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nickfowlerrr · 9 months

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i never thought you’d happen to me - 2

part one / part three

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. smut, fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀. if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!

words: 6.7k

notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card. fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think!

Back at the house, your house, you wander around the living room as Bucky sits on the tablet in the kitchen, consumed by whatever it is he's looking through.

You stop at the large bookshelf that's screwed into the wall, the picture frames all around catching your attention.

You smile at the baby pictures of the twins, admiring their tiny faces as you and Bucky each hold one, looking down at them like they were the only things in the world that mattered. You note how close you are to Bucky in the photo, practically in his lap as you lean into him.

Your eyes drift down the case before landing on a gorgeous shot, breathtaking, really.

You're in white, the elegant dress you don seemingly straight out of your dreams as you recline into Bucky who stands behind you, his arms around your waist as your hands cover his. You're smiling as he appears to be whispering something in your ear, a smile of his own evident as he does.

It's intimate and delicate and it seizes your heart as you can't seem to take your eyes off of it.

Your mind can't seem to make sense of it, though.

How do you get from here to there? How can you ever have this life? It seems so unreal.

Bucky can’t stand you more than half the time, he's made that fact abundantly clear. So how the hell does he go from that to this? What changes? Why?

The sound of your name being called gets your attention as you wipe at your welling eyes. You hadn't noticed it happening, but you felt it when you finally blinked and looked away from the photo.

"Yeah?"

"My card is linked to this thing apparently, I was gonna order food."

"Okay," you breathe.

"What do you want?"

"I don't care. Whatever is fine," you brush off as you finally turn around and meet his eye. "I'm gonna shower."

He doesn't respond, but he doesn't take his eyes off of you either, watching you intently as you pass him and walk back to the room.

----

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The car ride back to the house seemed longer without the twins there to distract you from your close proximity to Bucky. And being alone together once you finally got back, despite the huge space allotted to you in this house, still seemed stifling. There was a growing tension between you that was more than ready to break.

You weren’t unfamiliar with the feeling.

It seemed to be ever present when you two were around each other and only intensified the longer you were alone with one another.

As you began undressing, starting the water for your shower, your mind wandered to the last time you found yourself in such close quarters with him.

You were both beyond exhausted when you’d gotten back to the tower after your mission. It hadn’t gone as smoothly as anyone would have hoped, but you got the job done, if not just a little worse for wear.

You were leaning against the right side of the elevator, facing the door as Bucky stood closer to the left side, facing the same direction as you. It was quiet, and though your body was sore beyond belief, you mentally chided yourself for not just taking the stairs. You’d just finished giving him a piece of your mind after he made yet another unhelpful comment about how you could have easily avoided being flung down a flight of stairs earlier.

Crazy as it might have seemed, receiving a play by play of every tiny misstep you’d taken after a mission as grueling as that one didn’t go over too well with you. Especially as you stood with bandaged ribs, miscellaneous cuts, bumps, and bruises all over your body, and what you were sure was a concussion causing the throbbing in your head.

You closed your eyes as you let your head rest against the wall, one hand on the rail and the other holding your duffel.

A sudden jerking had your eyes snapping open as you held tighter to the railing to keep your balance, the light above shutting off briefly before a dimmer one returned as the elevator completely stopped moving.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you groused under your breath before sinking down to the floor in utter exhaustion. The elevator had been on the fritz since before you had even left for the mission last week, you assumed they would’ve gotten it fixed by the time you returned. Clearly you were wrong.

You watched as Bucky hit random buttons on the panel in front of him in a vain attempt to get the thing to move again. You wanted to say something snarky but just sighed exaggeratedly instead. After a moment, still no words spoken between either of you, Bucky took out his emergency phone and called for help.

You didn’t pay much attention to his conversation as the pressure in your head grew, but his next words caught your attention completely.

“What the hell do you mean an hour?” he nearly growled into the phone.

You couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation well but there were only so many people he could have called at this hour that would be able to help and the snicker that made its way through the line had you betting on Stark.

He hung up and chanced a glance to you, meeting your gaze. “Might be a while,” he huffed before looking away.

He approached the doors of the elevator and you winced at the sound they emitted as he pulled them open slightly. He was greeted by nothing but the walls of the elevator shaft before he allowed the doors to close again. You watched as he checked the time on his phone before he sat down himself. You let your eyes shut again, your tiredness winning out in the quiet settling over you. It was maybe ten minutes later when you were rudely awoken by Bucky.

You were impressed with his bravery because you could still feel your irritation roiling off of you from your earlier exchange. Your eyes were still closed when you felt his fingers brush against the bruise on your jaw.

“What?” you asked harshly, swatting his hand away from you as you shot daggers at him with your glare.

“Considering how often you find yourself in the med bay, you’d think you’d know the basics of what not to do when it comes to head trauma.”

“Jesus Christ, you just never fucking stop, do you,” you huffed before snapping completely. “I get it, Bucky, okay? I’m a fuck up, I’m reckless and careless and I don’t think before I act, is that what you wanna hear? Are you happy now? I admit it! I’m everything you say I am. But at the end of the day, I have never put you or anyone else in harm’s way. And just a reminder, I got the files and took out everyone I needed to along the way by myself. So I don’t know, maybe give me a little fucking credit for once,” you raged, the pain in your body only adding to your anger.

“This isn’t about me or the mission getting done or anyone else,” he fired back, his tone catching you off guard, though you refused to show it, “I’m never worried about any of that. But you are careless. Look at you! You put yourself in needless danger over and over again, and yeah, it pisses me off. You always end up hurt when you never should have been in the position to get hurt to begin with. You think I enjoy seeing you like this? I’m your partner, I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back and yet every assignment, you continue to go out of your way to make it damn near impossible for me to do.”

“Your job isn’t to keep me from getting hurt,” you deflected, not wanting to focus on the way his words were making you feel as you flicked your eyes away from his burning blue ones. It was too confusing. A mix of care and chastation you were having trouble processing at once.

“And yours isn’t to get killed in some pathetic attempt to prove yourself,” he shot back before his tone quieted significantly. “You have nothing to prove,” he finished.

Your gaze softened at that, a sense of embarrassment coming over you at how clearly he saw through you; The simultaneous feeling of validation his last words offered had the previous tension you felt in your anger lightening before you let your eyes slowly return to his.

There was a thick silence between you as you looked at one another, nothing but your slowing breaths to be heard. His gaze wasn’t as harsh now, but it still took a lot out of you to hold it. The intensity his eyes held was unmatched. You hadn’t realized before, how much closer he had gotten to you, but it was evident now as you nearly felt yourself buzzing - suddenly all too aware of everything in the confined void you’d found yourselves in.

And then, you couldn’t say why or how, but you found your eyes falling to his lips. A stuttered breath leaving you as inadvertently leaned in a bit closer to him.

That wasn’t you, though, you’d realized after a split second, one hand reaching up to hold the rail.

The elevator jolted a bit as it began to move again, only a few seconds passing before the ding signaling its arrival at the top floor sounded. You were still looking at one another, maybe more intensely than you’d realized, when the doors slid open.

“Uh-oh, did I interrupt something? Let me guess, lover’s quarrel?”

Your gaze quickly turned into a glare as you both turned to see Tony waiting at the doors for you.

You rolled your eyes and got up as quickly as you could, trying to hide your winces of pain as you did.

“Fuck off,” you said as you brushed past him.

“Is that your catchphrase now?” he called after you, “Ya know, I like it, it suits you.”

You remember how embarrassed you were after that night, praying that Bucky hadn’t noticed where your eyes had drifted to, or if he did that he’d have the decency to pretend he hadn’t. You’d chalked it up to a moment of weakness. You weren’t stupid enough to expect him to return your (very well kept to yourself) feelings. You never expected anything out of him, and honestly you’d been trying to shake them yourself since you’d been partnered up. You avoided him for a good week straight after that night, and neither of you has brought it up since.

Even now, you could pretend all you wanted that those feelings didn’t exist, but deep down, you knew they were alive and well. And clearly, as you looked again at the picture of you and Bucky sitting on the bedside table, it wasn’t something you could believably go on denying much longer.

The shower helped. Kind of. You feel better physically, but your mind is still dead set on trying to figure out the future. You take your time drying off and getting into a clean pair of pajamas while Bucky waits in the kitchen.

He's scrolling through every app he can, trying to piece together his future as it stands. And if he's being honest, trying to figure out how the hell he was able to get you to stop hating him. How he was able to get you to fall in love with him..

He opens up the photo library, grinning as he sees photo after photo of the twins, and some family photos, pictures of you, pictures of him, intermingled in.

He backs out of the gallery and scrolls down mindlessly through the albums. His eyes land on the "Hidden" tab and he clicks on it without too much thought, his face unlocking it and granting him access.

His eyes go wide, his mouth goes dry at the images that liter the screen.

He should close out, look away, something, but he doesn't. The scandalous photos grab him and he just can't. One icon in particular catches his eye and he clicks on it without thinking, the video playing instantly.

He watches the screen intently, hunching over the tablet as he holds it tightly in his hands. Sees himself leave from in front of the camera, his movement revealing you as you wait for him on your bed. You're peering up at him attentively as he approaches you before you spare a glance to the camera and then back to him. A soft smirk playing on your lips as he towers over you, causing you to look up further and further as you recline until you’re on your back.

“Hi,” you simper breathily, earning a smirk from him in return.

“Hi,” he breathed, leaning ever closer.

He watches as you scoot back on the bed and he follows you, his hands tracing down your curves, fingers playing with the material of your lingerie before he drops his head and begins trailing kisses from the softness of your stomach, up your sternum and along your neck before finally your lips meet.

Bucky is completely enraptured in the scene playing out before his very eyes. He’s sitting here feeling jealous of himself as you run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you before you bring a leg up around his hip, arching your body into his own.

It’s sensual at first but you both seem to grow impatient quickly as your kissing heats up and becomes more and more hungry.

Finally, you slip a hand down and tug at the waistband of his boxers until he pulls away.

Bucky can see your face perfectly, your eyes are dark as you push yourself up onto your forearms, watching him.

Instead of ridding himself of his boxers right away, he slowly, teasingly drags your silky underwear down your thick thighs as you watch him with heavy eyes, your legs spread just for him.

“Look at the camera,” he hears his own voice command.

Your eyes flick from him to the lens as Bucky swallows thickly, still completely unable to look anywhere but you.

You gasp suddenly as he quickly buries his face between your thighs, your fingers tightening in his hair as your head lolls back some. Your soft moans begin tumbling past your lips as he focuses his attention solely on you, devoted and unrelenting as you mewl and writhe under his ministrations.

When a whimper of his name leaves you, it causes Bucky to shift in his seat, trying to ease the ache growing in his shorts as he watches you rock yourself against his face.

“Buck,” you moan, “please,” you whine with a tug of his hair.

He watches as your toes curl, feet arching, and your entire body seems to tense around him, your eyes squeezing shut as your mouth hangs open until your legs quake and you let out a tight, shaky whimper on an exhale. You bite your knuckle in an attempt to keep yourself quiet while he continues working you through your orgasm.

When he finally lets up and gives you a chance to collect yourself, he moves up your body, finding your lips as he kisses you again, leaving you even more breathless than you had been.

“It’s just you and me tonight, doll. Don’t hold back on me,” he kisses you again, his hands going around your back to undo your bra. “I’m gonna wanna hear you when I watch this back,” he smirks.

You're completely naked as Bucky stands before you, finally taking off his boxers. “Turn around for me,” he tells you.

You do as he says, getting on all fours with him situated perfectly behind you. He angles you both so the camera has a better view. Bucky watches as he teases your entrance with his tip, over and over again as you whine and wiggle your ass in pure desperation for him.

He keeps the volume low as he lets the video play, he isn’t sure how much time passes as his eyes are glued to the screen, watching himself take you as you let him. He listens to how prettily you cry for him, to the salacious sounds of his cock driving into you over and over, the wet squelching mixing with the slapping of skin as he fucks you hard.

Bucky feels his cock twitching in his shorts as he watches you come for him before hearing himself groan deeply, moaning while he empties his load into your pretty cunt.

He watches the come down, sees himself running his hands along your skin, peppering kisses all over your body, before you roll over beneath him, pulling him down to you and kissing him desperately.

He is entirely unsure about the morality of this all, but he can't look away.

"Fuck, you're amazing," he breathes heavily as he pulls away from you just so. "Thank you, sweetheart," he grins lazily, stroking your cheek.

"Mmm,” you hum contentedly as you look up at him before continuing, “If anyone ever sees this, I'll kill you," you promise him with an 'I mean it' stare before pulling him back to you, crashing your lips together.

"No one'll see it, doll. I promise. For my eyes only," he says as he nuzzles into you. "You have no idea how much I miss you when I'm gone, baby."

"I think I have some idea," you respond, the sultry tone of your voice effortless as you wrap a leg around him.

It looks like you're about to go for another round, and the thirty minutes left in the video seem to confirm that thought, when Bucky hears the door of the bedroom finally opening.

He quickly closes out of the video, sliding the tablet away from himself before trying to hide and adjust his very obvious erection before you come in.

He clears his throat loudly, a bit awkwardly, as you enter the kitchen, earning a questioning brow from you as you walk toward the pizza box.

"You good?" you ask him as you grab a slice, not bothering with a plate.

He nods a bit too stiffly for your liking as you assess him. His cheeks are a little flush and he can't seem to look you in the eye.

"What did you do?" you question accusatorily.

"Nothing. I'm gonna shower now, if that's alright with you?" he questions haughtily.

You make a face at his tone, rolling your eyes as you turn around to grab a glass for water.

He doesn't mean for it to happen, but as you turn from him, his eyes fall to your ass, and he has to work to stop the groan that threatens to tumble from his lips as his mind replays the video for him.

Fucking creep, he chides himself as his cock twitches again. He takes the opportunity to stand and get to the bathroom as your back is to him.

---

You're on your third piece of pizza when Bucky returns to the kitchen, grabbing a slice for himself.

He's spent the last half hour going over in his mind exactly how you two could have possibly ended up here. He's still confused. And at his wit’s end.

Bucky speaks before he can think better of it.

"Why do you hate me?" he asks, seemingly out of the blue, causing you to turn toward him with quizzical eyes as you swallow your bite.

"Excuse me?" you ask in disbelief.

"Why do you hate me?" he repeats himself, his gaze never faltering as he holds your stare.

You're honestly dumbfounded.

You sputter for a second before attempting to form actual words. "I don't hate you, Bucky," you answer as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And seeing your future, you were pretty sure it must have been. "I mean, clearly," you add a little embarrassed for yourself.

"No? Then why do you act like you do?"

"I -,” you’re about to deny the accusation, but truthfully, you know he’s right. So you pause before giving the only answer you can come up with. “I don't know. Self-preservation?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Defense mechanism. I mean, you've been a complete dick to me since day one, Bucky. Am I supposed to just let you ream me whenever you feel like it - justified or not. And for the record, most of the time, it's not. You treat me differently from everyone else, sidelining me over nothing, questioning my every move, and I don't know why but I stopped trying to figure it out a while ago," you spoke candidly.

He was quiet for a minute as he took in your words. You watched as his brows furrowed, his gaze dropping as he licked his lips mindlessly.

"I'm sorry," he finally said at last. It was soft, but sincere as a pained look seemed to have taken over his face. "I never meant to make you feel that way. But clearly I did. It's just.. you're so stubborn," he says with a shake of his head as his eyes meet yours once again. "I do treat you differently. Because, truthfully, you fucking terrify me. You can be reckless; you act like you're expendable, and you're not. You're the furthest thing from it. I just don't want to see you get hurt. And maybe I was too scared to actually voice that aloud before, but it is the truth. I don't know, I guess, I thought I was keeping you safe somehow, protecting you. And I know you don't need me to. I'm sorry. For being a dick, for interfering when I shouldn't have, and for not talking to you about things before. I am sorry."

You’re silent and quietly awed at his admission, swallowing hard before forcing yourself to break away from his brilliant blue gaze.

"Thank you," you accept, not knowing where to go from here. "Good to know you don't hate me," you add.

"Yeah, same here," he smiles softly. Another moment passes before you speak again, something unspoken growing between you.

"So, just to be clear, was that you admitting that...you like me?" you ask, hearing how juvenile you sound but not really caring all that much.

"That was me admitting that I care about you."

You take a breath and nod, "Oh, okay. So, you don't like me?"

"I didn't say that," he almost scoffs.

"So you do like me?" you ask again with a furrowed brow.

"Jesus, doll," he laughs lightly, "We're married."

"Not yet," you counter.

Bucky walks toward you, pizza long forgotten by you both as he suddenly gets to his knees before you while you stay seated in the chair, his face right about level to yours as you watch him with stilled breath.

His eyes are blazing a fiery blue as he holds your gaze. You have to blink at the intensity.

"I like you," he breathes quietly, careful not to break the soft air of intimacy as you stay so close to each other, earning a small smile from you in turn.

"I told Kate I had a crush on you during recruitment, that's why she always makes comments about us going on missions together so often," you admit unprompted, the urge to tell him the embarrassing secret you'd tried to keep hidden from the moment you let it slip to Kate just overcoming you.

Bucky smiles boyishly at that. "Steve was convinced from the beginning I had a thing for you, that's why we go out on missions together so often."

You can't fight the half smile that adorns your lips at his words, "Was he right?" you question.

He nods.

"He was right," he whispers as he leans in closer to you. "Does our future not make that obvious?" he teases.

You don't think as you lean into him, one hand finding the back of his head and raking your fingers through the soft, dark brown strands as you breathe a bit heavier with anticipation, you watch as his eyes close at your touch, leaning ever closer. You’re sure he can hear the uptick of your heart as he meets your gaze once again, before your eyes flit to his lips.

You shrug, a playful tilt to your lips.

"I can think of some other things that might make it more obvious," you murmur as you let your forehead press against his own, waiting for him to close the distance between your lips now.

His hand comes up to gently hold your face before he slowly brushes his lips against yours.

It's soft and gentle as you kiss him again, but after a moment, one kiss turning into another and then another, your lips press harder against each other, hotter as it intensifies, your hand gripping his hair ever so slightly as he kisses you back just as hard before finally you force yourself to break away.

You shudder a breath as you part, catching your breath, but neither of you drop your hands.

Bucky's thumb gently strokes your cheek as you gaze into one another's eyes. So much unspoken, and yet so much being shared with the look alone.

The ringing of the tablet breaks you two up, though, as a FaceTime call pops up.

The contact is Natasha and seeing her name has you grabbing for the tablet and accepting the call right away.

"Hey," she greets as the sound of a movie playing in the background mingling with the giggles of children and fake cries for help from Steve can be heard just beyond her smoky voice.

"Hey, what's up? Did something happen?" you ask, hoping you don't sound as uncharacteristically panicked as you feel.

"That's what I was gonna ask you two. There a reason your daughter keeps twirling around shouting 'fucking dick' into the air every ten minutes?" She asks.

Your brows raise in surprise as your mouth parts open on nothing.

Bucky titters at the thought of that precious angel twirling around with a mouth like a sailor - a mouth like her mother. He smirks, answering for you.

"Yeah, that'd be thanks to her mother over here."

"Why am I not surprised," Nat responds.

"Sorry, she was mimicking me this morning and we didn't tell her to stop," you grimace. "Hey, can you put them on really quickly?"

"Yeah, that's actually the real reason I called. They wanted to say goodnight before they go to bed," she says as she walks into the living room.

"Linc, El, got some folks who wanna talk to you over here."

Your eyes light up as their perfect little faces fill the screen as Nat holds her phone for them.

When they register it's you and Bucky on screen, they smile brightly, calling out to you both.

"Hi, munchkins," you smile at the screen, Bucky right beside you.

"You guys getting ready for bed?" he asks.

"We're ready, Daddy! Just have to say goodnight to you and Mommy."

"Yeah we have to say goodnight so - and then we can sleep,"

You chuckle as Lincoln rubs his tired eyes.

"But I miss you Mommy," he pouts at the screen.

"'S okay, Linc," Ellie says as she takes her brother's hand, comforting him easily. You swear you're on the verge of tears as you smile at the sweetness.

"Sweetheart, I miss you, too. We miss both of you very much. But you guys are gonna have so much fun tomorrow! And we'll see you so soon, I promise. You two be good and listen to your Aunt and Uncle, okay? Oh, and Ellie,” her eyes widen as you say her name, looking attentively at your face on screen, “let's keep 'fucking dick' just an at home thing, alright?"

She giggles at your words but nods, "Okay, Mommy."

"Alright, goodnight you two," you say softly, not sure you’re ready to call it a night with them knowing what tomorrow is promised to bring.

"Goodnight, Mommy. I love you," they respond in unison.

"I love you more."

"Daddy's turn!" Linc calls for his father.

"Goodnight, Daddy," he says when Bucky leans further into the frame before you hand him the tablet to hold completely.

"Goodnight, Daddy," Ellie smiles.

"I love you," they say, again in unison. The sound is the cutest thing you've ever heard.

"Goodnight, guys. I love you more," he finishes with a soft, almost sad smile of his own before they run off the couch and chase Steve out of the room with the other kids. Nat offers you both a goodnight and a happy anniversary, parting with a wink before she hangs up.

"Those are ours," you say after a moment, astonishment lacing your tone.

"Yeah," Bucky chuckles. "We made those little punks."

"Ya know, I don't think we did too bad considering it's our first day."

"No, we were great. Naturals. They had absolutely no clue we'd never known them before today."

You laugh at that before the silence grows between you again. It's not something unusual for you guys, but the hot tension mounting in this moment in particular certainly is.

Bucky is still kneeling beside you, his large hand settled on your thick, plush thigh.

You scoot back, your weight pushing the chair. The movement allows his hand to smooth over your skin, sending sparks through you and raising goosebumps under his touch.

You try to pretend that it didn't send sparks alight in your belly as you move back further and stand, Bucky turning his gaze to follow your movements.

The sight of him on his knees before you, looking up at you with those devout blue eyes, it has your stomach fluttering as you take a deep breath.

He stands after a second, towering over you once again, somehow even closer now as you look up at him.

"What now?" you whisper.

"That's up to you, doll," he responds, voice lower than you've heard it before, his warmth radiating off of him and into you.

You see his hand twitch by his side, like he's holding himself back from reaching out and touching you again.

"Well," you swallow, "they said it's our anniversary, right?"

"Mhm,"

You raise your brows, shrugging the tiniest bit as you nervously lick your lips.

"You wanna celebrate?" you ask, your voice a little tight and heady as you flick your gaze back up to the darkening oceans of his eyes.

His lips crash into yours without another word, his speed catching you off guard as you gasp into his mouth. Bucky lifts you up like you weigh absolutely nothing and your legs circle around him as he holds you up, his lips never ceasing as he walks you out of the kitchen.

You only part to catch your breath, your forehead against his as he strides into the bedroom, your heavy breaths intermingling. Your hands are in his hair as your arms are wrapped around his neck.

He sets you down on the bed before backing away, granting you space you didn't ask for. You look at him, clearly not happy with the distance he'd put between you. Before you can say anything, Bucky speaks first.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asks intensely.

You look at him for a moment, hoping he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "If I'm being completely honest, Bucky, I've wanted you from the moment I met you. I wanna do this," you answer him. "I'm sure. Are you?"

Bucky pulls off his shirt as you breathe a sigh of relief, a soft titter escaping you as you watch him. He steps closer to you, taking your face in his hold, kissing you deeply. “I’m more than sure,” he speaks against your lips before pushing you back on the bed. The move has a scene playing in his mind and has him hesitating from going further as shame creeps up on him.

“I-,” he squeezes his eyes shut as he thinks through what he’s about to admit to, “I need to tell you something first.”

“What?” you ask, worry clear in your voice.

“I, well.. Hold on,” he says before getting up and leaving you sitting on the bed confused and concerned.

Bucky returns with the tablet in hand as you eye him.

He looks like a kid about to confess his wrongdoings, eyes down on the tablet as he approaches you slowly.

“I, uh. I came across this, and.. Uhm,” he clears his throat, “I,” he takes a heavy breath, “I.. watched.. it.” he says stuntedly. “Well, not all of it, but more than I should have..”

You’re confused as he hands the tablet over to you, but take it with a quirked brow.

An image of Bucky shirtless is on the screen and you trepidatiously hit the play button, wondering what the video could possibly be.

Your eyes go wide as you see yourself on the bed in lingerie, Bucky sporting nothing more than a pair of tight boxers. You look up at Bucky still standing before you as a blush grows on his cheeks. You watch, still wide eyed as it goes on. You’re on your back, Bucky leaning over you, and god help you, there’s a tingling in your core growing as you look on.

“No way,” you say in disbelief as it suddenly connects in your mind, eyes flicking back and forth between him and to the screen. “Is this-? Did we-? And you watched it?” you ask, scandalized as your gaze shoots back up to him.

He rubs the back of his neck self consciously, avoiding your gaze. “I know,” he says sheepishly - you’ve never seen him like this and it’s honestly a little entertaining, a bit endearing. “I’m-” your moan coming from the speaker cuts him off and grabs your attention as you look back down at the screen, mouth going dry as your core is anything but.

“Fuck,” you breathe as you watch Bucky on his knees, between your legs. You almost stop breathing before you look away, catching yourself and pausing the video. “Uhm. Well, that’s- this is.. Unexpected. I mean, obviously we- they- have.. sex, but, a sex tape?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have watched it, especially not as far as I did, and I just-”

“How far did you watch?” you ask, cutting him off.

You watch as he swallows hard before sitting down next to you, taking the tablet and scrolling to about the point he had stopped when he closed the video.

“Twenty five minutes?” you ask with a light laugh, looking at the time stamp, the screen paused on a still of you pulling him down on top of your naked body.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, clearly ashamed of himself. You can’t help but laugh, loving how remorseful he seems.

“‘S’okay,” you say with a light shake of your head, pulling the tablet from his hand and locking the screen, tossing it on the opposite side of the bed. It’s not until you straddle his lap that he looks at you finally, his hands coming up without thought to hold your waist. His eyes twinkle with something akin to wonder. “I get it, can’t blame you,” you admit, your arms draped over his broad shoulders before slipping them behind his neck. “It’s hot,” you speak sultrily, leaning closer to him, allowing your lips to brush his briefly.

His eyes fall to your lips as he breathes headily, pulling you flush to him as he holds you tighter. “You think?”

“Mhm,” you nod, your chest brushing against his bare one with your every breath before you finally let yourself kiss him once again, your noses brushing against one another.

His arms still holding you, Bucky turns you both onto the bed, ending up above you as you continue your soft makeout. His hands wander your body, touching and squeezing your softness lightly as you sigh under him, your hands wandering his body in turn. You feel like a teenager, experiencing something you’d only thought about in the far recesses of your mind for the first time, it’s intimate and exciting and you don’t even care to take this any further, your focus only on feeling each other, on being this close.

The ringing of the tablet, though, breaks through the moment. You glance over as Bucky continues kissing you, his lips on your neck as you try to read the screen - but it’s too far and out of your reach.

“Bucky,” you urge him, causing him to finally break away from you, turning to look at who was calling.

His eyes squint as he sits up, reaching for the tablet and answering the call.

“Steve?” he answers in question.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, Buck. Linc’s having a hard time going to sleep, he wanted to talk to you again, I told him I’d give you a call.”

“Yeah, yeah, put him on,” he responds.

There’s a sniffle before Lincoln’s soft voice comes through the speaker, “Daddy?”

“Hey, buddy, it’s me. What’s going on, having trouble sleeping?” he asks, sitting up more attentively as you watch him.

“Miss you,” Lincoln answers solemnly, you can imagine him rubbing at his teary eyes already as you hear him sniffle again, your heart clenching at the image. “I need Wolfie, Daddy. You forgot to bring Wolfie,” you can hear his pout over the line.

“I’m sorry, pal,” Bucky apologizes sincerely, despite neither of you having had any knowledge of “Wolfie” being a necessity. “How ‘bout we bring you Wolfie?” he asks before looking over to you briefly.

“Yeah, can you bring him to me please, Daddy?” he puffs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll bring him right now, buddy. Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Okay,” he says, voice wobbly. “Love you, Daddy,” he adds breathily on a huff, sounding on the very verge of tears.

“I love you, too, buddy. We’ll be right there.”

“He’s on his way, champ,” Steve says as he takes it off speaker, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Sorry, guys,” he offers to you both.

“Don’t worry about it, we were just, uh,... hangin’ out,” he says, scrunching his face at his own stupid response as you give him a ‘what the hell’ look, your hand gesturing of its own accord.

“Oh-kay,” Steve says at the odd response, “What is up with you guys today?”

“Uhhh,”

“Wait, don’t tell me.. Are you guys expecting again?” he asks, voice hushed.

“Yeah,” Bucky answers stupidly on an exhale, your mouth dropping while you gawk at him.

“Really?”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly again, “I mean, maybe. We don’t- we’re not sure. We don’t know,” he tries to remedy his previous baseless answer. “Look, I have to find Wolfie, so I’ll see ya in a minute.” He doesn’t wait for Steve to respond before he ends the call on his end.

“What the fuck was that?” you say on a titter.

His face is in his hands as he sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, “I don’t know.” His response is muffled by his hands as you crawl over to him, pushing on his back to make him stand up.

“Go get the wolf,” you say as you push on him.

As he stands, you get off the bed, too, throwing his shirt at him before he turns to the door.

“Ya know, you’d think you’d be better at this,” you taunt, earning a glare from him as he heads to the kid’s room down the hall.

“Can you go start the car?” he huffs as you watch him walk away.

You stifle a laugh through your nose, “Mhm,” you answer before heading down the hall yourself, grabbing the keys on your way out.

As you turn to close the front door, you’re surprised as Bucky’s already behind you, the plush white wolf in hand.

“You’re so slow,” he teases, taking the keys from your hand while you blink up at him, a smirk on his face as he passes you while you just watch, your turn to huff.

“Dick,” you accuse as you follow him, his smirk only growing at your insult before he gets to the passenger door, holding it open for you to get in.

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #dad!bucky #mom!reader #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #the-slumberparty writing challenge

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togrowoldinv · 20 days

Text

Drill Lessons

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Natasha shows you how to use a power tool and your mutual crush comes to light

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (N and R receiving)

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

To you, Natasha Romanoff is the most beautiful woman to ever walk the earth.

You’ve been wanting to tell her for months that you like her. Ever since you joined the team you’ve had feelings for her. But you can’t get a read on her.

You have no idea if she has feelings for you too. Sometimes it feels like she’s flirting with you but then you see or hear her act the same way with one of the guys and you brush it off as nothing.

This weekend Clint invited everyone to his farm to enjoy a quick getaway and clear your heads. Missions hadn’t been easy lately, so you all needed the reprieve.

When you arrive, Natasha walks in the house first. She’s clearly very comfortable here.

“Welcome!” Laura says to everyone. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home!”

“Thank you for having us, Mrs. Barton,” you say when you greet her.

“Oh please, called me Laura,” she says. Then she addresses everyone, “We don’t have enough rooms so you’ll have to share. Nat, can y/n sleep with you?”

You try not to have a visceral reaction to the idea. You hold your breath as you await her reply.

“Sure,” Nat simply says. She turns to you, “I’ll show you the way.”

You follow her up the stairs where you run across a couple of kids.

“Auntie Nat?” A girl asks, in shock of seeing Nat.

“Hey malyshka,” Natasha replies. She brings the girl in for a hug. “Lila, this is y/n. Hopefully you won’t discover you like her more than you like me.”

You smile and wave to Lila. She returns the smile before running off downstairs.

Nat takes you down the hallway and to what appears to be her bedroom when she stays here. There are photos of the Barton family and Nat on the dresser. You admire how happy she looks here.

“I always sleep on the door side, but we’ll do whatever you feel comfortable with,” Nat says.

“Oh, either side works for me.”

Nat nods. You set your bag down on the bed and unpack a few things. Natasha moves around the room, gathering a few of her own things.

You both go back downstairs for the rest of the evening. Nothing too eventful happens. Everyone makes plans to spend time outside tomorrow.

Natasha is first to the bedroom. She slips into the bed casually. You try to do the same but fail miserably at not looking nervous.

“I don’t bite, you know,” Nat says teasingly.

“Right,” you respond too quickly. “I just- sorry.”

“Relax, y/n,” she says. You settle on your side of the bed. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Natasha.”

You both drift off into a peaceful sleep. You first, and then Natasha.

At some point during the night, you end up snuggling close to Natasha. She wakes up to the feeling of your arm draping over her. But she doesn’t mind it. Actually, she likes it.

When you wake up in the morning, you find yourself still nestled in her arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say, trying to move off of her.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Nat says, only tightening her grip a bit before letting you loose. “So, you’re a cuddler, huh?”

You look away shyly and Nat just smirks. Now you definitely can’t believe you slept next to Natasha and accidentally snuggled with her all night. She doesn’t say anything else about it until you go downstairs for the day.

“Good morning!” Laura greets. She’s pulling fresh biscuits from the oven. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” you answer briefly.

“She sure was cozy,” Nat interjects. It’s just Laura in the room with you two, but you still try to hold back a blush.

“Mhm, I’m sure,” Laura replies. Somehow you’re sure she knows the way you feel about Nat and how Nat feels about you.

Soon, the boys come tumbling into the kitchen. You all go outside to do your respective chosen activities. Steve promised to show you how to chop wood while Nat and Clint run off to the barn to build a new shelter for some of the animals.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Romanoff?” Steve asks after a few minutes of chopping the wood.

“Oh, is there- is there a me and Romanoff?”

“Is there not?” He asks genuinely. “I’m sorry. I just thought that you two- nevermind.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, shrugging.

It does leave you wondering if the other members of the team think something is happening there too. You try not to think about it too much as you continue to work outside. The fresh air does wonders for you.

Steve asks you to go grab the axe sharpening block from the barn, so you walk to the structure. When you get there, you catch sight of something that makes your jaw practically drop to the ground.

Natasha is wearing only a blank tank top and shorts are she uses a power drill to build a wooden structure. Sweat drips down her neck and chest as she expertly uses the tool.

You swear she catches the sight of you out of the corner of her eye, but she continues on with her drilling. She lifts heavy pieces of wood with ease. You can’t stop staring.

Nat lifts her tank top up to wipe the sweat from her face. You see her ab happy stomach and the sports bra that’s keeping the rest of her skin covered.

“Enjoying the view?” Nat says aloud. You’ve definitely been caught now.

“Oh, I was just-“ you start, but there’s no use. You were doing exactly that. “My bad.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nat says. “Come on in, what did you need?”

“We needed the axe sharpener block thing?”

“Is that a question?”

“Well, I don’t know what it is so yes?”

Nat chuckles. She turns to look at the shelf behind her for the tool you need. Her backside somehow looks just as good as her front.

“Here you go,” Nat says. She hands you the block. You are standing close to her now. “The real fun is happening in there though. I can show you how to use this.”

She gestures to the drill in her left hand, pressing her finger on the trigger to make it whir. You shouldn’t be so intrigued by it. Or by her for that matter. But you are.

“Maybe tomorrow you can show me?” You ask her.

“How about tonight?” Nat asks. Her voice drops an octave. You pray she means what you think she means.

You swallow shyly and Nat shoots you a smile. Slowly, you leave her there and go back to Steve. He doesn’t mention how long it took you to get the tool, thank goodness.

Later that day, you all grill out burgers and hotdogs. Clint tries to show off his grilling skills, but the team just gives him a hard time saying that it’s not all that hard anyways.

By the time evening comes, everyone’s sitting around a campfire. Natasha sits across from you. She glances at her phone and then to you as a way of alerting you to look at your phone.

The text reads: Meet me in the barn. 10 minutes.

You nod in her direction to acknowledge you got the message. The minutes pass by and you both leave to go to the barn.

When you get inside, Nat is already over by the wood she was working with earlier.

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Nat says.

“Okay,” you agree. You stand next to her.

“First things first, always know your surroundings,” Nat says.

She abruptly places her hands on your hips. She easily moves you to the right and left to observe your surroundings. Your heart stops when she reaches around you and her face is mere inches from yours.

She steps back and has a pair of clear glasses in her hand.

“And wear safety glasses,” she says. She places them on your face. You’re sure you look like an absolute fool. “Cute.”

“You didn’t wear these yesterday,” comes your reply.

“That’s because I’m an expert,” Nat says. She surprises you by pinching your cheeks. “You’ll get there, sweetheart.”

Natasha grabs the drill and ushers you to move closer to the wood with her. She takes you through step by step on how to use the power tool.

“Now, you can try,” Nat says.

“Okay,” you reply. You feel a little nervous about trying it. Nat assures you that you can’t mess it up.

You try to focus even with Nat being so close to you. For the first time using a drill, you don’t do terribly.

“Nice job, y/n,” Nat says. “But you’ll want to apply more pressure. Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Natasha places her hand on yours and pushes down on the drill. You pull the trigger and drill the screw into the wood. Her hot breath is on your neck.

You smile at your success and turn just enough to look at Nat. She’s just inches from you.

“Should we take this inside?” Nat asks. Her eyes glance to your lips and back up to your eyes. She brings her other hand to your cheek and brushes the back of it against it.

“Are you- um- yes?”

“Yes? Or yes.”

“The second one,” you say. Natasha smirks at you.

You leave the drill and safety glasses behind. Natasha holds your hand as she walks you to the house. You slip upstairs easily and she closes her bedroom door behind her.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while,” Natasha says.

“Really?” You ask innocently.

“Really, detka. Come here,” she says, bringing you to the bed with her.

You sit next to her and she kisses you softly. It’s like floating on a cloud. You didn’t think she would be this gentle. But you’re loving it.

“May I?” Nat asks, gesturing to your shirt. You nod. She lifts the material over your head. “Beautiful.”

You feel sure you’re blushing at her words and the way her eyes rake over your body.

“Can I- um?” You pull at her tank top hem.

“Yes, baby,” Natasha says. “You can do anything to me.”

You lift the thin material over her head. Your heart stops at her beauty. You immediately lean forward and take her nipple into your mouth. It surprises Natasha how intentional you are being.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Is this okay?” You ask, pulling away a bit. Nat pulls your head back to her breasts. You’ll take that as a yes.

Natasha fumbles with your pants. She gets them unbuttoned but grumbles in frustration when she can’t get them off. You chuckle against her.

“Okay, hold on,” Nat says. She stands up and pulls her own pants down before grabbing you by the hips and pulling you up too.

Natasha takes your pants off with ease this time and slips them down your legs along with your underwear. She grins and drops to her knees. It doesn’t take her long to get to work licking and sucking at your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moan out.

“You taste so good, baby. All for me,” Nat says.

“Fuck.”

You feel close to coming embarrassingly quickly but Natasha is proud of her work.

“Come for me, y/n,” she says. Her voice drips with sex.

“Fuck, Natasha!”

You come hard against her tongue. She licks you clean and stands back up. She kisses you deeply. It’s the most on fire you have ever felt.

“I want to taste you,” you tell Nat.

“Your wish is my command,” Nat says. She lays on the bed and you crawl over her body.

“So beautiful,” you say as you kiss from between her breasts down to her hips.

“You’re not so shy now are you?” Nat asks. You answer by diving into her wet pussy.

Her folds are slick and she’s ready for you. You lick and suck her, cherishing every noise she makes.

“Fuck, baby,” Nat says. “I’m going to come.”

“Come for me, Natasha.”

She does just that. You relish in the sounds she makes. You move back up her body and lay next to her.

“So, all of those times I thought you were flirting with me you actually were?” You break the silence.

Nat chuckles. “Yes, y/n. I’ve been hinting at it for months. I’m glad we finally got on the same page.”

She looks at you through her long eyelashes. You rest your head on her shoulder.

“I’ve always liked you, Natasha,” you say. “Do you think the team noticed we left?”

“Nah,” Nat says. “Even if they did, I don’t care. I have you.”

“You sure do.”

You snuggle further into Natasha. She holds you close as you lay together and talk for hours.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff smut

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steddielations · 1 year

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Eddie’s having lunch with Wayne at a restaurant, but he’s distracted while swiping through Tinder, getting hung up on this one guy.

He's unfairly attractive, Steve, 20, a total jock with too many shirtless pictures that Eddie won't admit make him blush down at his phone. There's also pics of 'Steve' with a cute service dog, which is always a plus. His bio actually makes Eddie snort, 'Yeah I'm a single dad of seven, don't cream your pants,' it's funny, confident in a charming way. He's hot, but still looks like a sweetheart in group photos with his friends at Pride, so it all balances out, gives him substance.

But, the last few times Eddie swiped right, he didn't get any matches. He already knows the guy is out of his league and he doesn’t want to bother anymore.

Wayne catches him moping, and as pathetic as it is to involve his uncle in his nonexistent lovelife, he shows him the pictures. Wayne totally disagrees that 'Steve' is too good a catch for Eddie, but Eddie brushes it off as Wayne buttering him up like any good parent would. Then Wayne pulls the Ultimate Supportive Dad move and completely humiliates Eddie by asking the guy sitting alone at the table next to theirs to weigh in.

“Help me out and tell my nephew that this boy here on the Tinder ain't outta his league, would you?"

Eddie's mortified by his Uncle's lack of social media knowledge and the fact that he's involving a stranger in Eddie's pathetic lovelife now too. He doesn't even get a good look at the guy, wearing a hat and sunglasses and besides, Eddie's just glaring at his uncle with his cheeks burning the entire time.

"I think you should listen to your uncle. If anything, you're out of this guy's league, it's his loss if he didn't already swipe right on you," the stranger says, making Eddie's blush spread, "I mean, he seems totally full of himself with all those shirtless pics, right?"

"I would be too if I was that hot," Eddie mutters, taking his phone back, "Fine, I'm almost embarrassed to death, I might as well just swipe right, get rejected and finish the job."

Eddie swipes the screen and he almost drops it when the little notification bell for a new match goes off.

Because it didn't come from his phone.

He looks up as the stranger checks his own phone, taking off his hat and sliding his sunglasses up, revealing the same perfect hair and pretty face that Eddie just swiped right on.

“See there," Wayne is oblivious while Eddie's close to bursting into actual fucking flames from embarrassment, "Told you I was right."

"Look at that, I just got a new match too," Steve says, winking at Eddie, "I have a good feeling about this one."

#this is why eddie should always listen to wayne #steddie #steve harrington #my fics #eddie munson #steddie fic #rueswriting #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon #wayne munson #prompts #meet cute #social media au

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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

Text

I once had to pose in a ton of photos for a friend's AP photography final back in high school so may I present to you:

Steve Harrington, who gave in to Robin's begging that he act as her weird art model for her senior year portfolio (the same one her teacher is encouraging her to bat out of the ballpark and enter into contests.)

She's doing a whole thing on fashion, subcultures and sexuality using photos and collaged poetry, a project that has Steve trying on different outfits and posing in different places.

"This might help me land a scholarship, Dingus." She hisses while she's got him bent over her bathtub, spraying parts of his hair blue with wash-out dye.

Steve, soulmate and best friend extraordinaire, goes through it all with minimal (for him) bitching, even if the goth outfit feels absolutely ridiculous, and the 'geek' photoshoot downright laughable.

He starts to have fun when she has him mimic Nancy's straight laced, all A's good girl aura, and equally has a blast with the country look (he has no idea where Robin got a miniature horse but it conned him for every piece of food he had on him and then some.)

The final piece is the one they're struggling with, the one Robin's now (fake) dying his hair partially blue for.

A few hours later and he's dressed up once again in a studded leather jacket, the tightest jeans he owns ringed with belts, and combat boots.

Robin had even talked him into letting her use eyelash glue to attach a few metal studs on his face--two acting as an eyebrow piercing and one on his nose.

The looks he drew took a minute to get used too when all was said and done, Robin dragging him around Hawkins while she tried to find the 'perfect backdrop' but he's not gonna lie.

He kinda enjoys being punk Steve.

That is, until Robin has him posing in an alleyway and Eddie Munson comes around the corner, jaw right about falling to the floor.

Even better?

Eddie doesn't recognize him.

Not at first, when he siddles up to Steve, nodding to the handkerchief in Steve's back pocket and then flicking the pink triangle pin on his jacket with a finger.

Steve owes Jonathan a bottle of his father's best alcohol for giving him enough knowledge to get through the music razing Eddie subjects him too, and Steve's all too happy to play the part of punk asshole to Munson's music-snob metalhead.

It's not until Eddies playing with his hair and Robin gives in to letting him have a quick break from the shoot that he gives up the ghost, leaning in to whisper in Eddie's ear.

"Gotta say, Munson," Steve all but purrs."I wasn't expecting you to fall for the Harrington Charm that fast."

"What?" Eddie asks, jerking his head back to look at him with wide eyes.

Maybe it's the outfit giving him the extra ounce of courage, but Steve likes to think more that it gives him the freedom to lean forward and brush their lips together.

Eddie doesn't return it, but that's alright.

Steve's played this game enough to know that it was merely a hook for a real kiss.

"Okay." Robin says, annoyed, camera at her side. "Steve, I'm happy that you're finally exploring that repressed as fuck homosexuality we keep arguing about, I really am, but I have to get this last photo!"

He ignores her, instead nudging Eddie's shoulders.

"Care to pose with me?" Steve asks, grinning. He can tell Eddie still isn't sure if this is a joke, that he's seconds from running, and reaches out to tug on his black handkerchief. "Get Robin her photo, and then talk about this after, Mr. S&M."

Eddie flushes scarlet, but after some reassurance (and wheelding) from Robin, finally agrees.

(Later, he agrees to a date, which Steve also credits the outfit for.

Even if Robin demands half the credit.)

#punk steve #except not #steddie #robin buckley #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #just think if Eddie had stumbled over the geek outfit #or the mini horse #micro fic #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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2btheanswertothequestion · 1 year

Text

(part 2 of November Paramedic; part 1 is here.)

Steve's honey-sweet eyes, gleaming with confidence, ask 'why don't you take a bite?'

His pink mouth, deliciously curved, wonders 'don't you want a taste?'

His dark chest hair, leading a mouthwatering path down his pants, says 'you know you want to'.

And Eddie does. He really does. He would, if Steve was actually here. Alas, all Eddie has is the calendar photo currently staring at him from where it's propped on Eddie's dresser, and he's not biting into it. It's the only one he's got, you see; he won't be ruining it with bite marks and drool due to his intrusive thoughts.

If he had a copy machine close at hand, though? If he could make as many pictures as he'd possibly want? Oho, watch out, Slobbertown!

It's been one week since Steve the sexy paramedic revealed himself to be a real person and not just a dude in a softcore porn calendar. One week since he Florence Nightingale'd Eddie before vanishing in a flurry of bloody gauze and blinking blue lights, leaving both Eddie and Gareth breathless.

(Though in Gareth's case, it was due to laughing so hard he choked on himself.)

The calendar doesn't do it for him anymore. Don't misunderstand – he still uses it when beating the meat. In fact, it has exclusively become his primary masturbatory aid, and it has served him especially well the past few days. The moment those 48 hours were over and Gareth left, Eddie chucked off his sweatpants and went to, well, Slobbertown. But it's not the same anymore. How could it be, when he knows the real Steve's hair smells like a meadow and his aftershave like lemon and spice? When he's felt the pressure of Steve's fingertips on his jaw? When he's seen the faint scar running down Steve's chin from his mouth? When he can still hear Steve's voice use his name, give him orders, call him 'sir'?

It's impossible. Fuck, just whenever Eddie closes his eyes Steve's face appears, as vividly as if it happened yesterday. Of course, that might have something to do with Eddie already having made himself oh so familiar with Steve's face, and chest, and hands, and… everything else, for the past two years. Jesus damn it, if he knew this was where he'd end up he never would've bought the calendar in the first place.

Groaning, he throws himself back on his bed; then he shouts as his head thumps into the wall. Typical. He rubs at the spot to soothe it. No bump, though it hurts like a bitch. Pain (and suspicion he just aggravated the previous head injury) aside, he's comfortable, thus he sprawls out and stares at the ceiling as planned.

He's been distracted. He knows that because literally everyone has been on his case about it. Gareth gives him smug smiles that have turned alarmingly calculated as the week has passed. Jeff and Marv, having been filled in by Gareth, are rather more amused in a benign way. His boss almost sent him home to recuperate after catching him staring into space for the third time. Uncle Wayne noticed something was off through the phone. And Max has been giving him weird looks.

Ah, little Max. The only person in the complex who doesn't steer clear of him. She doesn't actually know what went down – not completely. She knows he got injured, because she caught him and Gareth as they stumbled home while she was exiting her apartment to toss the trash. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the plaster, and on Eddie's arm that was slung over Gareth's shoulders for support (at Gareth's insistence).

"You got in a fight?" she asked.

With a grin he'd exclaimed, "Battle? You know me better than that! Nay, I did my utmost to escape the violence... but the ruffian got to me regardless."

"Huh. You okay?"

Gareth had rolled his eyes. "He's fine. I mean, listen to him."

"Don't worry about me, Red." Eddie tapped his own head. "This ol' noggin is harder than it looks."

A corner of her mouth twisted up, though if it was in amusement he couldn't tell in the dim hallway. They ought to team up against the super; maybe their combined whining will have him finally fix that broken light bulb.

"Make sure you don't take aspirin or ibuprofen," she said. "It can-"

"Yeah, I know. Paramedic already told me."

"Good. Is our lesson still on?"

"Certainly, m'dear."

And then he'd tipped an imaginary hat, she snorted, and Gareth hauled his ass to bed.

He didn't see Max again until Sunday afternoon, when she came by for their aforementioned weekly guitar lesson. Parking themselves on each end of the couch, his acoustic in her lap, he'd made her play the 'homework' from the previous Sunday. It sounded pretty good. She honestly won't need his help soon – probably doesn't need it now. She understands basic theory and is diligent about practicing. He'd be fine with awarding her temporary custody of the guitar for a while. She insists on coming over, however, claiming she has to be perfect by the time of the next open mic down at Connie's Corner Coffee.

The reason she has to be perfect? Well. Eddie is pretty sure it's to impress her boy. She hasn't confirmed that it's for her boy, or even that she has one, but it totally is and she totally does. He knows this because 1. she becomes flustered and grumpy (grustered? Flumpy?) every time he brings it up, and 2. if she was learning to play for herself he'd be subjected to a lot more Pink Floyd and a lot less Curtis Mayfield.

It's cute, to be honest. Picking up an instrument for a boy you like? That's romantic as fuck. If he hadn't been the Lord of All Losers he would've serenaded tons of boys when he was younger. Hell, he'd do it now, if only there were anyone willing to listen. But he hasn't had as much as a date in ages, and none of his previous attempts at relationships ever reached the 'romantic gestures' stage.

Maybe he should ask Max to set him up with someone. Why not? She probably meets dozens of people every day, at the campus, at the skatepark, wherever else she hangs. If there's anyone who could sort out his disastrous love life, it's Max Mayfield. She's so put together, and she's not even 20 yet. She's got her own place (in a supremely shitty building, but still a place), she's got a man (reluctant as she is to admit it), and she is halfway through her math degree. A fucking math degree, for Christ's sake! Math majors are built for solving problems!

Maybe she could even calculate how many times he'd need to injure himself before he'd meet the one paramedic he wanted to kiss… him better.

It was around that point of his daydreaming that Max shot a hair tie at his forehead and demanded he stop zoning out and correct her hand placement.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual. "Have you been resting?"

"Yes. For the prescribed 48 hours, and then some. I'm fine."

She'd frowned, scrutinizing him with those pale blue eyes. He squared his shoulders and met her gaze like a man. Easier said than done, to be truthful. He likes Max – she's fun, easily the most kickass neighbor he's ever had – but she can be intense. And when she gets her stare on? She's downright creepy.

"I'd prefer to cancel over you fucking up your head more," she at last said, posture stiff and chin jutting. 'Don't lie to me,' is what she meant.

Eddie sighed. "Red… I'm fine. Seriously."

And he was. Physically speaking, at least. Mentally, he'd always been a little off. Part of the patented Munson charm, really.

She must've realized that, because she relaxed, her expression going from 'active bitch face' and back to 'resting'.

"All right. Sorry for being overbearing. It's just." She shrugged a shoulder, gripping the neck of the guitar as it started sliding off her crossed legs. "One of my closest friends is a medical professional. Another one is studying biology. They've been discussing human anatomy and… I guess they've gotten into my head."

Damn his friends for caring. How was he supposed to sell this image of a dark, dangerous, rocker dude if he was constantly misty-eyed from how sweet his buds were to him? He leaned forward to pat her knee.

"I appreciate the concern, unnecessary as it is. But!" He drew himself back and pointed in the air. "We're not postponing! Open mic is less than a month away – you only have so many days left before you'll be on that stage, in front of aaaaall those people… and your beau."

He's certain that if she hadn't still been sorta concerned about his health, she'd have smacked him.

That was Sunday afternoon. Now is Wednesday evening. He is still hung up on Thursday. He doesn't even know why. Yes, he was face-to-face with the hottest guy ever. Sure, that same guy has been the star of his most critically acclaimed fantasies. Indeed, he hasn't gotten laid in eons. Of course, he's pent-up with sexual frustration and yearning for another man's touch.

But still. He's not an animal or a sex-crazed teenager. He's smart enough to know that nothing good will come of this. It's not like he'll ever see Steve again. That'd be so unrealistic.

A knock on his front door reaches his ears. Eddie makes no effort to get up and answer it. He's not expecting anyone – whoever it is will have to return another day.

The knocking turns into a pounding, followed by yelling.

"Eddie! Let me in, asshole, I know you're there!"

Ugh. What does he want? Hasn't he heard of texting?

Eddie drags himself off the bed and toward the door. Yanking it open, he's met by Gareth's self-satisfied visage.

"Good evening," he says, heedless of Eddie’s glare. "I come hither with your solution."

"My solution?" Eddie mutters as he stalks to his couch to crumple into another heap.

Gareth follows him inside. "I have a plan to get your man!"

"What? Who? What?"

"Steve. November-paramedic," Gareth says, like it's obvious, which, what the actual fuck?

"He's not my man?"

"But he could be."

"Gareth, what the fuck-"

He moves to sit up, but Gareth's palm hits him square in the diaphragm and pushes him back down.

"No, listen: you are a terrible patient."

"I'm not-"

"Remember back in high school, when that asshole rear-ended us in the intersection at Hickory and 5th?"

Eddie grimaces. How could he forget? They'd stopped at a red light when a drunken motherfucker plowed into them, sending them careening into the T-junction. One car managed to break before hitting them; another veered only to crash into a fourth car. The result was, for them, whiplash injuries and, for the people who collided, bruises, sprains, and a dislocated joint. It had been the scariest moment of Eddie's life, and the neck pain had been excruciating. That wasted piece of shit was lucky no one died.

He says, "Yeah?"

"You were so snarky with that poor EMT."

"Okay, first off, I was a snot-nosed brat back then-"

"Dude, you were nineteen."

"-and she was rude to me first."

"She was following protocol!" Gareth shakes his head. "The point is that you never follow orders or instructions, not even when a doctor tells you to. But November-Steve? I've never seen you be so pliable."

"I-"

"And after, when I had to babysit you for two fucking days? I expected it to be difficult. But you were so busy sighing and yearning-" he says, ignoring Eddie's indignant sputtering, "-and replaying him tenderly caressing your face with his big, manly hands and holding your gaze with those big, manly eyes-"

"Do you want to fuck him?"

"-that you forgot to complain or be a contrarian about everything." Gareth smiles, sweet as cavities. "It was great. I'd like to recapture that. And if November-Steve is the one to bring it out of you, well!"

Eddie glowers at him. No, really! With the metaphorical thunder clouds swirling over his head and everything! His world has been shook. It is tilted off its axis, and it's his best friend's duty to mock him relentlessly for it. But this? Trying to encourage him? Give him hope? That's going too far.

Gareth notices. Of course he does; curse the heart on Eddie's sleeve. The sickly-sugary smugness evaporates off him, and he takes a seat on the dingy couch seat.

"Eddie," he says with a softness reserved for a select few individuals. "Seriously. You've been all moon-eyed for a week. You've been thinking about him. Really thinking."

Eddie balloons his cheeks and huffs out the air. "Well. If you spend two years jerking it to a guy-"

"Gross."

"-and then he suddenly appears before you, in the flesh? I've been fantasizing about it. He's a fantasy. And when it actually happens, that's…"

He trails off. Gareth knocks their shoulders together.

"He seemed nice."

Eddie scoffs. "I spoke to him for fifteen minutes. Tops."

"Fifteen nice minutes. You haven't dated in ages. Maybe this is a sign?"

Chuckling, Eddie slumps his head onto Gareth's shoulder. They're the wrong heights for it, so it's awkward and strenuous on the neck. He remains.

"You're just looking for another opportunity to embarrass me," he says.

"Embarrass you and improve your life. Like only true friends strive to do."

Eddie hums. "So what's your fucking plan?"

Gareth shifts, turning toward Eddie, but doesn't say anything yet. Glancing up, Eddie is met by a zoomed-in, upside-down view of Gareth's pointy grin, his canines gleaming.

"The university!"

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

Taglist: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround , @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid

No longer adding to the tag list, due to numbers and (hopefully temporary) technical difficulties. Please save or memorize the tag #steddie fic: november paramedic instead; all the parts will be there (unless something goes terribly wrong).

Thank you for reading! 🖤 ☺

Part 3

#no steve this time (he's there in sexy spirit) but you get more gareth AND some max #steddie #steddie fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #max mayfield #my writing #steddie fic: november paramedic

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keeryscharm · 3 months

Text

steve harrington is the polaroid boyfriend.

a few are posed photos. there’s one of steve leaning against his car after it’s been freshly washed, his hands in his pockets, squinting slightly from the sun. in another he wears his family video vest and stands in front of the store before opening.

there’s the many candid photos you snapped. a shirtless steve in the kitchen, captured mid-yawn, coffee pot handle in hand. an exasperated steve telling dustin something none of you remember, but, judging by his stern expression, must have been important at the time.

eventually steve decided to “get you back” and began using the polaroid to take his own sneaky photos. his favorite is you sleeping in his bed while wearing one of his old basketball shirts. in another you were casually watching television before steve suddenly reached for the camera. your blurred hands are raised to stop him even as your mouth falls opens in laughter.

then there’s the photos others captured. sitting on the couch at a party, steve’s arm around you, smiling brightly as robin took over your polaroid. there’s one of your favorite photos, which you credit to max’s quick thinking. you were cooking dinner for the group in you and steve’s first apartment when, despite a watchful eye, a pot boiled over. steve had just cleaned it up and now you both stood in the kitchen, steve behind you with his arms around your waist, laughing at how your perfect dinner was off to an imperfect start.

you use the same shoebox you stored the earliest photos in, though now it’s nearly bursting. it’s still adorned with faded and peeling stickers and neon scrawls of you and steve’s initials.

inside the box is a love story on film.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #joe keery #my fics #my headcanons

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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

Text

On school picture day, Steve always gets the kids ready. It’s not that Eddie doesn’t want to, it’s that he kind of hates making them dress up for a photo when 99% of the time, they’re just kids.

Except Steve had to go to a training conference for guidance counselors this week and picture day is happening whether they like it or not.

Their oldest, Jules, can do everything herself now. Prefers it, actually. She’s been extremely independent since she turned 10 a few months ago and neither of them try to stop her.

But their twins are only six, and James and Connor are like tornadoes who interrupted a category five hurricane and wore their most stained clothes while doing it.

“Let’s at least brush your hair,” Eddie suggested, already mentally preparing for the arguments that would cause. “Just for the picture and then you can mess it up however you want.”

“But daddy lets us wear it crazy!” Connor lies.

“And he lets us take off our shirts!” James lied even more.

“You guys don’t even know how to lie right,” Jules said as she finished braiding her own hair.

“We don’t lie!” They said in unison.

Eddie used to think the twins talking and doing things at the same time was just coincidence, but now he knows it has to be some kind of evolutionary benefit to outsmart the parents.

“Let’s call daddy then and ask,” Eddie said, immediately being met with silence. “Oh, can we not? If he lets you do that stuff, then it shouldn’t be a problem right?”

The twins shake their heads.

“Great!” Eddie pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and pretends to dial Steve. Steve’s not gonna answer, so he just sends a quick text to let him know it’s fine and to let it ring to voicemail. He holds the phone up to his ear as it rings twice and then goes to voicemail. “Hey sweetheart. You know how it’s picture day? Mhm. Well the twins told me you usually let them just go without brushing their hair or even wearing a shirt! I thought that sounded silly. So you don’t?”

“Wait! Okay we lied a little!” Connor yelled, suddenly panicking at being caught.

“And maybe a lot!” James added, already trying to climb Eddie’s side so he could reach for the phone.

“I’ll go get them ready, love you, bye!” Eddie rushed out and hung up so he could hold James safely. “I think you think I’m a fool.”

“No dad, you just let us be crazy,” James said.

“So does your daddy. Just not on picture day. You know the rules. We do this for him, right? We get nice and handsome and we smile for the camera so we can hang the pictures on the fridge.” Eddie glanced at last year’s school photos, resisting the urge to cry at how big they’d all gotten so quickly. James was missing three teeth now, Connor seemingly lost a ton of his baby fat early, and Jules had started wearing earrings. “He likes seeing your faces on the fridge.”

“But can’t we just wear our regular clothes?” Connor begged from his other side.

Eddie looked down at what they were wearing. It wasn’t that bad. No stains, at least. And no holes. That was rare for them.

“You can wear these clothes if you let me make your hair look nice,” Eddie bargained.

“Daddy’s gonna kill you,” Jules said with her arms crossed.

“He loves me too much. Plus who else would do the dishes every night? He can’t kill me!” Eddie joked, tickling James before setting him down on the floor. “To the bathroom, my princes! Make haste!”

They ran for the bathroom quickly, nearly tripping over each other in the process.

Eddie’s phone vibrated in his hand with a text from Steve that just said ‘if they don’t brush their hair for pictures, Santa won’t come.’

Eddie texted back quickly: so cruel. as his most sexiest elf, I wouldn’t pass over their house.

Steve sent a ‘🙄’ and then a ‘😘’.

Eddie pocketed his phone and went to help the boys with their hair.

When they got the pictures back a month later, Steve shook his head, but couldn’t quite hide the fond smile.

James and Connor both forgot to give normal smiles into the camera.

But their hair looked almost perfect.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble #steddie dads

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pixiemunsons · 2 years

Text

for your viewing pleasure (em)

the girl in eddie's favourite porno mag looks real familiar...

over 4k words (i couldn't help it i'm sorry), best friends to lovers, dirty talk, joking about non consensual touching (it's a single line and absolutely a joke), lots of pet names, weed use obvi, eddie's been jerking it to a pic of someone who looks like reader so if that's an issue don't read, no use of y/n. reader’s hair reaches her shoulders. also unprotected sex (even these two idiots know that’s a bad idea)

no vol two spoilers here!

a/n: i'm so horny for eddie munson i just needed to write this. i'm still working on multiple bridgerton one shots so don't worry, i've not neglected them, eddie is just my fave rn

you quite literally could not believe your eyes.

you had really seen some shit these last few years. visiting your friend robin at work one afternoon had pulled you into an absolute mess of russians and alternate dimensions and kids with psychic powers and numbers for names. if anyone had told you two years ago that steve ‘the hair’ harrington would be dropping you at school most mornings, that your closest friends would be a group of fifteen year olds, that you would be best pals with eddie fucking munson? you’d never believe them. but this was truly the most unbelievable thing you’d ever seen.

you don’t know why. it was unmistakable. uncanny, really. laid out, literally bare in front of you.

the girl in the centrefold of eddie munson’s most dog-eared, crinkle-paged, unnervingly sticky porno mag looked just like you.

you knew snooping in his room was wrong, but you had no idea there were still secrets between the two of you anymore. you’d been joined at the hip since steve had introduced you the year before, and you weren’t really looking through his stuff, you just wanted to find his stash so you could roll you guys something for when he got back from his shower. but then your fingers had closed around something glossy under his bed and you just had to know what was in it. you weren’t expecting anything like this, maybe just some softcore shit you could tease him about for a couple weeks, but the magazine had opened on its own to its apparently most viewed page, and your jaw had dropped with it.

you couldn’t see all of her, just from the lips down to the knees. she was led down, mouth spread in a wide grin, lacy white underwear adorning her hips. her breasts were exposed, nipples pebbled to the seemingly cold air, and she was trailing her hands up her stomach teasingly. her knees were bent to the side in a look-but-can’t-touch sort of gesture. it was almost tasteful compared to the open mouths and hairy bushes of the other photos. and she literally looked just like you. the hair falling over her shoulder was the exact shade as yours, and even her breasts seemed to be the same size. her skin could’ve been matched to yours at a make up counter, and the shape of her hips and thighs was so reminiscent you would’ve believed they were yours had you not known otherwise.

so why the fuck was eddie looking at this photo? there were a couple of possibilities to be pondered. first, it was a second hand magazine. as gross as that thought was, the person who handed it to him might not have even known you. it was also possible that eddie had never thought of what you might look like under your clothes, which whilst a little deflating (god knows you’d thought about what he looked like under his) was a definite possibility. and then there was the alternative, which was that eddie had realised she looked like you and jacked off anyway, which meant…

you didn’t have time to think about it, though, because eddie was making his way noisily back to his room. quickly, you threw the magazine under his pillow and led back on it, rearranging your skirt and pretending to pick at your nails just as he threw the door open. he was still wet and, you were glad to see, completely shirtless. he leant an arm against his doorframe, the very top of his boxers peaking out from under his tight jeans in a way that had your mouth watering just a little bit. you couldn’t deny that eddie was attractive, and more than once you’d woken up in a cold sweat after having certain dreams about him. but he’d never given any indication that your feelings were reciprocated. sure, he flirted with you, and he loved being close to you, slinging an arm over your shoulder in queues and having a hand on your thigh when he drove. but that was just how he was. with everyone.

‘wanna smoke something, babe?’ he winked, and with a roll of your eyes he came and sat next to you, dragging his lunchbox out. of course. he kept it in his underwear drawer.

───

‘baby, i’m tellin’ you, the lord of the rings is a fucking epic!’ eddie cried out, joint in one hand and the other waving wildly through the air as he tried to prove his point. you plucked it from his fingers, allowing yourself to indulge in the way they brushed yours for a second.

‘dude, i don’t disagree, but i’m saying it’s not long enough for all the lore! like, come the fuck on, it’s two hours long for like, seven books! that’s at least four movies,’ you argued your own back, laughing at how eddie rolled his eyes. ‘some of us can read, munson, and those books are fuckin’ long.’ you smiled at him sarcastically, squealing as his hands reached out to tickle your waist. his body rolled halfway onto yours, pulling the blunt from your hand and taking one final hit before stubbing it out on his bedside table. long fingers clasped around yours, dragging both hands above your head to tickle your arms and you were laughing and from under your head… an unmistakable sound of paper rustling.

you froze instantly, and you knew eddie had heard it. your eyes shot open, and you could feel blood spreading up your chest and neck and across your face.

‘sweetheart…’ eddie looked into your eyes, and in that awful second, you knew exactly what was about to happen. slowly, carefully, with both of your hands still trapped in one of his above your head and his pelvis pressed into your left hip, he reached under his pillow and came out with the magazine. folded open on the centrefold. you were frozen under him, horrified and in shock and vaguely aware of the fact that your skirt had been rucked up to your mid-thigh by eddie’s leg and your underwear was dangerously close to being exposed. no time for that now, though. not when eddie had caught you going through his stuff and he was going to kick you out or call you a weirdo or, oh god-

‘i see you found my dirty little secret, babe. what’d’ya think?’

your head shot up. he asked you like he was asking about the weather, so casual and restrained. not the voice of a man who’d just caught his best friend rifling through his porn collection. your words came out trembling, made worse by the fact that he still had a hold of your wrists.

‘i didn’t mean to, i was looking for your weed.’

eddie scoffed, looking down into your face once again. his pupils had blown out, a mix of the high and something else, and his eyes looked black.

‘you sure baby? because you seem nervous. i think you saw something you like.’ his voice was still teasing, but there was something darker lurking there. you swallowed harshly, and he abruptly let go of your wrists, sitting up.

‘was it this one? perv.’ he joked, unfolding the picture to show her in her entirety. even from this angle, she was just like you, and you gulped again.

‘it was open on that one when i found it,’ you murmured, and for a split second eddie looked… embarrassed? the tips of his ears were flushing a bright red under his hair. you took this as an opportunity to sit up under him, and now he was half straddling your left thigh as he sat on his knees. you fiddled with the edge of your skirt, thinking about how he’d called you a perv. perv! after you’d found outthat he had been staring at a picture of you - well, not you, but, you know - naked! and before you knew it, the words were tumbling from your lips and you tried to stop them, you really did but-

‘she looks an awful lot like me, eddie.’

his face, which had been hidden behind his curtain of long hair as he played with the ragged corners of the magazine, shot up, and his eyes met yours once more. this time he seemed even more embarrassed, if possible. his cheeks were bright red, eyes open in shock, and he was gnawing painfully on his lower lip, a habit you’d noticed he kept when he was nervous. he opened his mouth to respond but you had already started now, and the words were falling from your lips like vomit.

‘i mean, you can’t see her face, but that’s what i look like when i’m- well, not exactly like that but her boobs are just like mine and… not that you think about my boobs or anything or you’ve even seen them to know what they look like but it’s actually a bit creepy how alike we look.’ your hands flew to cover your mouth, and you were wide-eyed. ‘not that you’re creepy! god no, i mean, i’m flattered, really, but…’ you shut up then, not because you had realised that you were rambling like robin but because there was a hand on the back of your neck and one on your waist and eddie’s lips were on yours.

they were chapped and slightly raw from him chewing on them, but so soft and his tongue was minty as he eased it into you. he was breathing heavily, and a subdued moan worked it’s way into your mouth when you gripped his bare shoulders and tugged him into you. you had no idea what this meant, mind reeling as he pulled you closer so you were now straddling his thigh, both of you sat up on your knees. the hand that spread over your waist splayed across the expanse of your back, travelling lower until it met the crease between your ass and thigh. his long fingers pinched at the skin there, pulling a whimper from you as you rolled your hips against his leg in response. his own bucked up against you, the denim seam of his jeans rubbing against your soft inner thigh and making you gasp. you pulled away ever so slightly to meet eddie’s eyes, and he tried to chase your lips, letting out a whine.

then he was dragging his lips down your neck to where it met your shoulder, working at the skin with his teeth and chuckling as you whimpered.

‘eds!’

‘yes, babe?’

his voice came from under your line of sight, muffled against your reddening neck, and you craned it to try and get a glimpse of his face. instead, you saw him pull away, smiling proudly at the mark that he had most definitely left with his mouth. cockily, he dragged his eyes up to yours.

‘the girl in the magazine-‘

‘would you believe me if i told you i bought it because she looks like you?’ he looked almost bashful asking you, a total contrast to a moment ago, and you couldn’t help the way your jaw dropped.

‘i know i’ve never seen you naked, but some of these skirts you wear leave very little to the imagination, and you were wearing a white shirt when we jumped into lover’s lake that time. worst place to pop a boner.’ he chuckled as you hit his arm lightly. he was right though; you’d dived in after steve without hesitation, and eddie had had to lend you his jean jacket for your ‘modesty’.

‘i’m sorry, baby, i thought i’d been makin’ it clear how i felt about you.’ his voice had dropped to a murmur as his eyes explored your face, lingering on the way your lips had swollen with his kiss. without thinking, he reached up to cup your cheek, and he wanted the way your eyelashes fluttered closed imprinted on the inside of his brain forever.

‘thought you were just playin’ with me, eds.’ you gulped as he ran his thumb over your lower lip, tugging on it gently. his forehead creased, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

‘never playing with you, baby. i wouldn’t fuck with your feelings like that,’ his nose nudged against yours as he pulled you into another searing but short kiss, ringed fingers clutching your chin so that he could commandeer the exchange. he angled your face delightfully, leaning you back so you had to arch your chest against his to follow him.

‘wish you’d made it clearer,’ you gasped when his left hand clutched your ass, pulling your crotch towards his own, ‘could’ve been doing this since that night at the lake.’

a laugh rumbled in his chest, fingers stretching back to grasp the back of your head.

‘wanted you a lot longer than that night, babe. i’ve had that mag since i was sixteen.’ you giggled at this, pulling back to stare at him in disbelief.

‘is that right, munson?’ you arched an eyebrow at him. he held a hand up as if in defense, leaving the other firmly attached to your ass.

‘you said it was flattering! would it make you feel better if i said it’s not just because i think you’re hot?’ he asked, sounding sincere. ‘i’ve wanted you a long time, gorgeous, not just to fuck you. i wanna make you mine, y’know? that’s why i’m always callin’ you baby, and touchin’ you up a little-‘

‘i fucking knew it wasn’t an accident when you grabbed my tit last week!’

‘i didn’t grab it, i brushed it. and anyway, i meant how i’m always draggin’ you closer, tryna keep you under my arm, especially when you wear sexy shit like this.’ he reached down to rub the hem of your short black skirt between a thumb and finger. you had noticed the effect that you had on him when you wore certain items of clothing; long socks, denim shorts, band shirts. you always thought it was because he was just a man - god knows you’d caught harrington staring a couple times. but with eddie, you now knew it was different for you both. if you were honest with yourself, it had been building up to this moment for months. and you knew what you had to do.

‘look, eds, i’m gonna be honest with you. i really want that shit too. i want to get milkshakes in town, i wanna drive in the van with you, i wanna go see shitty bands in shitty bars outta town. but…’ you grabbed his hand and pushed it up your thigh, revelling in the way he groaned when his fingertips made contact with the damp fabric at the apex of your thighs. ‘right now, i really need you to do somethin’ about this.’

suddenly, you were on your back again. the movement made your tummy flip, butterflies erupting when eddie kissed you again. before, he’d been gentle; probing and exploring. this time, the kiss was tongues and teeth, and his hips were rutting against your thigh, pushing your skirt up to expose your underwear.

‘you’re fuckin’ kidding,’ eddie moaned out when he saw that you were wearing white. it wasn’t on purpose, but it was almost identical to the photo, and for a moment eddie munson thought he had died and gone to heaven. you made a move to pull your panties down your legs, but you swore you heard him growl before his hand flew out to stop them.

‘baby, i’m gonna need you to keep these on. turn over for me.’

you did as he said, flipping over so you were face down in his pillow, propped up on your elbows. behind you, you could feel eddie’s eyes burning into you. you could imagine how

you probably looked right now; skirt flipped up, legs spread for eddie to kneel between them, wet spot between your legs as ringed fingers rubbed over your cheeks. two of them plunged between your legs suddenly, rubbing quickly over where you wanted him most, and you mewled and bucked your hips back towards him. a big hand pushed against your lower back, forcing you back down.

’shh, baby, i’m gettin’ there. just busy looking, you’ll have to wait a minute.’

his voice was hard but you knew he wanted it as much as you did, and you were proven right when, not a minute later, two long fingers pushed under the fabric and straight into your heat.

you couldn’t help the moan that slipped past your lips, hips keening back against his hand again as he searched for the spot that would make you scream. fingers crooked, eddie started stroking up against you, wrapping the other hand around your waist. he yanked you up so your back was pressed against his chest, and the change in angle led him right to what he was looking for.

‘fuck, eddie!’ you cried out, and you could feel his hard cock twitching against your ass through his jeans.

‘is that it baby? right there?’ he asked through gritted teeth, and the hand wrapped around your waist pushed its way down your skirt and into your underwear to rub at your clit. both hands were almost too much, and you would’ve been embarrassed at how quickly he had you working for release did it not feel so good. eddie was so caught up in making you cum that he didn’t even realise you had let go of his arm until your hand was wrapped around his dick, and he choked on a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

‘sweetheart, fuck, i can’t concentrate if you do that,’ he moaned out, clutching onto you even tighter than he had been before. you laughed breathily around a moan, hips grinding down on eddie’s fingers to speed up your impending orgasm.

‘sorta the idea, babe.’ eddie was nosing at your neck, pressing kisses to the back of your ear, and your words just made him work that little bit harder to get you there.

‘god, i really wanna fuck you right now.’

‘so do it.’

he stopped still and you turned around to look at him for the first time since he’d started touching you. he looked fucked out already; his lips were spit soaked and swollen, his chest was heaving and his eyes were wide open, drinking the image of you down.

‘fuck, babe, d’you really mean it? you don’t have to, i’m probably gonna have to beat off after this anyway.’

instead of answering, you reached down, stripping off your shirt and shimmying your skirt down your legs, leaving you sat in just your white underwear, pulled to one side. eddie’s knees almost buckled under him, and he grabbed your face to pull you into another kiss. the angle was awkward, you turning over your left shoulder, but it meant you could just about reach his bare cock and rub it through your wet folds. he jumped away like he’d been shocked, eyes pulled like a magnet down to where your bodies threatened to connect.

‘you’re not wearing a fucking bra either. you’re going to be the death of me one of these days,’ he moaned, and you had to stifle a laugh.

‘would it help if i said i never wear a bra around you?’

‘i oughtta put you over my knee and spank you, you dirty girl.’

‘promises, promises, munson. you gonna fuck me now or not?’

he chuckled darkly, swatting your ass cheek with a wink before leaning into his bedside drawer, sighing heavily when he opened it.

‘baby, i’m really sorry, but i’ve got no johnnies.’ eddie rested his chin on your shoulder, nipping at the skin there with his teeth. you leant back into his touch, swallowing heavily.

‘i never did this before,’ you said, and you could almost feel his ears perk up. ‘but i’m on the pill, so as long as you pull out…’

if he died now, he’d be dying a happy man, he was sure of it.

‘fuckin’ hell, babe, you sure?’ he grunted, teeth grazing your ear. ‘i needa hear you say it, sweetheart. tell eddie you want him to fuck you bareback.’ you supposed he was trying to be funny, but it sent a shiver down your spine that he didn’t miss.

‘does it turn you on when i talk to you like that, baby?’ he crooned, and you could just about babble out a ‘shit, yes!’

‘then tell me you want me to put it in,’ he teased, rubbing his cock through your folds and bumping your clit in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head.

‘eddie, i swear to fuckin’ god, put it in or i’ll just get myself off.’

‘as tempting as that is to watch, sweetheart,’ he muttered, squeezing your hip, ‘i think i’ll stick to this.’ and with that, he pushed himself in.

he wasn’t going to put it all in at once; he was gonna spread you nice and slow, fuck it in and out slowly. he knew he was bigger than most girls were used to, and he was gonna use all his self control to make this as easy as possible for you. but as soon as he put the first inch in you were squirming, begging for more and sucking him in like a fucking vacuum and trying to sit down on it. not to mention how wet you were; he’d never known anything like it. so when you leant back and grabbed his arm and looked at him with those beautiful puppy dog eyes and pouty lips and begged ‘baby, please, just fuck me?’

well, he was a goner.

you were so turned on you barely even registered the pain of the stretch, but you knew from the way eddie was repeatedly bumping your g spot that he was bigger than anyone you’d ever had before. and he knew how to use it. he was holding it deep, fucking you in slow, grinding thrusts. every part of your body was touching a part of his, as if you were one person, moving together in perfect synchronicity to get you both there. eddie had never been in anyone bare before, and he was starting to feel like he’d never want to use a condom again; he could feel every part of you, and it was bringing him closer and closer to his release with every passing second.

‘eddie, i think i’m gonna cum already,’ you half slurred, half moaned, and he kissed your shoulder, increasing the tempo of his hips. suddenly, you felt the knot break and your orgasm washed over you in a crescendo, and you cried out eddie’s name as he fucked you through it. he was using his hands to guide your hips against his, all while whispering in your ear; ‘so good for me, babe, so fuckin’ good, gonna make me cum aren’t you sweetheart? such a beautiful girl, so naughty just for me, ’s that right?’ you were nodding along with his words, fingers clutching onto him tightly and so wrapped up in the moment that when he stilled his hips and gasped ‘oh fuck, babe, ‘m gonna cum, you need to get off,’ you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop rocking against him. your head was leant back against his shoulder, and you could hear him muttering frantically as he tried to hold onto his orgasm and push you off.

‘eddie, babe?’

‘sweetheart, please, i’m gonna cum, you need to-‘

‘calm down,’ you turned your head, kissing down his neck and stroking his hair gently, ‘just cum in me.’ you felt his thighs still under yours, then tremble as a rush of warmth filled you up. you wished you could bottle up the way eddie moaned into your ear, the way he pushed right up into you and filled you up to the brim, the way he sighed as you kissed his cheek when he finished.

‘babe, that was really hot, but fuck, we really shouldn’t have done that,’ he murmured, pulling out and feeling terrible at the way you whined.

‘’m on the pill, we’re good,’ you whispered, eyelids drooping as you climbed into eddie’s bed, completely naked.

‘shouldn’t you go, like, pee or?’ eddie asked, combing long fingers through your knotty hair, and you noticed he had, at least, pulled his boxers back on.

‘shhh, sleep time. i’ll do that later. we can get a plan b too, if you’re worried.’ you yawned, and eddie’s heart soared when you made grabby hands up at him. ‘now come get in bed, i need a cuddle.’

‘yes, ma’am.’

‘don’t make it fuckin’ weird, munson.’

#Eddie munson #Eddie stranger things #stranger things smut #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x female!reader #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson imagine #stranger things s4 #stranger things #eddie munson x female reader

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upsidedownwithsteve · 11 months

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader PART ONE [35K] another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.

Tell me that you're still mine

The drive was the same, if not quieter.

The roads hadn’t changed and maybe the trees were taller, the sun was still too bright, too warm, a little mocking considering your mood. Your car was still shit and it still protested when you took corners too quickly.

The sign welcoming you into the forest was the same, a little weather worn, familiar and like home. The car park was emptier than usual, but then again, you’d never arrived this early before. Robin was by a delivery truck, hat on backwards despite the way she squinted into the sun to see you roll to a stop.

She grinned, waving but you saw the confusion there and your stomach dropped and twisted, that same awful feeling that had sat in the pit of your stomach for the last month.

Camp Upside Down seemed far too quiet when you finally opened the car door and set a foot on the old pine needles. Like something was missing.

“Hey,” Robin rushed in with a hug, warm and sweet. “You’re here early.” She gave that same frown, lips set into a confused smile as she looked through your windscreen, at the empty passenger seat. “Where’s Steve?”

You swallowed, the pit in your stomach opening up into a yawning thing, a wide open canyon that swallowed everything nice. It rolled, a storm between two cliffs and it made your bones ache. Acid touched your tongue and it only burned more when you tried to push it back down.

“Uh,” your voice broke, just a little, enough for Robin's eyes to widen. “We broke up.”

——————

“What happened?”

Robin hadn’t wasted much time, closing your car door for you before taking you by the hand. Your bags were left in the trunk and neither of you looked at Hopper’s office cabin, eyes set ahead as you let the girl lead you through the trees.

The paths were the same, worn down and more dirt than gravel, and they twisted through the oak trees in a way you knew like the back of your hand. The lake was on your left, eerily still, the kayaks stacked to the side. Nausea rolled in your stomach like waves.

“I— we— fuck,” you were laughing, a wrecked, desperate sort of noise that didn’t match the way your eyes were watering and Robin looked back at you, more serious than you’d ever seen her.

“C’mon,” she murmured, squeezing your hand. She walked a little quicker, down the path and past a fallen log, through the empty cabins that would be bursting with kids and noise and laughter in two days. “Almost there.”

She already had keys to your cabin, the door opened to air it out, the familiar smell of pine hidden under the mustiness of the last year. There were faded outlines on the walls, marks from sticky tape that would never come off, a reminder of the photos and the postcards that lived there over summer.

You knew if you pulled out your bedside table, there would be etchings on the back of it, lines made from a penknife that wasn’t yours, a name next to your own, a heart drawn around the letters.

The cabin you’d spent five years in suddenly didn’t feel like yours anymore.

But then Robin had you by the shoulders and she looked so worried, brows drawn together and you wondered if you counted the freckles on her nose, that maybe you could stall the conversation that was about to happen. She drew a finger over your cheek instead, catching a tear you didn't know was there.

“Tell me everything.”

[AFTERGLOW BY TAYLOR SWIFT]

You’d know something was wrong when Steve had called you.

It had been late enough that when he asked you to come over, you’d frowned and made a joke about a booty call. But the boy hadn’t laughed and he didn’t answer when you asked what was going on.

So you made an excuse to your parents and said you wouldn’t be too late, slipping out the front door in your pyjama shorts and a camp sweatshirt that had Steve’s name stitched on the front. Your bare feet were stuffed in your sneakers, uncomfortable and too cold despite the way the weather in Hawkins was starting to warm up. Your car grumbled as you drove to Steve’s like it knew something, like it was warning you.

Steve met you in the driveway, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, his hair messier than normal, like he’d been running his hands through it. When you killed the engine and smiled at him through the windscreen, he smiled back, but it wasn’t the same.

Something was wrong.

“Hey,” you’d greeted him warily, hands out to reach him, pushing on your toes to kiss his cheek.

He’d caught you off guard when he turned, your lips skimming over his skin until his mouth met yours with a neediness you hadn’t expected. His nose was a hard press to your cheek, his hand squeezing yours like he was scared you’d disappear, his breath mixing with your kiss in a huff that seemed full of an emotion you really couldn’t place.

“Steve?” You whispered when he eventually pulled back, gaze heavy and brows knitted together. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He tugged gently on your hand then, taking a step back. “Let’s go sit out back, yeah?”

The lights that came through the Harrington’s kitchen windows let you know his parents were home, an abandoned dinner left on the dining table, half eaten but the wine glasses were empty. You let Steve lead you to the sunloungers, dusted off and taken out of the pool house for the start of summer, the newly cleaned pool pouring out heat and the smell of chlorine, steam swirling in the evening air.

The sky was lilac, a violet kind of twilight that made the first of the fireflies linger at the edge of Steve’s backyard fence, right by the treeline. The hum of the pool generator was the only sound and it set you on edge.

“Steve, what’s wrong?” Your voice came out a little weak, anxiousness creeping up your chest and neck in a dangerous heat, the kind that prickled your skin and made your throat feel too tight.

The boy was sitting across from you, your knees bumping his between the loungers, both of your hands clasped tightly together in your own laps. You wanted to reach out to him, but something told you that you couldn’t, not like you used to.

You’d only seen him last night. A kiss against the side of your car, his knuckles under your chin, sweeping your jaw as you both laughed into open mouths, whispering about how his parents were due back from the airport any minute, how’d they’d catch you both in their drive, lovesick and melted together.

What had happened?

You watched Steve blow out a breath, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pushed himself to speak. “Uh, my dad got me a scholarship.”

You blinked. “What?”

Steve cleared his throat, his voice rough, like he’d been yelling, like he’d been crying. He leaned back, hands pushed into fists on the seat cushions. “Yeah, my dad came back and told me he’d gotten me into a Finance course. Full ride.” Steve barked out a laugh, like he didn’t believe it.

“What?” You couldn’t help repeating yourself, brows stitched together in confusion. “Finance? That’s— that’s not what you wanted— wait, how?”

Steve made a face, nose wrinkled and he stared at the ground. He shrugged. “He had an old colleague that knew the Dean. He pulled some strings, I guess.”

Your stomach dropped and lurched. A sardonic laugh crept up your throat that you tried to tame, a choked splutter coming out instead. You shook your head. “You mean he flashed his wallet.”

Steve groaned, his hand running through his hair, making more of a mess of it. “Babe—”

“Are you doing it? Finance? Steve, that’s, that’s the last thing that interests you! Why are you even telling me this? You can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious?”

Steve dropped his chin to his chest, eyes closing. He looked like he was in pain. “It’s in Arizona.”

You’d always heard the expression, of someone’s blood running cold. You’d thought it silly, a weird and twisted exaggeration. Up until now, anyway. Your body turned icy, a sharp chill that ran through you and it made your bones feel brittle, delicate enough to splinter. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Arizona?” You mumbled it, a clumsy thing in your mouth that didn’t seem like a real word, too bulky to wrap your tongue around. “Steve—?”

“The scholarship is for Arizona State.”

The fireflies on the edge of the yard had gone and the purple skies were inkier, too big above you and despite the lack of clouds, you still couldn’t see any stars. Your throat was getting tighter.

“Arizona? Arizona. Steve, that’s, fuck, that’s the other side of the country. What? You’re not actually considering going, are you?”

“Princess,” he said it without his usual warmth, the affection still there but Steve sounded tired, drained. “It’s paid for. It’s all - shit - my dad’s organised all of it.”

You laughed then, an awful, bitter, nasty sounding thing but it was only to cover up the fact that you were ready to cry. Tears pricked hot in the corners of your eyes and your voice was sharp, biting. “So, what? Daddy’s decided then, yeah? That’s it?”

Steve flinched before straightening up, shoulders rolling as he prepared himself for the fight he knew was coming. You pretended not to see that his eyes were glassy too, matching yours.

“It’s a good opportunity, alright? I can—”

“Bullshit, Steve!” You snapped, rising to your feet because you couldn’t sit there and listen to what was about to leave your boyfriend's lips. “Don’t feed me the same lecture your dad drilled into you, okay? This can’t be what you want. No, I know this isn’t what you want!”

“What am I supposed to do, huh?” Steve’s voice got a little louder, taking over the hum of the pool, the insects that were buzzing from the bushes. “Turn it down? Spend the rest of my life in this shitty town, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing? Hoping that one day, maybe Keith will be kind enough to promote me to weekend supervisor?”

“I don’t know!” You were pacing, moving away from Steve to walk circles around the loungers, your gaze hardening when you saw his mother at a window, the curtains quickly drawn. “I don’t know, okay? But we were supposed to figure it out, we were supposed to do it together.”

You broke then, a hiccup breaking from your throat that turned into a sob that not even your palm could muffle. Your breath stuttered into your hand and the tears fell hot and fast, salt gathering between your fingers. Steve crumbled, shoulders dropping he was in front of you, hands reaching around your wrist to pull it away.

“Shit, princess, no, no, I know,” Steve blinked, water gathering at his lash line, turning you blurry, the pool a mosaic of blue and white. “C’mon, come here.”

He had you sitting again, nudging himself into the space between your legs, kneeling in front of the sunlounger. His thumbs were frantically trying to catch your tears, his hands cradling your face as he made soft noises, hushing you, soothing you.

“We still can, alright? Listen, baby, listen,” Steve seemed a little frantic now, wide eyed as he tried to calm you, hands cupping your jaw, thumbs stroking under your reddened eyes. “You can come too, we can work something out, we can get a place and—”

“What?” You squinted at the boy, confused. “Steve, I don’t want to move to Arizona. There’s nothing in Arizona! Not for me, not for us! My, my family is here, my job is here, fuck, we were saving up, we were gonna move and get our own place.” The tears were falling again, breath catching in your throat and panic clawed at you, vicious and unrelenting. “A place somewhere pretty, remember? Somewhere by a lake, with— with mountains and a huge garden—”

You broke off as Steve cursed, sniffing and only letting go of you to swipe at his own cheek, doing his best to pretend that he wasn’t crying too.

“You don’t have to go,” you let your forehead drop to his shoulder, face pressed to his chest where it smelled like his cologne, like mint and cedar and home. “You don’t have to leave.”

A splash hit your head, warm, another following when Steve let his face hide in your hair. Tears. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t.”

“I have to go.” Steve sounded broken, breath ragged and voice cracking. You didn’t dare look up at him. Not yet. “My dad— my parents. They said if I’m not getting myself an education, then I gotta find myself a place to stay.”

You moved them, head ripping back so you could stare at the boy, anger crawling up your chest. It simmered, a burning heat that felt almost unrecognisable. “Then leave, fuck, Steve, babe— you don’t have to sit and be blackmailed into this!”

Steve swiped at his face, broken down and tired, the bags under his eyes becoming more obvious as the evening grew into night and the pool lights sharpened his features. “It doesn’t work like that. Where am I gonna go, huh? We haven’t saved nearly enough, not for a deposit on some shitty apartment, never mind anything else. It’s just— Arizona… it’s the only solution right now.”

You shook your head, face crumpling and you tried not to cry again, but it was no use. Your cheeks felt too hot, vision blurring as you watched Steve sit back onto the other lounger, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

“You can stay with me,” you sniffed, voice a thick thing, bubbling and sticky with sorrow. This wasn’t happening. This was a bad dream. That’s all. “You can move in with us, until we save. We’ll work something out.”

Steve let out a huff of laughter, sad and a little mean. It landed on the patio between you both and you watched him shake his head. “You know that’s not realistic,” he swore under his breath, lip trembling. “Baby, I want to make this work, I do, but your parents— and you have your aunt staying with you all, and it’s just… it’s not gonna work.”

It felt final, the way he said it.

You stood again, shooting to your feet as if suddenly the idea of sitting too close to the boy was causing you pain. Maybe it was.

“So that’s it?” You laughed through your tears, a sharp, pitched noise that didn’t sound like it was coming from you. You sounded mean, cruel. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t stop. “Daddy just writes a check and you jump? He has your future planned out for you and you just… go along with it?”

“That’s not—” Steve’s eyes flashed, dangerous. A warning you took no heed of.

“Yes it is, Steve! That’s exactly what’s happening! Fuck me, right? Fuck us?”

Steve reached for you, a hand trying to catch yours but you moved back, head shaking, eyes wide. “You don’t want to study Finance, you don’t want to move to Arizona. But you’re going to ‘cause your dad is a fucking bully and he’s somehow convinced you that you need a piece of paper and some letters by your name to make you a man.”

Steve grinned, a flash of his teeth more than a smile, and he stared right past you, jaw flexed. You hadn’t argued with the boy like this before. Biting remarks and cruel words sure, but not in such a serious way. Not about something that could end you both.

“You think you know?” Steve shot back, “you think you’ve got it all worked out? What am I supposed to do, huh? Yeah, he’s an asshole, but he’s still my dad, princess. He’s, fuck, he’s trying to help, okay? Am I just supposed to stay in this same town and save and save and save until maybe, just maybe! We hit forty and we can leave? Having a college degree will help me. It will. Finance, I don’t know—it’ll at least get me a good job.. One that’ll pay well.”

“That’s your dad talking,” you told him, voice impossibly sad. “None of that ever mattered to you.”

Steve didn’t listen. “This is what’s best, alright?”

“No, it’s not, Jesus, Steve, just listen to me!”

“If— if you don’t wanna move, we can do long distance. I’ll visit, you can come on holidays, we’ll make it work.” Steve sounded as panicked as you felt, talking too fast, like he could fix it if he just kept throwing out suggestions. “It’ll be okay.”

Another sob ripped from you as you spun away from him, head tipped to the sky as you tried your best not to yell. Frustration leaked through the cracks of your anger. “I’m not letting your dad dictate our future.”

Steve paused, breath caught in his throat. You heard him step closer before he stilled. “What?”

You closed your eyes as you spoke, like it would help. Maybe it would hurt less. “I’m not letting your dad decide our lives. Not mine, anyway.” You turned, watching Steve turn blurry from your tears. His cheeks were pink, eyes glassy, his bottom lip still trembling. “You want to be apart? For what, four years?” You hiccuped, sniffed. “Steve, please don’t go. Don’t go. Not for something you don’t want to do.”

The boy took your hand, clasping it tight as it hung from his in the space between you both. It felt huge, the distance, a wide open thing.

“Tell me you want to do this and I’ll support you, I swear,” you told him, choked up but determined. “Tell me you’ve always wanted to study Finance, tell me you’ve always wondered what it’d be like to live in Arizona and get a job at a desk where you punch numbers onto a screen. Tell me all that and I’ll support you the whole way. Tell me this is what you want, not what your dad wants.”

Steve was silent. His cheeks were damp. It was the seventh grade science fair all over again.

“When do you leave?” You whispered.

He let go of your hand.

“August.”

He watched you turn to your car, a five second delay as he realised you were walking away, away from him. Steve chased you across the drive as his parents watched from a crack in the living room curtain, shouting your name with a choked up voice, panic making his words crack and break.

He held you in the driveway, your arms wrapped around each other uncomfortably tight, an alarming fear in the air around you both. It felt awful, heavy, like the end of something that wasn’t yet finished. So you tried again, tears running down your cheeks, pouring openly as you begged, asking him to stay, to try with you, promising him it would all work out and this wasn’t the life that he wanted, you knew that, Steve knew that.

Didn’t he? Right? Right?

But the boy was shaking his head, swiping a hand meanly over his eyes as he brushed away his own tears, trying his best to get you to understand that he didn’t have a choice. He dropped his voice, an agitated whisper as he hissed about families and business, expectations and being written out of wills, written out of a family name, how money was supposed to equal happiness, and maybe his dad was right, maybe he needed to get a job that required a suit and tie, and maybe - just maybe - he could live a life like his parents. Money in the bank, a big house, a fat cheque every month.

That’s what being a Harrington was, right?

Right?

You sniffed, lip quivering, brows raised and your voice mean. “Yeah? Is that what you want, Steve?” You stepped back, a hand on your car door. “You want to be just like your dad? Get the briefcase and the business cards and fly out of town every week? Maybe you’ll pick up a trophy wife in Arizona, huh? Then find a girlfriend in another state and hope your kids don’t find out? Flash your wallet and make problems go away? Have a son and make him feel as shitty and empty as you do?”

Steve was silent. And then, an ugly smile, a smirk that was cold and a little dead. “Sure, princess, that’s exactly what I fucking want. And hey, fuck, maybe I don’t have a choice in this, but at least I’m getting out of this town. Can you say the same? Weren’t you supposed to be saving for college too, princess? What happened to that, huh? Reality is real ugly, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you,” you laughed, angry and sad and in no way amused. “We were supposed to get out together.”

“I told you to come with me!” Steve barked out, sharp, an almost yell. You tried not to flinch. “Fuck, god, you could come with me… we could do this together.”

“It’s not together! Jesus, Steve, can’t you see that?” You were beyond frustrated, hands balled into fists by your sides before they flew up to grab at your head. You were in disbelief. Was this happening? This was happening. “None of this is us! Not for us, not planned by us, not wanted by us! This is all planned by him!” Your hand shot out to the front door of the Harrington’s house, grand and regal and dark behind the window. “He’s dictating it all, throwing money and hoping it lands, just so he can say his son went to college!”

Steve was stone faced, eyes on the tarmac drive.

“I don’t care if you go to college,” you whispered, watery. “I just want you to be happy.”

‘I want you to stay with me.’ You didn’t say it.

Steve didn’t answer but you saw his shoulders shake, miniscule, and then the streetlight caught the tear rolling down his cheek, flashing. He didn’t stop you when you got into your car and drove away.

—————

Robin was wide eyed when you finished, kneeling on your unmade bed with you, the sheets folded and sitting at the foot of it. Her hand was still holding yours, fingers twisted together, her thumb running over your palm. She sucked in a breath.

“Shit.”

“Shit,” you agreed.

“So it’s over?” Robin asked, letting go of your hand when you flopped backwards, head hitting the pillow. Your own one was still in the backseat of your car, a brand new pillowcase on it ‘cause the old one somehow still smelled like Steve. “That’s it?”

You shrugged, staring at the ceiling until the beams of wood blurred together and you sniffed. “I guess, yeah.”

Robin nudged you, crawling up the mattress until you shifted, leaving enough space for her to lie next to you on the narrow bed. You were shoulder to shoulder, head sharing the same pillow and you could smell her sunscreen, the lemon and lavender perfume she always wore. You turned into her, nose pressed to her shoulder, revelling in the comfort it brought.

“When did this happen? How long has it been?”

“Three weeks,” you mumbled into her shirt, the corners of your eyes stinging again, tears making your throat thick. You were shocked you had more in you, all you had done since that night was cry. “Feels like it’s been a fucking year.”

“And you haven’t spoken since? Is he definitely going? Fuck, I can’t— Arizona?”

“Fucking Arizona,” you agreed, sighing. “I tried to call him the night after. His dad answered, said he was in the shower and he’d tell him I rang.” You sniffed again, pressing the heel of your palm to your sore eyes. “He never called me back.”

“Dude,” Robin sounded morose, your pain now her pain and she dropped her head on top of yours. A small comfort, considering.

“Dude,” you agreed. You sighed, world weary and already tired, despite only being awake for four hours. “Do you think I blew it out of proportion? Was I too harsh?”

Robin opened her mouth to answer, and then closed it again, thinking it over before she spoke. She smacked a kiss to your forehead before talking, her voice soft and more gentle than usual.

“I think you’re totally right. Steve doesn’t wanna study finance, or go to Arizona. Shit, he once thought Dustin’s pocket calculator was some kind of gaming console. But I know he struggles with his dad.” Robin sucked in a breath, wary. “And I know his dad is a certified asshole, but that little scrawny version of Steve at the science fair? He's still there, y’know? And he probably still wants to make his dad proud.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I know. I just don’t get why.”

Robin shrugged. “Me neither, but that’s on growing up with somewhat normal parents, I guess. I know he loves you though. A lot. Maybe he’ll change his mind.”

You were openly crying now, tears soaking Robin’s shirt sleeve, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips were against your hair when she mumbled, “You don’t wanna go to Arizona with him?”

You sat up, chest heaving, hands swiping clumsily at your face to rid yourself of your damp cheeks, your swollen eyes. Your breath stuttered, a gasping, awful sound because it hurt being told that Steve loved you. It ached to be reminded. “No.” You were final about it, voice softening only when you continued. “Fuck, I thought I’d follow him anywhere you know? We were saving up, working stupid shifts and we had this stupid map and— and I would laugh at him ‘cause he’d circle these weird places no one had heard of, said we’d buy a house there and get a dog and… if I move to Arizona with him, we’re just starting a life that’s going to be dictated by his dad.”

Robin looked sad as she gazed at you, listening quietly, her feet resting against your knees as she curled up by the headboard. She nodded, knowing.

“Because Steve will graduate, right? And then his dad will be the one to set him up with interviews and jobs, and fuck, maybe this new Steve will even join the family business - which, by the way, I know he doesn’t wanna do.” You sucked in a breath, wide eyed at the possibility of this kind of future. “We won’t get a dog, ‘cause his mom says animals don’t belong in a house, and I’ll be left at home to press all his suits, with like, six kids that all look like the husband I don’t even get to see anymore, because he’ll be on business trips with his dad and dudes called Tony and Chase and he’ll meet a girl with a name like Britney, and you just know she was head cheerleader when she was in college and—”

You were cut off abruptly, Robin’s hands pressed to your cheeks, squishing them a little as she stared at you, concern in her eyes. “Babe. Breathe.”

You blew out a shaky breath and tried to smile, but it was watery and weak. “So what’s been happening with you?” You tried to joke.

—————

The rest of the staff arrived in drips, Eddie’s van parked dangerously close to Billy’s shiny Camaro, Eddie cackling and flipping the other boy off when he snarled obscenities about his paintwork. Nancy and Robin had picked up Chrissy on the way, Argyle following in a new VW bug, sunflower yellow with giant, green plants painted on the side that he told Murray, ‘s’just nature, my dude.’

There wasn’t any sign of a maroon BMW.

And then eleven o’clock came and everyone had to pile into Hopper’s cabin. The man was sitting behind his desk as usual, already looking tired as he watched you all trail in, taking up too much space. You’d managed to squeeze yourself on the old sofa between Robin and Nancy when the door opened at the last minute. Eddie trailed in with a guilty smile, another boy behind him.

Steve.

You felt Robin tense beside you, patting your knee when you slouched into the couch cushions a little further. The soft smile Eddie sent you as he passed told you that he knew everything too.

The two boys sat across the room, perching on the windowsill and Steve didn’t look at you. In fact, he didn’t look anywhere but the old carpet, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked as tired as you felt. His hair was a mess, like the wind had caught it, one curl sticking up from his forehead and you wanted to reach out and fix it for him, stand between his legs and let him touch you, let him give you a kiss as thanks.

Fuck.

Everyone shuffled awkwardly, glancing from you to Steve and back again, each staff member wondering why you weren’t sitting together like you normally would. Even Murray was frowning, holding an open bag of trail mix, peering at you over his glasses. You looked away.

“Okay, welcome back, glad to see some of you have managed to avoid jail time for another summer. Congrats!” Hopper stood with his clipboard, shooting a glance at Eddie, who grinned, smug. “You all know the drill by now, so let’s get into it. I’ve got a five ton delivery of Lucky Charms that nobody asked for to deal with.”

Murray took front and centre then, busying himself with paperwork and staff files. “Okay you bunch of delinquents, look alive, roll call!”

It went like it always did, Murray listing off familiar names, assigning them back to their usual stations, reminding them that they needed to hand in their up to date first aid certificates and that staff uniform was mandatory and not a matter of opinion.

Billy, lifeguard duties. Robin, kitchens with Bob. Jonathan, photography - and if he had time, could he help Hopper work on the website design for the new summer? Argyle, wood shop. Nancy, crafts and more time in the office with Joyce, so she can learn the ropes with admin stuff. Jason, lake games. Chrissy, gymnastics.

“Edward,” Murray announced, turning to hand the boy some sign up sheets. “Music. We’ve moved you to a bigger cabin for your lessons this year, we got way more sign ups than anticipated. Keep it up.” Murray clicked his finger and pointed at the boy, like he’d almost forgotten something. “Oh, and tell your girl we’re all proud of her. An architectural internship in Philadelphia is no small feat.”

Eddie grinned, chest puffed out, cheeks pink and looking full of pride. “Right?” He agreed. “She’s gonna be running her own firm in no time.”

“Harrington, Hawkins, you’re both on games—”

You couldn’t help it, it rose up like panic, acidic and bitter, bile in the back of your throat. “Can I be placed somewhere else?”

Everyone stared. Murray choked on a piece of trail mix, a too big pumpkin seed that hit the wall near Argyle.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you saw the flinch of hurt there before his brown eyes hardened and his jaw tensed. He stared hard at the floor, toeing at the carpet.

Murray looked confused, scanning the list of staff members to see if it were possible, but Hopper interrupted, frowning. He was gruff about it, gesturing to the schedules in the other man’s hands. “These have been written for weeks kid, we’re not fucking about ‘cause of a lovers tiff, we’re all adults here—”

“Actually,” Murray interrupted, gaze flicking from you to Steve and back again. He levelled you with a stare that looked like a challenge, a dare, a question. Like he was testing you. “We could do with someone else on the lake this year. More kids. You’ve been on life guarding duties before, right?”

Oh shit. You nodded.

Beside you, Robin exhaled, a curse under it as she pulled her cap down low, hiding under the brim of it. Across the room, Nancy stared at you, wide eyed. “What’re you doing?” She mouthed.

“Up to date on first aid? CPR?” Murray continued, ignoring the tension in the room.

You could hear a pin drop. “Yeah,” you muttered.

Eddie swore.

“Great!” Murray was too cheerful, whacking his pen off of the clipboard. “Congrats, Hargrove, you’ve got a buddy for the summer.”

It was awful, the way your stomach sank, the way Billy cackled, white teeth flashing as he made a show of looking you up and down. It was gut wrenching, the way Robin looked at you with sympathy, the way Steve was tugging a hand through his hair and looking anywhere but at you.

Everyone filed out, back into the sun, collecting new staff shirts and sets of keys for the gym, the music room, storage cabins and equipment cages. Hopper held up a hand to stop you, gesturing to the couch. You sat back down, heart racing as he did the same to Steve, not speaking until the last person had left.

The jar was still on his desk, sticky label over sticky label, each one with a new name on it, everything from ‘kayak money’ to ‘therapy cash’ a scribbled out note from Eddie that said ‘lovebird fundz.’ Your stomach tumbled over, a sticky, hot nausea creeping over you when Steve sat down too, right up against the other side of the sofa.

Hopper leaned against his desk, already looking world weary. He sighed, running a finger and thumb over his moustache before pointing at the obvious space between you both. “Listen, I don’t make a habit of getting into my employees personal lives, and I don’t need to know what happened but—”

“I’d be interested in hearing, actually,” Murray interrupted.

Hopper ignored him. “All I wanna know is that you’ll be working together like professionals, when the situation calls for it, alright? No funny business. No arguing. No fighting. No breaking anymore of my goddamn kayaks.”

Steve was picking at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt and you were staring at your nail beds but when the man cleared his throat, sharp and jarring, you both nodded.

“Good.” Hopper nodded, “get going then, get settled and all that. I don’t wanna hear any trouble.” The man made a point of glancing at the empty jar on his desk, a fresh piece of tape on the front, yet to be labelled.

It took two seconds for Steve to round on you, your shoes barely hitting the grass outside, Eddie, Nancy and Robin bearing witness to the explosion. They stood off to the side, sat balancing on the porch railing of the medical cabin, pretending they couldn’t hear.

So Steve made sure his voice was loud enough to reach. “Really?” He all but yelled, “lake duties, huh? A summer with Billy fucking Hargrove? That’s what you’d rather deal with than me?”

You were quick to fire back, a familiar fuse lit inside of you as you snapped, eyes flashing as you went toe to toe with Steve. It made your heart hurt, knowing this argument was going to end without a kiss. “Oh, grow up, Steve! You really wanna spend all summer with me? Wanna hold hands and tell me all about Arizona? Show me your class schedule and talk about the weather there?”

The words were nasty tasting as they left your tongue, metallic and coated in invisible armour, meant to protect you more than hurt the boy. But it did the latter more than the first, Steve’s jaw clenching as he stared at you.

‘You didn’t call me back,’ you wanted to say. You wanted to yell it, sob it. ‘Why didn’t you call me back?’

“I’ve to grow up? That’s real cute, princess, you’re not even gonna try and be civil about this? Go back to being friends?”

You wanted to laugh at that, but the tightness in your chest might’ve been tears and you weren’t willing to let those out in front of Steve. You couldn’t stop. Poison dripping from your tongue, costing your teeth, sharp and barbed. You just kept talking. “Yeah, like we were friends before.”

Steve scoffed, nodding. “You’re right. We were never friends, were we?” He backed away, his eyes trailing over you like a reflex, like he couldn’t help it even now. “Have fun with Hargrove, princess, enjoy your summer.” He stalked off, sunlight hitting off his shoulders, making his hair turn auburn. Eddie jumped off the railing to trail after him, both boys heading towards the lake as Eddie sent you a regretful look over his shoulder.

Nancy and Robin approached as you did your best to even out your breaths, a pain catching between your ribs that felt all too familiar, an ache that had lived weeks for weeks now. It had wrapped around your heart like weeds, vines with thorns, squeezing at you until you wanted to cry. You sniffed, head ducked from your friends view.

Someone’s hand pressed between your shoulder blades and you looked up to see Nancy, a sad smile there. “I’m supposed to be working on the cabin groupings, but, uh,” she raised her brows at Robin, “I have a couple of bottles of wine hidden in Jonathan’s trunk. Why don’t we grab a few and pretend we’re not on the clock…”

You nodded, pretending there weren’t tears nipping at your eyes as you watched Steve’s retreating figure, the boy kicking angrily at a rock on the ground.

Tell me that we'll be just fine

You didn’t see Steve again before the kids arrived.

The two days before the official start of camp were spent hauling out the equipment, dusting off crash mats and kayaks, pumping up the sad, deflated balls and hoping to god the old dock would last another year. The June weather came with the usual force, blue skies, cloudless after sunrise, burning away with the morning haze until all that was left was an endless heat that lingered into the night.

Camp Upside Down without the kids was fireflies by the shoreline, feet in the lake after lunch, breakfasts in your cabin, stolen banana muffins and fresh peaches, music that toed the line of too loud before bed.

It still felt like home. But it was a house with a room missing. Steve’s lack of presence hurting like an open wound. You caught glimpses of him here and there, between the trees, on the edge of the lake, helping Eddie lug amps and drum kits from one cabin to another.

Jealousy flared when you saw him talking to Chrissy outside the gym, a friendly distance between them both but it twisted in your stomach like a knot, sickly and unwelcome. Robin had dragged you away by your elbow, telling you that you were being stupid and, shouldn’t you go talk to him?

“If he wanted to talk, he would’ve called me back, remember?” You reminded her sullenly, walking towards the middle of camp together to prepare for the hoards of buses and cars that were soon to flood in.

You stopped talking as you joined the cluster of staff members at the unlit fire, the unofficial heart of the camp. The logs were already arranged around the pit, ready for s’mores and stories. Steve was standing between Eddie and Jonathan, staff shirt sunbleached and loose around his frame, his jeans cuffed at the ankles to get some relief from the morning warmth that would only climb higher.

Chrissy was with them, ponytail bobbing animatedly, smiling too pretty. You’d never had a problem with the girl before, in fact, you’d even call her a friend. But she reached out and slapped playfully at Steve’s arm when she laughed at something he said, and suddenly you were wondering how deep the lake was.

Maybe Steve would sense that you were staring, maybe he still knew when you were near, ‘cause his head shot up and his gaze found yours immediately. He didn’t look away and neither did you, but he frowned when you lifted your chin, defiant.

“Hey, uh,” Nancy appeared by your side, looking uncomfortable as she said, “you know you’re wearing his sweater, right?”

“What?” You looked down, the forest green sweater suddenly swamping you as you realised it definitely wasn’t your own. Steve’s name was stitched on the front, small and neat across your heart. You felt your cheeks burn. “Oh, for fuck sake.”

That’s how you ended up arguing via the kids, the campers arriving in a flurry of colour and noise, yelling about lost rucksacks and the youngest crying as their parents drove away, consoled by Joyce and some animal crackers.

Max Mayfield found you in the midst of the chaos, tapping your shoulder as you turned around with your clipboard, interrupted from taking note of Will Byers new allergy medication.

She was holding Steve’s sweater, looking at you unimpressed. “He said he doesn’t want it,” she sighed, already bored of the back and forth.

“What?” You squinted at her, disgruntled and confused as to how Steve could reject his own sweater. “Why?”

The redhead rolled her eyes, shrugging. “I don’t know! He said that you should keep it.”

Panicked, you shook your head, coaxing the girl back into the crowd. “No, nuhuh, tell him I don’t want it. Lucas, hey, Sinclair!” You waved down the boy, confiscating the slingshot that was sticking out of his pocket as you did. “Go with Max, it’s important.”

And while you got rid of two kids, another came barrelling from out of nowhere, arms wrapped around your waist. You caught the attacker with an ‘oomph,’ your hand on the back of a familiar head of curly hair. Dustin Henderson stared up at you, a little taller than last year, but eyes just as innocent and earnest.

“Is it true?” He whispered, shell shocked. “Steve said—”

You groaned quietly, eyes closing briefly because this was exactly what you didn’t want. You nodded, smiled tight and tried to look sympathetic, patting at his head. “Yeah, listen, it’s just—”

“I’m a child of divorce!” He wailed, interrupting whatever explanation you were about to give him and garnering far too much attention from bystanders.

Before you could peel Dustin off of you, Max and Lucas reappeared once more, Steve’s sweater still with them. You sighed, wondering if this was how the entire summer was going to feel.

“Yeah, he won’t take it,” Lucas explained and you groaned when Max tossed it over your shoulder. You hadn’t worn it since the night you’d walked away from him, throwing it in your case instead of yours, an accidental nightmare. It still smelled like Steve, you weren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed before. “Steve says he doesn’t want it.”

Over the heads of the kids, you found Steve, uncharacteristically stone faced as he listened to something Joyce was saying. He was nodding, not really listening, ‘cause his eyes were on you and he watched you take the sweater off your shoulder. You couldn’t bring yourself to let it drop to the forest floor, you just couldn’t. So you tied it around your waist and tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

—————

[WORK SONG BY HOZIER]

Eddie found you bright and early on the dock the next morning, a carton of orange juice offered.

You smiled and said your thanks, knocking shoulders with him as he stood next to you, the water lapping at the old planks, the sun making the sky tangerine. “Her majesty has risen early,” he quipped, not looking at you as you both pierced your straws through the little carton. “Can’t sleep?”

You shrugged, staring out at the lake, hoping the day would be quick so you could fall back into bed. You craved sleep, longed for your head to hit your pillow each night in the hopes that you wouldn’t dream about a summer before where you could spend it with Steve. It hurt more waking up in a place so familiar, so important to what you once had with the boy.

“You could say that.” You smiled, but there wasn’t any humour behind it. You could feel Eddie watching you from behind his curls, big brown eyes earnest, worry rolling off of him in waves. “How’re you, Eddie? How’s your girlfriend? Missin’ her yet?”

Distract distract distract.

The boy nodded, sucking noisily from his juice box, citrus in the air. “I’m good, yeah - we’re good,” he added. “Got an apartment downtown together, we’re getting by. Hop let me use the phone yesterday, let her know if arrived, y’know? She’s doing good…”

Eddie nudged you again, an affectionate touch. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, your throat too tight. So you bit down on your straw and waited until the carton was empty, orange juice tasting too bitter against the toothpaste still on your tongue. “Yeah,” you sounded tired. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetheart,” Eddie said kindly, his voice still quiet, matching the morning. “You volunteered to spend the summer side by side with Hargrove, I don’t think you gotta lie to anyone.”

You blinked, not surprised when tears blurred your vision. The sky melted into the lake, white-blue into peach, pink clouds nothing more than cotton candy, the lake reflecting it all back. “It would just suck, you know?” You explained, whispering. “To be with him all day and not—”

Touch him, kiss him, hold him.

You swallowed, the motion a struggle. “—it just, it would hurt. And I don’t want it to hurt any more than it already does, so…”

Eddie didn’t say anything, not right away. But he let his free hand drop between you both, covering your own. His fingers didn’t twist between yours the way Steve’s did and his rings were cold against your skin. It didn’t make your stomach summersault and there wasn’t a scar on the back of his hand when your thumb touched it, but it was nice all the same.

Kind, caring. Worried.

“He’s hurting too, you know,” Eddie murmured, fingers squeezing gently around yours. “I know you’re mad at him, that you hate he’s leaving—”

You bit down on your lip at that, hard enough to taste metal, glassy eyed and turning to Eddie. You shook your head, suddenly feeling a little manic. “No, no, fuck,” you sucked in a breath, trying not to cry. “Well, yeah, I hate that he’s leaving but— Eddie, shit, it’s his dad. He’s letting his dad decide his future and he’s doing everything he used to say he hated and- and I don’t know why.”

Eddie’s brows knitted together as he watched your lip tremble and he nodded, scrubbing the hand that held his squished juice box over his face. “I know,” he admitted, “I know. I asked him, but he’s just talkin’ bullshit. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Says it’s best for him, or some shit, keeps talkin’ ‘bout six figure salaries and, well, fuck if I know.”

“S’like he’s been brainwashed,” you mumbled, feeling very much like one of the younger campers as you said it, juicebox in hand. You wanted to stomp your feet and cry, you wanted to yell at Steve until he snapped out of it. “Like his parents came home and suddenly managed to convince him that he needed to do everything he hated.”

Eddie’s lips twisted, downturned and sad. “He said he’d get thrown out the house. Cut off. Sounds like emotional blackmail more than brainwashing, sweetheart.”

You sniffed, turning back to the lake so you could swipe at your eyes. “Yeah,” you croaked. “It does.”

You stayed with the boy until the sky turned blue and the clouds rolled away, the tannoy signalling it was time for breakfast. The camp came alive minutes later, kids clambering out of cabins, half dressed and with one shoe on, racing for a seat with their friends, hoping they’d be lucky enough to get some pancakes before Bob ran out.

Then Billy was sauntering towards the lake, already shirtless, red shorts and a whistle around his neck. He grinned as he approached, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, biting noisily into an apple.

“Been waiting long for me, darlin’?” His voice was a drawl, raspy from the morning, from the cigarette he probably hung out his cabin window to smoke before his shift.

You rolled your eyes and didn’t gift him with a response, silently thanking Eddie with a bump of your hip to his. Eddie seemed to puff out his chest a little as he passed the other boy, his smile anything but friendly as he narrowed his eyes at him.

“Piss her off, and we’ll have a problem, Hargrove,” Eddie’s voice was soft and lilting, an almost sing-song, but the warning was clear.

Billy merely grinned wider though, sharklike as he brought his hand to his chest, feigning innocence with a gasp. “Who, me?” He tsked, frowning at Eddie. “Don’t know what you’re gettin’ at, Teddy bear. And besides, she’s not your girl.” Billy turned to you and smirked. “In fact, last I heard, she’s not anyone’s girl, seems like fair game to me.”

You shook your head at Eddie who’d taken a step back towards Billy in response. ‘Not worth it,’ you mouthed.

So Eddie glared instead, his gaze only softening when he turned back to you one final time. “I’m in the music cabin all day, if you need me,” he said, “and Steve’s gonna be by the pit.”

The rest was unsaid, but understood. Loud and clear. ‘If you need him.’

You didn’t argue, you just nodded.

Billy didn’t speak again until Eddie was out of sight, a few kids racing towards the dock for their swim lessons, for their turn being taught how to control a kayak. He grinned at you as the small stampede started clamouring around him for life jackets.

“We’re gonna have fun together, princess, I can already tell.”

—————

You and Billy, in fact, did not have fun together.

The boy was boorish and mean to the kids, lazy when it came to actually working and he constantly made jokes about letting the campers drown. He spent much of the morning and afternoon on a deck chair, legs spread wide and his eyes closed behind his glasses, his skin growing more tan by the hour.

“Why do you even work here?” You’d eventually snapped at him, exasperated and breaking your vow of silence.

“Money ain’t bad, free food and well, I get to spend my time with you, babe.” He’d winked at you, sliding his glasses down his nose before pushing them back up again.

You somehow managed to stop yourself from kicking his chair into the lake.

The rest of the day went like that, ignoring Billy and the murderous thoughts he invoked, all while attending to the kids and making sure they didn’t swallow too much lake water. And when the session was coming to an end, Lucas had convinced you to jump in too, the water warmed only slightly by the sun, the skies above it turning back to tangerine as evening set in. So you jumped off the end of the dock, sandwiched between kids, El’s hand in your right, Suzie’s in your left.

And when you let the water roll over your head, feet barely touching the bottom, you wondered if you’d be okay soon, if by some miracle, you’d wake up tomorrow and the ache in your chest would have stopped. And if it hadn’t, you wished someone would tell you when. And maybe that same person could tell you what you were gonna do with your life too.

Your hair was still damp when you walked into the mess hall for dinner. Most of the kids were finished, running past you with yelled ‘hello’s’ as they made their way back to their cabins, pockets stuffed with treats they’d no doubt hide for midnight snacking.

One table was still occupied, most of the staff tired and lashing across the benches, just starting their dinner. Steve was between Robin and Eddie, a few slices of pizza on his tray that he didn’t seem interested in. You thought about turning around, going to bed hungry. You thought about being entirely pathetic and sitting at a table all on your own, preferably on the other side of the hall. But Nancy caught your eye and waved you over as Bob handed you your plate with a smile.

It was awful, the way the conversation trailed off as you approached, eyes flicking between you and Steve and back again. But the boy kept his head down, nodding at something Eddie was saying, and Jonathan slid closer to Nancy for you, letting you sit next to him.

“Did we mean to go for a swim or was the idea of a watery demise better than working with Hargrove?” Jonathan joked, his eyes kind as he smiled at you.

You snorted, picking off the greasy pepperoni that dotted your pizza slices, grimacing when Eddie held out his own plate for them. “The kids wanted me to join them,” you explained, “but now that you mention it, lake sludge and the possibility of a leech or two seems better than another day with Billy.”

Robin frowned, concern knitting across her features. Her nose was already a little burnt, her afternoon off spent napping under an old oak tree behind the gym. “He wasn’t too creepy, was he?”

Your eyes met Eddie’s over the table and you shared a look. He shrugged, letting you know he wasn’t going to say anything. Not that it would have mattered, you decided, Steve hadn’t looked up since you sat down, his fingers busy making knots out of a paper straw wrapped.

“Nah, no more than usual,” you assured her.

You took a bite of your pizza, if only for something to do, the awkward quietness making your anxiety gnaw at your chest and your bubbling stomach made you wrinkle your nose at the pools of grease the pepperoni left behind. It seemed more unappealing than usual.

Jonathan noticed. “Oh, here,” he pushed his own tray towards you. “I have Hawaiian leftover if you wanna—”

“She’s allergic to pineapple.”

The voice came before you could speak, ready to explain the same thing. Everyone turned, looking at Steve as he looked at you, a small frown on his face, as if he was annoyed that no one else seemed to know that.

“Oh,” Jonathan looked horrified, quickly pulling the slice away from you. “Shit, m’sorry, I didn’t kn—” he was talking to Steve more than you, because you still hadn’t said anything, too busy looking at Steve with your mouth agape.

But it didn’t seem to matter, ‘cause the boy stood up suddenly, eyes just barely finding yours before he tossed his own tray on top of the trash cans and headed outside. The huge doors slammed shut, echoing in the silence.

No one spoke, glancing between each other and the tabletop as you groaned, your hands covering your face. You weren’t going to cry. You weren’t.

And then, breaking the silence, Robin: “So, we’ll plan a meal schedule then, yeah?”

—————

The first week of camp quickly bled into the second, the days going by slow and lazy by the lake, the older kids happy to be watched diligently as they paddled around on the kayaks. Each boat had been checked over for any cracks and splinters that might’ve occurred the year before. You held a sandcastle competition with the younger group on a hot morning, lakeside in the grainy sand that was more in-depth than you imagined it would’ve been.

You ignored Billy throughout, leaving him on his deck chair with his sunglasses and whistle, pretending you didn’t hear him scoff when Steve walked by, your eyes tracking him with his own group until he disappeared behind some trees or another cabin.

The summer got hotter and you felt lonelier, longing for the familiarity you felt when Steve was nearby. You missed his touch on your back, a hand there when the kids were around, chaste enough that no one squealed and yelled about cooties.

You missed spending nights in his too small bunk, music playing low, feet touching under the sheets.

You missed seeing him across the camp, surrounded by kids who loved him, waiting for him to lift his gaze to yours, ‘cause no matter what, he always seemed to know when you were close. You missed the way that even after two years together, your stomach would dip and swirl when he inevitably winked at you, boyish and charming, a promise of a kiss later when he could get his hands on you.

Now, you either ignored each other or argued with each other, egos in the way, stubbornness winning over silence when you both fell too easily into your old ways. You both found that winning a fight against each other was much harder to do when you couldn’t make the other person concede with a kiss.

But at the end of the second week, a whole new kind of emotion took over when you saw Steve and his group come back from a hike, a smile on his face as he chatted to the camp counsellor next to him.

Strawberry blonde hair, tied up in a bow, pink this time.

Chrissy.

It was awful, watching them together, hands swinging side by side, not touching in the slightest, but far too close to it for your liking. You watched Steve say something, making Chrissy laugh, a musical giggle that had your teeth set on edge. You forgot what you were supposed to be doing, new logs for the fire pit frozen in your stagnant arms. Nancy must’ve noticed, ‘cause she looked up from the pit at you, face screwed up in confusion.

“What’re you doing—? Oh.” She watched your face fall, eyes studying every move as the two led their kids back into camp. “You know it’s not like that, right? Steve and Chrissy… it’s not— it’s nothing.”

You heard none of it, logs clattering to the forest floor, a mumbled excuse to Nancy about how you’d be right back and then you were taking off across the pathways, heading for a cabin that you hoped would be empty. The crafts room luckily was, the door shutting behind you, the tables clean and void of glitter, for once.

[DON’T LEAVE BY FAITHLESS]

You perched there, collecting yourself, wondering once again when it was going to stop fucking hurting so much. But your thoughts weren’t yours for very long, interrupted by the door opening again. You were ready to tell Nancy you were fine, that it was just a headache, a bee sting, anything. But Steve walked in instead, wary as he looked at you.

No one spoke, the silence deafening and the closer Steve moved, the more you could smell his aftershave, the same one still lingering on the sweater he refused to take back. He was more tanned already, cheeks freckled from the sun, flushed from his hike. He was staring at you like a wild animal, scared to get too close.

So he stopped a few feet before you, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, the cuffs of them a little dust covered from his hike. He looked good, awfully so, as pretty as the night you left him in his driveway and it fucking ached to look at him.

You wouldn’t cry.

“Uh, Nancy said you were upset.”

You blinked, his voice reverberating through you like a fifty watt amp. You buzzed with it, forgetting what his voice sounded like when he wasn’t yelling, arguing, when he was talking only to you.

You sniffed and lied. “I’m fine.”

Steve knew better than that. He looked like he wanted to come closer, one heel digging into the old carpet, debating on stepping forward. He didn’t. “Look, Chrissy and I—”

“I thought you were supposed to be hiking with Argyle?” You interrupted, unapologetic. You sucked in a breath, heart on your sleeve, openly vulnerable and waiting to be hurt. “The rota said Argyle.”

Steve shrugged, cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah, I was.” He looked at you, eyes nervous. “But Chrissy showed up at the safety meet, said she’d swapped ‘cause she wanted to plan something for a gymnastics competition the day she was scheduled.”

You just stared at the floor.

Steve whispered your name, a crack in the middle of it, his voice awfully familiar. He sounded so much prettier when he wasn’t trying to hurt you. “It’s not like that. It’s not.”

You shrugged, staring at a piece of broken off crayon that had been squished into the floor forever ago, a sickly green that wouldn’t come out. You stared at it until it blurred. “It’s not any of my business, Steve, it’s fine.”

You practically heard the boy frown. “What do you mean it’s not your business, prin— I’m not interested in Chrissy. You’re— we only broke up a couple of weeks ago, I’m not exactly looking for something new.”

It hurt to hear him say it, even though you knew it already. But something about Steve’s words made it seem more real, more final. So you tried to keep your expression neutral as you finally lifted your gaze to meet his.

His jaw was set tight, brows ticking up to meet in the middle, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Are you still going?” You asked, and god, you sounded small, scared. You hated it. “To Arizona. Are you still going?”

Steve nodded, jaw tensing.

Something inside of you shattered all over again. You blew out the breath you’d been holding, smiling tightly, like it hurt to look happy. “Well, don’t let me stop you from another summer fling, like I said, it’s nothing to do with me—”

“Another?” Steve's voice hitched up, confusion and anger leaking in. “What do you mean another? Is that all we were, is that what you think? A two year summer fling? That’s real cute, princess.”

He said the pet name the way he used to, sarcasm mixing with malice, no affection behind it and it made you square your shoulders. It was like a battle call and you were ready for action.

It hurt less to fight.

“I didn’t say that,” you bit back, “don’t twist my words, Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you wanted to work with Billy, huh?”

“Oh my god, get real,” you laughed, sliding off of the table so you could shove past the boy. “You really think that little of me?”

Steve’s hand caught your elbow as you tried to head for the door, a touch you knew well. He wasn’t rough about it, but he pulled you back with ease, your body against his as he set you with a look. You knew he was mad, you’d pushed too many buttons and this time, you couldn’t kiss his anger away, you couldn’t push yourself up against him and whisper pretty apologies as you loved on him.

Fuck.

“You started this,” he reminded you, “clearly you think I’m ready to forget all about you and jump into Chrissy’s bunk so don’t—”

You slipped up then, unable to help it, ‘cause Steve was staring at you with hard eyes and all of a sudden you couldn’t help but imagine him with Chrissy in her cabin, the lights off as he pushed her against her desk, moaning when she wrapped her thighs around his hips and gasped out his name…

“Please don’t.” It ripped out of you in a sob, tiny and cracking. You pressed your lips together so no more noises would come out, eyes turning glassy even though you tried to stave off the tears. “Please don’t do that. Don’t jump into someone else’s bunk.”

‘Please don’t forget me,’ is what you really wanted to say. ‘Please don’t forget about us when you leave.’

You felt too warm, exposed, blinking back tears and trying not to show the hurt but it was too late. Steve knew what you meant, read between the lines and watched tears gather at your lash line. You were too stubborn to let them fall but he softened, the anger leaving him in a rush of adrenaline until he felt tired, sore with it.

Steve let your arm go, hand trailing down until fingers brushed your wrist. He stepped back, eyes on the wall behind you, blinking until his own eyes stopped watering.

“I won’t,” he promised, words coming into a soft gasp, like he was shocked that you think he could’ve.

Words unsaid hung in the air, glittering with the dust motes in the sun, slipping between the shadows from the trees across the walls.

I miss you, I’m sorry, don’t leave me, I love you.

You sniffed again, eyes on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with the boy and not wanting to move away. “I have your sweater,” you whispered.

Steve shrugged, wondering if you could hear his pulse, how it seemed to thump in his neck, his chest. It was an awful thing, heartbreak. No one told him it would ache this much to see you, to be so close and not hold you.

The boy’s gaze dropped to your lips, saw the shine there and wondered if you’d still taste like cherries, or if even after so little time, that had changed too.

“S’alright,” he mumbled. “I have an extra one.”

“It’s yours,” you replied, your bottom lip wobbling again. Steve didn’t know how to stop it. He looked away. “I shouldn’t have your stuff anymore.”

He frowned, knowing you were right, hurting all the same. “Did you bring yours?” He knew the answer, knew how you could get disorganised when you packed, bleary eyed in the early morning hour before camp. You shook your head. “Keep it. In case you get cold.”

And then he left.

The second week went by the same, melting into the third with climbing temperatures and the threat of rain that never actually fell. You stayed away from Steve, tried to smile civilly when you did get too close, bumping into each other at mealtimes, on walks with the kids as you passed each other on the trails.

Will Byers was a little taller than last summer, but he still took your hand at the front of the crowd, looking up at you with a sad smile. “My mom always says it gets easier,” he told you, whispering it like a secret. “Eventually, you don’t have to think about it too hard anymore. She says it’s like maths.”

You laughed at that, a watery thing that made you smile and squeeze the boy’s hand. And that night, around the campfire, you snuck him an extra marshmallow for his s’more, winking when he beamed at you.

Even when I lose my mind

The staff party was an impromptu thing, thought of by Jonathan and Argyle, encouraged by Robin, alcohol run courtesy of Eddie and his van.

You hadn’t wanted to go, thinking there couldn’t possibly be anything worse than spending your time off the clock with Steve in a small cabin, or huddled around a fire by the lake. But Robin insisted and the promise of wine lured you in, the idea of numbing the ache that still hadn’t left more inviting by the minute.

Then Nancy was at the cabin door, a staff shirt swapped for one of her boyfriend's sweaters, bottles of wine in her hands. She gave one to Robin, twisted your fingers with her own and then you were being led through the woods, to the split in the shrubs that only the counsellors knew about, the tiny, hidden trail that led to a patch of sand that was far away from the dock and Hopper’s office window.

There was a fire going, a pile of shoes by the rocks, people treading water up to their ankles, music playing from a boombox that crackled with static at the same time the flames popped on the logs.

It was fine until it wasn’t. It was nice until the wine became too much and the lake started to blur with the sky and suddenly, there were stars on the sand, fallen and forgotten and everyone danced over the top of them, left feet tripping over right.

You swayed, head pounding to the beat of the bass and the forest seemed to tilt on an axis as you left your shoes behind and slipped off into the night. You were tired, tongue coated with tequila that Eddie made you shoot with him, stomach swirling with bad beer and jealousy whenever Chrissy wandered close to Steve.

Nothing happened. Just like Steve said. But you wanted to drop yourself in the boy’s lap and press your nose to his neck, find the spot that made his hands grip your waist a little tighter, dozing there until he’d laugh at you, sticky sweet and fond, telling you it was time for bed.

So you took yourself there, unnoticed by the rest of your friends, all of them too busy, too drunk. The shadows between the trees were dark but the lights on each porch led you home, back to your cabin that smelled like lavender body spray and spilled vodka, the raspberry remnants soaked up with a bath towel, forgotten on the floor.

You tripped up on it in your mission to get to your bunk, bare feet cold and hazily. You wondered where your shoes were. But you stripped, struggled with your sleep shorts and dug under your pillow for the sweater you knew you’d folded there.

It was forest green and too big, and it smelled like the boy whose name was stitched on the front. You hiccuped and pulled it on, asking yourself with a mumble, why was the cabin spinning? You thought maybe it was the pizza rolls you had instead of a proper dinner, ‘cause it certainly wasn’t the alcohol.

Of course it wasn’t.

And then, teary eyed and suddenly overwhelmed, you gasped, a heaving breath that stuttered into a sob. You groaned, eyes closing, your head thumping on the cabin wall as you fell back into your pillows. Your stomach gurgled, rolled and dipped.

You absolutely were not going to be sick. You hated being sick.

You were not. Going. To be. Sick.

Your body made a sound of disagreement.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, sitting up to take some deep breaths. It didn’t really help, a too hot flush rushing over your chest and up your neck, settling over your cheeks until it was so warm you were cold. “No, no, no.”

You didn’t really think about how much time had passed since you left the party. It could’ve been twenty minutes, maybe two hours. The night was still dark, with the morning not in sight, the skies above just as inky as before. But when you opened the cabin door, there weren’t any stars on the ground, not anymore.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you left the beach, but you knew it had been five long weeks since you walked away from Steve Harrington and his backyard.

So you went looking for him.

Bare feet, cold and damp in the moss, sticking to the wilder parts of the woods, drunkenly complaining when you stood on something with thorns. You would’ve been a sight, a sure way to receive a warning if found by Hopper or Murray, but you found you didn’t really care. You wondered if the boy was still at the lake, if anyone was.

The moon was still high and the stars were back where they should be but when you stopped too long to look up, the world swayed a little, your stomach jumping with it.

You groaned, mumbling a little about the toadstools by the trees, how you needed to not squish them, ‘cause Argyle would be mad. And then there was a familiar cabin set back from the path, the lights off and cloaked in silence. You walked up the porch steps anyway, remembering to knock, not walk in, even when the alcohol made everything cloudy.

You waited, stomach churning, breath bated, lips turned down into a too dramatic frown, but you had decided you didn’t want to be drunk anymore and you certainly didn’t want to be alone. The silence stretched on, loud enough that it buzzed and you hiccuped again, tummy jumping in protest. You hushed yourself, curling the too long sleeves of the sweater into your fists, ‘cause you decided you needed something to hold onto.

You absolutely were not going to fall.

You wobbled, bare feet standing on top of each other, toes squished, a curse on your lips. Steve opened the door.

He said your name, surprised but warm, fond like he used to, the way you wanted him to. Your gaze shot up, toes forgotten about as you took him in, soft and sleep, hair a riot, chest bare.

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing? Are you okay?” He’d noticed your absence soon after you’d left, your shoes forgotten on the sand. But Robin had disappeared too, so he assumed you’d left together. The lake didn’t hold much interest for him after that. “Is something wrong?”

You wanted to laugh at that, you wanted to tell him everything was wrong.

But instead, you hiccuped, nose wrinkled. “I feel sick.” Another hiccup, a small groan to accompany it. “And I don't wanna be sick.”

Steve frowned, that soft kind of grumpy where his brows crinkled together and he looked at you with too much concern. His hand cupped your elbow, too gentle, like he wasn’t sure if it was allowed. But the world righted itself again with his help and when you stumbled, just a little, Steve sighed.

“Okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “C’mon.”

He led you into his cabin, the space still dark and smelling like boy, like his aftershave and Eddie’s, the tangerine peels that Steve had left at lunch, the cherry twizzlers Eddie stashed in his desk drawers. Steve flicked the lamp on, a flicker that turned into a dim glow, too weak to make your eyes hurt but you squinted anyway.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you complained and you sounded panicked, the floor dipping and tilting as you walked.

Steve’s hands found your shoulders, wide and warm and taking up so much space. He led you to his bed and sat you on the edge, his sheets still warm from where he’d been lying, half asleep and thinking about you.

“You’re not gonna be sick,” he told you, pushing you back until you were comfy, kneeling before you to scrub at your poor, dirty feet with a towel. He fussed, inspecting your soles for injury. “Jesus, you could’ve cut yourself, you dummy.”

“I might be sick,” you replied, morose. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do,” Steve huffed back, keeping in the laugh he wanted to let out. “You’re never sick. S’like your superpower.”

You paused, as if remembering. He was right. But still, you felt unsettled, skin too warm and clammy, but the idea of taking off your sweater - Steve’s sweater - wasn’t an option to you. At least, not to drunk you.

You blinked as the boy rolled socks over your feet, too big and sporting a soccer team logo that you hadn’t cared to remember. You wiggled your toes, eyes still a little unfocused.

“S’like I have clown feet,” you murmured and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Alright, stay there.”

He disappeared only to come back seconds later with a bottle of water, not quite ice cold, but cool enough that you chugged it with enthusiasm, gasping when you finished it. You blinked again, lashes fluttering until the cabin came into a clearer view, if only just. Steve was leaning against his desk, arms folded and smiling like he couldn’t help himself.

He’d slipped a t-shirt on when you weren’t looking, a threadbare thing that was stretched out at the collar and you knew from wearing it to bed too often, that there was a hole in the hem. He looked softer than ever, that kind of sleep mussed that you loved, where he looked like summer and Sunday mornings, long lies and breakfast in bed, toothpaste kisses and the promise of a day being lazy.

Your heart hurt as much as your stomach.

“Better?” He asked.

“A little,” you nodded, head feeling too heavy to be on your neck. You slumped, socked feet curling under yourself, your head falling to the foot of Steve’s bed. His sheets smelled like him and you groaned like it was an awful discovery, your eyes closing in protest. “M’sorry.”

Steve didn’t acknowledge your apology, but he did come to sit by you, up by his pillows where he could watch your chest rise and fall, lips parting as tequila flavoured sleep tugged at you.

[COPING ALL ON MY OWN BY BELUGA LAGOON]

“Why’d you come here, princess?”

You were sure you smiled at that, the soft way he said his name for you. Maybe you hid it, maybe Steve didn’t notice. He definitely did. “Didn’t feel well, Stevie.”

“No, I know, but—”

“Wanted to feel better,” you sighed, as if it were obvious. Maybe it was. You yawned, cheek rubbing against the comforter, the cloying, sickly heat you’d once felt slowly disappearing. “So I needed to come see you.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Didn’t think he could, not when his throat felt tight and you were stretching a leg out, bare and with an already bruised knee from doing god knows what. His fingertips brushed over your ankle and he received a soft sigh from you in return, lips curling into a sleep smile as you felt your eyes shut.

“You always make me feel better,” you added, feeling the need to explain.

Steve’s hand wrapped around your ankle then, warm even through his socks. You hummed, a sleepy, upset sound, soft enough that it made Steve’s heart stutter and he clung to you a little tighter.

“M’so sad that you’re leaving, Steve.”

He heard his heart break, he was sure of it, the boy sucking in a breath as he tried not to let his emotions out. It wouldn’t have mattered, you were drowsy, still too drunk, face pushed to his sheets and your foot in his lap. But you didn’t look as peaceful anymore, brows stitched together, lips downturned.

“I don’t want you to leave me.”

The boy sniffed, lips parting with a gasp because he was crying before he realised, silent tears rolling down his cheeks that you couldn’t see and he nodded, swallowing hard to keep himself in check. “I know, princess,” another heaving breath, “I don’t wanna leave you either.”

Your face crumpled a little more then, leg stretching out until your toes dug at the soft of Steve’s stomach and he smiled, watery eyed but just so pleased that you were close. That he could touch you.

“Then why are you?” You asked him, quiet and gentle and so much softer than you’d asked before. There wasn’t any yelling. It felt more dangerous this way. “Why’re you leaving?”

Steve swept a hand up your calf, careful and wary, waiting to see if you shoved him away. You didn’t, you curled into him instead, pushing your leg into his touch, seeking out more and you sighed when he tucked his thumb behind your knee. He drew hearts there, on the sensitive skin, and smiled when you shivered.

“My dad,” Steve explained and his voice sounded a little wrecked, croaking and splintering.

You hummed again, knowing, your eyes still closed as you said, “Don’t tell him, but, I don’t like him that much.”

The boy snorted at your honesty, not seeing much point at reminding you that he was already very aware of that fact. You’d never tried to hide your dislike for the man, speaking politely when spoken to, but keeping it short and civil. You always made a point to place your hand in Steve’s under the table at dinners, squeezing his when his father droned on about futures and business deals and how spending six weeks at a camp in the middle of nowhere didn’t get people places.

“I don’t like him all that much either,” Steve whispered back, like it was all some sort of secret. “In fact, I don’t really like him at all, right now.”

You opened your eyes then, blinking at Steve in the low light. You saw his flushed cheeks, his red rimmed eyes, the tears that he’d not yet managed to swipe away.

“Steve,” you mumbled his name like you were going to cry too, fumbling clumsily to your knees so you could make your way up the bed, letting him catch your hands when you reached for him.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, not questioning it when you folded yourself into his arms, his face finding the crook of your neck like he always did. Your hands knitted into the mess of his hair and the boy wasn’t sure how someone could feel so happy and so helpless all at once. You were in his lap now, bundled there with his socks and his sweater, smelling like campfire smoke and you. “I’m really fucking sorry, princess. I don’t know if I said that yet.”

You shook your head, tequila and wine colouring your edges but Steve had his arms wrapped around you tight and he still smelled the same, like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “I miss you,” you mumbled, voice wavering as you blinked away tears, not noticing how they fell into his hair anyway. “I really miss you and m’sorry too, I— I don’t know what to do.”

Steve nodded, like he knew what you meant. Maybe he did. Maybe he understood all too well what it was like to feel lost, to be somewhere that felt more like home than his house did, yet still feel like it wasn’t the same as it used to be.

He wrapped his arms around you tighter. He shouldn’t have said it, knowing that tomorrow you’d both wake up and he’d still be leaving for Arizona in less than two months. He shouldn’t have suggested it, even with Eddie’s empty bed, the boy probably passed out in a hot boxed van with Argyle and Jonathan.

He shouldn’t have said it but he did.

“Stay?” His breath stuttered, a messy thing, as he pulled back and gazed at you. He wanted to lean in, rest his head against your own. But that was too much, too dangerous. “Stay tonight?”

He only meant to sleep, to lay next to each other and let the other be held, maybe for one last time. The idea of it stung, but the way you nodded and lay your head against his chest felt better, an overwhelming surge of dopamine that tricked you both into thinking everything would be okay.

Maybe that was just the tequila. Maybe it was just the feeling of being close again.

So he shuffled you both until he was against the pillows and you were against him, legs tangled and head on his chest. You hands made fists in his soft shirt, fingers twisting there like you were scared to let go. Steve thought maybe you were. So held you a little closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck and his nose skimming over your hairline, the closest thing he’d get to kissing you. He couldn’t cross that line, you were both drunk and god, he’d never recover from it.

He wouldn’t be able to leave you if he got to put his lips to yours again.

“Alright?” Steve asked, a whisper that stirred the baby hairs by your forehead and you nodded.

“Feel better now,” you slurred tiredly, nuzzling your cheek against his chest, sleep dragging at you. “…hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you call me back?”

The boy frowned, wondering what you meant. Call him back? When? When did you call? “What?” He tried to crane his neck to see you, but you’d pushed your face into his shirt, lashes fluttering. “When? What’re you talkin’ about?”

You didn’t answer, breath evening out into soft puff, your body lax against him.

“Princess?”

You were asleep.

—————

You woke up before Steve, slipping out of his arms and his bed before he could wake, the early morning hour and last night's beer keeping him pressed into his pillows, eyes closed, lips parted.

You stood aimlessly in the middle of the cabin for minutes too long, Steve’s socks sliding down your ankles, his sweater smelling like him more than ever.His chest had been pressed to your back all night, his nose buried in your hair. Eddie’s bunk was still empty, a sigh of relief leaving you your lips as you realised that there was one less person to explain to.

Robin was going to have an aneurysm.

Your face crumpled all over again as you watched Steve one last time, heart beating too fast for such an early morning hour. He’d taken to hugging a pillow in your absence, nose pushed into it, eyes closed and lashes fluttering, like he was dreaming. His hair was a mess, wonderfully so, and you fucking ached to run your hands through it, to sooth back the strands that fell across his forehead, to kiss the skin you revealed underneath.

You didn’t. You couldn’t. It would hurt too much.

So you left.

The pain behind your eyes distracted you just enough from the fact you still didn’t have shoes. Steve’s socks gathered pine needles and dirt as you tried to tiptoe down the pathways, hobbling past any particularly muddy areas. The camp was still asleep, only the birds just waking up, that ultraviolet morning light creating navy shadows between the trees, birdsong starting from above the canopy.

You guessed it was about six o’clock, maybe earlier, maybe five. There was no sign of anyone stirring, the curtains in each cabin still closed against the rising sun. So you paused at one of the crossroads, looking left and right as you decided what you wanted to do.

It would be mean to wake Robin, your cabin door far too old and squeaky to allow a silent entrance and honestly, the idea of your own bed didn’t entice you nearly as much as Steve’s had done. You wondered if Bob was in the kitchen yet, if there was food to be scavenged, something that would soak up the tequila and beer that was rolling around in your empty stomach.

Unsure, you headed towards the lakefront instead, socked feet trailing through the damp grass, morning dew collecting at your ankles. You were seriously rethinking your life choices, swiping a hand over your face as you tried to bring yourself back to life. You should go back to your cabin.

You should go back to your cabin and tell Robin you fell asleep in your car, or something, fuck, in a tree, you didn’t care. You should go to bed and sleep it off and never talk about how you ran to Steve Harrington ever again.

He was your ex. He was leaving. You were only going to keep getting hurt.

The other side of your brain told you that it wasn’t his fault, that he was trapped, stuck, as helpless about the situation as you felt. You remembered him telling you that he missed you too and that he was sorry.

There was a really fuzzy recollection of him whispering that he didn’t wanna leave you.

You kicked a stone, groaning through pressed together lips as you realised too late - you still didn’t have any fucking shoes.

“Hawkins.”

Fuck.

Murray stood in neon gym shorts and the most ancient camp staff shirt you’d ever seen, sweatbands around his wrist and his glasses hanging from a beaded chain around his neck. His socks were pulled way too high up his legs but shit, at least he had shoes.

“Murray. Hi,” you waved a little awkwardly, toes pushed together and hands dragging at the hem of the sweater as if you could hide the fact you were wearing sleep shorts and a top that was most definitely not yours. “Nice morning for a run, huh.”

He stared at you blankly, eyes catching your lack of attire. He sighed, turning around and waving for you to follow. “C’mon.”

It was surprisingly easy to follow Murray to the mess hall, his keys clinking together in the quiet as he unlocked the kitchen door. The place was still empty, the metal worktops gleaming, the overhead lights humming to life when they were switched on.

Murray turned to you, shrugging, his arms held out to the full refrigerator, the large cooker, the overflowing pantry. “Pancakes?” He asked and there was a small smile on his face when you nodded.

It was even easier to tell the man everything, perched on a countertop as Murray donned one of Bob’s white aprons, the material tied in a bow over his running shorts. He listened and nodded as you ranted, flipping pancake after pancake, stacking them on the plate beside you, only interrupting to coax them into your hands.

And when you were finished talking and your socks were almost dry, Murray nodded to the fork in your hand, the still full plate of food. “You done?” He asked, not meanly— just, well, just like Murray. You huffed, nodding. “Good, eat.”

So you did as you were told, dipping your breakfast into the puddle of syrup, eyes closing briefly as you chewed, the hit of sugar helping the impending hangover. You both ate in silence, Murray leaning against the kitchen sink and when you were both done, he handed you a large glass of water and waited until you drained the last drop from it.

“So, you want my advice?”

You stared at the man, unsure. Did you?

“Couldn’t hurt, right?” You shrugged, defeated and tired. It couldn’t ache anymore than your head, or the hole in your heart. “Lay it on me.”

Murray smiled and shook his head, rinsing off the dishes as he spoke. He was serious about it, surprisingly so, his voice losing that usual sarcastic cadence, his gaze set on the sticky plates before him.

“You love him, right? You don’t have to answer that. It’s fairly clear to see.” Murray sighed, like telling you this was tiring, like this was all old information. “And he loves you - that’s even more obvious. And I don’t know a lot about what you guys get up to back at home but… I’ve met Steve’s dad before.”

You frowned, confused. “You have?”

“Years ago,” Murray noted. “Think it was Steve’s last year as a camper. Think he’d come second in the relay race or the boat contest, or something. Anyway, before pick up, we did an award ceremony. Steve came up, got his little plastic medal, waved out to the crowd. His parents were actually there - usually it was some nanny in a black car, y’know?”

You did know. You’d see the same woman at school, handing Steve his backpack and lunch, kissing the spot on the crown of his head where his mom should have.

“Kid was proud as punch. Ran over to his parents waving this stupid medal around. His mom gave him a hug. His dad saw that that little piece of plastic was silver and not gold, and well…” Murray trailed off, a furrow between his brow as he remembered. “I think the chief had to go over and remind Mr Harrington that it wasn’t the time for a family dispute. And that his son had worked hard and was a damn good kid.”

It sounded so familiar, so much so that it hurt. You’d seen that kind of thing before, even now when Steve stood as tall as his dad. “What did his dad say?” You asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Murray turned and smiled at you, but it was sad, coloured blue by the story, the memory. He wiped his hands on a towel and sighed. “He said he wasn’t interested in a second rate kid. That Harrington’s were winners.”

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t need to. You were left with the stickiness of maple syrup on your fingertips, on the flat of your tongue, but something still tasted bitter, a sensation that made you wrinkle your nose and frown.

It tasted like guilt.

Tell me that I'm all you want

You didn’t see Steve for the rest of the day. In fact, you didn’t see him until the next afternoon, late into the Sunday, once the sky was pink and purple and the kids were eating s’mores around the fire.

You felt awful for leaving him in his bed alone, the covers thrown back where you’d slipped from his side and snuck out the door. Murray’s words had only made you feel worse as the hours stretched on, but you had convinced yourself it was the hangover, the sour taste of last night's beer. And when Robin had finally cornered you, you avoided her gaze and her questions, letting her shake her head and tut at you until the bell for dinner rang.

And the next day went the same, turning corners and weaving through woodland paths in the hopes that Steve wasn’t around the corner. Because you didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how to fix it. Maybe he wouldn’t be mad, maybe it didn’t really matter - because he was still leaving, right? This didn’t make a difference, did it?

But then you saw him by the fire pit, head and shoulders taller than even the oldest of the kids, handing out Graham crackers and telling Max she wasn’t allowed to play with the fire. You caught his eye without meaning to, unable to pull your gaze away and you thought about smiling, you thought about going over, you thought about saying sorry.

For everything. For all of it.

Until Steve’s pretty face contorted into a scowl, his eyes narrowing into a glare that you hadn’t seen directed at you in years. He looked pissed. Worse, he looked hurt. But he was doing his damn best to cover that upset with anger, lips curling at you until you glared right back.

“Jeez, did we travel back in time?” Mike Wheeler appeared at your elbow, his hand held out for the giant marshmallows you were supposed to be handing out to your group. “Why do you and Steve hate each other? Again?”

“That’s none of your business, Wheeler,” you replied witheringly, making sure you squished his marshmallow as you handed it to him.

“They don’t hate each other,” Dustin materialised at your other side, melted mallow dripping down his fingers, sticky sugar coating his hand. He looked up at you from under his curls, wide eyed and earnest. “Right?”

You looked down at the boy with sad eyes, a smile that was even sadder. You shrugged and pulled at a curl, watching as it bounced back. “Right,” you told him, even if you weren’t sure you believed it yourself.

“My mom says that all couples go through their differences,” Suzie joined your group, two sticks at the ready, waiting to spear her marshmallows on for roasting. She grinned at you toothily, one missing after an incident with Max and a dodgeball. “She said it’s normal. But then she drinks a lot of wine and sleeps a lot so she forgets in the morning.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that, so you stared at Suzie with a strained smile and nodded anyway. “Sure, exactly. Yeah.”

“I heard Steve’s moving away,” Mike chipped in again, blissfully ignorant to the way your frown returned at his words. “Will he work at a new camp in Arizona?”

“What?” Dustin was aghast, chocolate dripping to the forest floor without him realising. “No! He can’t!” He spun back to look at you, as if you could fix it all. You wish you could’ve. “He can’t, right?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stood amongst the kids and stared at Steve through the crowd. He wasn’t smiling, shoulder to shoulder with Eddie as they continued to hand out snacks, and whenever the boy looked up and caught your gaze, the furrow between his brows reappeared. You thought about Steve in a new state, across the country in a dorm room that had a bed you’d never sleep in, one that was open to other girls, girls you’d never know about.

Maybe there would be another camp, there’d certainly be another job. And there would be classes and lectures, campus coffee shops and student bars, all overflowing with new people to meet. Maybe Steve would find someone there, someone he didn’t hate at first, someone who he could flirt with, someone who didn’t know about his parents, his past, his daddy’s influence.

Maybe he’d be happier there. Without you.

Dustin was still looking at you, waiting for a response. You tried to smile, you did. But it was tight and watery, and not believable at all. “I don’t know, bud,” you shrugged. “It’s… whatever.”

If Steve could decide that he didn’t care anymore, that he could go back to glaring at you across the forest, you could too. What did he expect you to do? Wake up in his arms and suddenly decide that you were okay with moving to another state? That you were happy to obey his fathers orders, just like he was?

It didn’t make a difference. Nothing would change. It didn’t matter. If Steve wanted to play enemies again, fine. You’d give as good as he did.

—————

When Dustin and El found you later that day, you were glad for the distraction. The lake had been quiet after swimming classes, the forest shrouded in shadows after heavy clouds rolled in, hiding the sun. The two had run towards you from the centre of camp, sneakers kicking up dust as you watched them, ignoring how Billy was trying to edge closer, fingers teasing at the straps of your swimsuit.

You’d told him to leave you alone, you’d told him to fuck off. You’d even tried to ignore him. Every option only made the boy grin wider. So you left your post on the dock and made your way towards the kids, smiling up until you saw their worried faces, panic in their eyes. You moved faster, meeting them by the shoreline, concern growing like a knot in your stomach.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, already searching over their heads for some kind of danger, for an emergency.

“Will needs help!” Dustin urged as El grabbed your hand, tugging at you, waiting for you to follow.

“What? What’s wrong? Where is he?” You were already running with them, following them past the mess hall, past the gym, towards where the cabins grew older, damp and unused, overgrown with vines and weeds.

“Uh, an allergic reaction!” Dustin yelled.

“Asthma attack!” El told you at the same time.

You slowed, just a little, your pace stumbling at each answer. You looked down at the girl, her flushed cheeks and wide eyes, wondering if you’d heard them both right. “Wait, wha—?” But then Dustin was grabbing your other hand and pulling you with determination, feet tripping over fallen branches until a cabin came into view.

Lucas and Max were standing outside of it, waving their arms like they were trying to flag you down, as if you could miss them.

“He’s in here!” Lucas told you, worried scrambled with what you thought was panic. “We think it’s a snake bite. Maybe a tarantula!”

Again, you stopped, looking between the four kids with confusion wrinkling your features. “What? A tarantula? Guys— shouldn’t we get Hopper? Someone needs to—”

“Mike and Suzie are getting him,” Max assured you, smiling too sweetly as Lucas and El placed their hands on your back, pushing you towards the door.

The cabin was dark, most of the windows boarded up, broken glass on the forest floor. Why the fuck was Will in there? Before you could ask, you were shoved one final time, the door slamming shut behind you. You made a sound of protest, turning to wiggle the handle but it was already locked.

“Guys! What the hell!” You thumped on the door with a fist, rattling the wood until the old hinges squeaked in protest. It wouldn’t budge. “Are you kidding me?”

There was nothing but the sound of birds, insects that buzzed and the distant sound of kids on the lake. “Guys! Dustin! I swear to god, you’re gonna be in so much trouble. I know this was your idea—”

The rusting of leaves, a twig snapping and then more voices. Hushed whispers that were interjected with another voice, an older one.

Male and annoyed.

No.

The cabin door opened abruptly and before you could barge your way out, another body was shoved inside, clumsy and disorientated. The figure was tall, broad shouldered and wearing a camp counsellor shirt, the forest green cotton sun bleached and faded. The boy’s hair was a mess, his cheeks already freckled from the sun, his brown eyes squinting into the dim light as he adjusted out of the sun.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“What the fuck?” Steve stood in the middle of the empty cabin, scowling at you even through his confusion. But the door had already been slammed shut again, the metallic clunk of a deadbolt sliding into place. “What’s going on? Those little shits told me they found a fucking bear cub.”

You rolled your eyes, stomping over to the door to bang on it again. “There’s no bears in Indiana, Steve, we’ve been over this.” You huffed when Steve swore and suddenly the cabin felt five times as small. “Dustin! Max!”

Silence.

“Then how’d they get you here, huh?” Steve spat, marching over to one of the boarded windows, doing his best to push the planks free of the rusted nails. “Did they tell you Hargrove was wet and waiting or something?”

You stared at him, gaze withering as you attempted to ram your shoulder into the door. It did nothing but bruise your arm and your ego, the wood refusing to move. “Get over yourself, Steve. Just because you’re happy to let Chrissy follow you around with her pom-poms out, doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump the next guy I see. Lucas! I know you’re still there! El, open the door!”

The space outside the cabin was silent and for a horrified second, you were almost sure the kids had left.

“I told you, it’s not like that,” Steve growled, slamming his palm into the board one more time.

“Yeah, well, despite me being repulsed by Billy Hargrove for the last five years, you don’t seem to get that it’s not like that either,” your voice was poisonous, your glare just as deadly. “So let’s not play that game, Harrington.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh, forgetting about his escape plan to round on you instead. “Oh, so it’s Harrington again, is it?”

[EXILE BY TAYLOR SWIFT FT. BON IVER]

It felt awfully familiar, the sharpness in his tone, the mocking laughter, the way he glared at you. ‘Cause despite the anger, the annoyance, the frustration, a tension was still there that you’d recognised from your first year at camp with Steve.

A feeling that followed you home to Hawkins, one that greeted you every time you bumped into the boy in the supermarket, every time you spotted him at the pool, the arcade, the bowling alley. A tension that fizzed and popped, your own personal storm that crackled everytime Steve Harrington was near.

Except now - just like the beginning - you weren’t able to do anything about it.

“I can think of names that are a lot less nice than that,” you snapped back, turning away from the door to face him. “Take your pick, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you would, princess,” Steve was closer now, toe to toe, another achingly familiar position. You could smell his cologne, his sunscreen. You could see the way new freckles had gathered across the bridge of his nose. “No need to get bitchy about it though.”

All thoughts of kissing him, of lunging forward and pushing your lips to his to try and end this mess - to fix it - left your head at his words. You gaped at him, anger rising, blood boiling. Steve looked at you like he knew he’d overstepped.

“Bitchy?” You repeated, your voice getting higher in pitch and volume. “About it? It?”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“What’s ‘it’ Steve?” You steamrolled him, arms crossed over your chest as you took another step forward, your converse kicking at the toes of his sneakers. “Our breakup? I'm not to get bitchy about that?”

“Hey, you’re the one who broke up with me,” Steve shot back, an accusatory finger pointed in your direction. “So don’t act all high and mighty about it.”

“I broke up with you?” You scoffed, letting the annoyance buzz at your skin like a swarm of wasps, anything to stop yourself from crying. “You’re leaving, Steve. You’re leaving me, remember?”

“You left me the other night!” Steve burst out, throwing back his response like it was suddenly a competition, a contest to see who hurt the other more. To see who’s heart was the most broken. “You left. I woke up, and you were fucking gone, so don’t start yelling about being left alone.”

You weren’t sure who was winning.

“You’re moving across the fucking country!” You yelled, finally snapping, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “You’re really, really leaving me.”

You took a step back then, and another and another, clumsy through the cabin until your back hit a table. Steve’s hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach out, like he wanted you to hold onto it. He didn’t move.

“What do you want me to do?” Steve said, his voice more serious than you’d ever heard it. In fact, he sounded a little like his dad. “You want me to say no to him? Huh? D’you want me to say fuck it to the last opportunity I’ll probably ever get? Want me to stay unsuccessful with a shit job and a shit wage and just hope one day I can do enough for you? For us?”

Your eyes turned watery at that, despite the anger his words ignited in you, the frustration. “You’ve always been enough for me, Steve.”

The boy came closer then, like he’d wanted to. His footsteps were unsure, nervous and slow, but when he realised you weren’t backing away, you weren’t running, he was suddenly toe to toe. He was taller, tall enough for you to have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze and you didn’t try to hide your tears. You held your head proud instead, refusing to look away. Your stubbornness made the boy smile, a little knowing, a little sad. ‘Cause he wanted to wipe your eyes, sweep his thumb under your lash line and pull you close.

“So what do I do, princess? Rip up the acceptance letter and mail the pieces to my dad? Hope he doesn’t kick me out of the family? Hope I have a bed to go back to? Do I get down on my knees for you here? Do I beg for you? Do I ask you to be mine again and hope to fuck that what ever comes next works out for us? Do I go back to Family Video and wait for you to work out what you wanna do with your life too?”

Steve wasn’t teary eyed like you were, but his expression seemed worse. His brows knitted together, his gaze helpless, sad, worried. But his hands were frantic, suddenly on your waist and pulling you close, chests bumping, his fingers twisting into your shirt.

“Do I kiss you now? Do I fuck you over this table and call you princess? Tell you that-- that,” Steve choked on his words, shaking his head at you like you were the one asking for him to say it. To admit it. “To tell you that I love you and it’s gonna be fine no matter what?”

You could help but feel the pull in your stomach at his words, the hook there that seemed to be tied to the way Steve kept his hands on you, your body pressed against his. He leaned in and you kept your eyes on his, noses bumping, lips hovering. It seemed so long since you’d last kissed him, years and years and years. You wondered what would happen if you gave in, if you pushed yourself onto your toes and pressed your mouth to his. Would it fix things? Would it change his mind, would it change yours? Would it make you feel better, even just for a second?

“Are you happy?” you asked the boy instead and you watched his bravado crumble in front of your eyes. “Are you happy about Arizona? About college? About finance and your future and leaving?”

Steve let go of you and stepped back, his warmth and the smell of his cologne fading. You should’ve stopped talking, you should’ve pulled him back and kissed him one last time, let him pull off your clothes, clumsy and desperate, you should’ve begged for him to make you come one last time, you should’ve made him feel so good that he’d never forget the way you felt wrapped around him.

“Would you be happy if I came with you? If I let your dad buy us some condo in Phoenix? If I went to college too, to study a major I didn’t want? Maybe get a job in an office where I gotta wear some tight, little pencil skirt and too high heels, but shit, it’s good money, right?” You were breathing harder now, trying not to cry, trying not to give in and say fuck it to all of it. “Would that make you happy, Steve?”

‘No,’ he wanted to say. ‘No it wouldn’t.’ He wanted to tell you that he wanted none of that, that none of that would make him feel any better. He wanted to yell out and kick the wall, kick the door. He wanted to grab you and pull you close, ask you to kiss him until he felt better, until he had enough courage to tell his dad that he wasn’t fucking following his rules. Until he felt brave enough to take your hand and let the pieces fall where they may.

Instead, he turned and made his way to the door, opening it easily, like the kids had heard enough and realised that this wasn’t going to work. Steve stopped then, his back to you as he paused in the doorframe, the forest empty and quiet before him. Like it was waiting for him, like you were.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Steve murmured sadly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I just want you to be happy, Steve,” you whispered back. “I want you to do what makes you happy.”

Steve walked away.

—————

Steve didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to get away from the cabin, from you, from the way you looked at him, the way you sounded. Like you were broken and hurt and it was all his fault.

Like he couldn’t do anything about it.

He passed the kids who were lingering by a broken log, kicking stones and looking guilty. Steve didn’t say anything, just tried to smile a little sadly at Dustin when he mouthed an apology, eyes wide and sad.

The wild roots and the overgrown bushes eventually gave way back to the normality of the camp, well worn pathways and the sounds of the lake. If you’d followed him, Steve didn’t know, he didn’t hear, he didn’t look back. His father’s voice was in his head, an echo from weeks before, a mantra about what it took to become a man, six figure paychecks and the white picket fence dream.

He didn’t want to go to Arizona. He didn’t want to leave you.

Steve kept walking.

A fast car, an office with a view, a mahogany desk, a custom leather briefcase, a pretty wife and a prettier secretary. Kids you didn’t talk to, a cheque book you could bargain with, a house that was bigger than your neighbours, a pool out back that was deeper than everyone else’s.

Steve kept walking.

A promotion, golf on the weekends with your boss, business cards with your name embossed in gold. Arguments at Christmas, couples therapy on your tenth wedding anniversary, a secret email address for the woman nobody knew about.

Steve kept walking.

A life like his dad’s, his parent’s.

“Is that you, Harrington?”

Steve groaned, turning to see Billy walking up the dock and towards him. The kids in Billy’s swim group were just leaving, variations of soaking wet and shivering as they all ran past Steve with towels bundled around their shoulders, greeting him with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Steve huffed, levelling the other boy with a glare that told the other counsellor that he was less than pleased to see him. Steve waited until the last camper ran past them, stumbling towards the mess hall with wet feet. “Don’t cream your pants.”

Billy grinned, that wide spreading smile that made him look more dangerous rather than friendly. He was spinning his whistle from one finger, shirtless and tanned, sauntering towards Steve like he had all the time in the world. “I’ll try not to,” he snarked, eyebrows raised. “But word on the street is you’re the one who’s not gettin’ any.”

“Get fucked, Hargrove,” Steve snarled, immediately on edge, shouldering his way past the other boy so he could continue walking to god knows where. Maybe he’d find Eddie. Maybe he’d let him sulk in the corner of the music cabin.

“Always trying,” Billy answered gleefully, ignoring Steve’s bad mood. “What about your girl?”

Steve stopped.

“My bad, she’s not your girl anymore, is she?” Steve didn’t need to turn back around to know Billy was still grinning. He could hear the laughter in his voice, the pleasure at his twisted words. “Either way, I’m pretty sure she’ll be gagging for it by now, right? You guys were always at it. In the gym, your cabin, fuck— I bet she’ll jump on the next guy who offers—”

If Steve was surprised he let Billy talk that long before launching himself at him, well, so was Billy. Steve’s fist landed on the other boy’s jaw with a crunch, a satisfyingly, sickening noise that only urged Steve on. He managed to grapple at the boy pushing him over until Billy tumbled into the dirt, skin smeared with wet sand and pine needles.

It didn’t take much for Steve to land on top of him, anger and frustration coming out as quickly as the blood from his knuckles. He managed to aim one more blow at Billy’s nose before the boy pushed him back, the breath knocked from Steve’s lungs as a fist caught his cheekbone, a crack resonating through his face, making his head buzz, his ears ring. He let out a yell as he tried to bring his knee up, catching Billy in the groin with it, pushing him back even as Billy tried his best to push Steve’s head into the forest floor, pine cones piercing his shoulders, his neck, his cheek.

And then the pressure was lifted from his chest as Billy was hauled away, tattooed arms lifting the boy off of Steve, Eddie yelling obscenities as Billy thrashed.

Steve scrambled up, launching himself forward without a care, ignoring Eddie’s warnings as he raised his arm again to try and land another hit but Jonathan caught his wrist, wrenching him backwards.

“Fuck, man. Let it go, yeah?”

Steve was panting, blood on his knuckles, a split in his cheek that was angry and red, pine needles and sand on his shirt and in his hair. “You didn’t hear what he was saying,” the boy managed to ground out. “What he was sayin’ about, about—”

“She’s not your fucking girl, Harrington,” Billy yelled, cursing when Eddie elbowed him in the side, never letting go of the hold he had on him. “The only person you’re gettin’ fucked by now is your daddy—”

Steve managed one more hit, a crack to Billy’s nose that Eddie winced at but said nothing. Unfortunately, Hopper had a lot to add to the conversation as he marched towards the group, yelling before he was even within hearing distance, moustache twitching as the campers that Steve didn’t even see, parted as he got closer.

“Harrington! Hargrove!”

Eddie and Jonathan stepped back from the accused, hands raised to show their intact knuckles, how their hands were clean, not bloodied.

“My office! Now!”

—————

Eddie jumped up from where he was lying on his bunk when Steve finally entered the cabin. The boy was flustered looking, knuckles wiped clean of blood but the cuts on his fingers and face were angry looking, red and fresh.

Hours had passed since Hopper had led the two boys into his office, both covered in blood and pieces of the forest floor, glaring at each other as they walked into the cabin.

Steve stripped off his dirty shirt as Eddie eyed him warily, dropping the comic he’d been reading in order to sit at the end of his bed and wait. When Steve finally pulled on a clean staff shirt and sighed, Eddie threw him an ice pack that he’d managed to wrangle from Joyce’s office.

“Did he fire you?”

“He offered me a job.”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

Steve groaned, letting himself fall onto the bed, his hands scrubbing at his face, hissing when he caught the Billy inflicted cut on his cheekbone. “He offered me a fucking job, dude. Didn’t even yell.”

“Like, a new job? An actual job?” Eddie moved to the end of Steve’s bed, shoving at his friend's legs until there was enough room for him to sit. “What the fuck?”

“He dealt with Hargrove and told him to walk it off,” Steve murmured, wincing when he brought the ice pack to his face. “Then he sat me down and asked me what the fuck I was playing at. He wasn’t even mad about the fight, he told me he’d heard about Arizona—‘bout my dad.”

Eddie just waited, breath held as he wondered where this was going, if Steve was going to crack.

“He said it was a real shame I wouldn’t be back next summer and that it was an even bigger crime that I was listening to Michael Harrington.”

Eddie’s mouth fell open and he picked at the bedspread, suddenly feeling awkward. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Shit. Told me he knew my dad from school, apparently they played football together or somethin’. Said he was sad that I was doing something I didn’t wanna do.”

Eddie paused then, waiting. Waiting for Steve to admit it to him the same way he’d get to admit it to himself. “What did you say?”

“Nothing at first.” Steve shrugged. “But he sat and stared me out like some kinda cop and fuck, I dunno. I started rambling.”

With raised brows and an expectant expression, Eddie waved his hand at the boy. “About?”

Steve squirmed, pink cheeked and embarrassed. He stared at the bedsheets, shrugging. “Everything, I guess. Anyway, he said he and Murray have been planning to open this kids club thing for a while, some kind of community centre. S’open seven days a week, all through the year. Not just summer.”

Steve stood up then, pacing, his hand going to his hair to pull ag the strands and Eddie had to turn to watch him, up and down, up and down the cabin.

“He wants me to run it.”

“Shit,” Eddie was quiet, shocked.

“Shit,” Steve agreed.

“Like, a manager?”

“Yeah, like a manager. Full time.” Steve let out another sigh and he sounded tense. Stressed. “It’s in Shelbyville.”

Eddie let out a low whistle, flopping back onto the space Steve had vacated. His head hit the pillows and he smiled, unable to help himself. “That’s near Hawkins, right?”

“‘Bout a half hour out,” Steve confirmed.

“Hell of a lot closer than Arizona, huh?”

“Yeah, sure is.”

“So, he offered you it, just like that?” Eddie snapped his fingers and stared at the beams across the ceiling, not sure how far he could push Steve. “No degree needed?”

“No degree needed,” Steve repeated. He sounded dazed. “Good pay, healthcare, dental, pension. Everything. Hop said he thought I’d be really good at it. That he couldn’t imagine asking anyone else.”

Steve didn’t say anything about how his manager’s words made him realise that his dad didn’t know him at all. Less than he’d originally thought.

Silence took over, just for a few minutes and Steve did the same as Eddie, flopping down onto the other bunk with a soft ‘oof’, his arms stretched out the mattress and his eyes trained on the ceiling. In the quiet, he could hear the kids by the lake, wrestled into order by another staff member, someone who sounded like Nancy. A whistle blew, shrill and sharp and then splashes, happy shrieks. Steve lay until the sun warmed his face, until he had to squint and sit up, the cabin filled with that golden kind of light that only appeared around dinner time.

The same light hit off Eddie’s rings, silver turning even brighter and rainbows bounced off of them, tiny and scattering across the walls when Eddie moved. He sat up when Steve did, both boys peach and pink coloured in the sun.

“So, what’re you gonna do?” Eddie finally asked. He said it softly, like he was scared to ask, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“I’m not sure,” Steve replied honestly and he didn’t try to hide the distress on his features. He felt tired, too heavy. A little lost. “But I don’t want to fucking go to Arizona.”

PART TWO

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