rabid bat straight through the eye. Eddie always wished it had been a more romantic story, but he had to admit it, you had never impressed him so much.

And then you graduated. Went off to college and kept in scattered contact with everyone.

But you never left his mind. As much as he wanted to move on from what he called a “silly crush” in retrospect, Eddie thought about you more often than he should have.

And no girl could compare. He always pondered the ‘what if’ and he’d be lying if the songs that dealt with unrequited romance didn’t have anything to do with you. He was stuck. So incredibly stuck and didn’t know what to do. Eddie believed he would never get the chance to see you again.

Until he got a call from Steve Harrington three days before he traveled back to Hawkins.

It was out of the blue. Eddie wasn’t even sure how Steve had his number because he was always on the move—half the time he and his bandmates slept in their bus because it was one destination after the other. Nevertheless, Steve had managed to reach him and the conversation had been replaying in his mind non-stop.

“Hey Eddie!”

Jeff was standing at the pay phone outside of the Dayton club they had been playing in. Corroded Coffin had begun to make their way to Hawkins slowly over the past month and they were almost there. The set was half completed, and they were in the middle of their break when the pay phone rang as if they were in the middle of a horror film. They were all drenched in sweat and their limbs were killing them, the crowd was absolutely blustering. Their gigs had become what they had always dreamed—a metal rave of sorts.

Eddie had been sitting on an overturned bucket smoking a cigarette when Jeff called out to him, hand over the transmitter as if his yell was going to change the mind of the caller.

“What?” Eddie replied, letting out a puff of smoke that blurred Jeff for a second.

“You gotta call! You’re gonna wanna take this one.”

He made it sound as though the President was calling… not that Eddie would ever answer that call. So, Eddie got up off his bucket and let the cigarette dangle from his mouth as he shooed Jeff away from the phone. Holding the phone in one hand and lifting his other to lean against the glass, Eddie sighed and answered.

“Yeah, this is Eddie.”

“Ah! Guys I got him!” Was what he heard in return. There was a scramble on the other line and Eddie furrowed his brows, confused at the excitement. No one was ever calling him unless it was Wayne, a groupie he had made an empty promise to, or someone looking to book them.

“Hello?” He asked more impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, hold on man!” He knew exactly who it was. It had been 6 years, not a lifetime.

“Steve?”

“Woah oh! Mega Rock Star remembers me? Woulda thought you’d forgotten about us in Hawkins.” He imagined Steve was a little drunk, smiling widely into the phone as the sounds of shuffling made its way through the receiver.

“I don’t know if I’d classify us as ‘Mega Rock Stars’ but I’ll take it from you, Harrington.” Eddie grabbed the cigarette from his mouth.

“So why you callin’ me?”

“I heard your band is coming to Hawkins on Tuesday and we were wondering if we needed tickets or something to get in.” Steve sounded more distant, as if he was trying to get others on the call or at least let them have a chance to listen too.

“We?”

“Hi Eddie!” Robin’s voice was distinct, deep, and excitable through the static.

“Eddie! You really made it!” That was Nancy. She was always a little more reserved than Robin, more than Steve, but still kind to him.

Eddie moved the phone away from his mouth and chuckled. He couldn’t believe it, truly. He hadn’t expected to hear from anyone who he considered to be friends, who went through so much alongside of him, and helped him in a time of need but there, on the phone, were three people who had.

“So you all wanna come? Is that what I’m getting from this?” He asked and all of them replied at once. Each along the lines of “yes” but scattered types of replies.

“And if we could, I think a few others want to stop in too.”

He hoped Steve knew what that made Eddie believe.

“These others… they’re not just bottom feeders looking for a good time?” Eddie proposed instead. He felt a shot of nervousness surge inside of him. God, he felt like a teenager.

“No, no…” Robin laughed into the phone, “they’re friends, Eddie. You’ll be glad to see them. Some are even traveling home for this so you better put on a good show.”

Eddie knew Dustin and Lucas had gone out of state for college. He had sent them two records as presents and received a group call the next day in thanks. Eddie knew that’s who it had to be but Robin still said some. He was still holding out a little hope.

“Hey Eddie! Come on! Time to go!” Jeff called out from beyond the pay phone. He was the last to walk back into the venue as the door opened to loud amps shaking the building.

“Listen, guys,” Eddie said quickly, trying to use his final seconds wisely, “I’ll um, I’ll call the place after we leave tomorrow and get you on a list.”

Eddie watched Jeff disappear through the door and knew his time was almost up.

“I gotta go but just go to the bar and they’ll bring you in. I’ll put you at a table so you don’t get ambushed by anyone.” Considerate.

“And drinks are on the house too.”

“Fuck yeah!” Robin screeched and disconnected her line.

“Sounds great, Eddie. We’ll see you on Tuesday.” Nancy said and disconnected herself too. Steve remained on the line.

“Awesome, man,” Steve replied, surely nodding his head in approval. Eddie felt something lingering there but didn’t push. However, he did need the names.

Eddie looked around him, trying to find someone who could help his pen-less situation but couldn’t find anyone. He patted down his jacket, the pockets of his jeans but nothing. And perhaps he waited too long, but Gareth came back out, looking at him exasperatedly.

Eddie waved him over quickly. The dude always had a pen. He put the cigarette back in his mouth.

“I’ll need the names, Steve,” Eddie said over the phone and shoved it between his ear and shoulder. Gareth ran over.

“I need a pen. You got one?”

Gareth summoned a pen from his pocket as though it were the one ring.

“Names, Steve,” Eddie repeated, slightly muffled by the cigarette he tried not to lose.

“All right, all right,” Steve fumbled. In his childhood home in Hawkins, Steve, Nancy, and Robin all stood around the phone counting the people in the party.

“Me, Robin, Nancy, Henderson, Sinclair, Jonathan…” Steve trailed off and Eddie felt his heart sink.

“That all?”

“Um,” Steve was listening to the two women rattle off names, “Max, and Vicky… oh and Y/n.”

“Y/n?”

Eddie felt Steve was dangling a prize at the end of a fishing hook.

“Yeah. She’s coming in from Indianapolis.”

Indianapolis.

“She work there?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask. Gareth gave him a look.

“Yeah teaches now… English or… History or something.”

“Oh,” Eddie answered and finished writing the names on the inside of his forearm. Gareth watched him write your name last, so clear, and careful. He knew now why Eddie was acting the way he was. “I didn’t know she moved.”

“Yeah… somethin’ about wanting to be closer to the city or whatever… a part of me thinks she was trying to find you.” Steve laughed. Eddie didn’t.

“What?” Eddie’s response had come out as a whisper of words and Steve hadn’t heard it.

“So we’ll see you Tuesday, yeah? Go play your heart out, dude.”

Then Steve hung up.

And it was the phone call he had been waiting for hear after all these years.

He played that Dayton show with so much excitement he made a girl faint in the front row… and it was all because of a stupid little phone call from a state away.

The station wagon was packed full of a palpable energy no one could explain.

It was strange; venturing off to a new adventure that wasn’t filled with danger together, but it was new, and above all else, nice. The memories that Nancy’s station wagon had held were far more interesting upon reflection than they had been at the time. And you listened to each story from the middle section, squashed beside the window between Steve, Dustin and Jonathan as Max and Lucas took the back and Vicky, Robin, and Nancy sat in the front.

You couldn’t stop tapping your fingers against your knee.

Robin was droning on about a Halloween party a few years back that you hadn’t gone to when you accidentally tapped Steve’s leg instead of your own. You shot a sorry look at him in a rapid response.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, watching you look out the side window in return. You had been wearing a sparkly black dress––one Robin had swooned over in the kitchen with Vicky.

From all the years he had known you, you were never a 'sparkly little black dress’ kind of girl to Steve. Except tonight you were. And he smiled at it. He turned his head forward and caught Robin and Nance’s eyes in the mirror because they were all on the same page.

Eddie Munson had been infatuated with you for as long as they could remember and you, as personable and charismatic as you were, couldn’t pluck up the courage to accept the same about yourself.

“Nervous or something?” Steve knocked your shoulder. You didn’t tear yours eyes away from the window.

“No, I’m fine.”

“You’re a little jittery.”

“I pregamed.”

“Where?”

“With Robin.”

“At my house?” Steve looked knowingly. You hadn’t touched a drop at his place.

“Sure.”

“Are you listening to me? What’s wrong?”

You turned and looked at him, eyes a little spaced out from the present inside of the vehicle and saw not only Steve looking at you, but Dustin and Jonathan too. You knew the others were listening.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Everything was wrong. Your stomach was in tumbles. You hadn’t seen Eddie in the flesh for 6 goddamn years and the last time you saw him all you wanted to do was jump his bones. So, how, in good conscious, could you look at the man again and think you wouldn’t feel the same.

Surely he was still the same Eddie you had liked before… just a little older and a bit more sure of himself. The self-certainty was what you were afraid of, however. You didn’t know if you could get yours back.

“If you’re going to lie to me I’d rather it be about something stupid.”

“I’m not lying about anything,” you defended, eyes going stern, “I’m fine.”

“She’s nervous about seeing Eddie.” Max spoke up from the back as she leaned her elbows in the small gap between Dustin and Jonathan. You narrowed your eyes directly at her, willing your mouth to open but no sound came out.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” she reaffirmed your unvocalized feelings without hesitation, “things just got in the way last time.”

“Yeah and I’m sure if he’s still the same old Eddie we know he’ll be head over heels for you,” Lucas supported her belief and you felt your head go hot. You couldn’t believe they were airing your dirty laundry in the car like this. 6 years passed and they still read you like their favorite children’s book.

“How could he not? She’s still a fucking smoke show,” Robin laughed, to which Vicky agreed. Nancy tried to hold in her giggle but the eldest Wheeler smiled so widely you could see the lines from her eyes from your position in the car.

“Listen,” Steve piped up again, “they come to Hawkins once a year… you don’t live here anymore, neither does he, and maybe, just maybe, there is a reason for everything to come home.

“You sound like a horoscope, Steve.”

“I was a matchmaker in my other life. I thought you knew that?” He narrowed his eyes teasingly, trying to make you feel less anxious about seeing him again.

“If he is anything like he sounded on the phone, Eddie still holds a candle for you.”

Steve hadn’t told you he talked to Eddie. This outing had been planned for weeks without so much of a word that anyone had still talked to him consistently—besides Dustin. Dustin certainly pestered Eddie over the phone about his Sophomore college problems. Eddie never knew how to properly reply to his concerns in turn.

“You talked to him?” Dustin furrowed his brows at Steve as Robin turned around in her seat to listen, “when?”

“A few days ago,” Steve was sheepish. He hadn’t wanted anyone to know he had extended his arm asking for a favor.

“About what?” Dustin lamented.

“Just about the concert, man,” Steve sighed, pointedly not looking at you.

“And did he say anything of importance?” Robin pushed Steve as her hand knocked against his knee in a slap. He shifted uncomfortably. She had been on the call for 20 seconds, maximum, and didn’t hear what had been said once she hung up.

“Well,” he started, “we talked for a bit and Nance and Robin were on the line too—“

“For a second!” Robin interjected.

“—and then he asked for the names.”

“That’s all?”

“That can’t be it,” Robin made a face, “you were still on the phone when we left the room.”

“He asked about you, okay?” He gestured to you, closing his eyes in defeat. You stopped tapping your fingers and looked at him with serious eyes.

“It isn’t!?” He folded his arms across his chest the best he could, “you listened to ABBA and Journey and all of a sudden in college you got real into metal and we all thought it was strange!”

“I was expanding my interests!“

“To get him!”

“People experiment in college, Steve. In more ways than one.”

“You’re telling me that you moved, changed interests, and then faltered back to the plan you had since you were five in the span of a few years? You went out there hoping to run into him because you didn’t know how else to approach him.”

“You’re just being mean now,” you scoffed, turning your head back to the window. Robin and Steve glanced at one another before Dustin nudged him to do something.

“Y/n,” he sighed, “we can argue about the past all we want but we are ten minutes from seeing him again and I don’t want to watch two of my friends, our friends, dance around their feelings again. For all of our sakes, just say something to him.”

“Steve, just let it go,” you mumbled quietly and began chipping away at the nail polish you had applied hours before.

They all felt a little defeated in that car.

“Fine, fine,” he said and threw his hands up in exasperation as the others watched in a necessary pity. It wasn’t easy being open. It wasn’t easy being willing to show a vulnerable side of yourself that you’d been holding onto for years.

“But if you do end up needing to pound one out together, there’s a great bathroom at The Hideout.”

“Steve!”

The Hideout and surrounding businesses were packed. Never, in all your years living in Hawkins, had seen it so busy and the thought that Eddie and his bandmates had brought this many people to a little bar made you happy.

He had made it like he always wanted to.

Steve had taken the lead once you had arrived and the bouncer at the door led the group of you to two booths just off the left side of the stage they had assembled for the band. It was already claustrophobic inside but the idea that you all had somewhere to go was comforting—quelled your nerves in the slightest.

Jonathan and Steve had taken the liberty to gather drink orders and the group was split into two. The ‘kids’ in the booth closer to the front and the ‘adults’ in the one behind. It was easier to designate it that way even if everyone was an adult now. You sat squashed between Nancy and Robin, Vicky letting her eyes wander the room beside Robin.

“You all right?” Nancy asked, her big eyes sincere, “Steve was kinda being a dick in the car.”

“It’s fine, Nance. Really,” you played with the hem of your dress under the table. Suddenly, you threw up your hands and let your head fall into them on the table.

“I don’t know why I’m so fucking nervous,” you exclaimed muffled in your hands, “it’s like my confidence jumped out of a goddamn plane.”

“Being nervous isn’t a bad thing, babes,” Robin told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. She looked at Nancy for support but she was lost on what to do. You had it down bad. “We all get nervous around people we like.”

“That’s the problem, Robin,” you said, pulling your head out of your hands and looking her dead in the eye. “I think I’ve been in love with him since I was in high school.”

Well, shit.

“I’m sure he’s got roadies and girls willing to do anything for him and I’m nothing like them… I literally have a stack of papers to grade tomorrow even though I know I’m going to be hungover. He’s a-a rock star or at least on his way to becoming one.”

“Bon Jovi’s wife was his high school sweetheart,” Nancy mentioned and Robin nodded her head. Sure, but that was a single case. A single case.

“It’s just not the same as it was.”

“Jesus, Y/n… could you be any more of a downer?” Steve returned with Jonathan in tow carrying a mix of beverages for everyone. “You need to get drunk because I cannot stand another second of you moping around like the world is ending. We’ve been there, we’ve made it out, and we’re going to have a good night and enjoy watching Eddie rock his fucking ass off like we knew he always would.”

Steve sat beside Vicky and passed you your vodka cran.

“And if you don’t want to get drunk, at least get some liquid courage to look the guy in the eye.”

He lifted his glass once everyone had received theirs.

“Henderson!”

Dustin looked over the wall of the booth, making eye contact with you as if he was expecting something else but saw Steve’s raised glass and the others stood obnoxiously on their seats.

“To old friends and finding the courage to get what we want.”

“Cheers!”

You downed the glass in one take.

You stopped at 2.

The drinks were strong and you still wanted to know what was going on by the end of the night and the moment the house lights went a little dim, the want to drink disappeared.

When he walked onto that stage your heart nearly imploded in your chest.

Everyone at the two tables squealed and cheered, their smiles contagious as they watched the crowd react to the band they had become. It was chaotic and full, filled with loud singers and louder instruments but everyone was having a good time. Drinks were flowing, the air was cloudy from smoke, and no one cared what anyone else was doing.

You had never seen him so in his element. So confident in his abilities that you wonder where your own had went over the last few days. He played like his life depended on it, fully immersed in the music surrounding him.

When he picked up that guitar and ripped the first chords, it was as though God had reached a hand into his soul and told him, play.

It was intoxicating. Just the images seared into your mind as his fingers played deftly on the board and the way his smile could light up the room. He knew exactly where you all were and every now and again, he’d look over, intentionally, and you swore that every time he looked, there was more than just simple joy swimming in your direction.

Slowly, you calmed. The anxiety began to wash a way as time went on and after an entire two hours of non-stop metal, there was a break. 30 minutes and the scene around you was still electric.

Nancy finished her beer, snacking on some mixed bar nuts as she watched the water from the melted ice drip down your cup. No one checked back in on you, but they felt a shift in your air. It wasn’t tense or anxious, you had finally settled into the woman they knew—maybe with a little fear still lingering.

“You wanna go with me to the bar? I want another,” she pointed to her beer as she leaned into you. You didn’t see why not, missing the glance she shared with Robin and Robin then shared with Steve.

The trip to the bar was like walking through a maze. There were people everywhere and when there wasn’t a person, there was a table or a chair. You swore halfway there a piece of a girls hair touched your mouth because the pungent smell of hairspray was worse being consumed. And in all honesty, the bar wasn’t any better. It didn’t help that there were tall men trying to flag over the three bartenders or that some girl had half of her chest out to get free drinks.

But who were you to judge? Everyone was just having a good time.

“What do you want?” Nancy asked you as she grazed the taps just behind a few bodies blocking the physical bar top.

“I-I don’t know, Nance, ah, um, I’ll just take whatever you’re having,” you replied, not really paying attention because of the people bumping into you from behind.

Nancy, in her abundance of smartass behaviors, pushed her way to the front and after a second, a little gap opened up. She took the stool she could see and you stood next to her, your hands gripping the bar tightly.

“You better now?” She asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Jesus Christ…” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“You’ve seen him, you’ve sat there for two hours and everything’s fine. Just like we said.”

“That doesn’t change how I feel on the inside.”

“Well…” Nancy’s back perked up. You saw her eyes gleam, the smile on her face breaking across every feature, “Better boost your confidence, girlie. He’s coming this way.”

Before you could question anything, you felt a hand on your lower back. You felt almost weightless. Like the room had paused and you’d remember that feeling of his hand on your back.

“My eyes aren’t deceiving me, are they?” His voice was a little worn. The kind anyone would get if they spent too many nights singing along to songs or screaming into a crowd. “Nancy Wheeler and Y/n L/n here in the flesh.” He still hadn’t removed his hand.

Nancy smiled wide, happy to see him again after so long. She hopped off of her chair, brushing beside you best she could to give him a hug. He removed his hand from you and hugged her tightly, giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek.

You could see some of the other women in the bar. Their eyes lingering on him. They knew who he was; waiting for their turn to pounce.

You felt the ugly bug of jealousy begin to grow.

“Look at you!” Nancy leaned back, taking Eddie’s look in with all her excitement. “You did it!”

“Not quite yet but I’ll take it,” he laughed, removing himself from her and she quickly realized she made a mistake getting up. Her seat was gone. Eddie looked at you.

God. He had a smile plastered on his face. His cheeks were red, his hair sticking a bit onto his head from sweat, and he was wearing a worn Ozzy shirt under a new, perfectly tailored leather jacket. You wouldn’t have known that he was putting on a brave face. That his heart was hammering against his chest seeing you there.

“It’s good to see you,” he started, his eyes wandering no differently than they had in any of your earlier encounters. He was quite shameless when it came to checking people out. “I wasn’t sure if Steve was telling the truth that you’d actually be here.”

You tried to play it cool too, “and miss Gareth on the drums?” You smiled, unable to not match his own, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

And as if it were second nature, Eddie pulled you in for a hug too. Different than Nancy, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and you around his torso. Your hands splayed across his back, feeling the distinct texture of leather underneath your finger tips.

Instead of kissing your cheek, he kissed the side of your head. Right where your forehead ended and hair began. You didn’t see him close his eyes to savor it. He felt you squeeze the back of his jacket.

Nancy felt like a third wheel. But a giddy one.

“How long has it been?” He asked you specifically, barely pulling away. He still had his arms wrapped around you and you him. “Six years?”

“Sounds about right,” you replied, gazing into his brown eyes that could swallow you whole. The creases along the edges—smile lines, per se—were more prominent but he was one who couldn’t help but smile when he was happy. He was amazed by so much.

You felt his fingers graze the spot where your neck peaked out from the dress.

“That’s a little too long.”

“Yeah, well…” you couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, “we’ve all got different things goin’ on now.”

He repeated what you had done with your own eyes. It made some of the fears begin to wash away.

Nancy looked sheepishly at the ground, biting back a smile. She took a second to look around the room and saw Robin standing above everyone else from the booth’s seat. That sneaky shit. Robin began waving frantically, calling Nancy back to the table in a haste.

“Oh!” Nancy said rather loudly, pulling you away from the bubble you hadn’t realized you were sucked into. You let go of Eddie, pulling away and leaning back into your spot at the bar.

“I forgot to ask the others what they wanted!” She said almost as though she was reading a script unnaturally. You frowned knowing they all brushed you two off.

“I don’t—“ you began but she was gone before you could get a sound out. She was playing matchmaker too. You sighed, shaking your head before turning back to Eddie. He was already looking.

“So, are you getting something or looking for the rest of them?” You asked, “they’re all at the first two booths over there.” A finger pointing in the direction of the booths led you to see a pop of hair disappearing from above everyone else.

“I was gettin’ a beer,” he responded with a nod but a man clapped him on the back before he could continue.

“Great show, man!”

And then another, “Fuckin’ rocks, dude!”

Followed by others beginning to realize that the man standing beside you was one of the members of the band they had come to see.

“Can you sign this?”

“We saw you in Chicago last year. It was great!”

“I managed to drag my girl to one of your shows and she’s loves you now! I don’t know how I can compete!”

Eventually it had become one after another and you wondered if he got this reception everywhere. You turned back to the bar and waved over one of the bartenders, a female, and was happy she could get you something. She put down a napkin in front of you.

“What can I get you?”

“Two Blue Moons, tap please,” you ordered and she nodded, eyeing Eddie behind you as he graciously thanked each person and tried to break free of their incessant badgering. He only had 30 minutes.

“You know him?” she asked, pulling a cup from the wooden slats and grabbing the hose. Her head tipped in his direction.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, “old friends.”

“You’re lucky,” she laughs and hands one of the beers over, “everyone wants to be friends with him.”

You turned over your shoulder and saw a gaggle of girls hovering. Their faces were bright and flustered. One put her hand on Eddie’s arm, which he took back quickly. He wedged it between you and the patron sitting next to you, leaning onto the bar so they didn’t touch him.

But his arm was touching you. He was barely leaning into you, but you noticed. Your body was on fire any time he was close.

His fingers gripped the bar tightly as if he was trying to disappear through it. The rings on his hand were less familiar but you recognized the pig that glinted in the light.

“So they do,” you looked back at her and she smiled, “how much?” For the beers. She shook her head.

“On the house,” she pointed at Eddie.

“Thanks,” was all you could say in reply.

Both glasses in your hand, you turned back around and nudged his arm that was leaning on the bar. His head immediately turned to you—hair still frizzy and wildly falling around his face as you held one out to him. The girls behind him miffed from the lack of attention.

“Here,” you motioned for him to take it with his free hand but he shook his head, face going a little sour. You furrowed your brows thinking it had something to do with the beer except he tipped his chin to the bar.

“Put them on the bar,” he said sternly, feeling the grabby hands of those girls on the arm that was free. The space was so confined he knew it wouldn’t end well with a beer in his hand.

“Eddie!” One of them called and you could see it in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. He didn’t want to pay any attention to them.

Eddie was learning the boundaries of fans and signing things. Saying hello, taking a picture were fine but the moment they invaded his space, the moment they put people he cared for in any kind of danger, he drew the line. Something inside of him told him it was building to that.

“Eddie! Can you take a picture with us?” They had their camera ready, a guy, maybe one of their boyfriends, was holding the camera for them.

He looked at you apologetically. Who were you to prevent him from making a fan(s) happy?

“It’s fine, go on,” you told him with a nod, hoping your eyes conveyed that.

They wrapped their arms around him. They held on tightly while he barely touched them. When the flash went off and nearly blinded you from the back, more people noticed he was standing there and you felt the situation was just getting worse. You wanted to stay here with him but not at the expense of your comfort. If you went back to the booth now, no one would notice.

Scattered thank you’s from the girls were audible over the light tunes from the stereo that broke through the talking amongst the room. Some guys followed their picture by shaking his hand.

“Hey, listen man,” Eddie started when another came up to him, “I only have so much time so if you don’t mind…” He felt he got lucky when the man understood.

But good barely lasts long.

Eddie turned around, looking you dead in the eye and you could see the drain it had on him. People were badgering when it came to seeing someone remotely well known. They were a new band, growing every year. It would only get worse the more popular they became.

He made his way back over to the bar a couple steps away. His one arm resumed its place beside you and the other reached around you from the other side. For a moment, he had caged you into the bar and the courage and confidence you had always had didn’t waver. Your heart was beating so fast.

He pulled back just a little, returning his arm in front of him and you realized he grabbed his beer.

But he smirked. He was teasing you.

“Blue Moon, huh?” He asked, savoring the taste of it on his tongue, licking the top of his lip as he observed the cup.

“Well if I knew it was on the house…” you told him as a joke. He smiled and it met his eyes, those lines defined on his face.

“You can blame Steve for not telling you. I told him it was free.”

You hummed, looking behind him as that same group of girls remained.

“You have some… fans…” you weren’t sure you could call them that. Eddie dipped his head, you heard the defeated sigh and he shuffled his feet, tapping on the bar with his one hand. The unintentional shuffle brought him an inch closer. You could feel the edge of his jacket—the zipper dangling freely—meet your arm.

“They’re groupies. Well, groupies without the love of music.”

“Yeah I can tell,” you met one of their eyes briefly before looking away. You couldn’t meet his eyes after the stare that girl was giving you. It made your skin crawl. “Do they always do this?”

“Some are less aggressive,” he took another drink of his beer. You had forgotten about your own. “But they’re all on the same spectrum I suppose.”

One of them moved and you didn’t know if you could take being berated for nothing by a girl who just wanted to get in his pants. She hadn’t loved him for years, you did. You grasped the part of his jacket that had been closest to you. Instinctively, he leaned in closer, nearly cocooning you into the small space.

“How much time do you have?” He glanced at the watch that was on the wrist of the hand with the beer.

“10 minutes or so. Why?” He searched your face, never missing your lips as he shot his eyes around.

“Because that girl, the one with the blonde hair and yellow headband is coming over here and gave me the goddamn death glare when I looked at her.”

Eddie’s hair fell from his shoulder and hung beside him. You could feel the edges of it meet the side of your face.

“You have a dressing room or something…? I don’t know what kind of things bars have,” you were holding onto him so tightly.

“Yeah they gave us a room…” he put his beer on the bar and stood up straight. He held out his hand to you.

Six years. Six years you had waited for him to hold out his hand to you in more than a friendly way. There was something about the air, the tension you felt when he looked at you that told you this was the moment you had been waiting for.

“Come on,” he tipped his head toward the back of the venue. You grabbed his hand without a second thought.

You made it halfway. His hand had covered yours, holding on tightly and occasionally swiping his thumb across your fingers in comfort. You could see some of the people looking. You pretended they weren’t whispering about you. All you were thinking about was the perfect way his hand encapsulated yours when you were jerked to the side and his grasp broke.

“Wh—“ he didn’t take two steps to know you were gone and at once turned around to see that girl with the yellow headband was closer to him than you were. You were apologizing to a table of fans as one of their cups had tipped over, the liquid dripping onto the floor onto your shoes.

“What the fuck?” He barely whispered as he watched the scene before him. Eddie walked back to you, trying to avoid the girl when she cut in front of his path.

She gave a big, cheesy smile, “you gotta minute?” Her gum popped in her mouth.

“Wh—no, no, I don’t have a minute…” he brushed her aside and went to you, assuring the table they hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I’m sorry, God,” you were apologetic for something you didn’t have control over, “I didn’t mean to do that. Let me get you—“

“It’s on the house, guys, just tell them I said so,” Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the table before they could wrap their heads around what happened.

The girl was still standing there as you passed again and she tried to grab your arm. However, Eddie was more than prepared to defend you—the only person he’d be willing to make a scene for. He pulled you close, turning to point a finger accusingly at the blonde-haired woman with a sneer.

“Don’t fucking touch her! If I see you near her again I will throw you out myself, got it?”

The girl was speechless and so were you, for far different reasons nonetheless.

“Got it!?” He yelled at her and the people chatting in the area around you quieted. You put one of your hands on his stomach as the other one was clutched in his own. Your palm spread; it was telling her he was already taken.

“Come on, let’s go,” you urged him. And because he knew it was the right thing to do, he led you behind a brown wooden door and the bright, fluorescent lights of the hallway to the dressing rooms was never so greatly welcomed.

Eddie didn’t know how one moment years in the making could change the course of his personal life.

From the time he left Hawkins with Corroded Coffin to make it big, his mind was jumbled; lost in differing aspects from friends he had been leaving behind and a system of systemic poverty that had failed him. Somewhere inside of The Hideout Eddie felt his luck shifting. Maybe it was your hand in his being strung along the bright hallway, or maybe it was the fact he had grown into his confidence and could stick up for himself and you without fear of retaliation because he was no longer at the bottom of the food chain.

It was a redemption of sorts.

“Eddie, Eddie,” he heard his name being called but blood was pounding in his ears. He couldn’t believe the audacity of people when they didn’t have a relation or acquaintanceship with someone. You see people on TV or hear them on the radio and suddenly, it’s as if they’re not truly a person anymore. It was the downside, the absolute bottom of the barrel feeling, when it came to pursuing his dreams.

“Hey, hey, Eddie, wait a second,” your voice was firmer, a light pull back on the grip he had on your hand, and he stopped. He had always been good at keeping others’ comfort at the top of his list and he wasn’t going to stop just because he was a bit angry.

“Just wait,” you breathed, finally catching up to him and staying so close.

“It’s fine, okay?” You were concerned. He could see it in your face. This isn’t how he planned to see you again. In fact, he had been so nervous he smoked two blunts instead of one before the show. He was surprised that it didn’t mellow him out more.

“I’m fine, you’re fine. Just let it go.”

“She had no right to touch you like that,” if your voice had been firm, his was unmoving. It was steadfast in leveled anger that boundaries were breeched and it could have gone a lot worse than it had.

“She didn’t hurt me if that’s what you want to hear.”

Eddie didn’t know what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that you were fine; he wanted to hear that you were happy; he wanted to hear that what he did was fucking hot and maybe, just maybe you would give him a chance if he took it. Eddie Munson wanted to hear the reason why you hadn’t reached out to him for six goddamn years while life continued to turn.

He had so many question and he had been overthinking them for days.

He ran a hand through his frizzy waves and held them intertwined above his head.

“Steve told me you moved to Indy to find me.”

If you were a ghost, now was the time to disappear.

“Is that true?”

You put your hands on your hips and looked anywhere but him.

“Y/n, if it’s not true just say so and you can go back to them but if it’s not, tell me. Please.” You never thought Eddie would be one to beg. But here he was, standing in front of you, begging, for you to tell him.

The dance between you two had been a long and winding road. Stolen glances, touches that lasted too long, and the palpable tension your friends felt was enough to shoot off fireworks between you. It was electric, sizzling, majestic. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t think about what he was doing, who he might be with—and it was no surprise that Eddie often wondered the same of you.

“Is that why you asked about me on the phone? Because you thought I had followed you out there?”

“No,” he shook his head, dropping his hands.

“I asked because I wanted to know if you had a reason for never contacting me. I thought we were friends, at least friends who would keep in touch.”

“I never knew what to say,” you admitted as your head dropped to glance at the floor. Beer was still shining up at you on your glossy shoes. “I feel like there was almost too much that no words would come out.”

Eddie nodded—knowing well you had not answered his question. “Did you think I wouldn’t remember you or somethin’? I can tell you that would never happen.” He laughed at the thought.

“That wasn’t it… I don’t really know how to explain it,” you knew exactly how to explain it.

‘Eddie, I’ve been in love with you for years and I was afraid you had moved on to other women because they were your style.’

‘Eddie, I would do anything for you but I’m scared of my feelings not being validated.’

“Well, you’re here now,” he proposed with a rather hopeful look on his face, “you still smoke or is that too metal for you now?”

“How could I? My dealer ran off to be a superstar.”

“Well, I’m here now and got a bag of weed in my case. What do you say to that?”

“I say it’s not going to smoke itself.”

The dressing room was small. Littered with equipment and travel bags. A dirty mirror hung on the furthest wall from the door and each member of the band was crammed inside. Eddie opened the door with a push as an unknown stickiness had caught the seal. Each guy looked up at the intruder.

“Hey, we were looking for you,” Jeff said and reached for water on the table. “We go back on in five.”

Eddie nodded mindlessly as he opened the door further to let you slip under his arm and into the room. The two that you had gone to high school with smiled widely––having known that Eddie was absolutely soaring on the inside. The band had found two other members you didn’t know after they had escaped the grasp of Hawkins’ hell and they sat chatting on a sofa.

“You’re shitting me right now!” Gareth said, getting up from his stool and grabbing his glass that sat on the table beside Jeff. “I thought you said she wasn’t coming!”

He had talked about you. Recently.

“I said I wasn’t sure!” Eddie corrected him and led you to the corner where he stored his things. You hopped onto the vanity and felt like a spotlight was on you from the bulb of lights. “Besides, it’s none of your business anyway,” Eddie occupied himself searching through one of his cases for the weed.

“We go on in five minutes, man. Did you not hear Jeff?”

“I heard you, I heard you,” Eddie mumbled and grasped a tin with certain fingers. It was an old snuff can that had become so worn down that the branding was gone. Eddie opened the lid and pulled out one of the rolled joints he had stored inside. He lifted it to his lips before turning back to Gareth.

He took a second, glancing over at you as you picked at your nail polish and walked over to Jeff and Gareth instead. The other two outside of the circle knew not to get in between the lifelong friends. You couldn’t hear their mumbles but Eddie was rather animated in his movements.

“Listen, I just need like… a half hour. Give me a half hour and I’ll owe you big time. Just give me this.”

The two wanted to argue. They wanted to be a band that didn’t have members who caused issues but they saw the look in Eddie’s eyes. They knew how much he liked you and with how much he talked about you, they couldn’t not give him the chance. The band came to Hawkins once every year and who knows if Eddie would get the chance again.

Jeff checked his watch. They had to go.

“Half hour. If you’re not out there I will come and get you, I don’t care what situation you’re in.”

Eddie patted them both on the back.

“Shane, Mickey,” Jeff called over to the other two, “let’s go. Eddie needs a minute.”

And Eddie watched them leave the room with the blunt still hanging out of his mouth. When he turned back to you, the air changed too.

You sat, cross legged and leaning on top of the vanity like a muse. Sparkly dress with shiny lips and glinting eyes, it was intoxicating. He grabbed the stool Jeff was sitting on and placed it in front of you—just close enough where his knees tapped your leg as he spread out; unashamed that he was man-spreading right where you slotted between him. He drew a lighter from his jacket and lit the blunt. With a puff he passed it to you.

“They willingly accepted your disappearance?” You questioned, blowing smoke off to the side in the most glamorous way he had ever seen.

“Only for a bargain. You know them… always looking for a steal…” he watched your lips purse around the stick—plump and inviting. “Besides, they had a good enough conscious to let this one slide.”

“Why? Because it’s just silly ol’ me?” You fluttered your eyelashes, smiling at him with perfect poise before passing back the blunt. His fingers grazed yours.

“It’s never just ‘silly ol’ you’” he repeated, “you fuckin’… light up the room when you walk in. So, no.”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was hard when he was so blatant.

“You know I was nervous about tonight,” you admitted sheepishly, “felt like you had forgotten about us now that you made a name for yourself.”

“I told you that would never happen.”

“Yeah, but the mind has a funny way of playing tricks on us like that.”

“There could be a million people in a room, and I’d still find you right away, Y/n,” Eddie’s eyes were filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Kindness and sincerity aside, the man was not quiet about his wants or needs. You just hadn’t allowed yourself to accept them because you were scared about letting someone in. Someone that you liked a lot and someone you knew could make you happy.

Happiness made people vulnerable. Vulnerable people got hurt.

“So you did ask about me? Wanted to know what I was up to?” You inquired.

“Did you move to the city for me?” He asked instead.

“It was part of it, yeah.” It was the answer he wanted.

“Why didn’t you call?”

You laughed, taking the blunt back, and taking a minute to think of a comprehensive answer. “I didn’t call because I was scared of being one of them,” you pointed to the door and he understood that you were referencing those girls.

“They hounded you like you were Bruce Springsteen…how was I supposed to compete with that or be something different?”

If he hadn’t known for certain that you held a candle for him as he did you, he did now. He was relieved in a sense.

“I think it’s funny,” he watched as you unfolded your legs, the dress hiking up in the slightest as you moved forward on the vanity. He also felt the choice to man-spread before you were beginning to be a mistake if anything went wrong. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything. “That you’d think you would be like them… you’re nothing like them.”

“And what am I like?”

Your confidence had returned. A flirtatious smile played at your lips when you swung your leg just enough to let the outline of your shoe rub against his pants. The blunt was still burning between your fingertips.

Eddie knew it was now or never. So he let loose too.

“What are you like?” He looked inquisitively at you. A finger tapping on his chin as if he was deep in thought for a moment. “I think the obvious is smart and pretty… but not school girl kind of pretty.”

“No?”

“No…” he shook his head, “the pretty that doesn’t think she is. The kind that is too kind to accept a compliment but should know she’s more than that.”

“More than pretty?” Your face was hot. You could feel the fire burning within you. Eddie Munson calling you pretty as he spread before you and shared a blunt while the beginnings of his bands second set began to shake the room.

“Beautiful.”

“Beautiful?”

“Gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous?”

You repeated the words slowly. He couldn’t help the smile on his own face. His cheeks were red, the hands folded in his lap were sweaty but he would never admit that.

“The mostest.” You laughed at his grammar. It was technically true, it just sounded awkward.

“Fucking beautiful.”

You didn’t repeat that.

“You, Y/n, are the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life and I’ve thought that for six years.”

“Six?”

“Since you jumped into the water at Lover’s Lake to save Steve.”

God, it felt like yesterday.

“And do you know what?” He questioned, not expecting you to respond, “I have thought about you ever single day since.”

“Every day?”

“Each one. And when I was on stage, I looked. Hoping maybe you’d show up one day. I thought about you when I was alone… when I had company…”

“You’re a pervert, Eddie Munson,” You laughed, he smiled.

“Well, can you blame a guy? Look at you.” The way his eyes trailed. He was hunting and you were perfect prey.

“I can’t really… but you can.” Your bottom lip passed through your teeth quickly—barely grazing it as the top of your shoe ran along the inside of his leg. He was fucked.

“I can. I do.”

“Why has it taken this long to admit it?”

“Time wasn’t always on our side…” he sucked in a breath when you put the blunt out right on the counter top. It made a sickening sizzle, burning black onto its white finish. He would probably be charged for that but in the moment he didn’t care.

“But we’re here now…” you proposed. You moved forward again, barely touching him until you got to your feet and stood in front of him. “Time can stand still for a little while…”

You were waiting on him to make the move.

He stood from the stool, pushing it backwards with his foot. He was close again, just as he had been at the bar but this time there wasn’t anything stopping him. No one in his way and for the remaining minutes he had been granted, he had only you.

Eddie’s hands cupped your face.

“You’d never be one of them, baby,” you just about fell over, “you’ve always been my number one girl.”

“And does that come with a prize?”

“Only the best.”

His eyes never left your lips as he caressed your face gently, savoring the moment before both of your bodies gave into what they had been craving for half a decade. Eddie’s breath was hot, already staggered as he breathed in one last time before pulled your face to his and planting his lips to yours. You imagined it was what heaven had felt like if something like that existed. He tasted like beer and weed; lips a little chapped from days on the road but a pillow compared to others. He cradled your face with care—almost afraid that if he had gone in too hard the first time it would all be a dream and disappear.

When he felt your hands creep onto his forearms, he knew he wasn’t dreaming. It was real. You were here, kissing him back in a dingy dressing room at The Hideout on a Tuesday evening. The walls rattled with a metal sound.

Eddie moved his hands from your face to cradle the back of your head as he pushed himself further into you. Another hand wrapping around your waist tightly. You could feel him clutching onto the fabric of your dress, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip. With nothing to grab onto now, you enveloped his shoulders with your arms and tangled your hands into his hair.

There was nothing holding him back, nor you, in that room. His hands wandered and groped, he sounded small grunts when you rubbed up against him just right or tugged on his hair just enough. You felt him hard against you, telling you without words that what he had said was the truth.

You wanted this. You wanted it badly.

The vanity behind you was digging into your lower back, pressing, and pressing with every movement and the world came back to you with the realization someone could walk in, and you weren’t about to stop if Eddie wasn’t.

“Eddie,” you broke the kiss, murmuring his name as his lips found the sides of your mouth, your chin, following a path down your neck. “Eddie,” you said again with a pant, “someone could walk in.”

He let go with an audible 'pop' and nudged his nose to your chin before looking at you. He was so close, breathing heavily as his tongue swept over his lips.

"Yeah…" He huffed, the way his arms caged you in against the counter, "so what?"

“I’d rather not give them a show if you know what I mean?”

Eddie acknowledged that with a nod of his head, glancing in the mirror as he peeked around the room for a door that had a lock. The bathroom. The bathroom had a lock. He had found the solution, placing a delicate kiss on your lips—miles different than the one he had started with.

“Bathroom good?”

You brushed a piece of his hair back and he just about melted. “Bathroom’s perfect.”

You weren’t even sure if he had locked the door before he had his hands and lips on you again. You hit the back of the stall hard but it didn’t matter because Eddie Munson was prepared to give you the time of your life in a dirty, more than likely unsanitary, bar bathroom years in the making. He was taking no prisoners in the way he felt you up—hands acting as a way to stake his claim from everything from your breasts to ass and you swallowed what you could take. Each moan he gave, every sound that levied on a whimper from you. It felt natural having him close. Having him give himself to you in the same passion that you were to him.

When he went back to assaulting your neck—sucking at the skin to where your nails were making crescents on his shoulders through his jacket—you stuttered a breath.

“I-I met a few girls who said they met you,” you admitted as he bothered not to stop, “they claimed you’re a real… freak when it comes to this kind of thing.”

He thought you sounded adorable in the most sexy way. Nervous with a tinge of shakiness in your voice. Eddie didn’t care anymore what people thought of him. What girls said or what they tried to claim about him. All he wanted was to know what you thought, what you claimed of him. He had been waiting for that for six years.

“They said you used handcuffs,” that made him stop.

"Is there truth to it?" You couldn't take your eyes off his lips and you could sense he was jittery. Like he had 12 cups of coffee. His finger tapped against the side of the stall impatiently. “It’s a little different from the Eddie I know… one who liked D&D and honeycomb cereal.”

“I still like that cereal,” he laughed. Eddie shifted his head to the side of your face, letting his mouth kiss your ear lobe tenderly. He still loved D&D too.

"What kind of freak do you want me to be?"

You tipped your head to the side slightly, running your hands over his chest and feeling the fabric of his rough t-shirt ride upwards.

"I want," Your hands ran higher and met their position at the base of his neck. Finger nails disappearing beneath his wild hair and running along his nape, "one that will fuck me in this bathroom until I can barely walk… can you do that for me?"

Eddie was nearly speechless. Nearly.

“I could fuck you four ways funny and sweetheart,” he ran his tongue over his lips again, pulling back and looking down at yours, “you wouldn’t be walkin’ after the first one.”

He was so close, his breath hot and brushing against your face. All the water seemingly drained from him as the need for what you were offering, sweet and plump, had become the perfect meal. Eddie’s right hand slid down the stall door to where it could barely graze your dress at the hip.

You had already told him what you wanted. But he needed permission. He drew himself closer, pressing into you and you felt how hard he was in his pants.

“You gonna make me wait forever, sweetheart? You gonna tell me what to do?”

“I told you what I wanted,” your voice was breathy, deep. He could barely stand it. He could cum right there from just knowing he was finally getting the chance to fuck you.

“You told me what you wanted,” he clarified, grasping your side tightly and taking the second you gasped to stick his head between his other arm and neck. His hot, panting breath on your neck now was all you could think about.

“You didn’t say I could.”

“Fuck me, Eddie,” you tilted your head to the side, letting his lips lightly kiss the skin there. You clutched one lapel of his jacket and reached up to intertwine your fingers in his hair with the other, giving him enough order to suck as he had been doing before. “Fuck me the way you played out there tonight. Like it’s your last goddamn night on earth.”

He still had that wild hair. However, it was no longer in spite or rebellion against the system but a piece of his image. Only a man so engrossed in the sound and space of what it meant to be a metal, hard rock band could pull off the attitude and aura he exuded.

He lifted up the skirt of your dress to your waist and let his torso hold it in place as he put both hands to your hips and pulled your panties down. Your breathing was staggered, half excited and half anxious to get him inside of you. He gently tapped your knee to lift.

When he got them off he shoved them in the back pocket of his pants.

“I’m keepin’ those.”

The dress had fallen back down but as he rose to his feet, his fingers painted a path to its edge, driving it upwards and this time, there was nothing restricting his path to you.

“Baby, you been hidin’ this perfect fucking pussy all these years?”

Fuck. You felt a fire ignite within you. You knew Eddie Munson had a flare for theatrics; that he was eccentric, and maybe a little insane, but the second his hands touched your body—you felt the satanic panic infiltrate your soul.

“Eddie,” you whined as one of his hands grew closer to your center and the other kept guiding your dress up. “Stop with your goddamn teasing and fuck me.”

He would never deny a command from a lady like you.

Eddie let his fingers descend, pressing his lips to your neck then chin as your breathing hitched right at the precipice. His entire hand cupped you with pressure that made your toes curl.

“Sh-shit…” you gasped. His smile on your neck was rewarding.

“Shit is right, Y/n,” Eddie’s fingers spread a bit, two fingers threatening to enter while the others pulled apart your folds. His thumb worked to find your clit without guidance of his eyes. All he needed from you was to tell him when and it took him little time.

You jolted into him, lolling your head into his chest, and breathing deeply and his lips lost their traction on your neck. He could feel your trembling fingers holding onto him. If he had been 16, he would have came in his pants at the sheer desperation you were giving. The music of heavy metal mixing with the sounds of your pleasure were dizzying. Eddie guided two of his fingers into you.

“Jesus Christ…” you blurted out as your head pulled back from him and went back against the stall. He was watching you with such precision that you felt hot under his gaze. His fingers were moving swiftly, feeling every part of you as he watched your chest heave and face go slack.

“You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart. God damn.” He pushed his fingers further into you, curling them the best he could to get you there. He wanted to fuck you but couldn’t tear his eyes away from your wanton face. Eddie’s free hand gripped the base of your neck. His thumb running along the length and applying pressure. “So wet for me, huh?”

Your eyes were clouded with delirium. He had taken you there with a simple touch. You didn’t know how you would last if he truly took the time to worship you. Eddie could send you to an early grave and you’d say ‘thank you for a fantastic time.’

“Always for you,” you whimpered carelessly, “I’ll always be for you.”

“You really—“ he grunted when your hand tangled in his shirt and nicked the necklace he was wearing. It pulled on his neck. “You really want me to fuck you here?” He flicked your bud making you cry out. “Bend you over like the dirty fucking girl you are?”

You pulled his shirt, the necklace too, and let his body lay against yours. The only feeling of his hand continuing to pleasure you and his hard dick in his pants reminding you that you wanted something more. His forehead met yours and it was soft in the hardness of lust.

“Bend me over that sink,” you told him, no longer fuzzy with ecstasy, “I’ve thought about you on lonely nights starring at me through a mirror as you fucked me.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat that formed with your admission.

“Show me that I’m not one of those girls, Eddie.”

He didn’t need to romance you to show you that.

Eddie removed his fingers with no warning and guided you to the sink with a quickness you had only seen in movies. He was strategic and defined, letting your hands grasp the edges of the porcelain sink that stood alone in the flickering bathroom light. You watched him through the mirror concentrate on undoing his belt, zipping down his pants and pulling himself out of his black jeans. For a second, you wished you had turned around. Wanting to see him hard and leaking for you but you also knew there was no way this was a one and done deal.

Eddie would wine and dine you; he would take you to a physical bed and make love to you before he’d leave this planet.

And he still had on his leather jacket.

“You sure you’re ready for this, baby?” He asked, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “We only got so much time so I’m not going slow.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” your fingers had gone taut against the sink; gripping tightly and trying to support yourself as your excitement made you shake. No man had ever had the same effect on you.

“You tell me to stop and I will, got it?”

And there were few men confident enough in their abilities to extend kindness in the heat of the moment.

“Yeah, I got it,” you barely got that out because he grabbed his cock with one of his hands, leaning over you to hold your hand down on the sink—his larger hand covering yours almost completely. He ran the head over your folds and you felt your legs shake.

“All right then, let me fuck you like I’ve been waiting my whole life to.”

And he was right, he didn’t stop. Eddie pounded hard and fast into you as if it was exactly that. He hit every part of you, stretching and filling you with a sweet sensation of adrenaline laced possessiveness that had grown throughout the evening. Every time he glanced at the table, the moment he saw you at the bar, the way you held onto his hand as he carried you away from the crowds just to have a second to unwind everything he had felt for you. As he gripped your hip and remained holding your hand against the sink, you could barely say a word for what he was completing in you.

It was like a puzzle piece finding its home.

“Motherfucker…” Eddie husked as he picked up the pace, watching himself disappear within your glistening cunt every time he thrusted back and forth. He wasn’t even letting you do much work at this point. He had taken every ounce of himself and poured it into what he had been waiting to do. Eddie Munson was beating to the course of his own drum, not the ones that rattled the walls and swelled through the air ducts to sound off the tile in the bathroom.

You kept your eyes on him through the mirror even if the pleasure threatened to close them. He was in a zone; concentrated and using his body the best way he knew how.

“Fuck–” He let go of your hand and slotted it in between you down your front. He brought his middle finger back down to your clit and your breath hitched, stuck inside of your throat. Your fingers were unstable. The grip on the sink wavering with every pounding step he made and the sounds of your wet slick combining with his force was an epiphany.

You looked again in the mirror. Eddie’s forehead was resting on the skin of your shoulder as he continued to thrust.

“Eddie,” you breathed out, “look at me.”

Your words were jumbled. You didn’t know if it came out that way or if you just heard the voice in your head say it correctly, but he didn’t respond.

“Eddie,” you tried again, “look at me.”

Look at you–he did. He had. For four goddamn years because that's all he could do was look. Staring like a loser school boy who was infatuated with his unattainable teacher but in reality, the two of you were neither. Just a freak and a prep. The popular girl who was loud and funny but could never spare a glance to him until you had. Until circumstances beyond his imagination had brought him a group of friends that supported him, saved him, from the secrets Hawkins hides.

His brown eyes blown wide and full, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as your glinted on your collarbones and the part of your chest he could see.

“You’re so fucking perfect, Y/n...” He mumbled and laid a kiss on your shoulder. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he was close. The fantasy of the moment he had been waiting for beginning to catch up with him, the ideas you had planted in your mind for days reeling in reality. But you didn’t come here to get fucked and finish by looking at him in the mirror.

“Turn me over,” you panted quickly, “I’m close.”

He did as he was told. His cock slipping out for a second as he gripped both sides of your hips and turned you around. In any other situation, he may have been embarrassed about how much he was worked up, but this wasn’t a regular occurrence. This was an endgame for him. Some final quest that would lead his life beyond it with pride and a feeling of content. This was his one shot as much as it was yours. He guided himself back in, feeling you clench around him and lifted one of your legs to wrap around him. Eddie held it with his hand to help ease the strain.

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” you managed to get out with labored words. Your shaking hand cupping his face as he brought it close to you. Intimacy was no longer divided between a mirror. This was as close to making magic as it could get in a place like this.

“It won’t be,” he reassured you with a kiss, “I’m not letting you go again, baby.”

The goddamn pet names. You’d never tire of it.

He felt you clench around him again, your face fighting the resolution with everything you had left because you didn’t want it to end.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured against your lips, “come for me, sweetheart, come for me.”

Eddie put his hand on your neck again, relishing the way your eyes fluttered closed as his lips egged you on with kisses and his hand with a bit of pressure. He would have time to show you what else he could do; to find new things together but right then, all he wanted to see was you fall apart by his own doing.

A few more thrusts and he had sent you there.

He had sent you to euphoria–the dazzling electric dance of fire that had been sitting, waiting to be awakened. Your eyes were shut tightly, hands gripping his jacket, and your mouth was agape, a strangled sound of pleasure finding its way out as he followed through with his actions as your orgasm had reached its top. Eddie wished he had a camera because there was no one else who could beat the way your orgasm made him feel.

He was so lost in the moment staring at you that he had reached his own in a subsequent fashion. You heard him moan, something so many men had been conscious not to do because it was vulnerable, but you grasped him harder as he stilled. You were both breathing so heavily that you couldn’t hear anything else.

All either of you did was stare at each other––knowing that what had occurred changed the course of not only the evening, but your lives as they were.

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispered, feeling himself soften inside of you as your fingertips lightly ran through his hair.

The music from his band was still thundering.

“Yeah...” you repeated, “holy shit.”

And he smiled, so you did too.

“They’ll come looking for me any second,” he said knowingly. Jeff and Gareth let him have his time, but he still needed to play. He didn’t want to leave.

You brushed his bangs away from his face gently. “Well, a band always needs their star...”

You thought he was a star. A star.

“Well, a man needs his muse too.”

“His muse will be out there... cheering him on from a booth with both of their friends.”

Eddie bit his lip, not wanting to go but knowing that he had to. He nodded, almost warning you that he was going to pull out and it still hadn’t hit either of you that a condom had gone forgotten. He tried to ignore the small wince you let out when he eventually did, stuffing himself back into his pants as you pulled your dress down and turned to face the mirror again.

“Sorry,” he said both in response to the soreness he’s sure you felt, but also for the marks he had left on the skin exposed due to the design of your dress. You examined them in the mirror.

“Here,” Eddie pulled off his jacket and was thankful he did so because he was sweltering in it, “take it and when the shows over, you come back, and I’ll take you for a drink.”

A date of sorts.

“You sure?” You caught his eyes in the mirror as he opened the jacket, placing it on your shoulders and holding his hands there.

“There’s no one else I’d rather see wearing it out there.”

“I don’t know if I could pull it off as well as you,” you laughed, your head shaking at the idea of you–someone who had never worn a leather jacket–wearing his. “I don’t know if I’m the type.”

“Of course, you are,” Eddie moved to the side of the sink, letting your hands turn on the faucet and let the water run, “you’re a rock star’s girl so I need you to show it off. Besides...” he trailed off, hearing the door to the dressing room open beyond the bathrooms, “you could wear nothing and be the best dressed person in there.”

A knock sounded at the door, followed by a wiggle of the handle but thankfully, Eddie did lock the door.

“Eddie?” it was Jeff, “Time’s up, man. I know you wanna, well, you know...” he sounded embarrassed, “but they know you’re missing.”

“Be out in a second!” Eddie shouted through the door and the handle went still again.

“You should go,” you pumped soap into your hand once the water was warm, “you have fans waiting.”

“Promise me you’ll wear it?” His eyes were hopeful. He had finally snagged the girl of his dreams. He didn’t need to define it to know you were committed too. “Please?”

“I’m wearing it already, aren’t I?” You smiled at him, nodding your head to the door. “Go.”

He started off toward the door and just when he was about to unlock it, he turned around, meeting your eyes in the mirror and coming straight back to you. His hands grabbed your face and pulled you to him, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. It had been the lingering feelings of love unspoken that had told him to do it. He pulled away first.

“I’ll be looking for you out there.”

“I’ll be watching.”

The bar was as you had left it.

Eddie made it to the stage by the time you had cleaned yourself up and became satisfied that your look was a bit different to the one you had begun the night with. The music was still loud, the people were still excited, and the two booths remained filled with your friends. You stopped at the bar on your way back for a glass of water and the same woman as before served you.

There were still a hundred bodies lingering around the space, but a single open gap led you to her. She smiled at you.

“You left your beer on the bar,” she said as her eyes narrowed, looking at the jacket you wore. You played with the cuffs as the people around you listened to the music. “Want another?”

“No,” you shook your head, “just water please.”

She nodded her head and grabbed a glass before filling it with ice.

“Just friends, huh?”

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your face.

“Maybe a bit more than that.”

The bartender gave you a wink as you left the bar to make your way through the maze of guests. You didn’t mind the water falling onto your hand as the people danced and forced your cup to move, thoughts filled with Eddie and the future of the evening ahead.

“Hey!” You barely heard their calls, “Y/N! Over here!”

Dustin’s screeching was the loudest, but you saw Robin standing with Nancy on the booth and their grins were huge. You reached your table and sat beside Steve. Robin and Nancy sat back down but no one said anything. You wouldn’t meet their eyes as you sipped your water. Steve nudged your shoulder twice before you mustered the strength to look at each one of them.

“That jacket’s new,” Steve commented, and Robin could barely contain her excitement. She hid her mouth behind her hands.

“It is,” you replied with a curt nod.

“So are those hickeys,” Jonathan stated, looking around the venue after he said it and his cheeks went red. Nancy slapped his arm.

“Got anything to say?” Steve inquired.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ dramatically, “not really.”

Steve hummed, grinning like the rest of the fools at the table. You looked over at the stage and saw Eddie playing once more, catching him once looking over at the table and he beamed.

“You know, Steve,” you called out to him but didn’t look at him, “the thing you said in the car, about the bathrooms... you were right.”

The table erupted in delighted cheers. Steve patted your knee proudly.

Six years felt like forever, but you knew, looking onto that stage at The Hideout as the man you had been pining over played his heart out, that it was nothing compared to the potential of the future. The clock reset. You were only counting the time starting now... well, the time that started 30 odd minutes ago.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things netflix #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x female reader #joseph quinn #lets all recover from that season #this wasn't supposed to be 13 thousand words #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things season 4

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findafight · 10 months

Text

Wait hehe.

Modern au where Eddie has a decent following in social media and is known as both a guy who does ttrpg with a few friends and does cool metal covers of different song genres. He's weird, sure, and will also post two minute video monologues but it's done while camera is mildly unfocused on a worm on the wet pavement, or he'll rant about prog rock and then two minutes later go "I'm sorry my statements on Keith Emmerson were inappropriate and I guess" *pauses and looks off camera* "he totally deserves to be in the rock and roll Hall of Fame" like it's a hostage video and someone made him say it because he looks like he's having a terrible time about it.

Anyways he's an internet funny little man and one day he posts a tiktok or what have you labeled "tfw ur bf is sitting in his platonic soulmate's lap instead of yours" and it's just of Steve sitting sideways across Robin's lap on someone's couch chatting and smiling with her before turning to Eddie and giving a little finger wave.

This is of course met with internet hullabaloo because is that Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley? Famous indie music duo who are also starring in a popular new tv series? Social media weirdos? Beloved and popular and bizarre and memeable? Queer icons RobinandSteve? Was Eddie serious? He was dating thee Steve Harrington?

An hour later Robin tags Eddie in a post that is a video obviously taken from slightly under Steve as the angles are a bit weird, and Eddie can be heard saying "oh my god how could I have forgotten you're, like, really famous how'd I do that Steve! Babe, Stop laughing! It was supposed to be a silly relatable post! You're no better Buckley-hey why are you filming this? My mortification isn't funny!!" While the video is just shaking of Steve curling in on himself and Robin trying to focus on Eddie and you can hear them both cackling over Eddie talking. She captions it "tfw ur QPP's bf forgets you two are famous and that most ppl don't know they're dating. Or didn't, at least"

#eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie #stranger things #eddie and his little cringefail posts #when asked how they met they say they went to hs together and then reconnected #finda's rambles #finda writes stuff #famous steve harrington #why yes i did just have the second half of an edible tha ks for asking #drug mention #i dont thi k a lot of ppl on here wld know who keith emmerson is but hes one of the greatest keyboardists of all time #and elp is not in the rrhof and im. astounded. bamboozled. (its because...'mainstream' rock hates/d prog)#took until the 2010s for prog bands to get into the rock and roll hall of fame #so i am pushing my prog rock fan steve on you all now #i mean that the relationship between prog and other subgenres is weird compared to everything else and it wasnt seen as true to rock

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italiansteebie · 1 year

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also on ao3

Gareth has been watching Steve Harrington.

It was almost surreal the way he fell from the hierarchy everyone put so much importance on. It was like he ruled the school, and as soon as someone stepped up to challenge it, he gave it up like he didn’t want it in the first place. Gareth begins to wonder if he chose it, or if it was thrust upon him.

He finds out how right he was when Eddie gets accused of murder.

He’d been at home watching the news with his mom when Eddie’s face popped up on the screen. “Oh shit,” “Gareth!” His mother scolded. “Oh- Sorry mom, that’s Eddie!” He said, exasperated and a little nervous. He knew Eddie was strange, but what the hell did he do to get accused of murdering a cheerleader? “Your friend Eddie? He’s a sweet boy, he couldn't do that.” His mother soothed. And she was right, but for the next five days Eddie was radio silent while the earth split apart and ash rained from the sky.

He paced every day by the phone waiting for Eddie to call and tell him something. Anything. Waiting for Wayne to call him and tell him the funeral date, or the court date to testify against the charges but it never came. Instead, he got a call from a guy sounding right around his age, and when he listened closer the voice identified itself as one Steve Harrington, who’d gotten his number off Dustin Henderson, one of Eddie’s “Sheep.”

Eddie was in the hospital, he wasn’t okay, but he was alive, and as much as Gareth wanted to see Eddie, ask him what the hell happened, and slap him silly, he couldn’t help the morbid curiosity that came with Steve Harrington being mixed up in all of this. Was he the one who killed Chrissy? No. No way. Steve can’t even throw a punch, he’s seen him try.

He got to the hospital, seeing Steve sitting in the lobby, head in his hands and a bright red ring around his neck. There was a girl next to him, rubbing his back, and when Gareth looked closer, he discovered that it was Robin from band. He snorted, he didn’t think Steve was anywhere near Robin’s type but… Well, he’s been wrong before.

Dustin was sitting across from them, looking a bit more put together, and he wondered how long they’d been sitting in the lobby, and if Steve had gone home. Dustin’s eyes meet his, and he waves him over. “Hey, Gareth. Uh. I had Steve call you. I figured you’d want to see Eddie?” He posed it as if he was unsure, the more kid looked exhausted and wondered what possibly could have happened between the murder acquisition and the earthquake that got this odd group of people strung together. The three here seemed comfortable with each other, and the morbid curiosity returned. What was King Steve doing with these people? Not that there was anything wrong with them, it was just so… Different. Gareth realizes he’d been just kind of idling, so he shook himself from his thoughts, “Uhm, yeah. Is he okay? What happened?” He stuttered out nervously. The two boys made eye contact from their adjacent plastic chairs, seemingly having a silent conversation.

Steve gave him a sharp nod before standing, “Dust, stay here with Robs. Wayne should be here soon and you can bring him back to Eddie’s room, kay? Rob, feel free to go to Max or Eddie’s room.” He looked at Gareth, studying him, before waving a hand as to say “follow me.”

Gareth followed hesitantly, looking over his shoulder at Robin and Dustin who were watching them right back. Steve led them silently to a room before stopping at the door. “Look, Gareth. We don't… We don’t know each other and what I’m about to tell you is going to be hard to swallow, but per the request of Eddie, I will explain, please.” Steve’s voice wavered and broke before he continued. “Please, don’t ask any questions until I’m done and I am begging you, don’t share this with anyone who doesn't enter this room, okay?” Gareth swallowed thickly, no matter what, Steve was intimidating, so he nodded, and listened as the other boy launched into the story. Starting with little Will Byers, who came back from the dead.

By the end of it, Gareth was a little more than shell shocked, and the exhausted look on Steve’s face told him that he didn’t really have a choice except to believe him, somehow it made sense. He uttered a simple, “Okay.” And that was that.

“Eddie’s in rough shape but he is okay, just so you know. I’ll… Wait out here til you guys are done…” Steve said before pushing the door open for him. “Gareth, my main man. Thanks for briefing him, Stevie.” Eddie’s voice came out croaking and dry, and out of the corner of his eye he could see a faint blush spreading across Steve’s face at the nickname. Huh. The door shut, “Stevie?”

“Oh, shut up Gareth. That’s what you’re focused on? I'm in a hospital bed.”

Gareth rolled his eyes, “You’re sitting up and calling King Steve ‘Stevie.” He scoffed, to which Eddie rolled his eyes. “He’s… Not that bad anymore, in fact he might be… Really, really good.” The soft voice and the fond look on Eddie’s face made Gareth squeal. But y’know, a manly squeal. “EDDIE OH MY GOD.” Eddie ducked his head, they both flinched at the door swinging open. “What’s wrong? I heard screaming. Is everything okay?” Steve rambled out, softening when he realized everything was still in order. “S-sorry, I’ll” He stuttered out, shoving his thumb back towards the door. “Stevie, c’mere sweetheart.” Eddie said, patting the side of his bed, scooching over to make room for him.

Steve sat, grabbing Eddie’s hand, eyes flicking over to Gareths occasionally. “It’s okay, Stevie. He’s my best friend, he knows. Well, not about… He knows I like boys, kay?” Eddie raises their clasped hands, planting a soft kiss on Steve’s knuckles. He turns to Gareth, “It’s new. But… It’s good. Really good.” Gareth smiled at this, before fake gagging at the cuteness, they were going to be insufferable weren’t they?

It wasn’t until a few months later that Gareth really found out the backstory behind King Steve. It was a more depressing story than he’d thought it would be.

They’d been playing DnD in Steve’s basement, after he’d allowed them to set up shop there every week for their campaigns claiming “No one ever uses it anyways,” with a shrug. There was a twinkle of something sad in Steve’s eye but he didn’t pay much attention to it. It wasn’t until later in the game that it all came to a front.

Eddie introduced a new NPC, quite obviously based on Steve, and most of them took it well. They were happy for the two and their new found love, but Eric, apparently, had a grudge stronger than a demogorgon.

“Knight Steviengton? Seriously? That lumps not a Knight. What’s he ever done?” Eric scoffed, Eddie began to reply before Eric cut him off, voice coming out sharp. “More like ‘Useless King Steve who’s only worth his parents money.’” Eddie’s head whipped around at the sound of the basement door closing, Steve disappearing from his spot on the couch where he watches the story unfold and takes notes so they remember where they left off.

Eddie might as well have cast Eric out with the look in his eyes, everyone watched as the guy sunk back into his seat as Eddie sauntered over to him, a dark look in his eyes. “Tell me, Eric. Do you like having me as a DM?” Eric spluttered, a weak “yeah,” coming out eventually. “Okay. Good, good. Now tell me. If you like me so much, why would you curse the most important person in my life? The person who saved my life?”

“He’s- He’s just… King Steve…” Was the meak answer that left Eric's lips. “Did he ever do anything to you?” It was silent. Eddie slammed his hands on the table, “No. He didn’t. Because he would NEVER stoop so low as to put his hands on another person. In fact, I explicitly remember him telling Tommy H. to back off, don’t you?” His voice was loud and aggressive.

“You know, he tries so hard, to make up for the asshole he was in high school, and you fucking… TURDS, won’t accept anything! It’s not his fault he was basically bred specifically to be a reincarnation of his god awful father. And now that he’s finally out of their control, because they basically disowned him after the earthquake, leaving nothing but this god forsaken house!” Eddie paused, breathing heavily, “You can’t forgive him? He saved my life.” His voice was soft at that moment, before his eyes returned to their fiery state. “And I am in love with him, and if that’s not good enough for you? You can get the fuck out of HIS house, and find yourself a new goddamn DM.”

There was no response from Eric, “Whatever, session over. Goodbye.” Eddie waved a hand before going upstairs, likely to check on Steve.

Gareth looked at Eric, “Not cool, man. Steve’s a pretty good guy when you get to know him.” He shook his head before standing up, moving to grab his stuff and leave. Jeff nodded in agreement, “I mean, he lets us use his basement, and eat his food, and he keeps it clean for us… Dick move, Eric.”

“Well. Fine. I’ll just leave then! Since you guys are all up King Steve’s ass for NO REASON.” Gareth watched the outburst with his arms crossed, unimpressed, “Well. Go on then.” He said, motioning to the door.

“This is ridiculous!” Eric threw his arms up and stormed out of the house.

The rest of the group trickled out after that, leaving Gareth alone in the house. He crept up the stairs, finding Steve’s room before knocking gently. “Come in,” He heard Eddie say from the other side. Seeing Steve Harrington cry was something he’d never expected to see, and honestly it was kind of heart breaking. “Hey, Gare.” Eddie said, combing a hand through Steve’s hair.

“I just… Wanted to say that what Eric said wasn’t cool… And the rest of us don’t agree with him at all, we all think you’re like super cool, and good for Eddie. I mean, you’re the only one who can get him to eat vegetables!” Gareth said, voice lifting at the end. This rendered a tearful laugh from Steve. “Thanks Gareth. I really try to be… better than I was.”

“You are,” The assure came from both Eddie and Gareth with such finality that it didn’t give him any room to argue. This rendered another soft laugh from Steve. Wiping his eyes “Feel free to crash here, we’ve got enough rooms, and food, o-or whatever.” It came out awkward, and hopeful. Gareth nodded, letting a smile spread across his face, “Thanks, Steve. I’ll take you up on that. Good night, guys.”

He shut the door softly behind him, venturing to one of the guest rooms that lined the halls.

Steve Harrington could use some more friends, Gareth decided at that moment, he was going to be one of them.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #autistic steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harringtons parents #gareth emerson #gareth stranger things #soft steddie #steve harrington centric #soft eddie munson #protective eddie munson #best friend gareth #hellfire club #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fix it fic #steve gets taken care of

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

Text

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #one shot #secret admirer #fluff #a tiny bit of angst #friends to lovers #feelings realization #feelings confession #pining eddie munson #oblivious steve harrington #mutual crushes #high school au #eddie is in love with steve

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patheticdarling · 2 years

Text

One of Six

Summary: Reader finds out some pretty big news before the final battle against Vecna. Breaking the news to anyone is going to be challenging, how will everyone take it? How will Steve in particular take it? (conversation between Steve & Nancy but between Steve & Y/N instead)

Warnings: mentions of sort of teen pregnancy/ fluff & angst/ mentions of violence/ cussing/ mentions of marriage

Word Count: 1931

*NOT MY GIF*

“No! No! Shit! Fucking,” you swore, trying to keep quiet in the bathroom of the stolen trailer while all of your friends stood just feet outside of it.

“Y/N?” a soft knock on the door, the voice belonging to your best friend, “You alright in there?”

You cracked the door open slightly, “I need you to come in here but be discreet.”

Robin raised her eyebrow slightly, “Everything ok?” she asked as she entered the bathroom, “God, it’s so cramped in here. Why can’t we just go back out there?”

You stopped her as she tried to reach for the doorknob, “Because I don’t want anyone else to hear what I’m about to tell you.”

“You’re not possessed too, are you?” Robin’s voice thick with worry.

“Hell no. Thank God, I can’t imagine what Max is going through right now,” you answered.

“Then what is it? Something happen between you and Steve? Because, honestly, right now a couple fight about who didn’t do the dishes or you stealing his hair spray isn’t all that important, meaning no offense-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Robin’s rambling came to a screeching halt, “What?”

You sighed heavily before handing over the pregnancy test that presented quite possibly the brightest little plus sign you’d ever seen.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, “Holy shit!”

Your hand slapped over her mouth, “Robin!” you lowered your own voice, “What part of ‘I don’t want anyone else to hear’ wasn’t clear to you?”

“Sorry,” her apology muffled by your hand.

You pulled away, “What the hell am I gonna do, Robin? This couldn’t have come at the worst possible fucking time. I mean Max might die, who am I kidding? We all might die and what is Steve gonna say?” you sniffled a bit, the tears pooling your eyes, “We just turned 20, I mean he works at a video store and I work at the school paper with Nancy. We are not ready for a goddamn baby. Fucking-”

“Y/N,” Robin cut you off this time, “We all understand that there’s a lot going on right now, really. But you have to tell at least Steve. Look, he’s a dingus and all but the guy is a real softy. I mean complete goo,” you chuckled a bit as you wiped your tears, “And he is literal silly putty in your hands. Whatever you choose, he’s gonna be there for you. And if for some reason he’s not, I’ll knock some sense into him.”

You sniffled again, “Thanks, Robin,” you pulled her in for a hug, “You’re the best.”

“I know,” she sighed, you pinched her arm playfully, “Joking. I’m always gonna be here for you, Y/N.” You both held one another for a moment, “Now can we please get out of this closet of a bathroom? I’m getting a little claustrophobic.”

The two of you laughed, you stuck the pregnancy test into your pocket before you followed Robin out of the bathroom.

“Everything ok?” Nancy asked as she was the first to take note of the two of you returning.

“Yeah, just jitters or whatever,” Robin answered for the both of you.

“Oh ok,” Nancy smiled, “I think Steve was asking for you, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Nance,” you nodded before making your way to the front of the stolen trailer.

Steve took note of your presence as you sat in the passenger seat, “There’s my girl. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just was talking to Robin about some girl stuff,” you answered, buckling yourself in, “So, how’s it handle?”

“Not so bad. Considering that this is a house,” he answered, you chuckled in agreeance. “Yeah, it’s silly I’ve actually..um..” he sort of hesitated for a moment, “I always had this dream that I’d have this really big family. I’m talking like a full brood of Harringtons. Like five, six kids.”

“Six?” you raised a brow, laughing slightly.

“Yeah. Six little nuggets. Three girls, three boys,” Steve continued, “And every summer, I figured all of us Harringtons, we would pack into something like this and just see the country.” Your eyes soft as you listened to him, “You know, the Rockies, Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone. End up in some beachside town in California. Spend a week parked in the sand. Learn how to surf or something.”

“That sounds nice,” a slight relief in your voice that you tried hard not to make obvious.

“Yeah?” he questioned, there was a hidden need for reassurance in his voice.

Your smile tender, “Yeah.” Both of your eyes soft before you shook your head, “Well, uh, except for the six-kid part. That sounds like a total nightmare.”

“If only I had some practice,” he gestured to the back of the trailer.

You nodded, “All right. Fair. That’s fair.”

You should’ve been relieved by Steve’s words, that you might make his dreams come true. But just because he had this realization didn’t necessarily mean he wanted that right now or anytime soon. Hence, why you were iterating all of those thoughts to Robin as you trekked through the woods of the Upside Down along with Nancy and Steve who were trailing just a bit behind the two of you.

“If I had gotten pregnant at a better time then maybe I’d be a bit more relieved. But look at us Robin, we are using a 15-year-old girl as bait and hiking through the Hell version of Hawkins!”

“You’re pregnant?” a voice came from behind the two of you. You turned to see Nancy, her eyes wide as she looked at you.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have been talking so loud,” Robin bit her inner cheek.

You marched up to her and kept your volume low, “Nancy, where’s Steve?”

“He went to go pee really fast so I said I’d catch up to you guys. But back to my question, you’re pregnant, Y/N?”

You let out a heavy sigh, “Yeah, Nance. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my God. Does Steve know?”

“No, and you have to swear not to tell him or anyone else. This is the least of our problems right now,” you explained.

“Y/N, it is a pretty big fucking problem. I mean you shouldn’t be here, you should be somewhere safe and not in the Upside Down!” Nancy lectured.

“Nance, I was not going to let any of you do this on your own. The safest place for me is with you guys. Besides, too many questions would have been asked if I backed out randomly.”

“Wait is this what you guys were dealing with in the bathroom of the trailer?”

“Yup,” Robin answered, “She went and stole a pregnancy test while we were in the army surplus store.”

“Oh my God. I mean, what now? Should we-”

“Am I interrupting girl time?” Steve’s voice cut off the conversation. You all straightened up, guilt-ridden faces. “Or gossip time,” he glared, “Why do you all look so suspicious?”

All of you recomposed yourself, “What’re you talking about, dingus?”

“Yeah, shouldn’t we get going? We’re running out of time,” Nancy urged us on before she and Robin sped off, leaving you and Steve.

“Well that was weird,” Steve noted.

You attempted to shrug it off, “Not like anything is normal right now.”

“You could say that again,” Steve chuckled as you both followed suit.

There was an unusual silence between the two of you. Usually in a situation like this, as if anything was comparable to it, the two of you would try your best to keep one another’s spirits up.

Steve took note of it too, “Is everything ok, Y/N? I mean I know we’re heading into a literal death trap but you still seem uneasy. What’s going on?”

You tried to push past it, “What’re you talking about? Everything is fine.”

Steve stopped the two of you, “Look, I know you and I know when everything is really fine and it’s clearly not. Plus you’ve been sneaking around talking to the girls all day. I wanna know what’s going on.”

“Nothing is going on, Steve. You’re being ridiculous-”

“Ridiculous? No, what’s ridiculous, Y/N, is me feeling like I can confide in you when you obviously don’t feel the same way.” Nancy and Robin were now completely out of earshot, “Do you not trust me?”

“What?” you took note of the pain in his tone, “Of course I trust you, Steve,” you took his hand.

“Then tell me what’s really going on with you. Please.”

You let out a shaky sigh, “Fine.” you turned to look at Robin and Nancy who tried to give you reassuring looks, “I’m pregnant, Steve. I didn’t get a period last month so while you guys were getting supplies, I got a pregnancy test from the pharmacy next door. So that’s what’s really going on with me. And I didn’t want to tell you or anyone for that matter because it should be the least of all of our problems and I didn’t want to give you another reason to be worried or upset. Which you have every right to be with me and I’m sorry I’m doing this to you-”

Before you knew it your rambling was cut off by Steve’s lips on yours followed by a loving embrace, “It’s alright,” his voice stuff as he stroked over your hair.

“I-I’m so sorry, Steve-”

He pulled you back, holding your face in his hands, “Look at me,” your teary eyes hesitantly lifted from the floor, “Remember the dream I told you about?” You just looked up at him, “About the Winnebago. About seeing the country with my six lil’ nuggets?”

You smiled a bit, nodding as you recalled the sweet moment, “Yeah, I do.”

He nodded, “It’s all true. Every last word.” A small moment passed, “But I left one part out. It’s the most important part. You’re there.” A tear fell from your eye, “You’ve always been there.”

“Steve,” your voice trembling.

“And if, no, when we live through this, I want it to start right away. I want that life with you or whatever life we might have. I just want you, Y/N.”

A soft smile spread over your face, “I want that too. I want you, Steve.”

“I love you,” he smiled.

“I love you too,” he pulled your face in for a soft kiss but it was one of the most meaningful ones the two of you had ever exchanged.

“Though we might have to talk about that whole six-kid thing. Don’t know if I can handle that stress all over again,” you teased.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, we can just say one of six? Keep our options open.”

You laughed, “Sure, Harrington. We’ll keep our options open.” Steve moved in for another kiss.

“Guys!” Robin’s voice pulled you from the moment, “We found- oh shit. Are we interrupting something?”

“Sort of,” you chuckled.

“Not sort of, totally and completely,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You told him I take it?” Nancy smirked. You nodded as Steve intertwined your fingers.

“How’s it feel that you’re gonna be someone’s old man, dingus?” Robin teased, “That poor kid.”

“Well, they’ll have Y/N and us so they just might make it,” Nancy smiled.

“That’s fair,” Robin laughed, “Now come on Mom and Dad. We’ve got something to show you.”

The two gave you both genuine smiles before turning and leading you off.

“Mom and Dad,” Steve repeated, “I really like the sound of that.”

“Oh really?” you smiled.

“Almost as much as I like the sound of Mr. and Mrs. Harrington.”

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jamdoughnutmagician · 1 month

Text

A Slice of Life (Waitress AU) part 7-Final Chapter.

Doctor!Steve Harrington x Waitress!Reader

<- Previous part

Word Count:4,279 (sorry it's a long one.)

Authour's Note: Thank you so much to everyone and anyone who read and enjoyed this silly little series 💖 Big love to all of you who supported me as I was writing this! You guys are the absolute best.

*dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist // Steve Harrington Masterlist

Dear Baby, somewhere in the space in-between the pie baking, and Billy eating it later that night began the most open and honest conversation I’d ever had with anyone over the phone. I’d spend whatever little time I could squirrel away from Billy talking to Steve. Talking to him about my mom and how much she loved me, about how sad she would have been to see my life turn out the way that it has, about Billy and how much he’d changed after we got married, how he became someone I feared. About how lonely it can be to be a woman so poor and afraid all the time. Talking to Steve so openly and honestly gave me the breathing space I needed. To clear my head and lift the burden from my chest, to say things to someone and have them matter for once.

You sat comfortably in Steve’s lap, your bump rounding out between your bodies as he reclined back in his office’s chair, it was the one place you two could be together, a quiet safe haven from the rest of the world.

His large hand runs a gentle, caressing touch on your exposed thigh, the skirt of your dress having shifted the moment you sat down in his lap.

You tangle your fingers in the lengths of shaggy hairs that curl around his neck, absent-mindedly twirling the soft strands between your fingers.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Steve Harrington.” you smile.

And it was true, you’d been with Billy for longer than you’d been without him, and in that time he’d never been as gentle to you as how Steve treated you. With Billy you often felt as though he walked around with you slung under his arm as if you were some kind of trophy to be shown off, as if you were the prize, and he was the winner.

“I have a little something for you. A present.” Steve says, almost a little shyly.

“I love ‘little somethings’. What did you get me?” you beam excitedly. “Wait, I hope this isn’t some kind of thing where you say it’s a present for me, but really it’s a present for the baby.”

“No, no, this is just for you, I promise.” he says with a reassuring smile as he hands you over your present. “I’m sorry I didn’t really have time to wrap it any better than this.”

It’s a beautifully decorative ceramic pie dish. It’s soft yellow, with a white inside and small hand-painted wild flowers. Affectionately tacked onto the dish is a pink gift-wrap bow and a gift tag, and as you turn over the gift tag, there in scrawly doctor’s handwriting is a little message, ‘for my favourite baker.’

He watches you as you turn the dish over in your hands, unable to stop the wide spread of your smile from taking over your face.

“I saw it in the market downtown and it made me think of you, thought you’d like it.”

“Steve, I love it. It’s the most beautiful pie dish I’ve ever seen.” You smile, but your smile falters for a quick second, your eyes suddenly looking sad.. “Steve, I can’t accept this, I can’t buy you anything back.”

“I don’t want you to buy me anything, it’s a gift. From me to you.”

“Why did you get this for me, Steve?”

“Because I find myself absolutely falling head over heels for you..” he says with every ounce of sincerity in his voice.

If he was about to say anything else you’d never hear it because you immediately press your lips against his in a desperately feverish kiss. Holding his face in your hands as you lean in close

You’re cleaning up the tables as the last few straggling customers push their way out of the diner’s door, collecting glasses and empty plates on a tray.

As you round your way across the diner’s floor you come over to the one table that still has someone sitting there, although it is Joyce’s diner, so she’s more than welcome to sit at her table for as long as she so wishes.

“Been another busy day today, huh?” she smiles as she downs the last few sips of coffee from her mug.

“Yeah, but we can’t complain now can we? Being busy is good for business, that’s what you always say, isn’t it Joyce.”

“That’s right my dear.” she smiles warmly at you. “Seems like only yesterday that I was buying this old, run-down shack of a diner. I’d been young and stupid, a single mom with two young kids, but I had big dreams of turning this place into something good. Something that people from all over the world would come to visit.”

You offer her a kind nod of your head as you listen to her.

“..And with Jonathan living three states away in New York and Will getting accepted at a college in Manhattan there’s very little that’s keeping me here these days. I’m leaving town at the end of the month. You’re actually the first person outside of my family that I’ve told.”

“Joyce, you can’t just up and leave this place! You’ve worked so hard to see it flourish, you can’t go now!”

She smiles, looking down at the discarded napkin on her table, before turning back to look at you.

“You remind me a lot of my younger self,” Joyce begins, totally ignoring your previous concerns about her leaving the diner. “Totally afraid of what’s about to come, but ready to tackle things head-on, whatever they may be. You don’t even know what you’re capable of, sweetheart, you’re not just some little waitress, you’re a lot stronger and wiser than you give yourself credit for, you understand me?”

“Uh, I think so, Joyce.” you fumble quietly.

“In my lifetime I've made so many mistakes, turned the wrong corner, followed the wrong signs, but this life is giving you the chance to make the right choice, don’t let this opportunity pass you by. It’s never too late to start fresh.”

“I don’t have enough money, Joyce. Starting fresh is a luxury that I could only dream of. I’m about to have a baby, that’s certainly going to make starting fresh a whole lot harder.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know you are. I was just dreaming a little for you, that’s all.”

You smile at Joyce and her kind words, as a comfortable silence falls between the both of you. Until the easy quietness is broken by the sound of a car’s revving engine screeching to a stop outside the diner and the quick pounding footsteps of heavy boots crunching on the gravel outside. The diner’s door flings open and in storms Billy, and as if his thundering presence wasn’t enough he snatches an empty glass off a nearby table before throwing it to the ground, the glass shattering with a tense crash.

“Y/n, I’m very upset with you. I’ll be waiting for you in the car, and I don’t like to be kept waiting, you understand?” he shouts, his gruff voice rumbling with anger. He makes his point by slamming the door behind him with a loud smack.

“You weren’t kidding. Your husband really is terrible.” Joyce scoffs, breaking the uncomfortable tension in the air.

You hug your arms around Joyce.

“Thank you, Joyce. I have to go.” you sigh, clinging to her a little tighter wishing you didn’t have to go. “I’m fine. I’ll be okay, I promise.” You reassure her, although there was a beat of silence between both of you where you weren’t quite sure if she really believed your words. You weren’t even wholly convinced you believed them yourself.

You nervously slip into the passenger seat of Billy’s camaro, gently closing the door beside you.

“Billy..” you start.

“-No! You don’t say anything. You don’t say one word to me. Not a single word, you just sit there and I’ll deal with you when we get home.” he cuts you off with a stern edge to his gruff voice.

You shrink in on yourself, wringing your hands in your lap as Billy looks over his shoulder to reverse out of the parking lot and begins speeding his way down the road.

His rough hands grip your arm as he hauls you through the front door, dragging you towards the kitchen.

“Billy stop it! You’re hurting me!!”

“Quit your whining.”

In the kitchen he cages you between his body and the countertops, reaching above you to fling open the cabinet doors where you keep all your baking supplies.

As he does the money that you had been stashing away, hiding from him, for months flutters out from behind the plates and dishes.

“What the fuck is that, huh?!” He shouts, glaring at you as he invades your space.

“M-money.” you mumble quietly, tears beginning to bubble in your lash line.

“Yeah, and it’s hidden all over the fuckin’ house too!” he fumes. “Hidden away in cabinets, in drawers, in closets. Money hidden all over MY house!

“I’m sorry.” you snivel, the tense fear burning in your chest. Months of secretly stashing away little bits here and there, saving up enough money to finally get the chance to get away from Billy, and suddenly it’s all but ripped from underneath you in a matter of moments.

“You’re hiding all this money from me? After everything I’ve done for you.”

Billy’s anger turns to almost frustrated sobs as he falls to his knees in front of you, pressing his face into your pregnant belly as he clings to your dress. It shocks you that this is the moment he lays his lips against the curve of your belly, kissing your bump over the scratchy material of your waitressing dress. For months Billy never as much as looked in your direction when you started showing, never once displaying an ounce of interest or love towards the life growing inside you.

“You’re the only thing I ever loved, Baby. You’re the only person to ever belong to me.” he cries as he hangs onto you, his deep voice wavering with emotions. You wished that you could say that you believe his performative upset, but you knew that it was nothing more than that, a performance. A sweeping display of his masculinity and insecurities.

“I hate that you were keeping secrets from me. Why were you hiding money all over the house?” he bubbles out from where he’s still on his knees, clinging to you pathetically. “Tell me you were going to surprise me and buy me a present or something. That’s why you were hiding money from me.”

The tears flow down your cheeks, leaving the dark smudge of mascara to gather in your lashes. It takes every last ounce of energy you have to just lie to him about the money.

“Yeah, I-I was gonna use it to buy you a present.”

He cries against your body, still holding on to you.

“Just hold me.” he snivels

You oblige him, rounding your arms around Billy’s shuddering frame, because what else could you do? You knew that this whole display of emotions from him was just a way for him to make you feel guilty about wanting a better life for yourself, for wanting something more than this.

You shudder out a shaky breath of your own, steadying your voice before speaking once more.

“Truth is Billy, I was saving that money for the baby.” you tell him, and at that his face comes out from being buried against your belly, his tear-rimmed, piercing blue eyes looking at you as you continue to speak. “I was going to use it to buy a crib, toys, cute little baby clothes and blankets. It’s all the money I saved up for the baby.”

You watch your husband's shoulders physically slump down with relief, that seemed to calm him down enough.

Finally he rises from his knees, and holds your face in his rough hands, kissing you like he needs it for reassurance.

“I want us to be happy together darlin’"

Dear Baby, if you want to know how we afforded your crib, I’ll tell you. Your crib was bought with the money that was supposed to buy me a new life. Every time I’m going to lay you down in that crib at night I’m going to look at you lying there and think about how close I was to getting free of this life, about how I'm stuck like a damn pin in this damn life.

You stand in your front yard, watching on as the delivery men shift the crib in its box into your house.

Billy saunters his way over to you, thumbing through the handful of notes he had in his hands.

“Guess we got a good deal on this crib, Sugar. I’ve got enough money left that I can buy us a video camera, could get a couple of shots of you looking all big and pregnant, film the birth and the baby.” Then his voice drops to a husky whisper as he leans in close to your ear “and maybe once you’ve got your figure back and all, we could make a few naughty home videos,if you know what I mean.” he winks at you salaciously and you nod your head as if it’s all you can do to stop the shudder that thought sends down your spine.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Billy” you grimace with a fake smile.

Steve, slides the blood-press cuff up your arm and begins to squeeze the pump, tightening the material around your arm, and as you sit against the rough paper-lined bed in the doctor’s room, you desperately wish away the gnawing pit of sadness sitting deep within you.

“I wish that we could have met under different circumstances.” you tell him.

“Me too.” Steve says softly. “I would go anywhere with you. I’d drop everything in a heartbeat if it meant I could spend my time with you.”

“I just want something in my life to go the way I want it to for once.”

Steve sees you out the door to his doctor’s surgery, his hand placed comfortably on your lower back as he ushers you down the small few steps outside the door. The things you used to take for granted, things you used to find easy; like walking, became extremely tiring as you neared your due date. Your belly was rounding out in front of you quite considerably, enough to make your gait resemble that of a waddling penguin.

You stop for a moment on the final step to catch your breath and that’s when you feel it. The wet gush that soaks your underwear and slowly drips down your legs from underneath the skirt of your dress.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Steve asks you, his eyebrows knitting together in concern as you stand stock-still next to him.

“Dr. Harrington, I do believe my water just broke.”

You’re sitting back in the hospital bed, droplets of sweat beading on your furrowed brows as another contraction works its way through your body. Your breaths come out as uneven shudders as the dull pain in your back throbs uncomfortably.

Steve was beside you, holding your hand through it, helping you through the pain but he quickly lets your hand fall from his when a tall, curly-haired blonde man comes sauntering into your birthing room.

“Hey, Sweetcheeks.”

“Dr. Harrington, this is my husband, Billy.” you manage to huff out as the tail end of your contraction eases off.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Hargrove.” Steve stands up to shake Billy’s hand, as the two exchange pleasantries.

“Excuse me Doc, but could you get up out of that seat so I can sit next to my wife?” he grumbles out.

Steve is immediately muttering out his apologies, as Billy takes his seat and immediately leans in close to kiss you. As he leans in, there’s a faint smell of alcohol on him, not that he was drunk, you’ve seen Billy when he was drunk, this wasn’t that. He’d probably had a few sly drinks at that bar just around the block from the car dealership where he works.

“I would’ve bought you a bunch of flowers or something, but I got held up at work. You know what the boss is like, always bustin’ my ass for something or other.” He lies. You know where he’s been, and it’s not the fact that he’s drinking when he should be working, it’s just how easy the lie falls from his lips.

“Oh, that’s fine Billy, I don’t need anything.” you brush him off, wincing as another contraction pulses through you.

Steve interrupts your less-than-happy moment with Billy to offer some doctorly advice.

“Y/n, I’m going to need you to get as much rest as you can, you’ve got a big moment coming up soon, I’ll leave you two to your privacy.” as he turns his back to give you space. In another world Steve would be the one to hold your hand and support you through your birth, to wipe your brow and kiss your cheeks, telling you that everything is going to be fine. But with Billy here, already glaring at him from your bedside, he’s in no position to want any of these things, no matter how desperately his heart wishes.

“Oh, Dr. Harrington..” you call out to him just as he’s about to leave.

“Yes?”

“I just want to make sure we’re clear on one thing.” he gives you a nod of his head for you to continue. “I want drugs. I want massive amounts of drugs. I want the maximum legal limit of drugs.”

Steve smiles that adorably cheeky smile of his.

“Absolutely, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get the good stuff.” he chuckles before turning towards the door. As he opens the door for himself, in walks Joyce, with a kind smile on her face as she makes her way to you.

“Joyce! I thought you were going to be leaving for New York?”

“I wasn’t about to leave without saying goodbye to my favourite waitress, now was I? Nancy told me you were having your baby, so I thought I’d drop by and give you this card.” she says, handing you over a small white envelope. “It’s just a silly card from me, you should probably open it later, when all the fuss is over.” she says, wrapping her arms around you in a warm hug.

“Thank you, Joyce, for everything, I mean.” you mutter in her ear, holding on a little tighter before she pulls away.

“You’re going to do great things, Y/n. I know you will.” and with that she leaves you with Billy by your side to grit your teeth through another sharp-shooting contraction.

Your breathing gets harder as your contractions get shorter and sharper, and you try your best to ignore Billy pushing the video camera in your face in his best attempts to capture ‘the wonders of childbirth’ as he had called it.

The sweet older nurse who had administered your epidural pulls Steve aside.

“She’s fully dilated, it’s time for her to start pushing.” she tells him.

Steve looks over to you kindly, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“Okay, Y/n, you heard her. Now’s your time to shine.”

“Keep going Y/n! You’re almost there!” Steve encourages as he helps to deliver your baby.

“You’re squeezing my hand a bit tight there, Darlin’” Billy winces from beside you, as you grit your teeth through the labour.

You can’t help but glare at him at this moment, the droplets of sweat beading on your furrowed brow.

“Keep pushing! One more big push and baby's going to be here!”

You bear down in your hospital bed as much as you can squeezing as hard you can, clenching muscles you never even knew you had.

“One! Two! Three!” Steve cheers and the room is suddenly filled with the tiny cries of your baby. “It’s a girl!”

“Well how about that, a baby girl.” Billy says with a gentle scoff.

“Would you like to cut the cord, Mr. Hargrove?”

“Sure, why not?” he nods, as though he couldn’t be less interested if he tried. Fucker.

“Mrs. Hargrove, would you like to hold your daughter?” asks the nurse from beside you, where she’s holding your softly crying baby girl.

All kinds of nerves and emotions and emotions bubble up inside you, and despite it all you nod your head.

“Yes please.”

The nurse hands over the pink bundle of blankets and suddenly you're looking face to face with the most beautiful little baby girl. Her soft cries quieten immediately as soon as she’s in your arms. Her beautiful eyes are wide and curious, sparkling with life, as she looks back at you.

“Hi baby,” you smile down at her lovingly.

Suddenly with her in your arms it all clicks into place. It all just felt right to finally have your little girl softly snuggled against your chest. Everything else around fades into the background and it’s just you and her in this world together.

“Remember what I said now, don’t you?” Billy comes into your view, leaning close to your side. “You promised me that you weren’t going to love this baby more than you loved me, you remember that?” he chuckles with a light but sneering, callous undertone.

“I don’t love you, Billy.” You tell him honestly. “I haven’t loved you for years. I want a divorce.”

Billy laughs uncomfortably.

“I want you the hell out of my life, I never want you to lay so much as a finger on me ever again, I am done with you.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me? Huh, you think you’re so brave all of a sudden, is that what this is, huh?” but all of Billy’s confrontational shouting falls on deaf ears with you as Steve grabs him by the shoulders, tussling with him slightly before marching him out the delivery room.

You smile down at the little bundle softly sleeping in your arms, proudly.

“Hazel. That’s your name, Little baby Hazel.”

“Honey, you gotta wake up.” Robin nudges your shoulder, gently rousing you from your sleep. “We’ve got to get you and your little girl up and out of here.”

“Billy’s refusing to pay, so they’re kicking you out.” Nancy says with a sorry face.

“But I can’t go home, not when Billy is still there..” you worry

“So that’s why you’re going to come live with me for a little while.” Nancy interrupts you before you can worry any further. “Take all the time you need to get back on your feet, me and Robin will be here for you and little Hazel every step of the way.”

“Speaking of which, where is she? I need to meet my new baby niece.” Robin says already rushing over to where Hazel lay in her hospital cot in your room. “Oh darling, she is so beautiful.”

“Well, she definitely got her good looks from her mother, that’s for sure.” Nancy joins in with a laugh, cooing over Hazel who had been fast asleep through all the commotion.

You leave the two girls to bubble over who’s going to be Hazel’s new favourite aunt, and all the things that they’re going to teach her, as you reach for the white envelope on your side table. The one that Joyce had left for you.

‘To, Y/N, my favourite waitress, the best baker and a kind friend. For a fresh start. Love, Joyce.’

Upon opening the card, a small piece of folded up paper flutters out. You unfold it and it’s what’s written on the piece of paper that has you choking back a shocked gasp.

It’s a check for $2000,000 addressed to you, along with a message written inside the card.

“You’re a smart girl, I know you’ll look after this place better than anyone. The diner is yours, now go do wonderful things, Darling.”

It’s a few years down the line, and Hazel is bouncing happily in her high-chair seat in the colourful diner, gurgling with a smile around a soft mouthful of mashed banana, as you lay out the array of pies for the day’s customers.

Your award for winning first place at the county fair’s bake off proudly displayed on the wall behind you.

The diner is bustling with life, with more customers than ever before.

Laying down the final dish of Coconut Clouds Pie a familiar mess of shaggy hair and soft brown eyes comes up and wraps his strong arms around you, kissing your cheek and picking you up and twirling you around before setting you back down on your feet.

“I love you, Y/n. I truly do, and I’m so proud of everything you achieved. I count myself as lucky to have someone as wonderful as you in my life. There’s not a day that I'm with you that I take for granted.” Steve mutters as he kisses your lips, gently cupping your face in his hands. “I want you in my life always, you and Hazel, I mean it.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, Doctor Harrington.” you smile teasingly leaning in to kiss him once more.

And you meant it. Life with Steve and little Hazel was everything that you had ever wanted. You had never felt more safe, secure and loved than in the arms of Steve Harrington. Your own perfectly happy little slice of life.

@keerygal @penguinsandpotterheads @mrsjellymunson @paybacksawitch @seatnights @ali-r3n

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x female reader #Steve Harrington x Female Reader fluff #Steve Harrington x reader fluff #Steve Harrington fluff #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington x Reader fanfic

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 2 years

Text

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 20: Snowball

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 21 (Coming Soon)...

AN: Long time coming for this one! I hope you guys enjoy it! I had a great time writing it and I have honestly been thinking about this for a while so it's so good to finally get it posted! I want you all to know that this is only a season finale and is NOT the end of the story. We have a little ways to go ❤️

Word Count: 4,569

Warnings: Anxiety, mentions of death, dancing, guilt, mentions gun

The coming days are a blur. There was a lot of talking that night. Everyone explaining their side of the crazy story that had been unfolding all around you. The pieces began falling into place and by the end of it you had a pretty clear picture of what had occurred over the past 4 days and where exactly you fit into it.

By the time the stories merged together everyone was ready to sleep for a week. You went with Steve to drop off Dustin while Jonathan dropped off Nancy, Mike, and Lucas. It was around 3 in the morning when you finally got home, Steve’s car pulling to a stop in front of your house. You feel nervous. Exhausted but on edge, still worried about the darkness lurking around the corners.

You jump when Steve places a hand on your knee. Meeting his eyes in the dim light of the car you see understanding. He doesn't want to be alone either.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” He asks. You look at your empty house and for a moment think of your mom coming home in a few hours and finding Steve Harrington on her couch. But when you look back to Steve, you can’t imagine being alone right now, not yet. “My parents aren’t home and… I don't know, I just…” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair frustrated.

“No.” You cut him off. “You can stay, I-I feel the same way.” you admit, smiling gently. He returns your smile gratefully. You instruct him to park a little ways down the street so he can sneak out when your mom gets home.

The two of you enter the house and you lead him to your bedroom, grabbing extra blankets from the hallway closet. You set up a little sleeping area for him on the floor next to your bed. You each take turns showering, and you let him borrow some of your baggiest clothes to sleep in. When you are both settled in bed, there is a tense silence. You don’t know how to tell him that you're grateful he’s here. That you feel better knowing he’s next to you after all of this.

“Can you leave the light on?” he asks. You smile up at the ceiling.

“Yea.” you say, there was no way you were turning off the light anyway. After another beat of silence you turn onto your side, lowering your arm off the bed and take his hand. He threads his fingers through yours without hesitation. It’s the most comforting thing you can think of right now, and it seems to work because both of you are asleep in minutes.

You wake up a few hours later to the sound of your mom coming in. You wake Steve and quickly sneak him out the window before going to greet your mom. She only has a couple of questions about your weekend at Nancy’s and you do your best to come up with a story. She doesn't press though, most likely just relieved that you’re spending time with friends like you used to.

It is strange going back to school. Similar to the last time, but now everything just feels… silly. Days ago you were fighting for your life against other worldly creatures and now Mr. Johnson is asking if you completed the make-up assignments. It’s enough to give you whiplash.

Luckily, you have Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan there. Never all at the same time though. Things are still uncomfortable now that Nancy is officially dating Jonathan. Steve hasn’t talked to you about it once. You know that he thinks if he keeps on acting like he doesn't care, eventually he won’t. But you see it in his eyes each time he sees them together, his heart is broken.

You and Steve have been hanging out a lot more now, even without Nancy. Something about surviving a near death experience together really makes a friendship stronger. Nancy had Jonathan so Steve had you.

Things are still strange between you and Nancy. Even after everything came out and Hawkins Lab took responsibility for Barb's death, there still seemed to be this space between the two of you. You, sometimes, wonder if it will ever be the same between you. If it ever could be.

You are working on it though. Making an effort to remain friends with her. You still love her, but it’s different now. You both are.

You manage to attend Barb’s funeral. You don’t remember most of it. The chilling numbness creeping over you, the fog descending in your mind as the priest spoke and they brought out the casket. You know that you cried and that when you started to shake Steve wrapped an arm sound you. You couldn't watch as they lowered the pine box into the ground, turning your face into Steve’s shoulder. He didn't say anything, and you're thankful for that. At some point Nancy took your hand, squeezing it tightly, crying next to you. It was comforting to know that Barb’s parents would get some amount of closure, but you doubt you will ever be able to look at them without feeling the stab of guilt.

It’s good to finally be able to grieve the loss of Barb, with Nancy. It heals some of the space between you. As the weeks go by most of your time together is spent filling out late admission college applications. It doesn't feel as daunting when she is talking you through the process. She even helped you submit a couple of creative writing scholarships. It’s strange, actually thinking about the future.

Mrs. Henderson must have spread the word that you were babysitting again after she ran into you the night you were looking for Dart, because the next week you started getting calls. You were hesitant at first but with the thought of paying for college looming over you, you slowly started to take jobs. Keeping it within the party at first, but eventually branching out.

You never did get a call from the Hargrove house though.

You haven't spoken to Billy since that night. You have seen him around, of course. In the halls, in class, driving by. But, every time your eyes meet he looks away quickly or avoids you completely. You try not to dwell on it too much, when you think about that night you can’t ignore the twisting in your gut.

Billy not speaking to you could have something to do with Steve, who had not gotten over his broken nose yet, sticking close to your side. You had tried to explain to Steve that he didn’t have the whole story. But, it's difficult to do that without sharing things that were not yours to share.

You can’t say that you mind. Steve is one of the few people you would trust with your life. But, it’s getting a bit ridiculous. You swear that any time Billy comes close to you, Steve will angle his body to block you. He always plays it off, but you know that it’s intentional.

A new routine starts to form as the weeks pass. You still walk each morning, Steve driving you to school most days. You typically spend lunch with Steve as well, since Nancy normally eats with Jonathan in his car. After school you spend an hour doing homework and college prep with Nancy. You pick up babysitting jobs on Tuesdays, Thursdays and weekends. The rest of your time is filled with writing.

The stories are still dark, mirroring the dreams that still haunt you each night. It just seems like the best way for you to get the darkness inside of you out, on paper. Luckily you haven’t felt anything close to what you felt in your mind the night El closed the gate. The only person you had told about it was Steve, both of you agreed that since it had stopped there was no need to worry the rest of the group.

When the Snowball approaches Nancy convinces you to volunteer with her. She explains that it would look good on scholarship applications. You agree, and that’s how you ended up picking up trash around the middle school gym.

You found an outfit in the back of your closet that you are fairly certain hasn’t seen the light of day in 2 years. Despite your mom’s best efforts, it still managed to look wrinkled.

It isn’t all bad. The music is decent and you get to spend a bit of time with Nancy, reminiscing about your own middle school dances. Best of all though, is watching the awkward pre-teens navigate their feelings for one another. There's something refreshing about the way they take a deep breath, stealing their resolve, before taking the plunge and asking their crush to dance. Their minds, undoubtedly, spinning with panic and fear of rejection.

It must seem so important to them, so terrifying. That’s what kids their age should be scared of. Not monsters and government cover ups.

You smile to yourself, watching Lucas pair off with Max. You had seen that one from a mile away. A girl even asks Will to dance. You watch Dustin attempt to ask a girl to dance. She laughs and walks away. He turns to try again, only for the other girls to turn away. Your heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze. He looks around lost, alone… before heading for the bleachers.

Setting down your trash bag you take a step towards him but feel a hand on your elbow, stopping you. Turning you see Nancy smiling knowingly at you.

“I got this one.” She says, nodding in Dustin’s direction. Her smile is kind but there is a glint of sadness in her eyes. “Kind of reminds me of when we first met.” Your brows draw together, trying to recall when that was. You have known each other for so long it is hard to say. Seeing your confusion she chuckles softly.

“We were all so little, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.” She says kindly. “Barb and I were at the park, and there was this group of boys that kept messing with us, knocking over our toys and pulling our hair.” The sadness in her eyes makes sense, the memory flashes through your mind.

How could you forget the day you all became friends?

“We were both crying on the bench when you came out of nowhere and started yelling at them.” you laugh at the memory, tinged with the sadness of missing your friend. “I’m not even sure you were saying actual words.” She recalls chuckling.

“I think I was pretending to be a dog.” you add causing her to laugh.

“Well whatever you did, you scared them away and got our toys back. When you came over you told me that we looked sad and scared so you wanted to help.” Her gaze flickers to where Dustin sits on the bleachers. “You’re the reason we all became friends in the first place.” She says, her voice laced with sadness. “You’re always trying to help, and I guess what I’m trying to say is… Thank you.” When your eyes meet hers again there is a glint of unshed tears in her eyes.

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you smile, pulling her into a hug. She holds you tightly.

Clearing your throat you pull away, not wanting to cry in the middle of a dance.

“You got this one.” you say gruffly, moving to pick up your trash bag. Nancy gives you one last smile before crossing the gym to Dustin. You watch her lead him to the dance floor, gently showing him how to dance. Your heart aches watching them. Memories of Nancy, Bard and you dancing together fill your mind. Nancy doing her best to get the two of you to move in any coordinated manner, eventually devolving into a mass of giggles and jumping around.

You have to turn away. You continue around the gym, picking up trash, until you see Eleven walk in. Mike sees her instantly. You watch as he leads her to the dance floor, the two of them cautiously coming together, so happy to be in the same place, together, alive. They awkwardly sway to the music and you can’t help but recall what Max had said to you on the kitchen floor. The comparison she had made between Mike and yourself.

Seeing Mike reunited with the person he thought he had lost hits you in a way you were not prepared for. The idea that something so amazing could happen for them and the fact that it would never happen for you. El is back, but Barb is gone forever. A bitter resentment twists in your gut, acidic bile rising in your throat at the thought.

You're disgusted at yourself for the feeling. You should be happy for them. What kind of monster thinks something like that?

The large gym suddenly feels too small, the music disorienting. The jumble of bodies makes it too warm. Your palms feel moist where they grip the black trash bag with white knuckles. Looking around frantically, you see the exit out the back of the gym and hurry towards it.

Pushing open the doors you rush out of the bustling gym into the freezing December night. The frigid air bites at your feverish skin, soothing you. You focus on taking deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. You stare after each exhalation, a small puff of breath shimmering in the dim light. Each inhale like ice, slowing the pounding of your heart, cooling the fire churning in your mind. After a few moments, your breathing comes more evenly and you run a shaking hand though your hair.

The world around you is so still. The cold seems to have calmed the earth, as well as your racing mind. Standing in the alleyway between the gym and the rest of the school, you gaze up at the night sky. The inky darkness speckled with shining stars. It’s calm. The sound of music drifting softly from behind you.

Hearing something move in the darkness to your left, you jump. Turning, you freeze, spotting a shadowy figure leaning against the wall in front of the dumpster, roughly 100 feet from you. You can’t make out their features from this far away in such low lighting. You see the low glow of embers flickering at the end of a cigarette that dangles from their lips.

Your body is rigid, muscles taught, your hand reflexively moving to your waist despite knowing your pistol is not there. Before your mind can decide between fight or flight the figure speaks.

“So, they put you on trash duty, loca?” A familiar voice calls. You feel yourself relax at the sound of Billy’s voice, releasing a breath. Billy pushes himself off the brick, standing upright as you approach, your eyes adjust to the light and you see him more clearly.

“Lurking in alleyways now?" You ask, drawing closer. "Very cool.” you shoot back, hoping the panic is gone from your voice as you stop in front of him. His outfit is more formal than you are used to seeing, a collared blue button up that matched his eyes well, along with a leather jacket and jeans. You vaguely wonder if the jacket is doing much to keep him warm. His lips twitch upwards at your comment, the embers of his cigarette glowing brighter as he inhales again.

“Not lurking, just…” He turns his head upwards, exhaling the smoke above your heads before levelling his eyes back on you. “Chaperoning.” He finishes, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the ground, using the toe of his boot to extinguish the remaining embers.

“That makes two of us.” You say, taking a step around him to get to the dumpsters lining the alleyway. Setting the garbage bag down, you open the lid of the large green container allowing it to fall back clanging against the metal loudly. You reach for the bag, preparing to hoist it in, but Billy’s hand beats you to it.

“I got it.” He says, quickly lifting the bag and tossing it in with little effort. You stare at him for a moment, confused.

“Thank you.” You say, hesitantly. He wipes his hands on his jeans, only grunting in response.

He hasn’t said so much as a sentence to you in over 6 weeks and now he’s doing you favours? Turning back to you, he shoves his hands into his pockets. He seems to make himself look somewhat smaller, hunching his shoulders slightly. You’re reminded of the way he had shrunk next to his father, your stomach flipping uncomfortably. His eyes find yours and you see the conflict in them. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but stops, closing it again.

The only sound between you is the music drifting from the dance. His eyes hold yours and you have to look away, suddenly feeling warm under his intense gaze. You clear your throat, hoping to relieve some of the tension.

“Well, I-uh, I should…” you trail off, gesturing behind you to the doors leading back to the gym. Billy’s eyes remain transfixed, you feel heat begin to creep up your neck. Swallowing thickly, you move to take a step back, hoping to avoid any confrontation.

Before you can pull further away Billy’s hand reaches out, grasping your arm. His hold on you is surprisingly gentle, almost hesitant, and you notice that despite the cold air, his palm is warm. Glancing down at where his hand makes contact with your skin, you notice the healed scars on his knuckles. Your mouth suddenly feels dry. He clears his throat, drawing your attention back to his face.

“Listen, I’m not really… good… at stuff like this.” He admits gruffly. His eyes hold yours, his brows pulling together as the small muscle in his jaw flexes. You swear that in the dim light you see a dusting of pink in his cheeks, it must have been the cold. You wait in silence, watching him struggle to speak.

“Thank you.” he practically has to spit the words out. Your mouth gaps slightly. Billy was not one for niceties and you’re fairly certain this is the first time he has thanked you for anything.

Your shock turns to confusion, not entirely sure what he’s thanking you for.

“For what, exactly?” you ask as gently as you can. His eyes shift, falling to his boots.

“For that night you helped me find Max.” he explains, avoiding your eyes. “You really saved my ass with Neil.” he goes on. Your stomach twists at the memory. More specifically the way Neil had looked at his son as he stood, terrified, on the front steps. It had put you on edge then and now you know for good reason.

The gratitude you had seen in Billy’s eyes before he disappeared into the house suddenly makes sense. You have no idea what Neil would have done if you hadn’t insisted on speaking with him that night, but if Billy’s demeanour is anything to go by, it couldn’t have been good.

“You’re welcome.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. Billy’s eyes meet yours again as he takes half a step closer to you. Against your will, your heart races at the proximity. You are suddenly aware of the heat radiating off of him, making the empty air behind you feel even colder. The hand encompassing your arm twitches, the warmth from it seeming to creep over your skin. You find yourself wanting to draw closer, to close the small distance between you and be consumed by the warmth. There is a pause of silence, the music emanating from the gym filling the space.

“Dance with me.” Billy says, suddenly. It’s less of a request and more of a gentle demand. You gap up at him not knowing what to say. It’s such an outlandish offer. It’s the middle of December, in an alleyway behind the gym at a middle school dance. His lips twitch upwards at your bewildered expression.

“What? Never danced with a guy before?” He asks, in a tone meant to be teasing. Your face heats up as you try to recall a time that you had been asked to dance, it had to have been in 8th grade.

“N-no, I have.” you deny. “It’s just we’re in an alleyway and- and it's freezing out.” you try to explain your hesitance, his grin only growing wider. The flash of his white teeth makes your stomach flip.

“Don’t worry loca, I’ll lead.” He assures you, the hand on your arm sliding down to gently hold your waist. He takes another step towards you and all the excuses die on your tongue as he smiles softly down at you. Your mind races, trying to recall what Nancy had taught you.

Squaring your shoulders towards him, you place your hands, arms extended, on his shoulders. Billy’s brows pull together, taking in your rigid posture.

“Jesus christ, what are you? 12?” he asks. You open your mouth to bite back at him but the hand on your waist pulls you closer, pressing your body fully against his. Your breath hitches as he slots one of his legs between yours.

“Now your arms go here. '' he instructs, his free hand moving your arm up around his neck, moving you, impossibly, closer. Your heart is pounding against your ribs so hard that you're certain he can feel it through where your chest is pressed against his. His hand trails down your side to your back, holding you against him with a firm pressure. He lowers his head, leaving the only space between you a few inches between your faces. You can feel his warm breath mingling with yours.

“Now feel the music, move with it.” He instructs, his tone gentler now, just a whisper between you. You can feel his breath fanning across your cheeks, under the smell of cigarettes you smell his peppermint toothpaste. You do your best to focus on the song over the sound of blood rushing in your ears. Taking a deep breath you begin to shift your feet slightly. Billy clicks his tongue.

“Loosen up a little, move from here.” He tells you his hands sliding down your sides to grip your hips, moving them against his in time with the music. You’re not fully aware of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, too consumed by the way his body is moving. Feeling him sway along with you helps you move more rhythmically. The two of you begin slowly, building your confidence, Billy leading you. His body seems to consume you, guiding you along with him. Part of you is amazed at how he is able to fluidly move the two of you together as one, along with the music.

You begin to move independently, feeling more confident, his arms always around you. Becoming engrossed in the way the two of you are moving together, not even aware of the cold anymore. Your hand absentmindedly moves along his shoulders to the base of his neck, your fingers threading through his curls. They are surprisingly soft. You hear Billy hum, the sound vibrating through his chest. Without warning, he bows his head, leaning forward into you while his hands support your back, lowering you into a dip.

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up in your chest. Billy chuckles at your reaction, lifting you back up. Your smile remains on your face as he continues to move the two of you.

As the music slows, so does he. You pant a breath, trying to contain your smile as he slowly comes to a stop. He smiles back down at you in a way you haven’t seen before, his blue eyes sparkling. The closest you had seen was when he was talking about California, or when he was drugged. It makes your head feel fuzzy. He still holds you close to him, his eyes on you. With his eyes searching your face so intently, you suddenly feel embarrassed, averting your eyes.

“Thanks.” you say, not even sure what you’re thanking him for, but feeling like it needs to be said. You feel his hands tighten slightly on your waist.

“Don’t mention it.” he breaths. There is a pause, your eyes glancing back up to him. Your heart skips a beat when his eyes shift over your face, flickering momentarily to your lips. “I owe you anyway.” he chuckles, pulling himself away slightly. Without his body pressed against yours, you're aware of the cold air is around you. As much as you want to pull him close again, you reluctantly remove your arms from him.

You're about to ask him what he means by owing you when the sound of the gym doors opening startles you both. Nancy stands in the opening, peering out into the alleyway. Seeing her before she can make out your face in the dark, you take a step away from Billy, his hands falling from your waist. Finally seeing you, Nancy sighs.

“Hey, I was looking for you.” She says. You try to smile, tugging at your clothes, suddenly aware of how wrinkled they are.

“Sorry, I was taking out the trash.” You explain, hoping that the darkness conceals the reddening of your face. Nancy’s eyes narrow, adjusting to the darkness, darting between you and Billy before settling on you. One brow quirked inquisitively. “Right.” she says. You know that her investigative mind is already spinning. “Just making sure you’re okay.” It's a question. Nancy knows what happened between Billy and Steve. She knows what he is capable of, something you had momentarily forgotten.

“I’m good.” you assure her, smiling as best you can. “I’ll be back in a second.” you say quickly. Nancy glances at Billy once more before nodding and closing the door.

Exhaling, you turn to look at Billy. His gentle smile has been replaced by a cocky smirk, it makes you want to shove him.

“Smooth.” He crows, stepping back to lean against the wall. Rolling your eyes you run a hand through your hair, goosebumps rising on the skin of your arms, trying to put the way Billy had felt against you out of your mind. Glancing at him, you watch as he fishes his pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. You’re not sure what compels you, but you swallow past your embarrassment and speak up.

“Did you want to come inside?” You offer. Billy levels his eyes on you, a new cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Nah, I’m good ‘chaperoning’ from here.” He says, putting air quotes around the word, before retrieving his lighter and igniting the cigarette. Part of you wants to stay, another part wants him to come with you, but in the back of your mind you know that he will stay and you will go. That’s the way that it has to be, for now.

Turning, you head for the doors back to the bustling gym.

“I’ll see you around, Loca.” Billy calls after you.

Despite everything, you smile at the familiar goodbye.

“See you, Billy.” You reply, before opening the doors, walking back into the light of the gym, leaving Billy in the cold, dark, outside.

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 21 (Coming Soon)...

AN: I hope you guys liked it! Finally a bit of steam in this slowburn!! Just a little taste of what's to come! Let me know what you guys think, leave a like of a comment! I read every one of them and appreciate it SO MUCH!

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