#also thank you for noticing argyle

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter two ⭐︎ I want you to notice, when I'm not around

Warnings: angst! mean!Steve, unrequited feelings, one sided feelings, mentions of Steve being in love with Nancy, mentions of death, allusions to suicidal thoughts, mentions of weed and alcohol

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

Author's note: I promise, it's gonna get so much better soon, get ready for some much more angst in the next chapter, it's gonna hurt. @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, you're the bestest!!!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next chapter

♡

The living room is crowded, at least it seems that way to you. You aren’t used to being around so many people. You didn’t want to come here, but you had no choice when both Eddie and Robin had showed up at your house earlier today and practically forced you out of the house.

Now you sit here, sinking deeper and deeper into Steve Harrington’s couch, feeling uncomfortable and out of place. You’re playing with the loose string on the hem of your shirt as you look around the room. Robin is snacking on the m&m’s Eddie had brought as she’s looking through the pictures Jonathan had taken of her and Nancy just now. Eddie is out on the patio, smoking a cigarette and talking to Argyle who will leave for California in two days. Jonathan is staring at the screen watching some music video that is playing on the MTV channel, his pupils are blown and his eyes seem heavy, he is high out of his mind and for once, Nancy doesn’t seem to care, with her legs thrown over his thigh, she’s sipping on the beer that Steve handed to her a few minutes back, she is talking to Robin, unaware of the set of eyes on her. 

You restrain the eye roll as you look at him. 

Steve is sitting on the same couch you do, though with a big distance, you sit at one end and he on the other, far far away from you. You know he doesn’t want you here, you saw the look on his face when Eddie had dragged you into his house, a wave of something had washed over his face, something unpleasant, like he wanted to scrunch his face up in disgust at the sight of you – his mind had already erased your little moment at the Sinclair house, last week. Now you are back to normal. He made a comment, you made a comment and now you both sit there, avoiding each other like the plague. 

Secretly, you watch him though. 

Like you always do. 

And what you are seeing now, only fuels your annoyance and your wish to go home. 

The smile on his face that could never be directed at you, is directed at her. The love and the longing in his eyes that always lingers when she is around. She who had stolen his heart from the very first moment they saw each other. She who had always kept his heart even when she left him for the one she is smiling at now. She who will always be the one he will look at. 

You thought that he was over it, you thought that he was over her. But you were a little blind and maybe he was too when he told Robin that he was over her. He never was, he never will be. You saw the way he looked at her when she patched him up after he was attacked. You saw the way he looked at her in the RV. You heard the things he said to her, how he talked about his dreams that he surely saw her in by his side. 

You also heard the things he said about you when he thought that you were sleeping. You still remember how gut wrenching it felt to hear him say things about you to his ex-girlfriend. 

You huff in silence when his lips curl into a smile and his eyes light up when Nancy throws her head back in laughter. 

God, why are you even here? 

Eddie falls into the seat next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulder. It feels as though a cloud of smoke had followed him because suddenly, the smell of snacks, fresh air and beer is replaced by it, along with the smell of his cologne.

Right. You’re here because of him. You don’t know why he feels the urge to drag you along to every group hang out. No one wants you around, you don’t even think that Robin wants you here, she barely talked to you since you came here. And the longer you sit in Steve’s living room, with an untouched can of coke on the table in front of you, surrounded by people who most likely cannot stand you or your presence, you wish more and more that Jason should have dragged you down with him. 

You don’t belong here, you don’t belong anywhere. 

Eddie takes a look around before he turns to you, the smile still lingering, though turning into a softer one when he notices the frown on your face. 

“What’s wrong, sweets?” 

You shake your head a little, trying to give him a smile, “nothing.” 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, whispering. 

You wonder if that is the reason why he always wants you around, so he can keep checking up on you, so he can make sure that you are okay, that you are still alive and not lying in some ditch after pushing yourself a little too hard while still recovering from surgery. 

Does he care so much because he knows that no one else would? 

Or does he feel like he owes you something because you helped him when it wasn’t even asked of you? 

You nod, “yeah, I just don’t know why I’m here,” you whisper to him, subtly gesturing to this tight friend group that you don’t fit into. 

Eddie is new to this as well, but unlike you, he’s open and friendly with everyone. He surely isn’t as cheerful as he was weeks back. Just like you, he is still recovering, hiding his inner scars from the face of the earth but still, he is trying. Trying to fit into this, and for him, it’s working, for you? Not so much. 

“Well, you’re here because of me,” he grins, tapping your shoulder. 

You huff but smile, looking down at your hands. 

Yeah, you wouldn’t be here otherwise. 

Had you not gone on a walk that one afternoon a few weeks back, you would have never ran into him. Eddie who had been a wanted man at that time, Eddie who was hiding at skull rock, in drenched clothes and with clattering teeth as he shivered like crazy. You remember how scared he looked when you saw him, how he thought that you would rat him out because at that time, you were nothing but acquaintances to each other. – You bought from him a few times but that was all. He always tried to make small talk, throw a few jokes at you, but at that time, he barely got you to laugh. 

You didn’t believe the rumors on the news, not even for a second, not even when Chrissy used to be a close friend of yours. 

You decided to help him, not knowing what else you were getting yourself into, not knowing that it wasn’t just him involved in a world you hadn’t known of yet, at that time. You got him dry clothes, food and the walkie talkie he had begged you for. 

You never expected Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson to show up moments later, though. And least of all, you hadn’t expected Max there. It felt like a surreal dream the moment they started explaining everything to you. The moment you found out the truth about Starcourt, about all the deaths in this town, about the lab, about Henry. 

You had only been allowed to be a part of it because of Max, because of your friendship with the girl you had grown protective of, because she let you help. 

The night in the upside down, the night at the Creel house led you here, into this friend group, into Steve’s house where you certainly don’t belong. 

You don’t know what that nagging yet empty feeling in your chest is, if it’s the trauma that is slowly catching up to you or if it’s from watching him watch her, or if you’re just simply having a bad day but it’s making you feel sick and restless, you want the ground to swallow you up. 

You muster up your greatest smile and flash it at Eddie, “yeah, cause you’re my very best friend.”

He snorts at you, hearing the sarcasm in your voice. 

“Your only best friend is Red.” 

You smile at his nickname for Max. 

“Hey Chica, do you wanna smoke this with me?” 

You don’t even pay attention or look up, not until Eddie chuckles and nudges your shoulder, raising his eyebrows at you to look up and when you do, you find Argyle looking at you with a dopey smile on his face as he holds up a blunt to you. 

Without thinking, you get up with a smile on your lips, “is that even a question?” 

It’s been a long time since you have had anything other than medication in your system, you are in dire need of something that will ease your mind and make you feel more than what you are feeling today. 

You fail to notice the disapproving look on Steve’s face, the way he tensely straightens up, slowly getting up as his brows knit together, more and more, watching in disbelief how you make your way over to Argyle. 

“What the hell, Blondie!?” 

His raised voice startles everyone in the room. Robin looks up from the polaroids in her hands, glancing up at her best friend who is staring at you with angry eyes. Nancy and Jonathan turn to look at Steve before they turn to look at what he is glaring at – or who he is glaring at. 

Argyle and Eddie turn to Steve with confusion on their faces. 

And you, you halt in your tracks, and turn back slowly. Caught off guard by the intense look on his face, you freeze. 

“Are you crazy?” 

You open your mouth to speak, though you shut your mouth again when you realize that these words aren’t directed at you, they’re directed at Argyle. 

“She can’t smoke or drink! Her doctor said it loud and clear, and I warned you before!” He points at him. 

You’re taken aback by his anger, by his words. The fact that he remembered when even you, yourself have forgotten about it. You hate the way your heart flutters at that, you hate the way it makes your stomach feel all tingly. You know that it doesn’t mean anything, just because he remembered. 

You see the way Argyle’s face drops and the way he smacks himself on his forehead, “I forgot, I’m sorry, man,” he looks at you, pulling away the blunt he was just about to give to you. “Sorry, he told me… I wasn’t thinking.” He whispers, a little uncomfortably as a funny look takes over his face. 

Steve warned him? 

“Dude, I forgot too, don’t worry about it,” you pat his arm, giving him an apologetic smile. “Don’t mind mother hen over there, he’s overreacting as always.” You say as though you don’t feel your heart racing over Steve’s outburst. 

“And you.” 

You instantly turn to face him, just like everyone else in the room who watches the scene unfold with curiosity and confusion on their faces. 

You meet his hazel eyes, the ones that are still raging. 

“Stop being so fucking careless!” He snaps, pointing his finger at you now. “You’re getting on my goddamn nerves.” 

He places his hands back on his hips, huffing loudly. 

Your cheeks flush under his gaze, you can feel them burning, your heart beating faster and faster. You don’t know how to feel but all you can think about now is the look in his eyes when he realized that he hurt you back at Lucas’s place the other day, the words he had said to you. 

Despite the giddiness inside of you, you hide your feelings behind a smirk. 

“Wow, you do worry about me, Harrington. You weren’t lying.” 

He squints his eyes at you, nodding at your words with another huff. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. 

Everyone is looking between the two of you, waiting for the bickering to start, the way it always does, but Steve manages to bite his tongue. 

And you surprise the others by holding back your little remarks. 

“And fucking relax, leave Argyle alone, he isn’t responsible for me and neither are you, Lego head. Go and get high, you need to calm down.” 

Jonathan snorts at the nickname, he throws his head back, chuckling loudly as he mumbles ‘Lego head’. Argyle, who already had one too many drags of the blunt he passed around before, is barely holding himself together, threatening to burst into laughter too. 

Steve shoots Jonathan a glare, pointing at him to shut up. 

Nancy looks down, pressing her lips together with an amused look in her eyes. 

Eddie drinks his beer, hiding the smirk behind the can, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Sit your ass down, Blondie and drink your goddamn coke, don’t even think about weed or–”

“No weed, no beer, just fucking coca cola, got it, mom,” you roll your eyes at him and slump back in your previous seat, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He sighs loudly, sitting back down as well, he crosses his legs, giving you the side eye. 

“Goddamn brat,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“I heard that.” 

“Good,” he snaps at you. 

There is no tension in the room, not even awkwardness after this weird moment. If anything, everyone is still amused. 

“Always bickering like an old married couple,” Eddie snickers. 

Steve glares at him, and you, you would have dug your elbow into his side, but he is wounded and still healing. The band aids on his neck are the evidence that they are still bad. He is hiding him, and you wonder if he always will, you ask yourself if he will hide his pain the way you hide yours. 

You don’t even notice that Robin left the room, only when everyone moves on from what just happened and chatter fills the space again, do you take a look around. You furrow your brows when you find her spot empty. 

Argyle and Jonathan leave the room, stepping out into the garden with Nancy following close behind. 

“Are you still in for tomorrow?” You hear Eddie, directing his question at Steve. 

“Yeah, sure.”

You don’t bother to ask and find out what their plans are. 

Robin walks back into her room, with something in her hand. Her eyes are aimed at you, a smile on her lips when she walks towards you. She hands you a drink, a diet pepsi. 

“Here.” 

Your lips part as you stare at the can for a long moment, blinking. You tilt your chin up, looking up at her with big eyes. 

Her smile falls and a frown takes over, “shit, I thought you liked diet pepsi? Was it original?” 

You shake your head at her, taking the can from her hand, “n-no, it’s diet pepsi.” 

She paid attention to you. 

She smiles at you. 

She felt bad watching you sit there and being unable to drink beer or smoke weed with the others. And she remembers that you always asked for pepsi when you were still in the hospital, you hated the teas there and despised the fact that you were only allowed water. 

“I thought you liked coke, Blondie.”

Robin rolls her eyes at Steve. 

“It’s not my favorite,” you shrug, turning to look at him. “I prefer pepsi.” 

He squints his eyes at you, “so when you stole my coke the other day, you did it just to–”

“Get back at you, yeah. Cause you stole my coffee.” 

“When did he steal your coffee?” Robin asks. 

“When I came to family video to rent a movie–”

“Oh, you little liar,” Steve scoffs at you, “she did not rent a movie, she didn’t even come to look for one.”

A smirk tugs at your lips, if there’s something that you love more than the drink in your hand, it’s to get on his nerves. 

“Says who? I really wanted one but the customer service sucks when this one isn’t around,” you point at Robin. 

Eddie chuckles, turning to look at Steve who is glaring at you, before a smirk appears on his face, his hazel eyes twinkling with smugness. 

“You and I both know that you didn’t want to rent a movie, honey. You were there because you wanted to see me,” he says, cockily as he lets his eyes move from your face, down to your body and back up to meet your eyes. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the way he just looked at you. You don’t squirm in your seat, but you surely would if the others weren’t around. You grow flustered beneath his stare but you have come to learn how to hide it – Steve Harrington will never see you blushing over him. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you did just want to see him, because you always do, you always want to see him. No matter how much he hates you, no matter how much he despises you, you can’t help but want him, even if you continue to lie about it to yourself to stay sane. 

Steve Harrington had always been your demise – from the first glance. 

You couldn’t help but grow fascinated with him, watching him from afar with eyes the shape of your favorite sunglasses. You couldn’t help but care for him, even when he couldn’t stand you. 

Sometimes you feel like a creep, watching him and adoring everything about him, from his sun kissed skin, to his beautiful eyes, to his perfect hair, to that one smile that he blesses only those around him that he cares about – something that you will never get. 

Sometimes it’s hard to look into his eyes because every time you do look for a little too long, you feel like dying because suddenly, you see the world with different eyes, you see something beautiful, because he is in it and when you look away, when he is gone, it feels anything but.

Steve wouldn’t even bat an eye if you were gone. He wouldn’t even notice if you weren’t around. 

Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed by the way he looks at you, by his presence, by all of this. You are in his space, you are invading, his home, his friend group, his safe place. The reminder of it, that you don’t belong here, lies heavy on your heart and you feel the urge to run away but you cannot give yourself away so easily, knowing that it would be awfully noticeable if you suddenly left after what he just said. 

So you put on a mask, the way you always do. 

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you smirk, tilting your head at him, “I mean no one else would come to see you, I took pity on you.” 

He clenches his jaw, his smirk falling into a frown. 

“Keep your pity to yourself, Blondie. I’d rather never see you again than see you when I don’t have to.”

You know how he feels about you, you know what he thinks of you, yet every single insult, every jab at you feels like a punch to your gut. But this, this was a punch to your heart. 

You know he wouldn’t grieve you if you died at the Creel house, but to know that he might have felt relieved to never having to see you again, hurts you more than you want to admit. 

“What the hell, man?” Eddie snaps at him as his brown eyes fill with anger at his words. 

Robin rolls her eyes, shaking her head at Steve in disappointment. 

But he keeps his eyes on you, struggling to read you, struggling to look past that smirk that is still going strong. 

“Well, I’ll put you out of your misery, Lego head,” you say as you place the drink on the table before you get up. 

Robin furrows her brows, looking you up and down, “what are you doing?” 

“I’m leaving.” You try not to sound bitter or hurt. “I’m getting tired and I forgot my meds at home.” 

Steve looks away from you, feeling a rush of guilt. 

“I’ll drive you–”

You cut Eddie off, shaking your head at him, “no, I’m gonna walk, I need some fresh air.”

Eddie looks at you worriedly, “sweets, I don’t want you to walk by yourself.”

“Eddie, I’m okay, I don’t get dizzy anymore,” you say, trying to smile at him. “I promise, I’ll call you later tonight.” 

He still looks unsure, not wanting to let you go like this. 

But he can tell that you want to be alone, right now, so despite his worry, he leans back again and nods begrudgingly. 

“Okay..” 

You walk out of the room, biting back the bitterness on your tongue, trying to swallow down the pain. You rush through the hallway and open the door, you only manage to take one step out before you hear footsteps behind you. 

You roll your eyes, knowing that Eddie being the stubborn guy that he is will try to convince you to stay, but when you turn around, it’s not Eddie’s brown eyes that you find yourself looking into, it’s Steve’s and it catches you off guard a little. 

He stops in front of you, his eyes scan your face and he huffs a little when he runs his fingers through his hair. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’s guilt and worry in his eyes. 

You hold onto the door, ready to escape whatever pain he will put you through again.

“Listen uh, that was mean,” he starts, now struggling to look into your eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, tugging at his hair. “I shouldn’t have said that.” 

You blink.

You swallow as you keep on looking at him with smugness, to hide the pain. 

“It’s okay, no need to hide the truth from me, you were just saying what you were feeling, right?” 

He opens his eyes and when he faces you again, he looks at you, really looks at you. He tries to find a hint of pain in your features or hurt in your eyes, but there is nothing. All he can see is the coldness in them. 

Nothing he could ever do or say would hurt you – at least, that is what he believes, what he always believed. 

“Right.” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks. 

“Good,” you nod and you tear your eyes away from him, unable to look at him any longer as you feel your heart cracking more and more.

“Y-You don’t have to go, Blondie.” He stops you once again, holding himself back from taking your hand. 

You slowly turn around and he still struggles to read you, even when you stop smirking, even when you only look at him with a straight face, not saying anything back. 

“But if you want to leave, no one’s gonna stop you.”

You see the indifference in his eyes, the coldness that is only there when he looks at you. 

Yeah, you know no one would. 

How can you care so much about someone that cares so little about you? 

How can you want him so bad when all he wants for you is to disappear? 

How can he worry one second and hate you in the other? 

How can you long for him after every hurtful thing that he said to you? 

You take a step away from him, blinking as you feel your eyes starting to burn. 

“Bye, Steve.” 

You turn around before he can even open his mouth, and you slam the door shut behind you because you don’t want to hear his voice. 

You walk away with tears in your eyes. 

You wish you didn’t come here today, every moment spent with him makes you want him even more, makes you hate yourself even more. 

You don’t go home, no, you can’t stand to be in a house that resembles nothing but loss. 

You turn the other way, towards Hawkins cemetery. 

You just need to vent. 

Even if only into the void. 

♡

tagging only friends & mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @livosssblog

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up. 

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well? 

DINGUS: so it seemed. 

ARGYLE  😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour. 

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe. 

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance? 

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next? 

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve. 

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first. 

He’s making no move to get up off the floor. 

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.” 

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through. 

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious. 

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you. 

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion. 

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?” 

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.” 

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything. 

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.” 

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.” 

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.” 

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms. 

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush? 

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively. 

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.” 

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.” 

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit. 

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?” 

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better. 

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.” 

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.” 

“Then consider this your notice.” 

Is this what I had always been missing out on? 

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning. 

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?” 

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.” 

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.” 

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you. 

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there. 

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home. 

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really. 

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions. 

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation. 

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.” 

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?” 

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?” 

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?” 

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.” 

“What have you guys been doing?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.” 

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?” 

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says. 

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.” 

“Am I?” 

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder. 

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.” 

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“ 

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.” 

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.” 

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.” 

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet. 

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.” 

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket. 

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.” 

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over. 

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now. 

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around. 

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.” 

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night. 

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly. 

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center. 

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well. 

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it. 

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches. 

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now. 

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now. 

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.” 

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.” 

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.” 

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?” 

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t. 

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing. 

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it. 

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to. 

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave. 

Eddie’s quick to follow. 

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure. 

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C. 

Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

But it sure does feel like it. 

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave. 

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you. 

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?” 

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?” 

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck. 

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.” 

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you. 

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Time. You two needed time apart. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet. 

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away. 

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful. 

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went. 

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart. 

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.” 

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat. 

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind? 

That wasn’t really complicated. 

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.” 

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes. 

You wish you would have kissed him. 

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-” 

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend. 

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours. 

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be. 

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems. 

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted. 

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Rough’s a good way to put it. 

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it. 

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend. 

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy. 

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress. 

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie. 

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along. 

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless. 

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration. 

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again. 

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two.  And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s. 

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two. 

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him. 

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time. 

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to. 

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears. 

EDDIE: Make it home okay? 

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now. 

YOU: yep. my roommate just left. 

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember? 

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud. 

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone. 

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams. 

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care. 

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened. 

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now. 

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds. 

EDDIE: Ah. I see. 

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over? 

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems. 

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down. 

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours. 

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos. 

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you. 

YOU: About what? 

EDDIE: I’m not home right now. 

Your heart clenches. 

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not. 

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere. 

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is. 

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step. 

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you. 

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues. 

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist. 

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.” 

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter. 

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool. 

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?” 

“Start over?” you question wearily. 

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.” 

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.” 

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you. 

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss. 

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?” 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” 

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home. 

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.” 

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #this feels so surreal to post jesus christ #thank you guys genuinely for all the love #i will be making a sappy post before i post the epilogue on thursday #i just #wow #yeah #i did it #again #i finished a fucking fic

[strangersteddierthings]

In the 19 years Steve's lived in this house, never once has he slammed his front door like that. Too scared of his parents' wrath should it have caused any damage.

It feels good.

He almost turns around to do it again, a fuck you to his parents and every decision they ever forced on him, but then he remembers. They're all in there. Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Eddie, Robin. In his living room, making declarations and decisions about Steve's life for him. Or, well, one of them is.

Like his parents do. Did?

He didn't grab his keys, wallet, or even his coat, but he's not going back for them. It's cold, sure, but Steve's sure his anger will keep him warm until he reaches a destination. Any destination.

He just doesn't understand why- Why they keep doing this to him.

Why he keeps letting them.

No. No, that's a lie. He keeps letting them because he knows, deep down, he's not a fighter. Not for himself.

He'll put himself between the ones he loves and danger in a heartbeat; he's done that since the first time he watched a petal-faced monster peel its way out of the Byers' wall in '83.

But his parents trained the fight right out of him when it came to himself. It was easier to not argue, to just do what they wanted. They'd smile at him when he was good. They'd take him with on shorter business trips when he behaved. His mom would even allow a quick hug if he impressed a shareholder with how well-mannered and quiet he was.

He won their affections with obedience.

He's never- Nancy and he love each other now, but in the same way they all love each other after having survived the horrors the Upside Down. But Nancy never loved him the way he'd once loved her. That was bullshit.

Even Robin and Dustin. He knows they love him now. Will love him forever, going forward, but both had admitted to having a predetermined idea of who Steve was and what he was like and they weren't wrong but they also weren't right because Steve's never been Steve a goddamn day in his life.

Steve hadn't even known Steve until monsters came into his life.

The way everyone used to refer to him as the Steve Harrington was a judgement all its own. A thing that he was, and had no say to be otherwise.

Even Eddie, in the Upside Down, and now, in his own house.

Steve finally feels like he might be becoming who he really is and he's surrounded by friends and it just made him stupid. He'd thought it was confidence, when he pulled Eddie aside to talk, to confess, but then-

Eddie telling him he's confused. Like Steve is a child learning new concepts and not an adult who has been questioning how he feels about men since he first noticed other boys in middle school.

Eddie telling him, 'you don't want this, man. Not really.'

It's not fair.

Robin came out to him, and he'd just wanted to make her laugh so she would quit looking so scared. Eddie came out to him, and Steve had thanked him for trusting him. Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle confess to all dating each other and Steve congratulated them. But Steve comes out and gets told he's confused?

And Steve didn't even refute it. Just got so hurt he couldn't be there anymore. Left his own house because he'd told Eddie he had a crush on him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date sometime and Eddie said no and told him he was confused.

Eddie doesn't get to decide that for Steve! No one but himself can decide if he like guys or not. No one gets to tell him he's confused about what he's feeling.

It's- that's bullshit, is what it is!

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his house. His hurt has fully morphed to anger now.

Steve hasn't run away from a fight since '83, and he's not going to start now.

He rips his front door open and is greeted to everyone just inside the door, in various states of putting their winter clothes back on. All the faces look concerned, but he scans for Eddie's.

Eddie who looks relieved for all of two seconds, when it seems to dawn on him that Steve is angry, and it's directed at him.

"The appropriate response," Steve growls as he steps through his door and punctuates those words by slamming it shut again. (It's not as satisfying this time, because he sees how it makes his friends jump.) He barrels on with his words, eyes never leaving Eddie, "when someone comes out to you, is to say 'thanks for telling me' or perhaps even 'thanks for trusting me' or, if one is so inclined, to just say 'cool, dude' but you don't get- you don't get to tell me I'm confused!"

Eddie takes a step back, knocking directly in Argyle, who steadies him, but he doesn't say anything.

Maybe Steve should be more calm about this, given the audience, but he's not able to stop the words now that they've started. "I'm not confused, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into. You don't get to- to try and make your rejection my fault. If you don't wanna date me, just say so. But you don't get to try and tell me how I feel about you!"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Nancy trying to subtly shift herself and Jonathan away from the door, probably to get out of what really should be a private conversation, but Jonathan's a bit preoccupied by catching Robin around the waist as she lunges towards Eddie.

"What the fuck did you say, Munson!" Robin growls, arms swinging out like she's going to claw Eddie to death.

Argyle has inched back a bit, putting distance between him and Eddie in case Robin breaks free. "You dudes should probably talk this out in private."

"Byers, if you don't let me go right now-"

"Robbie, I got this," Steve says, because Robin shouldn't be turning on Jonathan when he's done nothing wrong. Robin continues to glare at Eddie for a few seconds before she makes eyes contact with Steve. He raises his brows slight -I got this- and she furrows hers -are you sure?-, so he tilts his head -yes, really- and she deflates in Jonathan's arms and allows him to drag her away.

"We'll just be in the rec room," Nancy says, looping her arm through Argyles and following after Jonathan.

Eddie doesn't bolt, which is a bit more than Steve expected. They both just stare at each other until they hear the click of the rec room door.

"Steve-"

"That was fucked up, Eddie," Steve interrupts.

"Yeah. It was," Eddie says, but doesn't offer up more, even though Steve is waiting for an apology.

"That kind of reaction is exactly why I didn't come out sooner. What would be the fucking point if no one even believed me? Or worse, if you'd given me that kind of reaction like, six months ago, I probably never admit to liking guys out loud ever again. You can't just- you can't decide this kind of shit for other people!"

"I know! I- I freaked out, and panicked, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Steve," Eddie says, and he sounds sincere and looks almost fragile while saying it that Steve loses a bit of his steam. He doesn't want to just keep yelling at Eddie.

"Yeah. Well. Thanks for apologizing," Steve mutters, crossing his arms with a huff.

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he seems to gather all his courage and says, "have I fucked everything up between us?"

"No. Not- I'm going to, like, need some time to get over my crush, but no. It's- it'll just be take time-"

"No! I mean, I can't- if you don't, uh, like me like that anymore I get it, but I- what I meant was. Well. No, I guess that answered my question."

Steve is confused, now. For real, and not about his sexuality. "What?"

"What?"

"You did it again. Deciding for me if I liked you or not."

"Shit. Fuck! Sorry," Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. "I'm fucking this up so bad."

"Than use, like, real, whole sentences and speak to me!"

"I like you!" Eddie blurts. "I have a crush on you, too, but I- I fucked it up!"

"Yeah. Kinda."

Eddie makes a really pathetic noise at that.

"Not so much we can't, like, figure it out, though," Steve offers. "Not, like, right now, because I'm hurt and angry, but like, I'm not going to stop liking you because of one fight. Not. Uh, not now that I know you like me, too."

"Oh," Eddie whispers, then frowns. "For real?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "I said it, didn't I?"

"Sorry, it's just, just good things don't happen to me. It's- I'm processing, okay."

Steve lets out a long-suffering sigh and heads towards the rec room. "If you want to leave to 'process' alone, I get it, but you're welcome to stay. We can get this party re-started and hang out."

Eddie's silent a moment, and Steve thinks he's going to ask if Steve's sure, but instead he gets a quiet, "yeah. I'd like to stay." and the sound of Eddie's footsteps following him to the rec room.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

#steddie #pre-steddie more accurately #my fic #we have a lot of fic where it feels like the miscommunication is just one character deciding how the other feels #and i LOVE that trope. The angst of it all it just *chefs kiss* #but I dont think steve would let people get away with telling him how he feels #i think hed get hurt and then angry #so i wrote it #thats a lie. this STARTED as that trope (i even warned the discord babes) but while I wanted steve to stay sad instead he got mad \: #so its not actually the story i wanted to tell but it's the one i got

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Desperation with Steve.

It started out as a funny joke, but something that obviously rang true, given Steve’s intense frustration.

“Someone needs to drain his balls,” Eddie had said with a laugh, pinching the blunt between his fingers and passing it off to Argyle.

“You backed up, bro? Can’t imagine that, you’re pretty handsome. Must have a lotta ladies around here.”

His jaw had tightened, tongue swiping back and forth in his mouth, hands on slim hips. The way that he looked, your brain had already begun to formulate a plan…

~*~

You can’t take it anymore, he’s had it. You’re lifting yourself up from your spot on the throw pillow beside Robin, motioning for Steve to follow you into your kitchen. “C’mon. Popcorn time. Come with me?”

“Yeah, he needs to. Real bitchy lately, that one.” Eddie echoes.

You fix Eddie with a stare, leaving Steve to follow.

You’re a ball of nerves, swaying back and forth on your scuffed, floral linoleum. He meets you moments later, running a hand through his tousled tresses. He’s flushed, flustered, not saying anything yet. You inhale a deep breath, reaching up and tugging beneath your skirt, panties sliding onto the floor around your ankles. He finally takes notice when you whisper his name, holding command in the word. “Steve?”

“What…?” And he doesn’t have time to finish his sentence, looking up to see you watching him beneath a hooded, yet vulnerable gaze. A confidence he’s never seen before flooding your features as you speak next.

“I can help you, if you’ll please let me?” You kick your panties aside, backing yourself towards the counter behind you. “Trust me, it’s okay.”

He bites his bottom lip between his teeth and releases with an, “Oh, fuck.” Before he’s striding across the kitchen floor and colliding with you, dragging you the rest of the way to the counter, his hands behind your knees, your toe leveling into the ground to help him get you seated.

Movements remain stifled and sloppy, one of your legs still near the floor, skirt being rucked around your waist, Steve struggling to fit in the cove where you are, and also your house phone. His eyes are dark, merely mossy shards as they meet your gaze. He grips your cheek, one hand fumbling for his belt, it clattering apart with a noise that you don’t care who hears at this point. He’s still maneuvering, grunting that he can’t, that’s it’s all so much. He needs to be inside, it aches, right down to his toes. His massive hand slaps beside your head, knocking the phone off the receiver, making you lift your other leg to tuck around his tailbone, helping him shove his jeans and boxers down.

And my Christ, it’s big. It looks painful. Wet already.

“You said it’s okay? Yeah?” He brings you back, fingers on your chin, his cheeks flushed pink. You know he’s burning up.

You end up rebuffing his offer to eat you out, settling on stuffing two fingers inside of yourself, in addition to one of his own. He’s shaking by the time you’re done, watching as you try to find something to hold onto. He drapes your hands across his neck’s nape, and presses inside at your insistence. It doesn’t take long before his teeth are gritting and he’s got you clawing his back, whining into his neck, his hips piling you into your counter. When your mouth opens to pant, his tongue lolls out to lick its way inside, kissing you sloppily, lewdly, but with precise expertise.

He thanks you with every thrust, praising how good you feel. And you just let yourself hold onto the back of his head, both legs against his perfect, perky ass, glad that he’s been bound up for months. He redresses you afterwards, cleaning you gently between your thighs, kissing every inch of exposed skin from your shoulder, across your breast, to your neck, all across your face, finally finding your mouth.

The moment that you both stroll back into the living room, poker faces failing, Eddie speaks first. “Where’s the popcorn, guys?”

Argyle beats your return statements. “Congrats, man. From what I heard, you really gave the lady your all.”

And everyone erupts into stoned applause. You and Steve share looks of embarrassment, only for his to turn into a slight smirk. Yeah, you know this won’t be the last time he renders you unable to walk the next day.

#kristenwrites #had this visual that wouldn’t leave #my work #my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington smut #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb #stranger things drabble #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction

[transvampireboyfriend]

this is the last update i had for this weekend. you can follow the tag #steddie lake fic if you wanna check for updates. thank you for reading <3

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Eddie sets up one of the picnic tables, using Argyle's gingham tablecloth and arranging the hot dogs and sandwiches he and Nancy prepared.

They find a glass water dispenser inside their cabin and Eddie makes lemonade to fill it and dumps all of the ice they bought in their last stop with it. He places that on the table too.

A soon as everything is ready, Nancy grabs some food and drinks and joins Robin and Argyle in their cards game, a few tables over.

Eddie's now heading in the opposite direction to have a cigarette while he pretends he's not watching Steve haul very heavy suitcases from his car to their cabin.

The cabin belongs to Steve's family. Steve played nice with his parents for months so they would let them all stay over this week: at the tail of summer, right before Nancy, Argyle and Jonathan leave Hawkins again, and Steve, Robin and Eddie go back to their jobs. At least until Robin figures out where she wants to go to school and drags the boys along with her.

Steve's been researching schools and cities with her, he wants the best for his platonic soulmate. He's sweet. He's also dead set on having Eddie come with them and he can be very persuasive.

Not that he needs to be, Eddie thinks, watching Steve lean into his trunk for what might be the last time in a bit, considering how empty it looks from afar.

Steve's rolled the sleeves of his white tee all the way up to the top, letting his biceps flex freely. He's wearing the light wash jeans that make his ass look like it's begging to be grabbed. There's sweat dripping everywhere. He shakes it off and runs his hands through his hair every now and then, and Eddie's mouth is producing way too much saliva.

Eddie takes a long drag from his cigarette and turns his back on the borderline wet dream that is Steve Harrington, facing the lake again.

As he looks at the water and listens to the birds, Eddie goes through one and a half cigarettes, lost in thoughts of hazel eyes.

After a while, he hears steps approaching him from behind for the second time today.

This time, he turns before they reach him and sees Steve walking the las few paces until he's within earshot.

He's so sweaty.

"All done, big guy?" Eddie asks, a little breathless as he watches him approach.

Steve' face is all red, probably from the heat. He scoffs,

"You're like two inches taller than me" he says,

"Oh, you've noticed" Eddie teases with a lopsided grin,

"Shut up" Steve laughs "My hair makes up for it",

"Hmm" Eddie hums, refraining from making a comment on Steve's hair.

He pulls out his cigarette pack and offers it to Steve, assuming that's why he made a beeline for him and not the food.

"Want one?" Eddie asks,

Steve shakes his head "Yeah, but no" he says,

Eddie frowns, confused, holding his own cigarette with his mouth while he occupies his hands with putting the pack back in his pocket.

His eyes are also focused on this task, so he doesn't see Steve reaching out, taking the cigarette right out of Eddie's mouth.

Eddie feels his eyes go wide as plates and he slowly looks up to find Steve smoking his cigarette, looking out at the lake.

Holy shit.

Eddie blinks himself outta his shock. "Oh," he says, stupidly.

Steve looks back at him, searches for something in his eyes and smiles. The twinkle in his eyes only registers when Eddie watches him lean into his space once more, and take Eddie's bandana out of his back pocket this time, using it to wipe the sweat off his brow.

What?!

Eddie goes right past shock and into indignation.

"Hey!" he protests,

"Can I use this?" Steve asks around Eddie's cigarette, and way too late, too, "I'm using it" he states, in the bitchy tone he uses sometimes, the one that makes Eddie weak in the knees.

"I can see that!" Eddie tells him, trying to contain his indignant (going on giddy) laughter, "You're gross", Eddie says, like he wouldn't lick the sweat off Steve if he were allowed.

Steve just laughs at him, looking so beautiful, like right out of a magazine. Eddie lets himself hope for a split second.

"Did you just come here to take my stuff?" he asks Steve, mostly to stop himself from leaning in to bite the moles on his cheeks. He also kicks Steve's shin softly, just to make him laugh again. He succeeds.

"Maybe", Steve says, blowing smoke to the side and then offering the cigarette back to Eddie, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

What. Is happening.

Eddie rolls his eyes but accepts the offer.

"Yuck." he says dramatically, keeping his eyes on Steve, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and failing miserably at hiding his smile.

Steve watches him do it and laughs, something mischievous and delighted, then begins rolling Eddie's bandana, supporting the motion on his thigh and then reaching up to tie the result around his head.

God. What the fuck.

"You're stealing from me now?", Eddie accuses, shocked.

Steve snorts, "Borrowing", he clarifies, "I'll clean it and give it back to you", he says, like he's proud of it.

Is he fucking flirting with me?

Eddie rolls his eyes again and tries to hide his shocked smile once more. Fails.

"Or would you rather I give it to you all sweaty like this?" Steve asks, somehow sounding both dirty and completely rhetorical.

Jesus fucking -

"Ha!" Eddie says, shoving Steve's shoulder. "You have to get permission to borrow something, Steve",

"I did! I just did!" Steve protests,

"Did I say yes?" Eddie counters,

Steve pulls out his puppy eyes, the bastard, aiming them at Eddie with full force.

"Can I please use your bandana, Eddie?" Steve asks "Eds?" he adds, switching to a nickname almost as an afterthought.

Eddie's going to die of a heart attack, one of these days.

In fact, he probably already did. Yeah, he died and went to heaven, it seems.

"I can't stand you." he tells Steve, squinting.

It makes Steve dissolve into laughter again and Eddie basks in the sound as he stubs his cigarette.

"Yeah, you can use it", Eddie finally gives in, "since you already are, you menace. Come on.", he invites, already walking back toward the food table, leaving Steve behind, trying to regain some of the balance in their interaction,

"I made lemonade" he calls back to Steve, and listens as the other boy catches up.

When Steve's at his side again, Eddie turns to look at him.

"Let's get you something that's actually for you, for a change" Eddie quips.

Steve throws his head back as he laughs.

part 5

#steddie #steddie headcanon #steveddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddie lake fic #this whole fic is just an excuse for me to make them flirt <3 #. #please send me drawings of Steve with a bandana in his hair 🥺I swear I've seen some but i can't find them anymore 😭 did i dream this 😭😭

[abibliophobiaa]

For the Steve prompt - Whisper

rock the boat

18+, and yea inspired by those pics. forbidden romance (kind of); reader is argyle’s step-sibling; slight voyeurism; unprotected p-in-v intercourse. thank you @loveshotzz for giving this a look-see and also always encouraging my unexpected steve ideas. steve harrington x afab!reader. music insp: rock the boat — aaliyah. (4.2k words)

-

The grounds were set early on and were simple enough: no dating within the party. The ‘rules’ created by your own step-brother, Argyle, who insisted it was for your benefit and protection when Vecna had finally been vanquished and you both moved to Hawkins to be closer to your new found family, and life returned to some semblance of normal.

Which you’d understood—at first.

But no one, and nothing, would have ever prepared you for Steve Harrington. Impossibly handsome with those dark eyes and his perfectly imperfect head of hair, ridiculously charming, and the kind of humorous personality that had your sides shaking and cheeks hurting long after he’d dropped you back off at your shared apartment on the nights you spent together.

The intention hadn’t been to fall into a forbidden romance, and yet you had. It was easy, really. He’d become friends with Eddie, who had then become friends with Argyle and Jonathan who occupied your apartment often. They’d smoke and drink together, laughing over their silly stories and inside jokes, while you snuck glances at the boy.

He noticed quickly. Caught your gaze where you stood in the hallway, in the shelter of shadows within your home, from the armchair you often dropped into on nights Argyle invited you to partake.

Soon enough those imploring stares shifted into more. Turned into gentle touches in the kitchen when he’d offer to grab beers for the guys. A whisper of an almost-kiss against your bedroom doorway at the end of the night, always seemingly interrupted by one of your friends. The glide of your fingers at the nape of his neck while the boys watched a movie and you went to work for the afternoon.

It persisted for months, until one afternoon he worked up the nerve to ask you out properly. You met him in the parking lot after his shift, he tossed your bike in the back of his trunk, and took you to a drive-in after picking up some smoothies from the local diner. You made it approximately five minutes before you’d babbled that you really liked him, and he made it another two before he curled his hand around your cheek and kissed you until your thoughts screamed his name, until every other boy who came before him evaporated into nothingness within your mind.

After that it was months of whispered affection. It was running out of your apartment after Argyle had passed out for a nap, clambering over the center console, and curling your fingers in your boyfriend’s hair. It was riding him in the back seat of his car, your thighs on either side of his hips, gasping as he rolled up into you, urging you onward, his voice singing your praises. It was rushing up the stairs to his parent’s home while they’d gone on another business trip and tumbling into his bed, your underwear on his floor and his mouth hot against your cunt. It was confessions of ‘we shouldn’t be doing this,’ and yet never stopping, because soon they became hushed ‘you’re mines’ and earth-shattering ‘I love yous.’

Yet no one knew. It was your secret, forged in the darkness, and kept close to your heart. A relationship that meant the world to you. But you kept it hidden for so long that it seemed easier than to tell the truth—to not shake the very foundations of the friendships of “The Party” presently seated about the boat you all were perched on.

The same boat Argyle had purchased with the hush money funded by the government after everything that occurred with Vecna. You suggested he do something practical with it, and he insisted bringing a little bit of California to their life in Hawkins made sense. So he docked it at his family home in California, and pretty much demanded that the adults make a road trip.

The weekend away had been…frustrating to put it lightly. The house you all rented on the beach held so few bedrooms, and though you wanted to slip into Steve’s, you couldn’t because he had been pushed into sharing with Eddie. Your step-brother’s brilliant doing. Argyle himself shared with Jonathan, which left the girls to share the largest room.

Which also meant an endless cock-block for the duration of the whole weekend getaway.

The first night you’d cracked the door just the slightest and Eddie had shot up like he’d seen a ghost to launch a pillow at your head. Barked your name so loud you threw yourself onto his bed and clapped a hand over his mouth. Those dark eyes shifted to your face, then darted to Steve’s and he knew. When you’d pulled back, a newfound glint was there, as well as an endless well of blackmail you’d never recover from.

“You two,” he said, dragging his finger along the space between the two of you. “Would be dead if your brother found out. How long has this been going on?”

“Six months,” Steve said, eyes trained on the floor. You tossed a pillow at his head for telling Eddie. Traitor.

“Six months?!” You clapped your hand over his mouth once more, earning a quick thwack to the inside of your wrist. “Wait—you came in here…to hook up, didn’t you? While I was sleeping?!”

"Don't act like you've never snuck around with anyone," you hissed. "I saw you slip away at the bar last night with that girl. Where'd you go off to?"

"That's none of your business. Plus she wasn't a party member. You are," he grumbled, rolling over and knocking you onto the floor in a heap. Steve's arms reached out to grab at you but you shoved free, glowering at the metalhead. "You two need to tell him before he catches one of you with your pants down, just saying."

Not gonna happen, you thought.

Though you often dreamed of coming clean, of being out in the open, of loving Steve in the light. And you knew he wanted the same. But every time you opened your mouth to tell your step-brother, every time the words formed on your lips, you pictured his disappointment and you tampered it away.

Filed it away for another day, for a maybe, or a never.

-

Sunlight gleamed over the water's surface. Bright and crystalline, staring up at you mockingly as waves crashed against the boat's exterior. Before you, Eddie glanced on with a smirk, poised at you where you sat beside Steve.

Everything about the boat ride was loathsome. Steve’s hip barely brushed yours and your fingers itched to reach out and touch him. To curl around Steve's palm and put an end to the sneaking, hiding, and endless lies. To put an end to the sneaking in after dark, the telling your step-brother you'd merely been working extra hours, to having to watch as the guys all lingered in your living room and wait until Argyle later slipped into his bedroom when they'd all left to let Steve back in. If only so he could crawl into your bed and your arms.

All around you, friends talked about their day. Lived normally, without harboring secrets—no deceit to plague their consciences. Conversed about the happenings of their lives, snacked on bags of chips with colorful labels on the fronts, sunglasses glinting in the daylight. Robin laughed in the distance at something Nancy had said, and Jonathan snapped photo after photo of the skyline, the group, the captain at the head of the boat commandeering the whole thing. He'd had his sights set on the restaurant appearing before you now. Close enough that you could see it, smell the barbecue food cooking, hear the chatter of patrons at the bar, their jovial laughter.

At least some people are having fun, you thought, glancing up at the sky as a particularly strong thump against the boat sent you careening into Steve's lap.

"Sorry about that, my dudes. Still a little rusty," Argyle shouted over the water, head turning over his shoulder to where you were sprawled over his best friend's thighs. "Are you two okay back there?"

"Just fell!" You shouted back, hating the way you pulled back quickly from Steve like he'd burned you. Because he never had, never would.

'Tell him,' Eddie mouthed when Argyle pointed his attention back ahead, eyes narrowed at the both of you. But you only ignored him. Instead you focused your attention on sea-foam and the dock appearing on the water's edge. On quieting the thump thump of your heart in your chest, dulling the desire roiling in your gut, and the frustration over the fear you harbored that could also very well free you if only you'd will yourself to just do it once and for all.

Some time later, after Argyle docked the boat, you leaned up and brushed your lips over Steve's ear. A soft and whispered, "Pretend you're feeling seasick. Trust me."

It was enough for Steve. He needed no further convincing and splayed a palm over his abdomen, leaning over the back of the boat like one would should they need to expel the contents of their stomach. Your hand came up and rested sympathetically against his shoulders, eyes rounded in worry as everyone around you peered over to inspect the scene.

“Are you okay, honey?” Robin asked, her palm curling over Steve’s neck, just above your own.

“‘M okay. Just need a minute,” he moaned, lowering his head further to hide his face. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch you all later.”

“Hey Arg?” Your voice raised high above the other worried prattling around you. His eyes darted your way, nodding. “I’ll stay with him.”

“Right…” he said, voice trailing. “You practically grew up on boats. Makes sense. Alright dudes, we’ll grab a table; you two meet up with us whenever Harrington’s done expelling his breakfast.”

-

“Missed you,” you whimpered against the column of his throat.

Alone at last, you licked a long stripe against the curve of his neck, nipping and sucking. Paid attention to the birth marks you knew were one below the other, teeth grazing delicate flesh, jolting beneath your affections as you went. Steve was all coconut sunscreen lathered skin against his golden skin and broad arms wrapped around your lower back. Fingers that eventually drifted further and clutched at the dough of your ass, confined in the jean shorts hiked high on your thighs where you now sat, thighs draped on either side of his hips.

“Yeah, baby?”

He rasped the words in the shell of your ear, his cheek pressed to yours, rocking you against his jean-clad lap. Made sure you could feel him and the hardness that kicked up in his jeans when you ground down just right over him.

“Touched myself to the thought of you in bed last night,” you admitted.

Heat pooled in your chest, and downward. The bikini you wore beneath your jean shorts was already embarrassingly slick with your arousal.

“Honey, with the girls around?”

His smirk indicated he liked it. Very much so. Practically purred the words, nosing along your collarbones, pressing kiss after kiss into your skin.

You hummed idly. Combed your fingers through his long tresses. “Waited till they were asleep.”

“Missed me that much?” Teeth grazed an earlobe and released it with a pop, a shudder wracking throughout your body.

“Uhuh.” A pinched whine fell as you rocked against his lap, relishing in the heat of him straining through the confines of his jeans, wanting to be freed.

“What did you think about?” At your silence, he continued. “Come on, baby. Use your words for me.”

“Your fingers.”

“Where?”

A finger slid up between you. Brushed along your lips as a start, eyes connected to his when you trailed a path down the line of your chest. Over your sternum where your heart thrashed wildly. The lines of your abdomen, the softness of your flesh, the button on your shorts. Then lower still, dragging a slow circle along your clothed cunt, bottom lip pinched between your lips.

“What else?”

“Your c-cock; how g-good it feels when you’re inside me—mmm.” Another pinched whine as he tugged down your shirt to bare you to him, as well as the small triangle of your bikini, tongue swirling your sensitive bud of flesh.

His fingers released and your bikini snapped back into place. Desire burned behind Steve’s eyes, dark and round with want. “How long do you think we have?”

Normally, Steve would have had you on your back first, with his mouth buried in your cunt. He’d spend hours there if he could, teasing you. Alternating between suckling your clit and trailing delicate figures, fingers curled deep within you until your foot would eventually tremble against the middle of his back and you’d arch up involuntarily into his awaiting face. He’d toss a forearm over your hips, would press you harder into the mattress, floor, couch, or the back of his car. Would coax you through your orgasm until you grew limp within his arms, and his name was the only word uttered by your lips. But you didn’t have the luxury of time on your side now.

“Few minutes,” you whispered, leaning down to claim his lips, gasping into his eager mouth as fingers worked to free you from your shorts and slide them down your thighs. “Maybe ten. Make ‘em count, Harrington.”

“Bend over the side of the boat for me then, baby.”

Heat rushed throughout your body at his words. The scandal of it, the way nervousness immediately manifested itself in the worrying of your bottom lip. You clambered over his thighs all the same still, knees knocking against the padded cooler presently used as a bench, hitching forward slightly at the waist. A palm came up to rest between your shoulder blades, a strong, comforting chest following suit. Another skirted up and along your waist, over your chest, cupping beneath your ribcage gently.

“What if someone sees, Steve?”

Your eyes trained ahead on the rock formation partially obscuring the boat from the public eye. But you wondered how much it protected you from prying stares—from those who might enjoy the spectacle of a summer tryst. That fear soon quelled, the thrill of being wrapped up in Steve erasing any other thought from your mind.

“We’re good,” he soothed reassuringly against your ear, hand sliding back down over your stomach, then further still to brush against your center, finding you soaked through your bikini bottom. “This is all for me, honey?”

You swallowed your reply, shuddering as he shifted behind you, hips grinding against your ass so you could feel what you’d done to him. Faintly, you overheard the sound of his zipper sliding down. The tinker of his fingers moving to unbutton his jeans. The fumble to push fabric down far enough to free his cock. Your head turned just enough over your shoulder to take him in. Fingers curled around himself, tip already leaking for you, free hand coming to curl around the fabric separating you from him at last.

“Open up wider,” he prompted with a smack to your ass. Immediately rubbed it affectionately to smooth the ache away as soon as it came. You shifted as requested, swallowing a choked moan as his head nudged at your entrance. “Ready for me?”

Head nodding, he pushed in slowly, your breath shaking on a stuttered exhale as he sank in inch by inch. The initial stretch of him had always left you breathless—even after all the times you'd been with him. The kind of breathlessness that had your eyes rolling back, a forearm pressed into your mouth to keep yourself from altering those around you of what you’d gotten up to.

Behind you, Steve started to move, one hand curled around your hip and clutching tight to your flesh, the other between your thighs, rolling perfected circles into your clit, listening to your sighs and moans as you clenched down around him. He moved slowly. Short, practiced movements as you adjusted to him. A gentle ebb and flow, almost devastatingly slow. A delicate drag along your inner walls. Rocked against the swell of your ass, thumb kneading your flesh, parting you for him. In your impatience, you pushed back against him, palms leveraging you enough to force him deeper. Harder. Trying to chase that peak—to reach the euphoria you craved for days now, subdued by the endless prying eyes on you both at all times.

“Love you,” you rasped, forehead dropping down onto your forearm. “Love you so much, Stevie.”

“I love you, too.”

A mantra. A whispered mantra that punched you in the gut as he thrusted into you over and over and over again. Until he slid back. Inched out completely and cool air flowed over your cunt, chilling your slick skin. A whine spilled from your parted lips, choked off only by the delicate brush of Steve’s fingers at your center, slipping and sliding against the wetness there, circling it into your flesh, pushing it inside. He made a mess of you like that. The dirty squelch of his fingers meeting your slick making your breath hitch, chest rising and falling swiftly. Needy, you felt needy, hips wiggling into emptiness as he chuckled behind you.

Delicate fingers clutched at your ass, palmed you open for him, teeth nipping against skin tauntingly. He nudged at your center once more, pressure applied only just, skittering over where you wanted him most. Where you wanted him to sink into, to force the breath free from your lungs, to pound into you until you screamed his name and quivered around him, boneless in your release.

“Steve…” The name came out as an elongated whine. “Stop teasing me. Please. Fuck—just fuck me.”

“So impatient, baby.”

He cooed the words, no malice imbued his tone. And yet you wanted to turn around, to grip him by the neck of his shirt and drag his mouth against yours. To crush him to your breast, biting down into his lip until he groaned.

He laughed again, lifting you up just enough so he could settle your back against the lines of his chest. You relished in that heat, the ridges of his abdomen flush with you, the weight of him with every inhale and exhale. Fingers curled around your chin, thumb prodding at your bottom lip. The other palm, the one that lingered between the two of you, curled around himself. Pushed back into you in time with the lips that descended upon your own.

Too much. It was too much and not enough all at once, mind a whirling haze of colors as he started to set a relentless pace. Held you through it as your body danced closer and closer to your climax, knees trembling upon the bench, the sounds of fleshy smacks against your backside and the fingers circling your clit drowning out the rest of the world.

“Come on, baby. Come on my cock. Wanna watch you fall apart, pretty girl.”

“Steve—!”

You fell apart together. Warmth spilled within you as you trembled and shook in his arms. Your body nearly pitched forward from the weight of your orgasm, held upright only by the arm that looped around your waist to keep you tethered to reality. Bodies tangling, you rolled over onto the bench. Steve slipped free from your body, bathing suit bottom sliding back into place. A sigh followed. Forehead resting against his, you tried to catch your breath. Gasped heat from parted mouths pooled and filled the spaces between the two of you, quieted only by the melding of his lips against yours.

That…and the sound of footsteps against the dock. Heavy thuds that had you jolting upright and thankful you’d only removed your shorts and Steve had enough time to tug his pants back on and loop the button through the hole before your visitor was ever the wiser. The visitors being none other than Argyle and Jonathan, who presently stood, wide-eyed and absolutely not at all shocked to be seeing what they had.

Which…terrified you more than you ever thought imaginable.

“We’re fucked,” Steve muttered beside you.

And yeah, he was probably right.

-

“Look, Arg, I can explain!”

Steve lingered behind with Jonathan. And probably for the best, what with the way your step-brother looked at you like he’d been betrayed when you immediately rushed forward to try and hug him. Your always joyful step-sibling, though not quite surprised looking, held a certain unfamiliar sadness in his expression that shattered your heart. This dawning realization you’d done something to hurt him.

“I know he’s your friend, but I-I—”

“You love him,” he finished, turning to face you where you stood on the sandy ground. “Look, sis, I know you two have been sneaking around.”

“You—you what?”

“I’ve known. For months, actually. Did you think you were really that good at sneaking his giant head through your window? Also, he’s like…stupid loud when he comes in the front door at night, man. Harrington has two left feet.”

“I mean…” Frustrated, you pouted. “I thought we were doing fine. The sneaking around part, I mean.”

“Nope,” he said, hair blowing in the gentle breeze. “The two of you giggle a ton. And the walls are paper thin in our apartment.”

You…definitely didn’t want to unpack that one.

“Then why are you mad at me?”

You waved your hand in front of his face, outlining the dejected expression on his features. Hated the way he looked at you; like he’d been disappointed in you. You reached out to touch him, catching on the sleeve of his button up tee with palm trees littered all over it. When he didn’t flinch, you stepped closer.

“I’m not mad,” he admitted softly. Reassuringly. “I’m just…upset that you didn’t tell me yourself.”

“You told me I couldn’t date him! No Party on Party macking—you said it!” Jonathan and Steve paused at that, the sounds of their footfalls skittering to a hard stop. “And I didn’t mean to, okay? It wasn’t like I told myself to fall in love with the guy. It just happened.”

“Look—it’s my fault, too. Don’t just be upset with her. I…” Steve appeared at your side, hand at your lower back. Familiar. Affectionate. It dropped as Argyle’s eyes drifted south, watching you both intently. “I love her, man.”

Jonathan whistled in the distance. Argyle’s eyes darted to him, his answering response a shrugged pair of shoulders, and then returned to Steve. “You love her?”

“I love her,” he said fiercely. “I…I really do.”

“And you love him?”

You nodded, curling yourself into Steve’s side. “I’m sorry, Arg. I should have told you. I was scared, and there was never the right moment, and then too much time had passed and I—”

“Are you happy?” he asked you, and your eyes glittered with unshed tears, because yes, yes you were. “Just wish you’d talked to me. You know you can talk to me about anything. We’re family.”

Rushing forward, you curled your arms around your step-sibling, clutching the back of his shirt in your palm. A warm palm, his palm, glided up to rest at your middle back. Hugged you closer as you whispered over and over again to his cheek, now presently against yours, that you were sorry.

“Can’t believe you really thought you two were doing a good job sneaking around.” You slapped him playfully in the stomach, and he pushed you back just enough within the circle of his arms to smile at you. “I love you, sis. And you too, dude. If you both are happy, then I’m happy. Just, uh, next time the two of you have some sort of secret—maybe don’t wait six months to come clean about it, yeah?”

“Ditto,” you laughed, surging forward to hold him again. “Love you.”

A relaxed sigh rattled your bones as you gripped Steve’s hand openly now on your way toward the restaurant, now with Argyle’s blessing attached to it. You didn’t miss the way your step-brother smiled, actually smiled, at your interlocked fingers. Smiled at the way Steve always made sure you were close, be it a reassuring word in your ear, or the brush of his lips at your forehead just as the rest of your friends appeared at the table you’d been assigned.

Brows arched all around upon your arrivals. Thoughts unspoken filled each and every face, stares halting on the hand presently held within your own. Argyle and Jonathan settled down, while you and Steve remained at the head of the table, smiling weakly.

“Okay so…” you began, swallowing thickly. “We wanted to just clear the air and say that…”

“We’re dating,” Steve blurted out, couching at the end. At the unphased expressions all around you, he continued. “Have been for a while now, actually.”

Bracing for impact, you squeezed Steve’s hand tighter.

He squeezed yours back.

And yet nothing prepared you for the resounding, “We know!” from everyone around you.

When you met Eddie’s gaze, he wore a shit-eating grin. Liar pretended he hadn’t known.

“W-what?” you rasped, heart thundering away.

“You’re both not exactly known for being subtle,” Robin expressed, and the pitying gazes all around the table confirmed their agreement.

Your face turned into Steve’s neck, mortification hidden in the shelter of his awaiting body. “Oh my gosh.”

“Well,” he said softly into your hair, laughter shaking his frame. “At least the cat is out of the bag. I love you.”

But gosh, you loved him too.

-

-

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 017: Something’s Brewing

Mornings are for coffee, contemplation, and work visitations. And before you know it, things go from 0 to ‘Eleven’.

author's note: the layout of this chapter is heavily inspired by the writing style of one of my inspirations, @pinkrelish 💘 love you alyson!!

CW: fluff, boyfriend eddie, angst, drinking, smoking, profanities, physical altercations, arguing, aggressive eddie, GENERATIONAL CURSES, eddie misogynistic/ableist one-liner (our fave is also a man at the end of the day), therapist!eleven rise up 🤩🤩, divider from @attxnt

word count: 4.8k words

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters ** = smut chapters

You’ll NEVER. GET. AWAY. from the sound of a woman that loves you.

♡

WEEK-IS-LONG-WEDNESDAY

Eddie doesn't sleep well when you’re not with him. Like a fish out of water, your boyfriend flops and flails around in bed, rolling over his bumpy sheets that still linger with your scent. But before he can even get comfy, it’s already time to start the day.

Son of a bitch.

“Alexa,” Eddie pleads. “Please postpone my cries until tomorrow.”

“Sorry — Eddie… I don’t understand what you meant by please postpone my life until tomorrow.”

“That too I guess.”

———

It’s awfully quiet at Hellfire.

Your friends seem to be protesting your unjust departure, keeping the essence of you alive by paying the Hellfire Girls no mind.

Meanwhile the witches who made you quit are celebrating your absence, laughing and leaning against the wall, entertaining themselves with their week-old gossip that was centered around you. Because without talking about ‘Shy Girl’, they wouldn’t be as interesting. To anyone.

"Yeah and she didn't even have the decency to give her two weeks," Kassidy scoffs. "Just up and left. How immature."

They got what they wanted. You were gone. Controlled, altered, deleted. 86’d, baby. But at what cost?

“Classic Baby Stripper. Can’t handle Hellfire’s heat.”

Now it's their turn to have the spotlight again. Just like old times. Although this time around, that attention is all negative.

But it’s attention, nonetheless.

Emmy and the other Hellfire Girls are seen squirming around, struggling to to reach for a prop that was placed high up on a shelf.

"Mike, I can't reach this thing, can you come get it for me?"

"Sorry, busy," Mike scoffs, shuffling angrily past them.

A couple of raised eyebrows. Okay then…

"Dustin, do you think you can-"

"No. Do it yourself," Dustin snaps.

Every appetizer they ordered from Argyle came out dry or burnt. Any toiletries needed from Nancy were handed over with minimal eye contact and assistance. Jonathan stopped serving them alcohol three peach schnapps ago, but of course those bitches were too busy faking their intoxication to even notice.

And despite everything, they were still appalled. Surely EDDIE wouldn’t approve of this blatant favoritism.

After putting out his cigarette, Eddie makes his way inside with the paperwork needed for your severance check, along with more checks for the club (and Wayne) that he didn’t even want to think about.

"OH EM GEE, HI EDDIE BEAR!" the girls squeal at him. It's their one last attempt to be smothered with love and affection from your boyfriend.

SLAM. The door to Ed's office swings shut.

Chrissy and Nina erupt in laughter, because even despite getting rid of you, Eddie still doesn’t give those girls the time of day.

“Eat shit, you cunts,” Nina chuckles, shaking her head in satisfaction.

While it was obvious whose side The Party is on, the Hellfire Girls are STILL left distraught and confused.

"Do you guys...” Kassidy says. “…kinda get the vibe that everyone seems a bit pissed off today?"

THANKFUL-THURSDAY

"Thank you, come again!"

You had just finished making your 20th peppermint mocha of the morning. And to think you’re going to be here ‘til close…

Being a waitress and barista are two completely different ball parks, something you wish you knew before Steve got you the job at Newby’s not too long ago.

Syrups. Sauces. Coffee beans from robusta to arabica. The just-as-caffeinated juices that would taste a lot better with alcohol in them...

And the damn milks. God forbid you use soy milk instead of almond, otherwise Susan Swayne from the Hawkins Neighborhood Watch Committee will throw a hissy fit for everyone with a satellite dish to see. And you’d much rather not want to end up going viral on Reddit — again.

Sigh.

You’re whisking away at a matcha when you realize that a group of corporate Chads were looking at you for way too long. Your paranoid eyes scan the scene, heart nearly dropping to your stomach as you lean your body into Steve’s for comfort.

"People are staring at me," you report to him at a low whisper.

Harrington is right beside you, wiping the counter down with a wet cloth after spilling some half and half on it. Your new colleague glances over at them before giving you an earnest look of reassurance.

“They probably just have a staring problem,” he says. “New pretty face at a local coffee shop? Of course they’re gonna look at you.”

“I’m almost certain I gave one of them a dance.”

“You’re also making them a coffee,” he points out. “How many people can say that about their dancers? They should be grateful.”

It makes you less stressed knowing you have a male coworker by your side, and that your job predominantly takes place in broad daylight. Your stress is further alleviated when you see Max shuffle back in through the side door after her 15-minute juul break in the parking lot. She gives you a tense nod hello after exhaling a small cloud of 'Wild Raspberry Bubblegum' into the room.

“Back from your break?” you mumble rhetorically, avoiding direct eye contact with her.

“Yeah. I am.”

You and Max got into a fight earlier this morning. It was over something stupid, your first real fight since she found out you were stripping on the low. You’re stunned when she wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind, causing you to hum in endearment. Dearest Maxine…your baby sister.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Max apologizes. "I'm not me when I go without smoking for too long."

"I forgive you," you hug her back. "Thank you for communicating your feelings. Wanna help me with this in-house order?”

“Of course.”

Since your whole lives were spent constantly losing people on such short notice, you, Max, and Billy have made it a goal to never go to bed angry. You all follow through with it 90-percent of the time, which is huge considering your dynamic. You never want to end the day on bad terms with anyone. With how the world operates nowadays, you just never know.

“You guys make coffee for non-heroes?”

And you weren’t going to start the day mad either. To your surprise, your gaze is met with Eddie’s when you turn around. Your boyfriend beams over at you with eager eyes, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he waits to order.

“EDDIE!” you exclaim.

Mister-Leather-and-Denim greets you with his signature dimpled smile. "Hi, sweetie."

You practically leap over the counter to give your man a tight squeeze. He chuckles into you, his cool rings lightly pressing against your back during your embrace.

“Eddie...” you coo. “You came to see me!”

“I sure did,” your man sings as he goes to put you down. “Ohh my goodness… Look at you with your little barista apron! Do a little spin for me.”

You spin. Eddie hoots in adoration.

“Now do a little pose.”

You pose.

“One more turn for me, baby…all the way, all the way, all the way…” he instructs. Suddenly, his palm issues you a rough smack across the ass. “BOOM! There we go. Now we’re talkin’!”

“Hey hey hey, let’s keep it PG,” Harrington scolds him. “Bob watches the cameras when he’s not here.”

“Then Bob should know Eddie’s hands are rated E for everybody,” Eddie tuts, slyly clicking his tongue at Steve. “Didn’t think I’d miss YOU now did you, Big Boy? C’MERE!”

Eddie scurries towards Steve to give him his as well. Smack. Almost like it’s muscle memory.

Max shakes her head in amusement as watches their tomfoolery unfold in front of her. She always used to think you were exaggerating their 'bromance', but now her doubts have been debunked.

“Need some caffeine to kickstart your heart today?” she asks your boyfriend.

“Not particularly, since your sister’s in front of me,” Eddie replies, chuckling at his own cheesy joke. But then he hands her a 20. “I’ll take a cold brew though. Change is yours to keep.”

“My hero, my hero,” Max hums. You watch as she opens the register to acquire the difference.

Your sister starts on Eddie’s drink while you two spend some time together. Out of habit, you fiddle with his hair and then lovingly stroke his face, all while Eddie scans the room around him, his curious fingers dancing over to the plastic tip jar next to the pastries behind you.

“How much for the trail mix?” he comments.

“Ha-ha,” you respond to him dryly.

“Baby you could make this much in tips in a second at Hellfire.”

“I’m not going back,” you respond with certainty.

Eddie’s face drops when he realizes how serious you sound. Tucking his hands back into the pockets, Mr. Tough guy elicits a rather child-like pout.

“But everybody misses you.”

“Not everybody.”

“Everybody who matters,” he corrects himself.

“That’s sweet,” you admit. “But we’ll all still hang out, y’know? I just...really wanna keep our work-life shit separate.”

“I understand, baby,” Eddie frowns. “I just miss your face is all.”

It was a shitty situation those girls put you and Eddie in. But now that you’ve had time to think about it, you don’t need Hellfire anymore. Stripping has rocket-launched you out of debt; and now that you’re comfortably on your feet, with everything you could possibly want and more, you see no need in having a hustle mentality anymore. And besides, everyone and Eddie knew that to you, Hellfire was only temporary.

“I miss you too,” you assure Eddie. “But I'm out of that cacoon now and spreading my wings. Thanks to you. We can celebrate off the clock."

“Now I like the sound of that," Eddie smirks as he pulls you into him again. He gives you another, rather tight, squeeze followed by a delicate forehead kiss. "So amazing to hear, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you.”

FACE-THE-TRUTH FRIDAY

“You’re upset.”

It’s an assumption that irritates the shit out of Eddie. Jane watches your boyfriend as he frantically ushers himself around, stress-cleaning everything at POTIONS while Jonathan takes his lunch. For as long as she's been here, it's been observed that the only thing Eddie seems to be running on today is a hot chip, and yet another cold brew from Newby’s that you had made for him.

“I’m not upset, Eleven.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m NOT,” Eddie insists. “Shy Girl and I are doing great, thank you very much.”

But the psych major doesn’t believe it one bit. Setting the pencil she was twiddling down onto her notebook, Jane narrows her eyes.

“Wanna know how I know you’re lying?”

“Hit me.”

“I never once mentioned Hargrove’s name.”

Caught. Red-handed. A sucker-punch to the ego. Eddie’s cheeks flush an exposed shade of pink, having been read to filth by the girl he and Steve used take turns babysitting when she was a little kid.

“And boys always lie,” ‘Eleven’ tuts. Jane starts to dismantle her waffle fries as if they were pieces of pull-apart bread. She then shoves the Eggo-shaped taters into her mouth. “‘s like it’s in their blood.”

“Girls lie too,” Eddie scoffs.

“But they lie better.”

Eddie pretends to dismiss it, waving Jim and Joyce’s daughter off so she could go with Mike who has probably forgotten to take inventory yet again. But when she doesn’t, and insists on playing therapist, Eddie can’t help but wonder what Jane and Wheeler could possibly be fighting about now.

“Don’t start your relationship off with a lie,” Eleven forewarns. “I can tell you really like Shy Girl. And if that’s the case, I assume you trust her enough to be honest with her.”

"I am honest with her."

“Bullshit.”

He peers back over at Jane.

Eddie’s assets — at this point — have now become a liability. And it was YOU who had to pay the price.

But he knew he still had to be realistic. There was no way in hell that he could spoil you, take you out, buy you nice things, and introduce you to new experiences if his business is in shambles. He needed his dancers.

"If you can’t get rid of those girls, you at least owe Shy Girl the truth,” Jane points out. She finds herself leaning across the bar. "And the truth is... you’re upset about her quitting.”

Eddie shrugs, choosing to gloss over how he really feels in hopes of getting a second opinion. “But I don’t know why I’d be upset. She’s doing what’s best for her.”

But Eleven clears him immediately.

“Because your abandonment issues tell you she gave up too easily,” She shoves another waffle fry into her mouth. “therefore she didn’t fight hard enough for your relationship.”

Man.

“Otherwise, you two would’ve found a compromise by now,” Eleven keeps going. “Meaning she would’ve stayed. Could’ve stayed.”

She pauses for the dramatics while Eddie uncomfortably clears his throat.

“Should’ve stayed," she finishes.

Bingo. It’s like Eleven found a way to invade Eddie’s mind somehow. Disgusted with himself, it also dawns on him that although the kids are much older now, they’re still sponges. That means they can still read into him and everyone else, even more than they could’ve when they were only 12. And this time around, there’s no filter when it happens. It’s a scary thought.

“I liked you better homeschooled.”

SHRUG-IT-OFF SATURDAY

It’s D&D night at Jeff’s house and you’re in charge of food prep. But you really don't see the point in it anymore, considering bank heist campaigns are way more interesting than the messy charcuterie board in front of you.

"I can't believe tonight will go down as the Craigslist Campaign," Max remarks. "That's where Eddie found these guys, right?"

"It's where Gareth found them," you correct her. "I hope they all get along, though. Campaigns are huge for Eddie."

You watch your boyfriend from the kitchen as he does his thing, kneeling on the wooden table as he prefaces the campaign with an introductory monologue. It all makes you swoon. Eddie is just so animated. It's in the dramatic changes in his voice depending on who he's imitating. His theatrical jazz hands. His extremely detailed, and lucid story-telling that slips so naturally off his tongue.

Eddie Munson knows how to put on a show. As a performer yourself, you can appreciate watching his universes come to life. This is a look into Eddie's mind. His world. His safe space. And he appears to be having a lot of fun with it.

Your lip curls involuntarily. A little too much fun, you think to yourself…shamefully, spitefully.

“You’re not mad at Eddie, are you?”

You look at your sister like she's crazy. Max knows you and your micro-expressions like the back of her hand. Wasn't really a hobby she picked up per se, but more of a survival tactic. It makes you second guess yourself. Surely you didn't make yourself that obvious, did you? But even then, you're not even that bitter about it. So why are you physically reluctant in giving an answer that your brain is so sure of?

“No,” you shake your head. “Why would I be mad?”

“He barely did anything to defend you from those girls,” Max points out. “You’re his girlfriend and what do they get? A slap on the wrist for all of the shit they've done? It’s unfair!”

You silently return to your edible arrangement, putting the grapes next to the cheeses and away from the deli meats so that Gareth doesn't get 'the ick'. Then you grab a wine glass to make a rose shape out of said deli meats. Max doesn't back down.

"It's okay if you're upset," she tries again.

"I'm not upset, Max."

"You're lying."

"Am not!" You quickly jump to defend Eddie. "I genuinely think, and know, that Eddie's a keep-the-peace kind of guy. Besides, Hellfire would've been in jeopardy if he fired those girls."

"Hellfire would've been in jeopardy if Billy pressed those charges."

You think about the fight more often than you would like. It was the only time you've truly seen Eddie out of character.

"But that's different. Billy pushed all the right buttons. I know Eddie. He's not as manic as people paint him out to be."

And as if it were a joke, the Universe uses this impeccable timing to launch you into a panic. Soon the sound of shattered glass and moving chairs fill the room, and when you whip your head over to the sound of the commotion, you're stunned to see your man lunging at one of the strangers that were sat at Jeff's dinner table.

"EDDIE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" someone yelps.

"You wanna say that shit again?" Eddie demands. "Huh, do you?"

"What the actual fuck," Max breathes out with her hand clutched to her chest. "That came out of nowhere."

"Disrespecting my fucking friend in his own fucking house?!" he gives the guy another violent rattle. "Huh?!"

You're unsure whether to intervene or not, but the guys seem to have it managed so you just stay put in the kitchen. From what you gathered, the guy said something rude to Jeff, making fun of his class and level and using his character skin as a reason for being inferior to him. But clearly, he was still no match for the Dungeon Master.

Eddie shakes his head in pity.

"Classic fucking bard," Eddie spits. "All that talk and all that charisma, but you're still FUCKING WEAK in battle."

"Hurtful..." Dustin, whose also a bard, whimpers.

"Wasn't talking about you, Henderson," Eddie huffs.

Then who was Eddie talking about? Because according to the look on everyone's faces, his rage didn't align with the severity of the issue at hand. The guy did seem condescending and patronizing when you met him, but all he did was poke fun at Jeff. Something the Hellfire boys already do with one another.

Eddie's outburst is enough to end the campaign early, and the guys who allegedly violated Jeff that badly left without a cue. As everyone cleans up after themselves, Gareth locates all the drinks that Eddie has downed tonight and confiscates them. You remember the time Eddie told you drinking makes him feel gross. Makes him act gross too, apparently.

"Eddie, what the fuck, man? Where did that rage even come from?"

"Dude was cocky as hell," Eddie shakes his head at Gareth. "They can act stupid about it, but I see all the underlying shit. They knew what they were doing."

Suddenly your ears perk up. If you had been the one to say that, you could easily appoint those very sentences to the situation with the Hellfire Girls. The burning in your chest is undeniable now. Of course that's how shit starts to feel when it gets personal.

"No one bullies my boys and gets away with it," Eddie says. "They can get out and stay out."

Max looks back over at you, just as distraught. Then she says exactly what you were thinking but were far too afraid to admit. "Where was that energy when you were at Hellfire?"

You and Eddie go to different bathrooms to collect yourselves, both for entirely different reasons. Seeing Eddie that distressed over something so small really had you wondering if he was upset about something else as well. But then you start getting upset at yourself for not putting your concerns first. And this concern was a huge one. He can do that with his boys but not with you?

“Oh my god,” it dawns on you. “I guess I am disappointed in Eddie.”

And then, from the other side of the house, in Jeff's bathroom, it dawns on Eddie too as he sobers up.

“Oh my god. I guess I am upset with Hargrove.”

SUCKER-PUNCH SUNDAY

“You’re early, babe,” you remark.

Little did you know Eddie would’ve been at your door even earlier, had he not been rehearsing what to say in his van...and doom-scrolling the internet for the past hour.

“Just didn’t wanna be late!” is what he comes up with.

You greet him with a kiss shortly before allowing him into the home. Max is working today while Robin and Vicky were out running errands. This left you both plenty of time to hash things out if needed, both in the living room and the bedroom (if it applies).

C'mon, Hargrove, you urge yourself. Just say it.

"Listen..." you both say at once.

You both pause, glancing over at one another in surprise.

"What are you about to say?" you ask him.

"What are YOU..." he counters. "about to say?"

"You go."

"No no," he deflects. "Ladies first, I insist."

You hate that he's a gentleman sometimes. Out of the many situations where you had to rip the band-aid off, somehow this was the hardest one. After swallowing hard one last time, you finally come out and say it.

"I'm..." you begin. "I've been thinking all week. And... I guess am upset with how shit ended with Hellfire."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god, you too?"

Suddenly, the air seems breathable again. You and Eddie both sigh in relief which then extorts a chuckle out of the two of you. At last, you two seem to be on the same page about this minor discrepancy.

"I've been losing sleep over it all week."

"I've been stress-cleaning trying to think of how to come to you about it!"

"Oh my god..." Eddie laughs.

"This is crazy!" you exclaim.

"I forgive you," the two of you say simultaneously.

Your eyes widen simultaneously as well.

"Wait, what?" you echo one another again.

"What do you mean you forgive me?" you hiss. "I should be the one forgiving you, not the other way around."

"Well... you kinda left me in a crummy spot... leaving Hellfire so soon?" Eddie argues. "And you were almost everybody's favorite dancer too. Outside of Chrissy."

"You left me in a crummy spot!" you place your hands on your hips. "By refusing to fire the dancers who made my life a living hell. The bullying wouldn't stop until I quit and you just let that happen."

"Okay first of all, you chose to quit," Eddie snaps. Anger starts to simmer within you. "After I begged you time and time again not to. And you were the one who told me not to get rid of the dancers because it would've been easier to just get rid of you, the one."

"I still expected you to give them some harsh ass consequences!" you exclaim. "And what do you mean I didn't fight hard enough for you? You shouldn't have to make me fight in the first place."

"You know what I mean," Eddie huffs. "And expected? I can't read your mind, Hargrove! How was I supposed to know what to do?"

How was he supposed to know? How was he supposed to know? Not reassuring at all coming from a business owner and manager. And the gag is Eddie sure knew what to do last night, when something similar happened to his homeboys.

"You literally kicked those dudes out last night for bullying Jeff. At the drop of a hat. But you couldn't do with the girls the same way?"

"Those Craigslist dudes don't pay the BILLS, sweetheart," Eddie emphasizes. "Had they been responsible for my paycheck, I may have approached it differently."

"I don't care anymore!" you exclaim. "Paycheck this, paycheck that. It's the principle of it, Eddie! The girls bullied me and all you did was slap them on the wrist. I expected you to do more."

"There it is again, 'expected'! I'm a simple guy, babe. I can't read you like a puzzle! Say what's on your mind. Why do you have so much trouble speaking up?"

"I shouldn't have to hold your hand through something so simple though. Forget that I'm your girlfriend for just a minute. You should've fired them when you realized they were sabotaging another dancer. And whose to say this was their first time doing it? What if they did it with Isabelle too?"

"Don't talk about Isabelle!" Eddie snaps at you. "You don't know anything that happened with her."

"Oh so now you're defending your ex wife too? OVER ME? Your actual, current girlfriend?! It's just anyone but me at this point. WHY AM I THE LAST PRIORITY? IT'S MY RELATIONSHIP."

"IT'S MY RELATIONSHIP TOO!"

"You don't seem to be fighting for it!"

"You're one to talk! You're the one who left when it got hard."

"I don't leave when shit gets hard," you argue. "I leave when shit doesn't change. When shit becomes toxic."

You did it with your last relationship. You did it when you and Max left Billy. You did it with Hellfire when the torment wouldn't stop. And you might as well do it again with Eddie, if nothing changes.

"You know what apologies without change is?" you grumble. "It's manipulation."

"Oh, so I'm a manipulator now?!" Eddie questions. "I did EVERYTHING you told me to do, but now I'm still a manipulator?!"

"Birds of a feather," you huff angrily. "Living up to the Munson name, huh?"

"That's not fair, baby."

"It is."

"NO, IT'S NOT!" Eddie booms. "How would you feel if I told you that you were living up to the Hargrove name? By blowing shit out of proportion when it doesn't even need to be like that?"

"DOESN'T NEED TO BE LIKE THAT?" you shout. "DOESN'T NEED TO BE LIKE THAT? THOSE BITCHES RUINED ME, PUT SUGAR IN MY GAS TANK, AND YOU'RE ACCUSING ME OF READING TOO MUCH INTO IT?"

"Now you're just putting words in my mouth."

"I'd like to put something in your mouth, that's for sure."

"Kinky," Eddie says smartly.

"That's all your mind travels to, is sex isn't it?! No wonder you keep those sluts around."

You and Eddie continue to argue back and forth, the volume of your voices gradually getting louder. Eventually, you grow overwhelmed, and the only thing that will calm you down is a good ol' scream.

Just like a banshee, a high-pitched scream rips through the house.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

You throw a nearby plastic cup at the wall, you're so angry and overstimulated.

"The hell was that?" Eddie questions. A laugh tugs at the corner of his mouth. For a minute, he looks like Billy when he gets a reaction out of you. That really sets you off.

Now you're out for blood. Out for the very thing, every Hargrove wants: the last word. He's right. You are living up to the Hargrove name. But why does it feel so good?

Unable to control yourself, your palms land across Eddie's chest and you shove him into the wall, causing Eddie to short circuit in shock. His face drains to a pale white. Now suddenly, you're Billy. And Eddie is you, looking at you the way you would look at your brother whenever he screamed or punched a wall.

Now Eddie's angry too. As much as he wants to get you back, it's still natural for him to physically refrain himself from doing so. Eddie Munson does not hit women. Wayne raised him better than that.

So instead, he settles for a verbal jab.

“You’re crazy. What is wrong with you, Hargrove?"

It's the damned C word that no enraged woman wants to hear. But now that you've heard it, there's no turning back. You're done with him.

"Get out," you order him.

"Fine," Eddie mutters. "Fine, I'm off to Wayne's anyway!" You stomp after Eddie as he starts making his way towards your door. "He's the only fucking person who seems to understand me."

The two of you share one final look before he heads out.

You hate that it has to end this way, because the devastated demeanor in his beady, brown eyes share that same sentiment. The sorrow is unspoken, but universal. Just as the love and yearning is, even when your words display a lack thereof.

"So you're gonna leave me?" Eddie gulps. "You're gonna leave me, huh? Just like everyone else does?"

You shake your head bitterly. If there's anything about you that you love/hate, it's that you always stand on your business. "Don't worry. Plenty of other bitches in the sea for you."

The final blow to Eddie's chest. Normally Eddie would've been able to recover from that... would've been able to leave the argument untouched after hearing those words... had it not been for you, the only person he truly sees himself with. The only person he would look for in a sea of people.

"I really thought you were different, Shy Girl," Eddie shakes his head. "That's what I get for hiring someone who doesn't understand what the industry can be like."

That's what he hits you with? Just then, the sadness is replaced by resentment entirely.

"I HATE YOU, Eddie Munson," you grimace. "I never want to see your face again."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #strip club owner!eddie #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #stranger things fanfiction #hellfire #hellfire club #joseph quinn #joe quinn #strip club au #hargrove!reader #eleven #001 #millie bobbie brown #eleven hopper #jane hopper #eddie fluff #eddie angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #boyfriend eddie munson #boyfriend!eddie munson #boyfriend eddie

[patchworkgargoyle]

with a bang 🎊

A gift for the lovely and talented Joey (@matchingbatbites) as part of our STuad server holiday gift exchange! I hope you enjoy, and have a lovely new year <3

Based on the prompts: impact play, secret relationship, and "don't be mean to me." Fingers crossed I did them justice! Rated: E || 4.7k words || CW: impact play, unprotected sex Full tag list on ao3!

Eddie was going to combust. He was also debating whether he should plot Robin’s untimely demise or send her a Thank You bouquet. Dressing up for their New Years party had been her idea, after all, and once she got Nancy on her side there was no swaying either of them, no matter how much the rest of them had hemmed and hawed. Eddie didn’t see a point to it; he’d thought they were just calling it a New Years party as an excuse to hang out without the rugrats for once, but then Robin wanted to make it a party party. With champagne and shit. And fancy clothes.

Once Argyle had confirmed he could wear whatever colours he wanted, so long as the clothes were dressy, Eddie knew his fate was sealed. He’d been the biggest—and loudest—nay-sayer, but with Jonathan, Steve, and Vickie being more or less neutral, his hard-fought battle against a dress code had been lost.

And jesus christ, is he ever glad he lost.

He got to Steve’s place last after he hit up the liquor store, the three bottles of the cheapest sparkling wine in his arms bought with their pooled funds. They nearly smashed on the Harrington stoop when Steve opened the front door he’d obnoxiously kicked looking like… well.

Steve owned a suit, apparently. A nice one. God, it must be tailored or some shit with how well it fit. His shoulders were so broad in the suit jacket, the black tie looking at home around Steve’s throat under the pressed white collar. Black dress pants made his legs long. Even that signature swoop in his hair was perfectly coiffed. Eddie’s eyes devoured the sight before him, and the first and foremost thought in his mind was that he wanted to get Steve out of that suit as soon as goddamn possible. Especially when Steve began to smirk at him knowingly.

His second thought was that he was so screwed.

They’d been hooking up for a bit now, was the thing. It was new. They hadn’t told anyone yet because they wanted to keep it to themselves, figure it out a little, have fun before the kids learned about it and got nosy. When they’d started talking about going on dates, though—and if his past self knew he’d be planning a date with Steve Harrington he’d blow a gasket—they’d agreed to say something once New Years was over. But how the hell was Eddie going to keep his mouth shut, not to mention his hands to himself, when Steve looked like that!?

“You’re wearing that?” he hissed. “This is cruel and unusual, Steve. This is torture. Why are you dressed like that when I can’t do anything about it!”

Shrugging, Steve whispered, “It’s my only suit, it’s all I had to wear.”

Eddie felt he was being too nonchalant about this and narrowed his eyes. He opened his mouth to complain more but then he heard Nancy’s voice from inside. “What are you guys doing? It’s cold out!” she said with a laugh, and Steve cocked an eyebrow and stepped aside so Eddie could come in.

Steve took the bottles so Eddie could get out of his coat, and he did notice, with no small amount of satisfaction, that Steve’s eyes were on him too. Eddie might not have a tailored suit, but his black dress shirt and slacks fit him pretty damn well, he figured, and the way Steve was looking at him made it clear he thought the same. Eddie stuck his tongue out between his teeth and wiggled his eyebrows at Steve suggestively and earned a dark, desirous look from him that promised later and sent a thrill down Eddie’s spine.

But later was getting harder and harder to wait for. As their little party went on, Steve found more ways to drive Eddie up the fucking wall, when he’d rather be pushed into the wall, secrecy be damned.

It was all the little touches, the fleeting looks. Steve developed a habit of tugging on Eddie’s belt loops when no one was looking, or the sleeve of his shirt; something that would grab Eddie’s attention and pull him just a smidge closer. When they’d ended up sitting next to each other on the couch Steve gradually shifted into Eddie’s space and their thighs kept touching, and Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt to have his legs tangled with Steve’s in his bed. And then, when their eyes met, Eddie swore Steve would check him out. It was always quick, but he could practically feel it when Steve looked at his lips, or where his shirt collar was undone. Eddie went red every time.

Eventually Eddie decided to give as good as he got, though that may have also been fueled by the cheap wine. He’d watch Steve over the rim of his glass until Steve caught on and licked his lips when Steve’s eyes flicked downward, only glancing away after a few seconds of holding his gaze. Letting his arm drape casually over the back of the couch so he could brush his fingers down the nape of Steve’s neck was absolutely a risk, but it was worth it when Steve’s breath hitched and he stumbled over his words. He was talking to Jonathan, though, who was high as a kite and didn’t notice. Hopefully.

They kept upping the ante all night and Eddie was a stiff breeze away from getting hard from all the tension by the time midnight crept up on the group. Five minutes before the countdown, Nancy herded them all out to Steve’s backyard in a rush. The town stretched out in the distance, lights glittering in the dark winter night. An occasional screech and flash of colour from premature fireworks interrupted the anticipatory silence that hung over Hawkins. Vickie helped Robin uncork the last bottle of champagne, and the teens passed it around, refilling their glasses as they huddled close to fend off the cold.

“Did we really have to stand outside for this?” Steve grumbled. He stood between Eddie and Robin and kept bumping shoulders with both of them.

“Duh, we can’t see the fireworks from inside, dingus,” Robin said, even though she shivered the hardest out of all of them. Vickie was tucked into her side and had her arms wrapped around Robin’s waist to try to keep warm.

Steve crossed his arms and glared out across the snowy lawn. “We could’ve grabbed our coats at least.”

“I did mean to give us more time to get ready, but it’s too late now.” Nancy looked at her watch. “Two minutes until midnight.”

When Eddie shoved his free hand in his pocket and shivered extra hard, Steve leaned into him, and it took every bit of willpower to not give in to the urge to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. Or kiss him. The idea of being openly affectionate with Steve made Eddie feel all fizzy inside in the best way. He was glad they were going to tell everyone after this. As fun as it had been, keeping this between themselves, he was getting tired of having to hide how he felt. He wanted their friends to know, wanted to touch and kiss his boyfrie—Steve without having to sneak around.

“Anyone got a wish they wanna make?” Argyle asked, and everyone else shot him confused looks.

“I don’t think people make wishes on New Years,” Jonathan said haltingly. “Do you mean resolutions?”

“Nah dude, I think wishes are better. Less pressure, y’know?”

Eddie tipped his head thoughtfully. “That’s a good point,” he said, and Argyle beamed at him.

“Yeah, that sounds like a nice idea.” Vickie agreed. “We should all think of a wish!”

“Just don’t say what it is or it won’t come true. Told my sister that I wished on a dandelion that my skateboard would never break but the next day it snapped like–” Argyle mimed breaking something over his knee, complete with sound effects. “It was a total bummer, man.”

“Wasn’t that the one you cracked and duct taped over?” Jonathan asked, bloodshot eyes narrowed as he tried to remember.

“Yeah, but like, with the good tape.”

Nancy gave an amused, but pinched, smile when she said, “Half a minute.”

Steve shuffled and Eddie looked over at him. He was so unfairly handsome tonight, freckled cheeks and nose flushed from the chill, and though his hair wasn’t quite as perfect anymore it just made him look roguish. Eddie wanted to get his hands in it. He wanted to kiss Steve so much it hurt. Subtly, Eddie slipped his hand from his pocket and wiggled the tips of his fingers in-between Steve’s, and Steve looked down at his feet to hide his smile, giving Eddie’s fingers a brief squeeze.

His heart beat a rapid staccato in his chest and Eddie knew right then what he was going to wish for.

“Ten seconds!” Nancy announced, then counted down, and everyone joined in, grinning at each other excitedly. Five seconds, three, one, and–

A whole chorus of screeching, banging fireworks from the town almost drowned out their cheers of Happy New Year! A riot of colours burst across the sky, spilling over the untouched snow and lighting up their faces, and Eddie silently sent his wish up into the sky with them.

Steve didn’t look at anyone but him, his face soft with affection. And Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off Steve. The fireworks looked better reflected in his eyes anyway.

“Hey, can you help me grab something from inside?” Steve asked, and Eddie nodded frantically.

Robin snorted when Steve and Eddie scampered off, but Eddie paid her no mind. He was too busy following Steve through the house filled with the loud music they’d forgotten to turn off. When he realised they were heading upstairs, heat began to burn low in his belly and anticipation buzzed under his skin. He wasn’t sure if they were out of view yet, but he didn’t care, giving Steve’s ass a light smack and smirking when Steve shot a glare over his shoulder. How could he be expected to resist? It was right in front of him!

They hurried down the hallway to Steve’s room, and Eddie was barely through the doorway when Steve shut it and crowded him up against it to kiss him. Eddie groaned hungrily and parted his lips for Steve’s tongue, the kiss turning messy with their enthusiasm. He felt Steve yanking his shirt out of his slacks and flinched, gasping, when Steve’s cold fingers touched his scarred sides.

“Been driving me nuts all night, Eds,” Steve muttered against Eddie’s lips, his hands inching up Eddie’s shirt. “You look so good all dressed up, god. When you touched my neck I almost caved and pinned you to the couch.”

Eddie laughed. “I couldn’t help myself,” he purred.

“Yeah well, it was a dick move.” Steve reached Eddie’s chest and swiped his chilly thumb over Eddie’s hardened nipple before pinching and rolling it, making him whimper. “Kinda think I should get some payback for it.”

“Don’t be mean to me, Stevie,” Eddie said, but his tone was deliberately teasing even as he squirmed a bit under Steve’s hands. He loved pressing his luck with Steve, pushing his buttons and seeing what it got him.

Steve arched an eyebrow, then shoved his knee between Eddie’s thighs, pressing into Eddie’s rapidly hardening cock. His mouth fell open and he rocked into the pressure. But then Steve’s hands grabbed him by the hips and held him still, pinned to the door, and Eddie whined.

“You teased me all night, and you think I’ll make it easy for you?” Steve smirked before he leaned down to kiss Eddie’s collarbones, nipping at Eddie’s skin to make him twitch ineffectually in his grip. All the while, he kept lightly grinding his thigh against Eddie’s dick, barely enough movement to taunt him.

Eddie groaned. “You teased me too!”

Steve slapped Eddie’s thigh and the shock of it, more than the light sting of it, made Eddie bite his lip to muffle a moan. “You made it worse,” Steve whispered into his ear as he soothed the spot he’d slapped with a gentle touch. “So yeah, I’m gonna be a little mean.”

Teeth caught his earlobe and Eddie shuddered, unable to contain a triumphant grin. Holy shit, he was excited for this. He fucking loved it when this side of Steve came out to play.

Straightening up, Steve let go of Eddie’s hips to work at the knot in his tie. “Ride my thigh,” he said as the knot came free and he whipped the tie off, flinging it somewhere into the room. Eddie nodded and started rolling his hips. The relief at being able to move was almost as powerful as the surge of arousal he felt at the command. His slacks were tight over his cock but the friction was so delicious. Steve’s strong thigh kept Eddie’s legs apart enough that he had to brace himself on Steve’s shoulders. It gave him enough stability to really grind, and jesus christ, between all the flirting and teasing and touching all night, and this, Eddie could already feel his orgasm building. Shit.

And the way Steve looked wasn’t helping anything. A lock of hair had come free over his forehead, making him look more artfully dishevelled, and Steve had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, dark curls of hair peeking out. Eddie wanted to eat him, be eaten by him. He dug his fingers into Steve’s shoulders and pulled him into a demanding kiss, licking into his mouth and swallowing his low moan.

While they kissed, Steve made quick work of Eddie’s shirt, and as soon as it was gone Steve’s hands were on him again, greedy and grasping. One wide palm held the back of his head, tugging lightly at his hair, and the other guided Eddie’s hips faster. Heat blazed in his gut and Eddie’s desperate grinding was starting to lose its tempo.

“S-Steve, oh fuck, gonna come in my pants i-if I keep going,” Eddie rasped.

“You can keep going a little longer,” Steve replied, no, insisted.

“I can’t,” Eddie whined. Steve slapped his thigh again, harder this time, and Eddie’s whine went embarrassingly high and reedy.

“Might have to be a little mean if you can’t keep going. Do you want that, baby?”

Oh yes he fucking did. “Yes, yes, fuck, Steve, yes I do,” he babbled, and Steve clicked his tongue like he was disappointed. But all Eddie saw in his face was devoted hunger, hazel eyes intense with it, making something swoop in Eddie’s gut.

“Your choice,” Steve said casually. Then he slapped him again, on the same, still stinging spot, and Eddie threw his head back as he came soundlessly, making a mess of his boxers, immediately feeling warm and sticky as he gasped for air and clung to Steve.

Steve held him through it, made sure his head didn’t smash into the door, muttering, “So pretty when you come, Eddie. Couldn’t help it, could you? S’okay. You’ll make it up to me.”

“I will, I will Steve, whatever you want.”

“Good boy,” Steve said, low and confident. Eddie shivered at the words and his eager groan was silenced when Steve kissed him, taking him by the hand and leading him with teasing, bitey kisses to the bed.

Eddie’s knees hit the bed and he let himself fall, bouncing on the eyesore of a duvet and quickly scrambling to get his slacks off, cringing at the way his cum made his boxers stick to him. At least he had a spare pair here. Steve grabbed the lube from his nightstand and chucked it onto the bed, then stood between Eddie’s legs and stared, swallowing at the sight of Eddie sprawled out on his bed. Smirking, Eddie spread his legs further, tilting his chin back as he tossed his hair. Seeing Steve still fully clothed, in a suit no less, hard cock bulging in his dress pants while Eddie was bare fucking naked below him made Eddie feel electric. He wiggled a little just to ease the frisson skittering along his nerves.

“Like what you see?” he asked.

Reaching out, Steve trailed his big fingers along the sensitive skin of Eddie’s inner thigh reverently, goosebumps rising in his wake. “Always do.” 

How Steve managed to sound turned on and sincere, Eddie had no idea, but it made his heart do flips in his chest.

Steve started slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt as his eyes lingered over Eddie’s body. “Turn over for me,” he said, and Eddie obeyed quickly, getting on his knees and elbows. Stretching out across the blankets, he looked over his shoulder at Steve and wiggled his ass in the air.

“C’mon Stevie,” he urged, drawing out the syllables, “I wanna know what you’re planning in that pretty head of yours.”

“Jesus, you’re impatient.” Steve shook his head, but there was a fond smile tugging at his lips and he did speed up. Once undressed—and Eddie would never get over the sight of Steve naked, or the sheer size of his cock, jesus christ—he stepped closer to the bed and yanked Eddie in by his hips, making him yelp. “Maybe you should ask me politely,” he said.

“Pretty please, Stevie, with a cherry on t—aah!”

The slap to his asscheek rang out in the room, the sting radiating out all warm and tingly. Eddie made a short, whiny noise as his dick gave a valiant twitch. There was a click from behind him and Eddie jumped when he felt cold lube drip over his hole, then down his taint. Steve dragged his thumb through it, then rubbed soothingly over the ring of muscle.

“Count them for me.”

Eddie nodded and counted that first slap, then the next two, alternating sides each time. Steve kept massaging his hole, then pressing in gently when Eddie relaxed between each smack. By the fifth slap Eddie’s cheeks were prickling painfully, and his cock started to fill out again, hanging heavy between his legs and twitching almost painfully at every slap. He knew his pale skin must be so red.

Steve paused and brushed his free hand over Eddie’s heated, sore skin. “You doing okay, Eds?”

“Yep, oh yeah, so fucking okay,” he breathed, “green, golden, whatever. I’m so good.”

Laughing, Steve bent over and kissed the small of Eddie’ back. “Such a good boy for me, baby. Now keep counting.”

With each smack, Eddie felt his belly tighten further and further. He was so fucking aroused he’d began to writhe and rock back onto Steve’s thumb, then his fingers when he started stretching Eddie, prepping him. By the time they got to nine, Eddie was shaking, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh god, Steve, please, I want you to fuck me already, please please please,” he begged.

“I dunno. You think you’ve made it up to me yet?”

Another slap, and Eddie sobbed out, “Ten! Yes, please Stevie, I’ve been good!”

Steve’s fingers pulled out of Eddie’s hole and he sobbed again, clenching around nothing. “You’re okay, Eds, you have been good, I’ve got you,” Steve reassured. There was a wet sound, and soon enough the blunt head of Steve’s slicked-up cock pressed against Eddie’s stretched hole. He rubbed his clean hand down along the curve of Eddie’s spine, the tender touch almost overwhelming in comparison to the hot pain in his cheeks. “Ready?” Steve asked.

“God yes.”

Eddie muffled his guttural moan in the covers as Steve pushed in, also groaning in relief. And he didn’t waste much time. Eddie was loose enough that Steve’s short, sharp thrusts brought them flush together with little effort, though Eddie still felt stretched out and so fucking full. They stayed like that for a moment, adjusting to the feeling together. The way Steve breathed, heavy and quick, told Eddie that he was getting control of himself. That Steve was close to coming just from slapping him around made him grin and squeeze around his cock like a tease.

“Eddie, that’s unfair,” Steve grunted and grabbed a small handful of ass in retaliation. Pain burned deliciously under his hand.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie said only a tiny bit insincerely. He felt Steve laugh more than he heard it.

Then Steve started to move again. The slow drag of his cock made Eddie shudder, able to feel every vein before he plunged back in again. Groaning low in his throat, Steve said, “Fuck, Eddie, wish you could see yourself.” Both his hands grabbed at Eddie’s ass, and he jerked and whimpered at the pain. “So pretty and red.”

Eddie just whined wordlessly, and Steve’s thrusts sped up. Fists white-knuckled in the covers, he rocked back eagerly, desperate for the feeling rising like a tide about to crash over him. Steve’s cock felt so fucking good, but then Steve got a knee up on the mattress and he draped himself over Eddie’s back and the angle drove him right into Eddie’s prostate, over and over. Eddie couldn’t help the sweet, needy cries that tumbled out of his mouth as his pleasure mounted.

Fingers entwined with his. It was Steve’s favourite thing to do during sex and it’d quickly become Eddie’s too. One more point of connection, a soft gesture no matter how hard they were fucking each other, and it made Eddie melt every time. He squeezed Steve’s fingers, maybe a little too hard, but Steve just fucked him faster, the sound of skin slapping against sweaty skin mingling with their moaning.

“Steve, gonna come, soon, holy shit. T-touch me? Please, want you to touch me,” Eddie said.

“Me too, god, I’ve got you.”

Reaching down, Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie’s aching, dripping cock and jerked him in time with his thrusts. Eddie was fucking overwhelmed. Steve’s hand, Steve’s cock, he didn’t know which feeling to chase, couldn’t tell the difference as he sped towards the crest of his climax. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes, his legs shook, the only anchor he had was Steve’s hand in his and he clung to it as he moaned Steve’s name.

“I’m so close, wanna come with you,” Steve begged raggedly. “Come for me, Eddie, please baby.”

The urgency in his voice and the way Steve’s rhythm grew sloppy and rough pushed Eddie over the edge finally, gloriously. His orgasm crashed over him and he came with a choked cry, rutting into Steve’s grip as he spilled on the duvet. Steve’s forehead dropped onto Eddie’s back and with a few hard pumps of his hips he came too, warm and deep inside Eddie.

Eddie’s legs gave out and he collapsed on the bed, grunting when Steve came down with him. They both laughed breathlessly, and Steve rolled off him, lazily scooting up the bed and trying to pull Eddie along too. Though he felt like a limp noodle, Eddie gave in and fumbled his way up and into Steve’s sweaty arms. Head resting on his chest, Eddie could hear how Steve’s heartbeat steadily slowed to something calm, and could feel his own slow to match.

Music was still blasting downstairs, and fireworks were still going off here and there outside. One flashed close to Steve’s window, a shower of green and gold that lit up Steve’s gorgeous eyes.

“Happy New Year, Steve,” he whispered.

Smiling, Steve kissed Eddie sweet and slow, then said, “Happy New Year, Eddie.”

Eddie returned the smile, but it grew into something cheeky when he got an awful idea. He saw the suspicion grow across Steve’s face. “I guess we, uh… really started the year off with a bang,” he said, and Steve’s head fell back onto his pillow with a pained groan.

When they both woke up, Steve eventually managed to coax Eddie out of bed so they could get breakfast started for everyone. It didn’t take much coaxing when he reminded Eddie that he planned to make french toast just for him. Dressed in Steve’s borrowed pyjamas, Eddie blearily trudged downstairs with him.

Their friends must have found their ways to the various guest rooms, because the living room and kitchen were empty. It looked like half of the mess from last night had been tidied, and Eddie shook his head with a smile when he imagined Nancy trying to clean before being convinced to go to bed.

Eddie took up his usual spot, seated on the counter—despite the soreness from last night—and mostly out of the way while Steve got everything together. He looked so soft in the light and his old, worn Hawkins High Basketball shirt, his hair ravaged by sleep. Sighing, Eddie propped his chin in his hand as he watched him move around the kitchen.

Steve caught him staring and put his hands on his hips. “What?”

“You’re just sooo handsome,” Eddie cooed, “I’d eat you for breakfast instead.” He snapped his teeth and Steve snorted and rolled his eyes as he closed the distance between them.

“Probably healthier to eat french toast,” he said. Hands on the counter at either side of Eddie’s knees, Steve looked up at Eddie. “And Robin would kill you for killing me.”

Clicking his tongue, Eddie tilted his head in agreement. “Yep. Probably. She’d have to enact some sort of best friend revenge clause if I murdered you and I don’t think I want to incur the Wrath of Buckley.”

“I don’t recommend it. She’s clumsy but if she does manage to land a hit she can kinda pack a punch.”

Eddie leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows, letting out a low, suggestive hum. “So do you,” he said, and even though Steve rolled his eyes again he also smiled. He barely had to tip his chin up to reach Eddie’s lips, and they traded a few kisses in the quiet morning sunlight. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, his hands inevitably finding their way into Steve’s hair.

They were both so distracted that they didn’t notice someone walk into the kitchen.

“Morning, brochachos,” Argyle said cheerily, and Steve and Eddie jumped away from each other, red faced and wide eyed. “Oh shit, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt the love fest!”

“Wh-huh?” Eddie said eloquently.

“It’s—uh,” Steve followed up.

Robin peered around the doorway next. “You two done or are you gonna burn breakfast?”

“It’s not gonna burn, Robs,” Steve frowned, but then said, “wait. Why aren’t you freaking out?”

The flat look Robin gave him made Eddie snort, even if it was kind of about him, too. “You’re kidding, right? I had my suspicions, Steve, but last night confirmed everything. You couldn’t keep your eyes off each other all night, it was ridiculous. And then the whole, ‘can you help me grab something from inside’ thing was the most obvious excuse ever.”

“And you didn’t come back down after that,” Nancy said as she and Jonathan walked in. “Morning, Eddie.”

“Uh. Uh-huh. Good morning. So, hold on, none of you care?” Eddie asked.

“Like I said, kind of already knew. We were just waiting for you to tell us,” Robin said as she poured coffee into two mugs. “I gotta tell Vickie exactly how right I was, be right back. And the french toast is burning, Steve.” Steve swore and jogged over to the stove.

Jonathan pulled a mug out of the cupboard as he spoke next. “I think it’s great you guys are boyfriends. It’s a good fit, y’know?”

Eddie’s heart thumped and he looked at Steve, who turned around from trying to save the first batch of breakfast from incendiary doom. Steve’s cheeks were a little red, and he was smiling shyly. Shrugged a bit, like a question. Beaming at him, Eddie said, “Yeah. Boyfriends. I think it’s great too.”

Dividers by @/saradika and @/cafekitsune

#matchingbatbites #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #sav scrawls stuff

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 10

Hello! So I’m wondering if people aren’t seeing my posts, I got someone on one these (don’t remember if it was this one or Roads...but they said that somehow they had missed the last three). I also noticed that a couple of the writing tags *I* follow didn’t update when they put out a new part of their story, I only noticed that they put it out because I dig through the #steddie tag several times a day.

So let me know if you’re still seeing my tags or not.

The application process has begun! Just a note on Argyle’s last name. The fandom doesn’t have one for him and they usually don’t give him one. It took a lot of research (the character looks Native American but the actor is an American born to two Mexican parents.) So after some seriously thought I landed on Rivera.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3  Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8  Pt 9

***

The first guy’s name was Keith Langston and he had been learning to tattoo through buying large swaths of pig skin. The guy’s portfolio was entirely of pig skin tattoos.

“Have you ever tattooed human skin or on a live person?” Steve asked looking over the portfolio turning each page slowly. “It can even be yourself. Or even just drawing on yourself?” He added, because that’s how he got into tattooing.

Keith scoffed. “That’s what I’m here for. To tattoo other people. I only go to the best to get my body tattooed.”

Steve smiled. “And who are your favorite artists?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Like only the greats. Leonard Killgrave, Ollie Peterson, Trent Sullivan. You know, those guys.”

How Steve managed to avoid wincing, he could only attest to years of customer service. Because he had never heard of any of them. And Hopper was no slouch in the social aspect of being a tattoo parlor owner. He knew most of the shop owners and good portion of the artists under them. They weren’t from Indy that was for sure.

And then it hit him. They weren’t from Indy. They were probably from Chicago or New York, maybe even Boston. This prick was traveling out of state to get his tattoos.

“I see,” was all Steve said. They talked some more about Keith’s abilities and where he hoped to be in five years.

“Well, you got to where you are in five years,” Keith sneered. “I fully expect to world renowned in that time.”

Steve’s eye twitched. “Thank you so much for your time.” He handed back the portfolio and didn’t even bother to stand.

Keith stormed off muttering about asshole douchebags who thought they were still in high school.

Yeah, Steve was not hiring Keith.

The next one was Eden Bingham. She was the Goth chick with the fluffy black hair and the piercings.

“Hello,” she greeted as Steve stood up to shake her hand.

“Hi,” he said, “tell me about yourself.”

Turned out she was Suzie’s older sister. She had moved out from Utah to get away from her strict parents and to be closer to Suzie after she married Dustin. Suzie was the one that had told her that he was looking for an apprentice and to try for it.

During the course of the interview, Steve was a little disappointed. Eden was good. Damn good in fact. And had been tattooing her friends and roommates for the last year, indie style. But he knew their personalities would clash so hard. And it wasn’t about the aesthetic. It wasn’t.

But he knew where she would flourish though and made a note to have Robin call Hop. Hop’s most recent apprentice had moved up to a chair and chose to move to Chicago to purse their career there and needed a new apprentice.

He thanked her for her time, stood up and shook her hand.

“Hey, look,” he said gently. “I don’t think you would be happy apprenticing under me.”

She smiled. “Probably not.”

“But I know someone who’s just barely had a spot open up,” Steve explained. “He hasn’t had time to put out feelers yet. I think you’d two would be a better fit.”

Eden’s eyes went wide. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

Steve nodded. “And not just because you’re Suzie’s sister, either. Because I think you’re good and deserve a shot. Even if it isn’t with me.”

“Thanks!”

He walked out with her to get Hopper’s number and address. She walked out talking excitedly to Suzie on the phone.

Robin bumped his shoulder. “That was nice of you.”

Steve blushed. “Hop will love her.” He looked at the remaining two. “Who’s next?”

“Argyle Rivera,” she murmured.

Steve turned to him. “Argyle, come on back.”

Argyle leapt to his feet. “Brochacho! I’m super excited.”

Steve smiled and led him to the back room. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Argyle handed him his portfolio. “I think it’s so cool you asked for a physical portfolio, dude. Most cats only want a link to some website.”

Steve grinned. “I don’t mind those, it’s just harder to talk while scrolling.”

Argyle grinned back. “Yeah.”

Steve opened it up to see the most beautiful Mexican styled tattoos he had ever laid eyes on in his life. Growing up in Hawkins made for a very thin Latino or Hispanic population so he didn’t see much of this kind of work, but he had always admired it.

“This is amazing,” he breathed. “How long have you been doing this?”

Argyle blushed. “I haven’t really done much. I used marker for the most part because permanent isn’t really my style, bro. But I’ve done a couple stick and poke stuff that was fun. And I am all about the fun. So a friend suggested I should try for this.”

“So you’ve never used an ink gun?” Steve asked.

Argyle shook his head. “Nope!”

Steve and Argyle talked for a bit longer and Steve was really impressed with how open and outgoing he was.

“How do you feel about doing tattoos not in your usual style?” he asked. This was the kicker for most artists.

Argyle lit up. “That would be awesome to learn how to do, dude! I love my style but branching out is what life is all about.”

“And how would you feel about starting off only doing simple tattoos, like the small ones or basic designs?” Steve asked.

Argyle’s face spread out into the biggest grin. “Everyone’s got to start out somewhere, my man!”

Steve was really leaning towards Argyle now. Which was too bad, because he really liked the spunky blonde. No, no, not like that.

He led Argyle back to the reception area and then Robin called the last out. “Chrissy Cunningham.”

Steve smiled at her. “Come on back.”

She jumped up and followed him. “You aren’t going to murder me for the no tattoo remark, are you?” she asked with a grin and a wink.

Steve burst out laughing. “If I killed everyone that thought that, Indy would be down three-fifths of its tattoo artist population.”

She laughed too. “Fair enough.”

“And since we’re on the topic,” he said, indicating for her to sit down, “you don’t look the type anymore than I do.”

She grinned. “I got my first tattoo when I sixteen. My mom didn’t want me cutting my hair so much so that I told her either let me cut my hair or let me get a tattoo, she let me get the tattoo.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit! I’ve never heard of that. It’s hair. It grows back.”

Chrissy grinned. “Her words were ‘At least a tattoo could be covered up, I’d have to look at the terrible hair cut!’.”

“That is fucking insane!” Steve said. “Can I see it?”

She nodded and pulled up her shirt sleeve. Steve could see the nine (yes nine, Pluto counts) planets and at the top was a howling fox.

“That’s cool,” he said. “Can I see your portfolio?”

She handed it over and Steve looked at it. She didn’t seem to have a firm style yet.

He found out they had both gone to Hawkins High. “Wait, no way.”

She nodded. “We all knew who Steve Harrington was. The basketball players all wanted to be him and all the cheerleaders wanted to be with him.”

Steve blushed into his hands. “Oh god that’s awful.”

Chrissy laughed. “Well, most of the cheerleaders anyway.”

“Not you?” he guessed.

“Kind of a large lesbian,” she said with a grimace. “Makes it a tad difficult.”

Steve laughed. “Fair enough.”

He talked with her a bit and then led her out like he had done with Eden and Argyle. He said goodbye and locked the door up behind him.

He turned to Robin. “What did you think of them? Be honest. They probably said a whole lot while they were waiting their turn.”

Robin nodded. “Argyle got Eden’s number.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Yeah, okay I needed that. Did he really?”

“Oh yeah,” Robin said. “It was mildly hilarious how well they hit it off. You couldn’t find a weirder couple.”

Steve put his hand over his heart in mock protest. “Have you supplanted our relationship as the weirdest ever? I’m hurt. Hurt I say!”

Robin laughed so hard she snorted. “All right you drama queen, weirdest romantic couple. How’s that?”

Steve beamed at her. “Perfect!”

She laughed again, shaking her head. They talked about the two candidates and both were really good.  

“I don’t want to pick between them,” Steve whined, hitting his head on the desk.

“So don’t.”

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

Robin licked her lips slowly. “Steve, I’ve been doing the numbers, if we add in the potential of what they can bring in, by the time school starts back up again not only will we have enough to pay for both of them to stay on, but Erica too, and the new receptionist.”

Steve jerked back. “Wait, what?”

She nodded. “I’m not lying, dingus. I’ll swear on it. In fact, we could probably hire the new receptionist by July.”

His eyes went wide. “Really?”

Robin took his face in her hands. “You are open and friendly. First timers and people who are just nervous in general love coming to you because you put them at ease. People who just want to get a tattoo as memorial or just as a one-time thing, love coming to you. There is this whole untapped market that you accidentally slid into and made it your own. We just need more people so you and I can enjoy our lives for a change.”

Steve blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “You are so good at this. Don’t sell yourself short. You deserve this.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it. Call them both and have them come in tomorrow at nine so that we can go over a few things and have them learn how to open.”

Robin nodded. “Sounds good.” She picked up the phone and started doing just that.

Steve watched her with a growing smile on his face. He had a really good feeling about this summer.

***

Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21   Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25 Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Epilogue

I figured as controlling as Chrissy’s mom was in the show about her weight, she would be controlling about the hair too. And ngl this is exactly what my oldest sister did to my youngest niece. It’s hair. It’ll grow back. Nope. The tattoo on my niece’s arm is the one I described here.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination 

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

[byler-4-life]

Here's the full version of my post from yesterday. If you want a tl;dr check that out instead, but it won't have all the info/evidence of this one.

So few of these thoughts are exactly original, but I haven't seen them strung together in one timeline like this. Doing so makes all of El's behavior from Volume 2 make so much more sense in my head. So at first you might think I'm just recapping stuff, but read until the end (there are one or two original thoughts that are mine). If you do you might just be convinced of one thing - El now knows, or at least highly suspects, that Mike and Will have romantic feelings for each other.

So first point we all know. In El's letter to open the season, she says Will is doing a painting, and he won't let her see. She assumes it is for someone he likes at school (maybe a girl, she says).

Next, the big M*leven fight in Ep 3 where El finally brings up the fact that is bothering her - Mike can't say "I love you" to her.

Third, we have these now famous pics of El drawing the "Piggyback". They represent Max, El, and Vecna in the drawing. But thanks to the amazing cinematography, we can also see that the girl can also represent El, and the two figures together to the right are Mike and Will.

There's no other reason for them to shoot this scene through the window like this. And, to further solidify the point that the girl in the drawing is El, we get this shot:

In this, we see actual El covering up the drawn girl, but the two stick figures are still visible. From this perspective it looks even more like a "thought bubble" coming from El's own head. And I think that means that right now, at this very moment, she's starting to have thoughts about Mike and Will together. She's starting to sense that something is strange.

So why? What would've caused her to come up with these thoughts between the time they rescued her, and the time of the above scene? Well, there's really only one thing that could've changed. She must've seen the painting in the van. It's not a big leap. She didn't even have to see the contents of the painting. All she had to do was notice it was in Mike's possession. Remember, she thought Will was painting it for someone he liked. And now Mike has it. So...gears are beginning to turn.

So, I know it's a popular theory that El was going to break up with Mike at the Surfer Boy right before they're interrupted by Argyle. While that's possible, I'd like to put forth another theory.

El knows something is up with Will and the painting, but she doesn't know what. Right now, El isn't mad at Will or Mike, she's just confused about what is going on. She wants to ask Mike why he has the painting, but doesn't wanna do it in front of everyone. So she waits until they have a moment alone. And I think THIS is what she's going to ask about in the pizza shop before they're interrupted by Argyle. It's the first time they're alone and have time for a private chat. At this point, I think she might suspect Will likes Mike, but doesn't think it goes the other way. But, Argyle interrupts, so her questions are going to have to wait.

Next we have...sigh....THAT monologue. So picture this. In Episode 3, El bared her soul to Mike, telling her how much it hurt that he didn't tell her he loved her ever. That he couldn't even write it. She's broken down crying, begging for him to do it. And what does he do? Deflects, blames other people, and still doesn't say it. So now, she's in a fight for her life with Vecna, she's losing, everything is going wrong. And all it takes it one line from Will and suddenly Mike is spilling his emotional guts out?

He wouldn't do it for a crying, sobbing El. But just a nudge from Will and Mike is saying all the things El thought she wanted to hear from him. And in that moment I think everything clicks for her. She knows. El doesn't move the needle for Mike, not in that manner. It's Will. El wasn't able to coax those words out of Mike. But Will did. Easily.

And so I think THAT is part of the reason we don't see El talking to NEITHER Will nor Mike the rest of the season. And that's the reason she side eyes BOTH of them in this scene. You can tell she's annoyed, look at how she closes the door.

Remember, Will asks Mike if she's said anything. And all of what Mike tells him about what El said, about Brenner telling her she wasn't ready, and her thinking he might've been right. That all came as news to Will. He didn't know that and reacted angrily. But the fact that he didn't know does confirm one thing.

That means El is not talking to Will either during the two days! This is a stark change from how emotional and close they were during the reunion in the desert. Yes I know she's upset about losing and upset about Max, but those are the times you need to lean on people close to you. And if it wasn't going to be Mike, I would've bet money that it would be Will who she went to for support. Those two had grown so close since living together. But no, she for some reason is ignoring both of them. And I think that reason is she's starting to see what Mike and Will's relationship really is.

To be clear, I don't think El is going to be truly angry with them. I think she was heading towards splitting with Mike anyways. But I think she is a bit miffed right now. She doesn't understand why Will was able to draw a "confession" out of Mike while she wasn't. I think once she learns about how deep their love is for each other, and realizes she doesn't feel that way about Mike, she will be supportive. But for now, I don't think it's unfair of her to be confused and a little upset.

(pic creds @yuriberryva)

(vid creds and partial inspiration from this very informative post from @theonebyler)

#byler #byler theory #long post #El KNOWS

[ghosttotheparty]

part 2 of this post more autistic steve <3 now w autistic mike <3 also on ao3

Not much changes after it all. 

Nobody notices when they’re all together. 

Nobody notices the way Eddie’s eyes seem to get stuck on Steve’s face, on his hair and his neck and his hands, and it kind of makes sense when Eddie remembers that nobody notices the way Steve’s mood shifts when it gets too loud. They also don’t notice the way Eddie’s fingers linger on Steve’s when they greet each other, or the way Steve traces a teasing line over Eddie’s back when no one is looking. 

Eddie doesn’t really know why they haven’t told anyone. He knows they wouldn’t have a problem with it, with SteveandEddie. Hell, he’s pretty sure Robin has a crush on Nancy, and he’s fairly positive Argyle isn’t 100% straight. (And he’s starting to wonder about Mike. He hasn’t said anything, of course, but he’s a little too much like Eddie was when he was his age for him to not think anything of it.) 

But they keep quiet about it. Act like friends, buddies, pals, while everyone is around, then kiss each other against the closest wall or piece of furniture when they’re gone. Call each other late at night when one of them doesn’t sleep over. During movie nights, they sit side by side with a blanket over their laps, and their legs press under it, and their fingers tangle, and Eddie traces lines over his palms or runs his thumb back and forth over his skin. Steve squeezes at his fingers, fidgeting happily with them. Once, Steve falls asleep on Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie has to actively suppress a grin.

They don’t mind. 

It doesn’t feel like much has changed between them, either. Even though before that day they were barely even friends. Eddie supposes it’s always been easy between them, every casual interaction; the quiet banter between them while complaining about Dustin, the bored looks while the kids bicker. It’s always come like second nature, like they were on the same wavelength without even a word. 

Like they were both following a script they both had memorized. And then the script was flipped, painted so it was blank, but they still…

They still knew what to do. Where to go. What to say. 

How to touch each other. 

They barely even have to try. It’s oddly beautiful to Eddie, how quickly they found their way together, how nicely they fit together. It’s like they’re fucking puzzle pieces or something, and Eddie really realized after everything with Steve that he really is just as (if not more) cheesy as those romcoms Nancy loves so much. He thinks shit like he and Steve are fucking puzzle pieces, the way they fit together. But it's true; Steve’s arm fits right over Eddie’s waist, the other under his neck as Eddie snuggles up close because he can’t stand even a centimeter of distance between them. Their legs twist together naturally like they’ve been doing this for years, the same with their fingers. 

And it feels the same even when Steve doesn’t want to be touched. 

That happens sometimes, like that day. Steve gets too overwhelmed, too overstimulated, to handle being touched, sometimes just by someone else like Eddie or Robin, sometimes by anything all, like his shirt or his socks or his pillows. He lays on the floor sometimes, looks up at the ceiling and focuses on the feeling of the floor against his back, the way his spine stretches. Eddie joins him sometimes, lays next to him in silence, listens to him breathe. And when Steve is ready, he reaches for him, twists their fingers together, tugs Eddie closer when he wants it. 

Wordless, most of the time. Eddie doesn’t mind. Steve does just fine communicating what he needs when he needs it. Soft hums or grunts when Eddie asks him questions. If he wants a hug, if he wants something cold, if he wants Eddie’s hand to squeeze. 

And when he can speak again… 

Thank you, Eddie.

Eddie always kisses his forehead. Mumbles a soft love you, because they say that now. 

Which wasn’t a big thing either. Easy. Quiet. 

It was late at night the first time they said it. Eddie hadn’t even realized they’d said it until the next morning, when he woke up to Wayne walking past his room to the bathroom, when his eyes found the phone on his nightstand, a little blurry because of how tired he was. 

G’night, Stevie, love you.

Mm. Love you too, baby.

He’d fallen back asleep with Steve’s voice in his head. 

They never said anything about it. Never had a big moment, a conversation, a confession. It was just that. Soft love yous when they parted, mumbled between kisses. Sweet kisses. Soft kisses. Good morning kisses, good night kisses. Sloppy kisses, with whispers and giggles as their hands wander. 

So fucking easy. 

— — — — — 

The phone rings as Eddie is turning the page of his comic book. He reaches for it without looking away from the book, quickly picking it up so the hallway phone doesn’t wake Wayne up, though it doesn’t usually. The man sleeps like a log.  

“Munsons.”

“…Eddie?”

Eddie drops the comic book when hears Steve’s voice, soft and weak and breathless and so vulnerable Eddie aches a little. 

“Hey, baby, what’s up?”

“I, uhm…”

“You okay?”

“Not— Not really.”

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, moving to sit up, tossing the comic book away. 

“I just— I just got back from work, and I— I’m, like…”

“Deep breath, honey, you’re okay,” Eddie says reassuringly, closing his eyes as Steve inhales deeply, exhales slowly. 

“It’s too much,” Steve chokes, and he’s crying now, his voice wobbling. “You said— you said to call you if— if—“

“‘S right, Stevie,” Eddie says softly. “Good job, baby, I’m right here. What do you need?” 

He feels a little sick, anxious with how heavy Steve’s voice sounds when he says, “I don’t know.”

“What would make you feel better, honey?”

“I… You, I— I want you here.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, warmth flooding his chest. 

“I’ll head over soon, baby, I’m not gonna hang up on you right now, though.”

Steve lets out a wet giggle. 

“‘Preciate it.”

“What else?”

“I…” Steve exhales. Takes a deep breath. “I need to hit something, I’m…”

Eddie hears a muffled thud, the sickening sound of Steve hitting his thigh with a fist.

“Get a pillow, Steve,” he says quickly. “Go get one to hit and come back to me, okay?”

Steve lets out a soft whine and then it goes quiet for a few moments before there’s a rustle and the sound of Steve’s hand picking up the phone again. 

“I got it,” he says breathlessly. 

“Good boy,” Eddie says softly. “I’m gonna head over, alright? Use the pillow, don’t hurt yourself.”

Steve lets out a breathy hum.

“M’kay. Dri— Drive safe.”

Eddie smiles into the phone, already standing. 

“I will, baby, I love you.”

“Love you.”

He hangs up and scrambles to find his shoes, scribbles a note for Wayne (gone to steve’s love you) and leaves it in the kitchen. Tries not to let the door slam shut. 

Steve is in his room when Eddie gets there, sitting on his bedroom floor and hitting the pillow, tugging the pillowcase like he’s trying to rip the fabric. 

“Hey, baby,” Eddie says softly, alerting Steve of his presence quietly, and Steve hums, turning his head toward him, but his eyes are closed. He doesn’t stop with the pillow, and Eddie moves onto the floor, kicking off his shoes. 

He seems fairly calm right now, rocking back and forth as he pulls at the pillow case, breathing heavily. He isn’t hyperventilating, Steve notes, just breathing hard. Loud. But steady. 

“What do you need?” he whispers. 

Steve’s lips part, and he takes a breath. 

“I…”

His brows furrow, and he exhales sharply, frustrated with himself. 

“Take your time, sweet boy, I’m not going anywhere,” Eddie says softly, and he wants to caress his face, to kiss his forehead so the wrinkle from his furrowed eyebrows fades, but he refrains. 

It takes a few moment for Steve to speak, still rocking back and forth, and Eddie waits. 

“Can you— Can you squeeze me?”

“Squeeze you?”

Steve hums weakly, almost whimpering, and he gesturing with a hand, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Sit— Sit behind me, and…”

“Yeah,” Eddie says quickly, moving to crawl across the floor. “Of course.”

He sits behind him, leaning to check his expression as he wraps his legs around his hips, and he hugs him gently, pulling him against his chest. 

“That okay?”

“Harder, I need— I need pressure—“

“I got you,” Eddie murmurs, tightening his arms, squeezing, and Steve stops moving, freezing for a moment before he relaxes against Eddie with an exhale. “Okay?”

Steve whimpers affirmatively. 

His hands find Eddie’s forearms after a few moments, and his breathing becomes slower, shallower, returning to normal. His hands relax on Eddie’s arms, and Eddie carefully loosens his arms. 

“Okay?”

“Don’t let go,” Steve says weakly. 

“I won’t let go unless you want me to, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve takes a shuddering breath, and his head falls back to Eddie’s shoulder, exposing his neck. Eddie starts to sway with him in his arms, squeezing him once. 

“Thank you,” Steve whispers after another while. His voice is soft, weak, and he’s crying again. Eddie squeezes again, refraining from kissing his neck just in case he’s too sensitive right now. 

“I love you, baby,” he murmurs instead. “You need me, I’m right here, always.”

Steve cries quietly, holding Eddie’s forearms, and when he stops crying, he curls into a ball, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck as he sighs, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

“Hard day?” Eddie whispers. 

“Mhmm.”

“Wanna talk or take a nap?”

“Mm. Dunno.”

“We can talk later if you want,” Eddie whispers. “Let yourself be tired.”

Steve sighs, his breath tickling Eddie’s neck, and he presses closer. 

“Squeeze?”

Eddie tightens his arms, and Steve groans softly, nuzzling closer. Eddie smiles as Steve becomes heavier, as he melts into Eddie’s arms, as he falls asleep. 

They talk when he wakes up, when they move to his bed. Their voices are soft and quiet as Steve makes his way back into Eddie’s arms, pressing to his chest, face tucked into his throat. 

A customer yelled at him today. Steve hates being yelled at. It makes him think of his father. 

The customer called him stupid. 

Steve really, really hates that. 

He held himself together until he got home. 

Eddie kisses his forehead, sliding a hand over his waist gently. 

“You’re not stupid, Steve,” he murmurs. Steve sighs, buzzing into Eddie’s neck, and when he speaks, his voice is muffled. 

“‘M not stupid.”

“‘S right.”

Steve is quiet for so long Eddie thinks he’s fallen asleep, until he shifts and says Eddie’s name softly. 

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

Eddie smiles, shifting down so they’re face to face, and Steve’s arm reaches up to drape over his neck as his other arm tucks between them. Eddie touches his face tenderly, brushing his thumb over his cheek before he leans in and kisses him softly. Steve kisses him back, leaning forward to capture his lips again when he pulls away, shifting to touch his face. His fingers press into Eddie’s cheek gently, touching his scar. He doesn’t really like the scar all that much, but he can’t complain about it. He’s alive after all. And if Steve heard him complain or talk negatively about it, Steve would be pissed, so… 

Steve likes the scar. He kisses it a lot, his lips always soft and careful and loving, like the scar is something beautiful. It’s nice. Especially on days that Eddie can’t stand to see himself, to look at himself in a mirror. Steve always seems to somehow know. 

Steve sucks on Eddie’s lower lip, his teeth digging into it gently, and Eddie lets him, relaxing into the mattress, exhaling. It always feels so nice when Steve does this, kisses him like he’s fidgeting, like there’s nothing else in the world but their mouths. Steve likes doing this, Eddie’s realized. Sucking on Eddie’s lips, his tongue, sometimes his fingers. It’s never sexual (or at least too sexual), just something for Steve to do. 

Steve hums low in his throat, licking Eddie’s lips, and Eddie grins, letting Steve lick across his teeth. He doesn’t think he can ever get used to this: the weird, oddly soft grossness of Steve’s tongue sliding across his mouth, between his lips, slick and wet. But they both love it, always smiling absently, dopily, when there are strings of spit connecting their mouths, when their chins are wet with each other’s spit, sloppy and filthy and beautiful. 

Steve falls asleep with his lips pressed to Eddie’s, and Eddie can barely even move, smiling to himself. He’s so sweet. 

Eddie traces his face for a while, gazes at the moles spotting his skin like he’s stargazing, until it’s too dark for him to see them clearly. He can still see them when he closes his eyes. He has them memorized. 

— — — — — 

It’s a Wednesday. Eddie doesn’t have anything to do. 

Wayne falls asleep on the sofa, and Eddie makes him lunch. Leaves it on the kitchen counter with a note that just has a little devil doodle on it with a heart. And he goes to Steve’s. 

He almost expects Robin to be there when he arrives, but when she is there, they’re usually downstairs, tangled on the sofa while they bicker and watch a movie, or both at the same time, or in the kitchen, bantering or singing while they make lunch together. The house is dark when he gets there, all the lights off, and he hears music from upstairs, muffled and pulsing through the walls. He recognizes the song as he goes up the stairs, some Fleetwood Mac song that Robin’s been listening to nonstop lately, and then he expects to see her again as he pushes Steve’s door open, but he stops when he sees Steve. 

Laying on his bed sideways, his head hanging off the edge upside down, his arms crossed over his midsection, tapping in time with the music. His eyes are closed peacefully. 

“Hey, baby,” Eddie says softly, smiling when Steve smiles without opening his eyes. “Mind if I join you?”

“Mm-mm. No touching, though.”

“M’kay.”

Eddie sits on the floor next to where his head is hanging, looking at the way his hair hangs down, looking soft and smooth and shiny in the sunlight. 

“You stood in the doorway a long time,” Steve says, his hands still tapping. 

“Did I? Didn’t notice, I was distracted.” Steve suppresses a smile. 

“How’d you know I was there before I said anything?” “Heard you on the stairs,” Steve says lightly. “I know what your walking sounds like. ‘Nd I could smell you.”

He’s already smiling like he knows what Eddie is going to say. 

“You could smell me?”

“Mhmm. I got the nose of a bloodhound, Robin says.”

“Okay, weird.”

Steve giggles. 

“You smell good.” “What do I smell like?”

“Mm. Cigarettes. But, like, in a good way. ‘Nd your shampoo. ‘Nd your apartment. You and Wayne smell mostly the same. He uses different soap.”

Eddie smiles at him, listening to the sound of his hands tapping his sides in time with the song, watching him smile.

“...You do have the nose of a bloodhound, my god.”

Steve giggles.

He falls quiet, still smiling as he listens to the song, and Eddie looks at him. 

He always looks so golden, glowing warmly all the time, but it’s different when the sunlight is right on him. Eddie knows Steve doesn’t really like himself, but he thinks Steve is the sun’s favorite person. He looks like he should have a halo. Like it’s missing. 

There are moles on his neck, right where Eddie likes to kiss and lick and suck to hear the way Steve whines like he’s throwing a temper tantrum, like he’s upset. The first time it happened, Eddie thought he hated it. He thought Steve was too sensitive for it, thought it wasn’t good for him the way it is for Eddie. But when he tried to raise his head, Steve’s hand tightened in his hair, pulling him back down to bury his face in his neck, and Eddie had laughed, opening his mouth to slide his tongue over the skin, and he relished the way Steve hissed a soft Fuck, yes.

Eddie looks at the spots, smiling softly, and then his eyes move to look at Steve’s Adam’s apple, pronounced because his head is tilted back over the edge of the bed, his neck arched. Eddie wants to lick it. 

Steve’s hands are still tapping his sides, one hand tapping four beats, the other one, and as Eddie watches, they switch smoothly. Eddie blinks, watching. 

He smiles. Steve is wearing one of Eddie’s rings. It’s one he’s never worn all that often, a little small for his ring finger but fitting perfectly on Steve’s. No one’s questioned it because they haven’t seen Eddie wear it. It’s a silver band, scratched and tarnished with age, and Eddie doesn’t even remember when or where he got it. Just that it’s a good ring, won’t turn Steve’s finger green, and that it looks nice against Steve’s skin. Neither of them said anything when Eddie put it on his finger. 

It was late at night, and they were smoking a joint together, trading it back and forth until Steve opted to just lean in and blow the smoke into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie had gazed at him the way he is now, smiling softly as he traced the angle of his nose, the part of his lips as smoke drifted from between them, curling into the air toward the ceiling. Eddie had barely thought, shifting to reach into his bedside table to find the ring, reaching for Steve’s hand to slide it on carefully, slowly. Steve had watched, smiling as he took a drag, and he held the smoke in his lungs as Eddie pressed a kiss to the ring like Steve was royalty. He tugged at Eddie’s hand to make him lift his head so he could lean in and kiss him deeply, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. 

Steve’s hands switch again, alternating beats, the ring flashing in the sunlight. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Eddie’s face flushes with heat, and he looks at Steve’s face when his hands don’t stop. Steve is quiet, and his eyes blink open, his eyelashes fluttering for a moment before he looks at Eddie, shifting to see him. 

“Yeah?” he asks lightly, softly. 

“...Yeah.”

“What tipped you off?”

“I just…”

And how the fuck is Eddie supposed to say it? That everything Steve does lights his insides on fire, even if he’s just itching his nose, that Steve makes Eddie want to live life more than anything. That Eddie looks forward to seeing him every time he wakes up in the morning, that even on days that they can’t see each other, the idea of seeing Steve keeps him going. And maybe that’s not healthy, to be so fucking obsessed with someone, but Eddie can’t bring himself to care. He almost died. He was inches from it, almost in the fucking light or whatever. What does it matter if he’s obsessed with his boyfriend? 

“You’re just so perfect,” Eddie says finally. Steve scoffs. 

“I’m not perfect, Eddie.”

“Closest thing to perfect I’ve ever known.”

Steve is quiet again. 

He looks at Eddie again. 

For a while. 

Eddie thinks he’s processing it, absorbing it. 

He knows Steve doesn’t hear things like that often. His parents are pieces of shit, were always mean to him regardless of how hard he tried to make them proud, and the kids tease relentlessly, even in love. Steve isn’t told often enough how much he is. How he’s fucking everything. 

“Can I have a kiss?” Steve asks softly. 

“Touching okay?” “God, yeah, please.”

Eddie grins and moves to sit cross-legged across from where his head is hanging. Steve looks at him, smiling, and Eddie finally drags his fingers through his hair, undoing the small knots in it as he leans in and kisses him. It’s a little awkward with the upside-down angle, Eddie’s nose mashing against Steve’s chin, and vice versa. But it’s perfect. 

Steve hums, reaching to touch Eddie, his hand drifting in the air for a moment as he gets situated until his fingers push into Eddie’s hair a little too hard. Eddie smiles, sucking for a moment on Steve’s lower lip before he pulls back to look at him. Steve tugs his hair, lips parted, chin lifting to prompt Eddie to kiss again, and Eddie leans back in, kicking into his mouth gently. 

His hand finds Steve’s neck, fingertips trailing over his warm skin until he finds his throat, where they dance over his Adam’s apple lightly, making him shiver. Eddie smiles, pressing his hand over his throat, holding it carefully, listening to Steve choke weakly, a hum catching in his throat. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, holding Eddie’s face between his hands now. “I think I’m falling in love with you too.”

“Mm.” Eddie kisses him slowly before mumbling against his lips. “‘S cool.”

Steve smiles.

— — — — — 

The music is different the next time Eddie goes over. Loud, heavy, and… screaming? 

Eddie makes his way upstairs, raising an eyebrow as he heads to Steve’s room, the music getting louder and louder. He can practically feel it in the ground, vibrating through his bones, and he can’t even understand the lyrics, the words growled and hissed and screamed. 

Steve is pacing in his room when Eddie pushes the door open, hands flapping in the air in time with the music as his head bobs, making his hair swing in the air around it. Eddie pauses to watch, glancing at the record player on his dresser. There are records on the ground, set against the dresser, the covers of them black with spikey, illegible writing. One is just white with something written on it in black marker. 

“Hello?” Eddie says loud enough to be heard over the music, and Steve looks at him excitedly, running at him before jumping so Eddie can catch him, arms around his waist. Steve’s arms wrap around his neck. 

“Hi,” he says brightly.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, arms tightening when Steve doesn’t let go. 

“I am desperately understimulated.”

“Oh, understimulated, huh?” Eddie says suggestively, grinning when Steve giggles into his neck, arms tightening, and he sways.“What are we listening to?” 

“Mm, they’re called Damage Control,” Steve mumbles, up on his tiptoes to hold Eddie tighter. “They’re one of my favorites right now.”

“Favorite… what?”

“Bands,” Steve says, his voice on the verge of laughter. “They’re from Indy,” he continues when Eddie remains speechless. “They sell to that one music store in Bloomington— You know the Rock Shop?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly. That’s where he gets most of his tapes. God knows the music store in Hawkins doesn’t have shit he likes. 

“There,” Steve says. “The owner suggested them to me because I liked Autopsy, and Damage was kind of new— They still are, I guess, they’ve only released three albums and they’re kinda underground or whatever, but the guy at the Rock Shop said they’re working on another album and I’m really excited about it.”

Eddie is grinning, and when Steve pulls away, he is too. 

Steve looks at him with that glowing grin, and he starts bobbing his head with the music again, mouthing the words at Eddie. 

You’ve been holding your breath for far too long, babyI’ll give you mine straight from my lungs

I’ll give you it all, baby, anything you needGut me, Gut me, Gut me

Eddie’s smile widens, and he pulls at Steve’s back, crashing their mouths together so hard it hurts a little, but Steve giggles, hugging his neck and tilting his head. Eddie kisses him desperately, listening as Steve moans softly into his mouth, their teeth clashing and tongues sliding, and it’s sloppy and messy and seemingly just what Steve needed. He pushes Eddie against the door as the instruments cut short in the song to emphasize the long, scratchy scream before the drums come crashing back in. 

One of Steve’s legs hitches up on Eddie’s hip, and Eddie grabs his thigh, squeezing tightly, smiling when Steve grunts, one of his hands grabbing at the side of Eddie’s thigh. 

“Baby,” Eddie gasps when they part for breath, glancing down at Steve’s spit-slick lips.

“Mm.”

“I got a very serious question for you.”

Steve giggles, smiling lazily, tracing the scars on Eddie’s neck. 

“What?”

“...Do you want me to touch your butt?” Eddie asks seriously, eyes wide and earnest, and Steve giggles again, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

“Sure.”

“Sure? You don’t sound like you want it—”

“Eddie,” Steve says firmly, grabbing his face and pulling so their eyes meet. “Touch my butt.”

Eddie snickers, licking his bottom lip as he slides his hand over Steve’s thigh and hip to grab his ass, his stomach flipping when Steve’s eyes flutter shut for a moment. 

“Yeah,” Steve says softly, his voice almost lost to the music. “Fuck, yeah.”

Eddie squeezes again, digging his fingers in until Steve winces and exhales sharply. 

“That okay?” Eddie checks softly, and Steve nods. 

“Touch me,” he says, breathing hard suddenly, eyes closing as he kisses Eddie messily for a moment. “Please, Eddie baby, I need more.”

Eddie reaches down to tug at his other thigh, picking him up and holding him as his legs wrap around his hips, sliding his hands to hold his ass, spreading his fingers to take up as much space as possible, squeezing as he turns to press Steve into the door. 

He kisses him again, licking into his mouth messily, and Steve’s mouth falls open, his tongue sliding against Eddie’s as he holds his shoulders, his breath fast and hot. 

“What do you want?” Eddie asks breathlessly, his face warm as Steve licks his mouth again. 

“Want it to hurt a little,” Steve breathes. “Just, like… squeeze tight. ‘Nd… Fuckin’ bite me and shit.”

Eddie laughs, kissing him quickly before he tightens his hands on his ass, digging his fingers into his flesh. The fabric of his sweatpants is thin and soft, and he can feel the heat of Steve’s skin on his hands. He watches Steve’s face carefully, watches his eyebrows furrow as his eyes squeeze shut, watches his mouth fall open silently as he holds his breath, and when his shoulders tighten, Eddie relaxes his grip. He watches as relief floods Steve’s expression, as he relaxes against the door with an exhale and a Fuck yeah.

“That okay?”

“Mm,” Steve hums, nodding, breathing hard. “Yeah, that was… That was perfect.”

“M’kay,” Eddie mumbles, kissing him again desperately. “Lemme know if it’s too much.”

“Okay.”

Eddie does it again, kissing Steve and letting his mouth hang open for him to lick into it, squeezing hard until Steve whines before he releases, listening to Steve exhale. 

Steve’s mouth is warm, and Eddie presses him into the doorway harder, practically massaging his ass as Steve’s tongue slides over his teeth like he’s trying to feel the texture of them, like he’s trying to memorize the bumps and divots between them. His tongue lingers at one of Eddie’s canines, pressing into the sharp point of it, and Eddie bites down gently, carefully. Steve moans happily, his hips jerking up. Eddie grins. 

He slides his hands to his hips, squeezing hard for a few seconds as Steve finally pulls his mouth away to catch his breath, panting. Eddie lowers his head, pressing his face into Steve’s neck and sliding his tongue over his skin as Steve giggles lightly. He’s ticklish here. 

He hears Steve inhale deeply when Steve’s face presses to his head, his nose in his hair, and he smiles, licking him again before he lingers at a spot under his jawline, biting down as he squeezes again. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” Steve chokes. “Harder.”

Eddie soothes the spot with a swipe of his tongue before moving a hand to tug at Steve’s shirt, pulling the collar out of the way so Eddie can mouth at the spot between his shoulder and his neck. He bites down again, harder, listening as Steve lets out that petulant fucking whine, like he’s mad, like he hates it, but his hand reaches to hold the back of Eddie’s head, holding him in place, his fist tight in his curls. 

“Shit,” Steve gasps when Eddie lets up, looking at the bite mark on his skin, a perfect print of his teeth. “I wanna come, I…”

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, squeezing his ass again before he pulls him away from the doorway, stepping back into the room to drop Steve on the bed, but Steve pulls him down with him, crashing their mouths together messily. Their lips don’t land square on each other, and Eddie grins as he crawls over him, letting him lower onto his back as Eddie hovers over him, his hand on the bed next to his head. 

And it’s so much, the feeling of Steve’s tongue sliding hot over his lips, over his teeth and the roof of his mouth, the feeling of his hands in his hair, pulling hard without even thinking, the feeling of his legs wrapping around his waist and pulling so their hips press. The music, the screaming and rapid drums and loud, scratchy guitar. 

“More,” Steve chokes, almost demanding, but he looks so helpless here, under Eddie, his cheeks red, his hair messy. “I need— Fuck, Eddie, please, I need more—”

Eddie swears under his breath, sitting up quickly, kneeling between his legs, and he tears off his t-shirt, throwing it across the room before he reaches for the hem of Steve’s, which is already lifting up over his torso as Steve wriggles to get it off. 

Eddie throws it across the room, shifting to lean down, kissing and licking and sucking and biting to his heart’s content, relishing the sounds Steve makes that are just audible over the loud music. Eddie bites down on his chest, humming in satisfaction (because Christ, this is fun), and he reaches up with a hand, pinching one of Steve’s nipples harder than he really has to, but Steve lets out a sharp Ah, fuck— and his hips jerk up against Eddie’s. So he does it again, making it hurt the way Steve likes it. 

They’re having sex. This isn’t how Eddie saw today going, in all honesty. He thought they’d make out a while, make dinner with enough to bring home for Wayne, watch a movie. Make stupid commentary, bad puns and immature jokes. Cuddle on the sofa until they fall asleep with their hands in each other’s hair. He never would have seen this coming, not when they’ve never talked about it or anything. They haven’t even gotten close, unless Eddie counts the few times Steve needed sensations, the times he was seeking feelings and asked Eddie to touch him, but it was all over clothes, barely sexual. Just rubbing and squeezing his muscles, massaging his ass in an almost silly way because it felt good and because it made Steve smile, which felt good in its own way. 

But they’re both achingly hard, and when Eddie lifts his head enough to glance down, there’s a wet spot on Steve’s sweatpants that makes Eddie’s heart fucking soar. Steve’s arms wrap around his neck desperately, grappling and clutching and pulling him down to kiss him sloppily, and Eddie reaches to the small of his back, tugging so it arches, so their hips press again, and he grinds down, hearing Steve’s moan that slips right between his lips. 

Eddie giggles, doing it again, sliding his hand farther down to grab his ass, squeezing hard. Understimulated. This probably wasn’t what Steve had in mind when he told Eddie how he was feeling. But it seems to be working for him if Eddie had to guess based on the loud, frantic sounds escaping his mouth, based on how desperately he’s grinding back against Eddie, jerking his hips up again and again, over and over. 

And Eddie is practically fucking him, reaching to tug one of his legs up so it’s over his arm, grinding his hips down harder, rocking back and forth as Steve lets out a loud groan, as his fingers tighten in his curls. Eddie kisses him, licking across his mouth, and he bites down on his lip so hard he almost expects to taste blood. 

He doesn’t, luckily, but he licks it anyway, soothing it gently. 

He buries his face in Steve’s neck as the music gets louder, faster, as Steve moves against him desperately, frantically, and their skin is slick with sweat now, tacky and sticking to each other, but it doesn’t fucking matter, before Eddie is getting a little lightheaded as he mouths at Steve’s neck, his skin salty. He bites. 

The music draws to a climax as Steve lets out a loud moan, as his body tenses and freezes, and Eddie whimpers, gasping for breath. 

And then it’s almost silent, the record spinning, staticky and quiet, and they’re both breathing hard, holding each other tightly. Steve’s arms are around his neck, his chest rising and falling against Eddie’s, and Eddie can’t see, his face in Steve’s neck. They’re both trembling. 

Eddie’s never come that hard in his life. And it was in his pants, but he can’t even be embarrassed about it, because Steve did too, because Steve came just as hard as he did. Because Steve is still making soft noises, whimpers and weak moans as his hips roll helplessly like he’s still riding it out. 

“Holy shit,” Steve says after a few silent moments. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. 

“That was…”

“Fuck.”

“Mm.”

Eddie lingers there, kissing his neck gently, nibbling gently, and he sits up slowly, unsticking their skin. He looks down when Steve’s arms fall away, landing on the bed like he can’t control them, down at the wet patches on their pants, wishing he had Steve’s Polaroid camera close. Maybe next time. 

“Stimulated enough?” he asks after staring for a little while longer, and Steve giggles almost deliriously, his eyes closed.

“Fuck you.”

Eddie snickers, his eyes wandering to the bite marks on Steve’s chest and collarbones and neck. They’re already bruising, and he bites his lip, tracing one lightly. Steve hums. 

“That music was something,” Eddie says absently, tracing a line down the center of his chest, down to his belly button and the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“That was fucking incredible,” Steve says, back arching, chin tilting up. “Fuckin’ heaven, Eddie, holy shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

Eddie leans down to kiss his throat gently. 

“How do you feel?” he murmurs. 

“So fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Eddie says again, grinning, looking at him. He looks asleep already, relaxed and sated and fucked happy. 

“C’mere.”

“We should change.”

“Don’t wanna move.”

“Want me to change you?” 

Steve snorts, his head rolling on the bed so half his face is buried in one of the blankets. 

“Just don’t make it weird.”

His legs fall as Eddie moves to get up, standing shakily. 

“Me?” he says dramatically, a hand to his chest even though Steve isn’t looking at him. “Make something weird? How dare you?”

Steve is still giggling. 

And somehow this is just as nice as the sex, Eddie gently tugging Steve’s pants and boxers down, smiling when Steve lifts his hips to help him, wiping him clean and helping Steve into clean clothes. Feeling Steve’s eyes on him as he changes too. 

It’s quiet. Steve is still fidgeting, but it’s sleepy now, like his orgasm took all the energy out of him, and Eddie climbs into bed next to him, smiling when he feels the way Steve is sliding his feet back and forth over the sheets. He keeps doing it even as he wraps an arm around Eddie tightly, his skin warm on Eddie’s, even as Eddie plays with his hair, twisting and tugging and pulling the way he knows Steve likes. He only stops when he drifts off to sleep, after a quiet, mumbled love you. 

— — — — — 

Mike had forgotten how cramped Steve’s car is when he’s picking them all up. 

Usually Eddie drives them around, but he has errands to run for Wayne, and now Mike is squished against the door in the backseat. He should be riding shotgun, but Dustin called it as they were all headed out the door. Unfair, in Mike’s opinion (he is the tallest, after all, and his legs are not meant to be cramped like this), but he doesn’t complain, because Will is next to him, their shoulders mashed together as Lucas and Erica climb into the car somewhat unsafely. 

Mike looks out the window, tuning out Steve’s voice as he tells them all to buckle up. (Mike did before the others got in.) It feels warm, and Mike pretends it’s just the sunlight coming through the windows, hot on his face, and he ignores the way Will’s knee is pressing into his. 

He’s tired after today’s campaign, and he relaxes as much as he can into his seat, letting his head fall to the window, the glass warm on his forehead, and he drifts off, zoning out, but he’s startled out of it when Steve starts the car a loud shriek omits from the speakers before it cuts off quickly. 

“What the fuck was that?” Dustin says adamantly as they all catch their breaths, their eyes wide as Steve slowly starts to drive, fingers still on the volume dial that’s turned all the way down. 

“That was— music,” Steve says choppily, checking the rearview mirrors. “Sorry.”

“That was not music,” Erica says from where she’s squished between Will and Lucas. “That was the sound of someone being murdered.” “Jesus,” Dustin says, exhaling and slumping in his seat (must be nice). 

“Yeah, Steve,” Lucas says, also squished against the door. “What the hell?”

“Sorry,” Steve says again, making a face. “I didn’t realize the volume was all the way up, geez.”

“Why was it all the way up?” Will asks, and Mike finally tears his eyes away from Steve in the rearview mirror, looking at the way Will’s brows are furrowed, his eyes wide, almost glowing in the sunlight. “What’s wrong with you?”

“It was Ed— Okay, first of all, watch yourself,” Steve says sassily. “I’ll drop you off right here and you can walk home.”

“Yeah, because my mother would love it if you did that,” Will shoots back. “You wouldn’t, you want her to like you.”

“That’s the only thing stopping me, so watch it or I’ll decide silence is worth not getting a Joyce Byers hug.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

Mike rolls his eyes at the bickering, watching as Erica kicks at the back of Dustin’s seat, telling him to move it forward only for him to turn and swat at her leg. Steve swats at him, telling him to fix his seatbelt. 

Mike looks back at Steve in the rearview mirror, at the way his hair is a little smoothed back, shiny in the sunlight. And he huffs, looking back out the mirror. 

He leaves with Will, waves half-heartedly to Steve as he blows them sarcastic kisses. (Will pretends to catch one and throw it back at him, and Steve pretends it smacks him across the face. Mike rolls his eyes.)

It rains the next day. It’s not a downpour, but enough that Mike probably should have brough an umbrella, his hair wet across his face when he finally gets to Steve’s house. He gets off his bike, kicking the stand to make it stay in place, and he exhales slowly, shaking his head and muttering Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid to himself as he goes to the front door and knocks. 

He opens the door before he gets a respose, stepping in and out of the rain. It’s not weird. They all do it, just come inside before Steve can answer the door. Mike once overheard Robin saying that Steve loves it, his friends coming inside without invitation, like they live here too. 

Steve comes into the hall from the kitchen as Mike is pushing his bangs out of his face and pulling his hood down. 

“Hi,” Mike says awkwardly. 

“Hey?” Steve says, drying his hands with a towel. He glances at the door, realizing that Mike is alone, and God, this is so stupid. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just… Uhm.” He pauses, toeing at the ground. 

“Did something happen?” 

Mike can hear the worry in Steve’s voice, and it makes him feel bad. 

“No, nothing— nothing happened, just… Can I borrow some tapes?”

“...What?”

Mike looks up at him, his face flushing with embarrassment, and he fucking hates feeling like this. 

“Just— Eddie lets me borrow tapes sometimes when he thinks I might like, like, a certain band or album or whatever, and I…” He pauses, seeing the blankness in Steve’s eyes. He exhales sharply, frustrated. “I’m, like… curious. About the— the song that you played in the car yesterday— accidentally played in the car. Yesterday.”

He finishes awkwardly, looking at Steve as Steve processes it, watches as Steve’s lips twitch into a smile. 

“Oh.”

Mike blinks at him. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, beckoning as he heads to the stairs. “Sure.”

Mike kicks his shoes off, exhaling in relief, as though he was worried Steve was going to tell him off or something, and he follows him up to his room. Steve kicks some laundry aside as they go in, and he grabs something off his dresser and hides it in a drawer before Eddie can see what it is. Mike doesn’t ask. 

Steve pulls out a box, pushing it toward Mike as he leans against his desk, and Mike looks at it curiously. 

“You only heard, like, a second from the song but that was Target Practice,” Steve says, rummaging through another drawer as Mike’s eyes scan the tapes. “They’re from Seattle; the genre’s kind of small right now, kinda like— starting out, I guess, but it’s getting bigger.”

“What’s the genre?” Mike asks absently, leaning to look. Some of the tapes are labelled by hand, Steve’s handwriting distinct and loopy, some others printed and colorful, professionally done. The one reading Damage Control looks well-loved, worn and used. 

“Uh, death metal?” Steve says like he isn’t entirely sure. He lifts up another box of tapes. “This one’s got some Fleetwood Mac and stuff in it, but you should be able to, like, see the difference.”

Mike can. 

He looks through them curiously, lifting them to look at the labels and song lists, furrowing his brows at a few of them. He lifts one up, analyzing the black and red lettering that reads Possessed, the upside-down cross, and he skims the list of songs, lifting an eyebrow. Burning in Hell, Satan’s Curse, Pentagram… 

“Where do you get these?” Mike asks, his thumb running over the words. He feels almost guilty looking at them, knowing his father would have a fucking conniption if he saw Mike looking at it. His dad hates Eddie, and his whole… thing. He thinks it’s blasphemous, un-American. Mike feels kind of exhilarated here, looking at the tapes. 

“Mostly a music store in Bloomington,” Steve says, leaning against the desk and watching him. “A few are from Indy, but those are like, the international ones. Uh…” He looks over at the tapes, searching, and he points at one reading Sodom. “They’re German. Not available in smaller stores, you know.”

Mike nods, looking again. 

“Which one’s your favorite?” he asks after a few moments. 

“Damage Control is my favorite right now,” Steve says. “They’re from Indy, sell to some stores around the state. But Killjoys are local too, they’re really good. They do shows in Indy and Fort Wayne.”

“Have you been?” Mike asks, struggling to tamp down his excitement at the thought of a live show. He’s never seen any live music, aside from the talent shows at his middle school and the choirs at church. 

“Twice,” Steve says, smiling like he just knows. “Yeah. It was fun.”

Mike looks through the tapes again, but his hand lingers on Possessed, his mouth twisting as he looks at it again. He’d have to hide it. He doesn’t even know what his dad would do if he found it. Probably send him to some church camp. Take away all his D&D stuff. 

“Can I?” he asks anyway. 

“Yeah, ‘course. Take as many as you want. Long as I get ‘em back.”

Mike grins. 

He takes Possessed, Sodom out of curiosity, and one from Damage Control. (There are three by them, each labelled with numbers. He takes the first one.)

“Yeah?” Steve asks when Mike stacks the three of them in his hands. “You set?”

“Yeah,” Mike says, hesitating again. “Uh.”

“What’s up?”

Mike stalls, sorting the tapes again, biting his lip nervously before he speaks. 

“You know how I like… I like Eddie’s whole… look?” he says finally, looking up at Steve, who’s looking at him, leaning against the desk next to the boxes, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Yeah,” Steve says slowly. 

“Uh. I wanna grow my hair out like— like him, or— I wanna grow my hair out more,” he says, remembering that his hair is almost past his shoulders. “But, uhm.”

Steve waits patiently while he finds his words.

“How do you keep your hair so soft?” Mike asks finally, the words bursting out of him, and he flushes with embarrassment again. Steve blinks. 

“...What?”

“Just—” Mike huffs. “I like Eddie’s hair length, it’s just, like… crispy.”

There’s a moment of silence.

And then Steve turns away with a laugh that he tries to stifle. It doesn’t work. 

“You are not allowed to tell him I said that,” Mike snaps, but he’s suppressing a smile too, because he doesn’t see Steve laugh all that often, but he has a great laugh. His eyes squint shut and he smiles like he’s at the fucking dentist, showing all his teeth, and his nose wrinkles like he’s a little kid. It’s cute. Not that Mike fucking notices. 

“I won’t,” Steve says, still laughing, and he gestures a cross over his heart. “I won’t, I swear.”

“How do you keep your hair so soft?” Mike asks again. Steve shrugs. 

“‘S just… taking care of it. Trimming dead ends, using good shampoo and stuff. Also depends on your hair texture, Eddie’s is different from mine.”

Mike hesitates. 

“I have to cut it to grow it out?”

“Just the dead ends,” Steve says lightly. “For it to grow out healthy.” He hesitates, eyeing Mike’s hair before he gestures to it. “Can I?”

Mike nods, and Steve sits up off the desk, reaching out and gently touching a piece of Mike’s hair, analyzing the ends. 

“Just this,” he says, holding the hair up, pinching it to show where Mike should cut it. “‘S not too bad, but these ends are a little split, so you should trim them off, keep the length.”

Mike exhales. 

“How do you know all this?”

Steve’s hands drop. 

“Magazines,” he says, leaning back against his desk. “But if you wanna know about, like, your hair specifically, you could go into a hair salon and ask for advice.”

Mike blinks, and his stomach twists at the very thought. At the thought of going into a place like that, all fucking prim and proper and expensive, white floor tiles and women with curls piled on top of their heads. Red lipstick and judging eyes. He imagines his mom’s friends. He knows how they look at him. 

“I can’t do that,” he says like he’s arguing, like he’s cornered. Steve blinks. 

“They’d give you some actual professional advice,” he says. “They know better than I do.”

“Steve,” Mike says firmly. “I can’t do that.” He’s practically shaking. He doesn’t know why.

“It’s what I did—”

“It’s different for you,” he snaps. 

“...How?”

It’s a stupid fucking question. Like Steve can’t see the difference between them. Mike stares for a moment, taking a breath that comes out too fast.

“You go into a hair salon and ask for— for advice, and you go into gas stations and get magazines about it and you… you care about your appearance or whatever, and it’s fine,” Mike says, clutching at the tapes. “It becomes your fucking name, and people think it’s fine, that you— you’re presentable and fucking cool, but— but if I do that, then they know I’m a faggot,” he says, and he isn’t even thinking anymore. “I don’t want them to make fun of me, not about that.”

And it’s quiet, the rain outside tapping on the window quietly. Steve’s eyes widen a little, and his expression relaxes as the realization sets in, and Mike’s chest feels tight suddenly, like there’s something squeezing him so tightly he can’t breathe. 

“Mike…”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Mike chokes, his eyes stinging. “Please.”

“Hey,” Steve says softly, standing up off the desk again, reaching for the tapes in Mike’s hands, and Mike’s heart feels like it splits open, because Steve doesn’t want to share with him anymore, and God, he’s so childish. But Steve just takes them gently and sets them on the desk, holding one of Mike’s trembling hands. 

Steve’s hands are so warm. It feels weird that that’s what stands out to Mike right now, but his brain latches onto it, and his fingers wrap around Steve’s, holding his hand tightly as he gasps for breath like his throat is closing. 

“Mike,” Steve says softly. “I need you to breathe.”

“I ca—”

He gasps, feeling lightheaded, and his hand tightens on Steve’s. Steve squeezes, reaching for Mike’s other hand, and he pulls it toward himself, pressing Mike’s palm to his chest. 

Mike’s eyes flutter open as he feels his chest rise slowly, and Steve whispers softly.

“In.”

Mike’s breath stutters in his chest, and he grips Steve’s hand so hard it must hurt, but his vision dims. He tries to breathe in, looking into Steve’s eyes as Steve nods. 

“Good job,” he says softly, murmuring. “And out, slowly.”

They exhale together, carefully. 

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Steve says softly when Mike catches his breath. “Alright?”

“Promise?” And Mike kind of hates himself, because he’s acting like such a child, but Steve just smiles softly at him. It’s kind of a sad smile. 

“Mike,” Steve says gently. “I’m… Me too.”

Mike blinks. His breath stills in his chest, and he freezes, looking into the earnest shine of Steve’s eyes, feeling his heart pound against Mike’s palm. They’re both shaking now, but Steve is still smiling weakly. 

“You too?” Mikes says softly, almost to himself. 

But Steve doesn’t take it back. He just keeps smiling. 

“Yeah.”

Mike’s hand somehow tightens even more on Steve’s.

“You’re… You’re gay?” he whispers, like there’s someone in the hallway or under the bed, listening to them. 

“I’m– I’m bisexual,” he says, but Mike blinks in confusion, and he smiles again. “It means I like men and women.”

“Oh,” Mike breathes. He feels a little dizzy. “You’re like me.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. “I’m like you.”

“I need to lay down,” Mike says after a moment, blinking hard, and Steve nods, letting him go as Mike lowers to the ground, laying on his back and covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

He hears Steve leave and go downstairs, and he squeezes his eyes shut so tightly he sees colors bloom on his eyelids, bright like fireworks. His back stretches out on the floor and he lets his legs extend until his knees pop, and he takes a slow, deep breath, focusing on the way his chest rises and then falls. 

He doesn’t know how long it is until Steve comes back, and he lowers his hands when he hears his footsteps make the floorboards creak. He looks up, blinking his eyes open, and Steve is looking down at him, holding two cans of 7-Up. Mike wants to cry a little. It’s his favorite. 

He sits up as Steve joins him on the floor, and they’re silent as they crack the sodas open. 

“Who else knows?” Steve asks finally. 

“Uh,” Mike hesitates, looking at the soda that’s gathered on the lip of the can. “Eddie.”

Steve blinks. 

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, he… he knew before I did,” Mike says, and he gives a weak laugh even though it isn’t really funny. “He…”

Steve waits for him again. 

“It was the day we introduced Will to the rest of Hellfire,” Mike says quietly, his cheeks flushing. “Eddie pulled me aside while everyone was hanging out and he… He just kind of told me? That I— I like Will.”

Steve’s lips curve into a smile, and his eyebrows raise. 

“Will, huh?”

Mike looks down shyly, nodding and suppressing a smile. 

“He… Yeah. I guess Eddie could… see how I looked at him or something.”

“Eddie’s pretty good at that,” Steve says after a moment. “Noticing things about people.”

“Yeah.”

Steve is quiet for a moment as Mike sips his soda. It’s sweet, even more so because Mike hasn’t eaten anything in a while, and he slides his free hand over his leg to stop himself from shaking it out. It feels like this should be awkward, sitting with Steve Harrington on his bedroom floor and drinking soda together, but it isn’t. 

“Can you give me a minute?” Steve asks after a little while, and Mike nods, watching curiously as he leaves again. The door stays open when he’s gone, and Mike leans against his bed, looking around the room. The wallpaper is hideous, but he doesn’t know if Steve picked it or if his parents did. His eyes scan Steve’s desk. There are some books stacked on it, and one is open, another book holding it open so the pages don’t close, and Mike is curious about what the book is, but he doesn’t get up. 

His room is messy, but Mike can’t complain. It’s clean compared to his own. 

There’s a t-shirt on the floor next to where he’s sitting, and he nudges it aside as he takes another sip, raising an eyebrow at the black fabric. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve wear black. 

When Steve comes back, he’s smiling to himself, and he sits on the ground again, sipping his soda. 

“So.”

Mike looks at him. 

“So?”

“Uh.” Steve laughs lightly, almost scoffing. “Can’t believe you’re the first person I’m telling about this, but…”

Mike blinks, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Telling me what?”

“Uh,” Steve says again. He sets his soda can down, sitting with his legs crossed. “So. I think one of the reasons that Eddie noticed how you, uhm, how you feel about Will, is that he’s— he’s also gay.”

Mike blinks. 

“He’s my boyfriend.”

Mike blinks again. 

Steve is smiling a little bit, and Mike’s hands start shaking again. He puts his soda down, staring at him. 

“He’s your boyfriend?” Mike says weakly. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “We’re dating, we’ve— we’ve been together for a few weeks.” 

And Mike feels like he’s spinning, because it isn’t just Steve’s voice saying it, but Mike is hearing a man’s voice say my boyfriend, and Mike didn’t even know that was possible. He didn’t know it could happen, that a man could say something like that with a smile on his face, that it could be something so… light. 

“We haven’t told anyone just… just because it’s kind of new,” Steve continues. “But also just, like… I don’t know, we didn’t really feel like we had to, I guess. Nothing’s really changed, except that we, like, make out now.”

Mike laughs weakly, almost deliriously, and he reaches out and pulls at Steve’s arm. Steve lets him.

“Can you say it again?” he asks, almost pleading, and Steve’s hand touches his, big and warm and grounding, holding him gently. 

“Eddie is my boyfriend,” he says softly, slowly. “I’m Eddie’s boyfriend. We’re in love with each other.”

And Mike is crying. 

He squeezes his eyes shut, ducking his head to hide his face, but Steve doesn’t let him, pulling at his hand until Mike is falling against him, sobs wracking his shoulders as Steve hugs him tightly, rocking back and forth. Mike lets him. 

It feels weird, to cry in someone’s arms after hiding it for so long. He’s cried alone for years now, ever since he’s felt like he’s too old to cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his father cry.

But even though it’s weird, it’s nice. He doesn’t feel like he has to hide his face, doesn’t feel like there’s anything wrong with crying, and then he doesn’t feel like there’s anything wrong with him. 

Steve rubs his back gently, rocking back and forth with him like he’s a baby, but even that is nice because Mike always ends up rocking back and forth when he cries anyway, and Mike closes his eyes, letting himself like it. Letting himself like Steve holding him, letting himself cry. 

When he finally stops crying, he pulls back enough to wipe his cheek with the sleeve of his hoodie, and Steve looks at him. 

“Are you guys happy?” Mike asks before he can say anything. Steve blinks.

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re really happy.”

Mike closes his eyes. 

Steve pulls him into another hug, and he kisses the top of his head in a way only his mother ever has, but it’s oddly comforting, and Mike melts against him, feeling him tuck his hair back. 

They separate after a while, and Mike moves back, taking a deep breath. 

“Alright?” Steve asks gently. Mike nods. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure,” Mike says, sniffling, drawing his knees to his chest. Steve is quiet for a few moments, thinking. 

“People… People are gonna give you a lot of shit,” Steve says slowly. “Regardless of if they know. But it… It doesn’t matter.”

Mike blinks at him. 

“They don’t matter,” Steve says almost adamantly. “Do whatever the fuck you want, what— whatever makes you happy.”

Mike looks at the ground. The carpet is worn thin, almost flat even though it looks like it’s supposed to be fuzzy and soft. 

“My dad hates everything I like,” he mumbles. He’s tried to not let it bother him for years. He’s pretended it doesn’t bother him for years. But it does. 

It fucking sucks. To watch all the other kids with their parents, smiling and laughing after school and at birthday parties and baseball games. To hear the boys at school talk about how their dads surprised them with tickets to see their favorite team play, about how their dads bring them books from the library, watch movies with them, help them with their homework.

To wonder what it’s like. 

He’s tried to stop thinking about it, about what it would be like if his dad were to come into the living room and not immediately say something like Mike, change the channel. If his dad were to look at the books stacked in Mike’s room without wrinkling his nose at them like they smelled. If his dad were to help Mike with his homework without telling Mike to just figure it out or that he needs to pay better attention in class if he doesn’t get it. 

His dad doesn’t like him very much. Mike is used to it. He’s kind of stopped caring. He’s growing his hair out even though his dad comments on it every time they’re in the same room, telling him he looks like a girl from behind (which Mike doesn’t mind as much as he thinks he probably should), telling him he looks ridiculous. He wears the shirts he steals from Eddie (and the one Eddie gives him) even though his dad stares at them like they’re about to spontaneously combust. He’s even been thinking about painting his nails black just for the hell of it. Just to piss him off. 

But it sucks, too. Knowing that his dad doesn’t like him. He loves him, Mike thinks. He hasn’t heard it from him in a long time, not since he was a kid. But his mom tells him he does. Your father loves you, Mike, she’d said one night when Mike told her his dad had snidely told him he needs new friends. He just doesn’t know how to show you. 

He shouldn’t have to show me, Mike had wanted to say. But he just rolled his eyes. He does that a lot. 

His father loves him. But he doesn’t like him. 

If he were to see Mike on a sidewalk, and Mike wasn’t his son, he would stare. And look away. And grumble something about people like him. 

Mike knows it. 

And it especially sucks because Mike kind of likes himself. 

Not a lot. In fact, he also kind of hates himself. He wonders if it’s normal for boys his age to hate themselves. To think they’re the worst person in existence as they do their algebra homework and ride their bikes down the empty roads so they aren’t late for dinner. 

He thinks he sucks. He’s annoying, and mean, and almost everything the world expects a fifteen-year-old boy to be. He’s lonely and sad most of the time. He was a bad boyfriend, and he is a bad friend, and he’s a terrible fucking son.

But lately it’s been getting easier to look at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t mind the way he looks as much as he used to. He still doesn’t particularly like looking at himself, but it’s not as hard. 

And he has fun with D&D, and he has fun reading his books and learning things and listening to music, and lately it’s been getting easier to be by himself, too. He doesn’t know when exactly it happened, when it started to shift. He supposes it might have been around the time that he and El broke up. (Which had been shockingly easy. Entirely mutual. And now it’s easier to be around her too. Like there aren’t any expectations.) But it’s quieter in his head now. He can finally focus on what he’s doing instead of getting distracted in a spiral of self-hatred. Which is nice. 

So yeah. He kind of likes himself. 

But it fucking sucks that as he grows to like himself, his dad’s gaze seems to get colder. 

Because his dad loves him.

But he doesn’t love him.

“Your dad’s a bitch,” Steve says dryly, and it startles a laugh out of Mike. “I’m serious, I’ve heard what he says about Eddie, about your campaigns and your books and shit. He’s an asshole, Mike.”

It’s oddly cathartic to hear it out loud. 

He’s an asshole instead of He loves you. 

Mike looks at him. 

“He doesn’t matter,” Steve says, softening his voice. “None of them do.” He’s quiet for a moment, and in that moment, he looks like he’s in pain. Like the scars on his sides are aching the way they sometimes do, like the ground has turned to gravel. His voice is gentle when he speaks again, almost whispering. 

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

Mike looks at his own hands, twisting his fingers together, thinking about the bottle of nail polish that’s sitting in the drawer of his bedside table. 

“People are mean,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I know.”

Mike glances at him, remembering. Steve used to be a dick. He knows it. Steve knows it. Everyone fucking knows it. But now Mike sitting on his bedroom floor, telling him he’s queer, his cheeks tacky with drying tears, and Steve is just looking at him, listening, gentle and kind. 

“Can I tell you something about them?” Steve asks, and Mike nods. “...A lot of them are just as fucking weird as us.”

A laugh bursts out of Mike again, and he furrows his brows. 

“They’re scared of being treated the way they treat other people,” Steve says. 

“That’s stupid.” “Yeah. It is.”

“...And kinda sad.”

“...Yeah.”

There’s a pause before Steve speaks again. 

“Don’t listen to anything they say to you. About you. They don’t matter, okay?”

But it’s kind of hard for Mike to think that someone doesn’t matter. He knows he shouldn’t care about people’s opinions. But their opinions have always mattered to him. Even if he hated them. 

Opinions.

The stuff of nightmares, even after everything Mike’s been through. 

They haunt his dreams, along with flashing lights and the whites of Will’s eyes. 

Frog face.

Fairy.

Faggot.

He doesn’t know why it cuts so deep, if people don’t like him. Maybe it hurts more because he doesn’t even like himself. 

“Mike,” Steve says gently, leaning closer when Mike doesn’t say anything. Mike looks up at him, and his eyes are burning again, his vision swimming with tears, but he can still see the kindness in Steve’s eyes, the gentle expression on his face. “...The only people that really matter are the people that love you.”

Mike looks away again, blinking tears out of his eyes. 

“Alright?” Steve murmurs, touching him, pushing his hair out of the way. “Nancy, and Will, and— and the Party, they… They love you. No matter what.”

Mike sniffles, taking a shaky breath as he wipes a tear away from his cheek with the side of his hand. 

Steve moves forward, looking into Mike’s eyes, and he looks set on telling him this, on making Mike hear him, on making Mike believe him. 

“They love you,” he says slowly, like he knows Mike doesn’t believe it. “They love everything about you, okay? They love your dorky interests and your shitty jokes and your weird Addams Family vibe—”

“Fuck you,” Mike laughs, wiping his face again as Steve laughs.

“Alright?” Steve says, still smiling. “Those assholes from school don’t fuckin’ matter. In twenty years you’re gonna be a wildly successful fantasy author and nothing those fuckers say to you will be relevant.”

Mike blinks, taking it in. He doesn’t even remember telling Steve he wants to be a fantasy author. His father teased him the first and only time he told him. That’ll definitely put food on the table, Mike. But Steve says it like it’s a sure thing. Like it’s obvious. 

Mike starts to smile, somehow exhilarated by Steve calling them fuckers. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. 

“Okay,” Steve says. “And if they give you too much shit, come get me. I’m not above threatening some fifteen-year-olds with my bat. Neither is Eddie.”

A laugh bursts out of Mike, and he thinks he kind of loves Steve. 

“Okay,” he says again, wiping his cheek again. 

They finish their sodas. 

Mike decides he likes the worn carpet. Steve seems comfortable on the floor even though Mike knows how odd it is, the way he laid on the floor to calm down, the way he hasn’t gotten up since, and Mike wonders if he does the same. If that’s why the carpet is so worn. 

“Where do you get your hair cut?” Mike asks after a while as they sit with their backs to Steve’s bed. It’s still raining outside, the sky rumbling with quiet thunder. 

“Uh, I do it myself.”

Mike makes a face across the room, and he hears Steve snort next to him. 

“Damn.”

“You want me to do yours?” 

“...Will you?” Mike asks, half-hopeful. 

“Yeah,” Steve says lightly, and he’s already moving to get up. “Come on. Rain’s not letting up anytime soon.”

He has Mike pick a record out while he gets the scissors, sets up his desk chair, and gets the vacuum from down the hall. Mike looks through them before picking one by Morbid Angel. 

Steve sets it up, laughing to himself and shaking his head as Mike sits in the desk chair, grinning. The music drowns out the sound of the rain and thunder. 

Mike takes off his hoodie. The towel Steve drapes around his shoulders smells like laundry detergent, clean and fluffy and warm, and Steve’s hands are gentle as he sprays Mike’s hair with water, dampening it and combing it out. There isn’t a mirror for Mike to watch, so he closes his eyes. 

It feels nice, Steve’s comb running through his hair that’s damp with tap water instead of rain. He hears the quiet snip of the scissors in his hair over the loud music, and he suppresses a smile. He hasn’t wanted to cut his hair in ages. The mere thought of it made him feel sick. Especially the thought of getting it cut the way his father wanted him to get it cut, short and masculine and proper. 

But he knows Steve is keeping the length. 

Cutting off the dead ends. 

He stays still as Steve works, combing and snipping and trimming, tapping his feet on the ground in time with the music. Steve puts some kind of expensive-smelling product in his hair that makes it curl nicely, and he dries it with a blow-drier, scrunching and bunching it up in his hand. Mike didn’t realize his hair was so curly. It looks kind of pretty when he looks in the mirror. 

He helps Steve vacuum the hair off the ground after, and he holds the towel in place so Steve can vacuum that too. He throws away the soda cans while Steve puts the vacuum away, and he feels lighter now. Like the dead ends of his hair weighted a ton, like he can lift his head all the way up for the first time. 

The rain finally lets up. 

He hesitates on his way out, the tapes stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie, and Steve seems to sense the hesitation, quietly waiting. 

It’s drizzling now, still grey and dreary despite the sunlight peering through the clouds that make the leaves in the trees glow green. His bike is next to Steve’s car, and he looks at it for a moment. 

“Do, uhm…” He pauses again, turning back to Steve, who’s lingering in the doorway. “Do you and Eddie… tell each other that you— you love each other?”

He looks into Steve’s eyes, and Steve is almost smiling now, his eyes shining like he knows. 

It’s never been easy for Mike to say. 

He’s never heard his parents say it to each other. It sounded like a foreign language the first time he heard Mr Sinclair say it to Mrs Sinclair. He’d looked at Lucas, but Lucas hadn’t reacted. Like it was normal. 

And he’d wanted to say it to El. But he just couldn’t, not until the world was ending and he had to. It was weird. 

He does love her. He knows he does. But it was hard to get out when he knew he couldn’t say it the way he meant it. 

He wants to say it to Will. Even if Will hears it in a way he doesn’t mean it. It doesn’t matter. Mike loves him in every way. But it’s like the words get caught in his throat every time he wants to say it out loud. 

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “All the time.”

All the time.

Mike nods, glancing at the ground, at the line between where the rain hit and where it didn’t. 

“Is it… Is it hard?”

He looks back up at Steve, who’s looking at him softly somehow. 

“No,” he breathes, and he pauses, shifting on his feet. “Loving Eddie…” He looks at the ground, smiling so softly it’s almost absent. “‘S the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

Mike’s chest tightens. 

He nods. 

And then he’s moving forward and wrapping his arms around Steve tightly, and Steve is hugging him back like he saw it coming. His arms are strong around Mike, holding him close while Mike shakes. 

“...Thank you,” he says finally, his voice weak. That’s all he can say. 

“Love you, man,” Steve says softly. He doesn’t sound like he’s expecting to hear it back. He squeezes Mike, and when they part, he ruffles his curls, grinning. “Get outta here.”

Mike swats his hand away, giggling. He feels like a kid again. It’s nice. 

He goes home. 

Holly is in the living room when he gets there, coloring on the floor while their dad watches the news, and she looks up when he shuts the door, pulling his hood down and shaking his hair out. It feels nice to shake, even if he kind of feels like a wet dog doing it. 

“Will is in your room,” she says brightly, looking back down at the unicorn she’s coloring. 

He blinks, pausing by the door, reaching into his pocket to hold the tapes. His dad is still looking at the television, brows furrowed. He doesn’t look at Mike, but it feels like he knows about the tapes. 

“Will?”

“He came over,” she says plainly. 

“Wh— When?” 

Jesus, he’s been gone for ages. 

“Not too long.”

Vague. 

“Thanks, Holly,” he says dryly, heading toward the stairs. 

He shakes his curls out again as he reaches for his door handle, smiling, and he opens it. Will is on his bed, curled up in a hoodie and sweatpants, and he looks up when the door opens. He’s already smiling, but the smile falters when he sees Mike, and his eyes widen.

“What?” Mike says, closing his door, his cheeks flushing. He kicks his shoes off to join Will’s and moves toward his dresser, setting the tapes on it next to his Walkman. 

“I like your hair.”

Mike falters, looking at him, his stomach flipping over. 

“What?”

Will is smiling again, his eyes watching Mike as he tries to casually change into some sweatpants. His jeans are damp from the rain on his bike. 

“Your hair,” he says lightly. “It looks good. I didn’t realize it was so curly.”

“Me either,” Mike mumbles, tugging his sweatpants on. They’re a relief from the jeans, soft and warm. It’s raining harder now, the sky darkening again, and he glances outside, thinking he got lucky. 

“Where’d you get it done?”

“Uh, Steve did it for me.”

“Steve Harrington?”

“How many Steves do we know, dumbass?” 

Will flips him off and laughs, moving toward the edge of the bed to make space for Mike, and he gestures. His hair flops in his face. It’s gotten longer, always more ruffled and messy. It looks good. Mike kind of wants to tell him, but randomly telling him he likes his hair when he hasn’t done anything with it would be awkward, wouldn’t it?

“C’mere, you gotta see this panel, it’s fucking gorgeous.”

Mike pulls off his hoodie, tossing it to his desk before he climbs onto the bed next to him, leaning against the pillows that are stacked against the headboard, and he looks at where Will is pointing. The panel is nice, colorful and detailed, but when Will speaks, it looks even nicer. 

Will tends to do that. Make things look more beautiful. Brighter. 

Mike looks at him as he talks, as he explains the context and the symbolism of the colors or whatever, and wow, Mike really isn’t listening at all. He’s distracted. Will’s eyes are bright and shiny, his eyelashes fluttering when he blinks, and he’s smiling as he speaks. Mike’s eyes trail over his face, tracing the bridge of his nose, over his smile lines, over the moles spotting his skin. 

He’s beautiful.

Curled up in Mike’s bed, wearing a hoodie that Mike is pretty sure is his, talking about the art in some comic book. Happy. Healthy. Safe. 

Will trails off when he realizes Mike is just looking at him. 

“...What?” he asks shyly, his eyes flickering across Mike’s face. 

And they’re close enough that Mike could kiss him if he just leaned in. He kind of wants to. But that wouldn’t be right, he doesn’t think. 

His mouth opens, and he tries to speak, stammering silently. Trying to say it. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

I love you.

It doesn’t come out.

“Will you paint my nails for me?”

Will blinks, and Mike’s face flushes with heat, and he shouldn’t have said that, why the fuck would he say that—

“Yeah,” Will says lightly. Smiling. “Sure.”

Mike opens the window a little and gets the nail polish, the sound of rain and thunder filling the room as Will gets situated on the bed. He clears away the blankets and pillows (which Mike has an abundance of; it’s a little ridiculous, but it’s cozy), sorting them around the bed. They sit cross-legged, facing each other. 

Will bites his lip when he’s focussed, and he hunches over their hands. His hands are warm, especially because Mike’s are still a little cold from the rain, and he holds Mike so fucking gently Mike kind of wants to cry. 

The polish is cold too. It’s an odd sensation, but it’t not awful. The smell isn’t great, but Will doesn’t seem to mind it, holding Mike’s hand so close to his face Mike can feel his breath. 

They’re quiet as Will paints his nails, but it’s not a weird silence, not awkward or tense or anything. It never is, with Will. It’s always like this. Comfortable and warm, like climbing into your own bed after travelling for a while. 

With Will focusing on his nails, Mike is free to look at him. He’s not staring, really. Maybe he is. Maybe gazing is a better word. 

Sometimes he wishes he was an artist like Will. He would paint him. Draw him. Sculpt him. Anything. He’d want Will to be his muse. 

Which is weird, probably. Oh well. 

“What do you think?” Will asks, lifting his head. Their eyes meet. His eyes are so pretty. Mike blinks, hearing the question, and he looks down at his hand. His nails are black and shiny, and there isn’t any paint on the skin around his nails. He’s kind of impressed. 

“I like it,” he saus softly.

Will beams proudly. 

Mike lays down when Will finishes, and Will puts the polish away so Mike doesn’t have to use his hands. It’s pouring outside, loud on the rooftop outside his window. Mike moves to make room for him. He wonders if Eddie is over at Steve’s by now. He realizes the black shirt on the floor is probably his, and then he wonders if Eddie just left it behind or if Steve had borrowed it. 

Will lays down next to him, sighing. They’re so close. 

Mike holds his hands up above their heads, looking at his nails. The black looks even darker against his pale skin. (He’s really pale. His mom says he needs to go outside this summer. She’s been excited for his trip to California, telling him he’d finally get some sunlight.) 

Will copies him, holding his hands up like he’s looking at his bare nails. 

His hand touches Mike’s lightly, bumping it, and it’s so soft it could be an accident, but Mike knows it’s not. 

He moves his hand closer, smiling when Will touches it again. 

They’re quiet as Mike shifts closer, and he’s smiling as Will moves even closer, rolling against Mike and wrapping an arm around his waist. Mike lifts his arm for him to lay on him, resting his arm over him carefully so he doesn’t mess up his nails. 

Will sighs. His head is on Mike’s chest, and Mike knows he can hear his heartbeat, but he doesn’t really mind. He hugs him gently, running his hand over his arm. 

Their legs tangle. 

Will’s arm reaches up and his fingers touch Mike’s hair, pushing into his curls. Mike closes his eyes, exhaling as Will runs his fingers through it, playing with it absently. It feels nice. 

Mike can feel Will falling asleep. His breathing slows, becomes heavy, and his hand becomes heavy too, lingering in Mike’s hair before it shifts to touch his neck. His hand is so warm. Mike lets his cheek squish against Will’s head. His hair smells like citrus. 

Will takes a breath, sighing and pressing closer, nuzzling against him, and he takes another breath before he speaks, his voice so soft and breathy Mike almost doesn’t hear him. 

“Love you.”

Mike stops breathing. 

His eyes open slowly, and he looks at the ceiling.

Will stiffens as he realizes what he’s said, but he doesn’t say anything, silent except for the beating of his heart, and Mike slides a hand down his arm, squeezing. His eyes sting. 

Will relaxes after a moment when Mike squeezes again. 

And it’s fine. 

Mike squeezes again, and then he rubs his arm, palm running over the folds in the fabric, and Will somehow presses even closer, his leg lifting before it wraps around Mike’s hips. He turns his head and buries his face in Mike’s chest, groaning weakly, embarrassed. Mike laughs, closing his eyes again, arms tightening around Will to hug him, and he squishes his cheek on his head. 

He wants to say it. But when he opens his mouth, his throat gets stuck. He squeezes his eyes shut in frustration, wanting to cry, but Will shifts so he’s almost on top of him, his hand burying itself in his hair again, and he tucks his face into Mike’s neck. It tickles a little, but he stays there, sighing, and Mike tilts his head into his hand, letting him. Will is heavy on him, pressing him into the bed, and it feels nice. Grounding. Especially as his frustration threatens to take over. 

Mike squeezes him again. Will hums, like he gets it.

— — — — — 

“Oh, my god, dingus, we’re running late.”

“We’re not even going anywhere on a schedule, Rob, there’s nothing to be late for.”

“We’re going on my schedule, and we’re running late.”

“Okay, well, it’s not my fault you took like two hours in the bathroom.”

“I literally take fifteen minute showers, you’re the diva.”

“A fifteen minute shower and then thirty minutes on your hair—”

“Fuck off, you’re the one with a whole shelf of hair supplies, you dick.”

“And you’re the one who uses them.”

“I do not.”

“Liar. You also steal my shirts, don’t act like you don’t.” “They’re more comfortable, you can’t blame me, womens’ shirts are always fitted or have weird lace or have tighter sleeves and it all makes me want to rip off my skin. At least your shirts have room for tits.”

“Wouldn’t women’s shirts have more room for tits since they’re made for tit-having bodies?”

“Not the room I need. They’re so constricting, it’s like they wanna kill me. Your shirts are comfortable because they’re loose.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re insufferable, you take hour-long showers and brush your teeth for like twenty minutes.”

“I literally don’t. Also you’re complaining, but I’m the one with my shoes on, and you’re the one pouring yourself orange juice.”

“Fuck off—”

Robin leaves her window all the way down when they leave town, and Steve lets her even though the wind fucks up his hair. She likes to leave her arm out of the window, moving her hand up and down to feel the wind around it. He glances at her as they cruise down the empty roads. The sun is bright today, and she’s grinning as she sings along with Stevie Nicks, her hair flying out of her face. One of her legs is pulled up on her seat, and she’s fiddling with her fraying shoelaces. She’s wearing one of Steve’s old shirts, the short sleeves rolled up to her shoulders to battle the summer heat, and her arms are freckled, sun-kissed. 

He glances again when she pauses singing, watching her reach for the thermos she filled with orange juice before running after him when they left. The polish on her nails is chipped, purple and orange, painted by Erica and El, and she’s wearing an old ring that Eddie founds while packing out his ring. It fits perfectly around her right pinkie, tarnished silver that shines in the sunlight. 

 He’s a little in love with her, he thinks. 

He glances at her again when she starts singing again. (She has a nice voice.) Her eyes are closed as the light shines on her, like she’s a cat in a sunbeam. 

He’s a lot in love with her. 

He sings with her when the next song comes on, turning up the volume.

When they get to Bloomington, they stop in a cafe to get coffee. Robin takes her coffee like Eddie takes his, unnecessarily sweet, more milk than coffee. Steve takes his black. Robin and Eddie also both make fun of Steve for it. (“You’re soulless, Harrington.”)

Robin swings their hands as they walk toward the music store, almost skipping. Steve is smiling as he sips the last dregs of his coffee. He loves it when she’s like this, all chipper and shiny. 

“So what exactly are you looking for?” he asks as they head into the Rock Shop, the bell above the door dinging cheerfully as Steve opens it and steps aside for Robin to go inside. 

“Uh, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Stooges, Sex Pistols… Et cetera.��� She starts down one of the aisles, eyes skimming the signs. Steve lets the door shut behind himself, the bell chiming again. It’s cooler inside, soft breezes from every corner of the shop coming from rotating fans. “Anything, really.”

“Bored of Fleetwood Mac?”

She scoffs, sending him a look over the records between them. 

“Like I could get bored of my girl Stevie.”

Steve snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at the records. The metal section is down the aisle. He might get something from Eddie. Motörhead just released a new album, they might have it. Steve can’t quite remember the name of it. Orgasm something or other. 

“Can I pick the music on the way home?” Robin asks, thumbing through some records. 

“You literally always pick the music.”

“Untrue.”

“Why are you so argumentative today—”

“Hey, Steve!”

They both look up at the sound of the shop owner’s voice, deep and scratchy from years of cigarettes. Steve smiles brightly at him. They’ve known each other for ages, ever since Steve started wanting to just get out of Hawkins. He’d started coming here for music since he got his license, and the shop owner, Marty, has always been kind to him. He once offered to pay for Steve’s gas when he found out he was driving all the way up from Hawkins. 

“Hi.”

But Robin stops short, looking back and forth between them, and Steve realizes she’s never been here before like he has. 

“You guys know each other?”

Marty’s hands are full, holding heavy boxes as he carries them to the backroom, but he pauses long enough to say, “Oh, yeah, Steve’s been comin’ here for ages. He’d be a regular if he lived in town, huh?” with a little chuckle before he disappears behind the beaded doorway. Robin looks at Steve with a tilted head.

“Hello?”

“What?”

She juts her chin out, making a face, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“They don’t have Toto here, Steve.”

He freezes, looking at her for a moment as it dawns on him that she really does always pick the music. 

“Okay,” he says, setting a hand on the table between them, and he knows his hip is jutting out a little too, and he looks sassier than he should, but he doesn’t really care. “First of all, I would know that if I’ve been coming here for years. Second, have you ever seen, or heard, me listen to Toto?”

She blinks, her long mascaraed lashes fluttering at him, and he sees the gears turning in her head before she realizes.

“...No.”

“Right,” Steve says pointedly, tilting his head forward. Robin’s lips twitch into an amused smile. “I don’t know where that came from. I don’t listen to Toto.”

“What do you listen to?” she says, furrowing her brows, smile gone, and then her eyes widen. “Oh, my god, I don’t even know what music you listen to, I’m a terrible friend—”

“No, you’re not,” he says, laughing lightly, leaning forward over the records. “I like the same shit as you, so I let you pick the music because I know you would hate the other shit I like.”

She blinks again. 

“What else do you like?”

He pauses, staring at her before, 

“Like. Just. Death metal. ‘Nd stuff.”

And she blinks again. 

Then her face contorts into an expression of pure confusion, and he laughs because he’s never seen her look this confused. That’s usually his role. 

“What?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. 

“Who are you?” she says, but she’s laughing too. “How did I not know this?”

“I don’t listen to it anyone around,” he says, shrugging, neglecting to add except Eddie.

He hasn’t told her. He doesn’t know why. It’s not like he’s trying to hide it from her, or like he feels like he has to hide it from her. She’d be supportive, he knows. 

It’s not like he wants to keep it to himself. He kind of wants to scream it from the rooftops. That he’s in love with a man. It’s just hard to get out. Even when he told Mike, it almost got stuck in his throat. He almost changed his mind. 

He just…

Needs the right moment.

And right now, in a public shop, with other people around, even if it isn’t many, isn’t a good place to tell her something like this. So he doesn’t.

“I’ll show you in the car.”

“You just said I could pick the music in the car—”

“Oh, my god, you’re so annoying—”

She goes off to search, and Steve looks in the metal section. The new Motörhead album is at the front, displayed with a little New! sign. Orgasmatron. He was close. 

He leaves with that, carefully placed in a paper bag that’s stamped with the Rock Shop’s logo, a planet with lines around it, dotted with music notes. When they’re checking out, he smacks Robin’s hand away as she reaches to pass Marty her money, and he pays for it himself. She gets a Siouxsie and the Banshees record along with a Ramones cassette tape and one from Dead Kennedys. She places them carefully in the paper bag. 

“Okay,” Robin says before they’re even buckled in the car, one of her legs drawn up onto her seat to make space on the floor for the paper bag (because for some reason she refuses to put it in the backseat). “Music. Show me.”

“I have tapes in the glove compartment,” he says, putting the key in the ignition, but he doesn’t start the car, leaning back to watch her. But he remembers too late.

“Hello?” she says, lifting one of the tapes up, her eyes wide, grinning, and his face flushes with heat when his eyes skim past the word written on the label. 

sweetheart ♡

“Who the fuck is this for?” she asks excitedly, staring at him like she’s scandalized, and his face flushes even hotter as he sighs heavily, looking out across the parking lot. 

“Uh,” he says, hesitating. And he sighs again. “It’s, uhm. Not for anyone.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and he glances at her. She blinks, still holding it up, and her smile falters as she processes it. 

“...From?”

He nods hesitantly. 

And then her grin is back. 

“Who?” She reaches out and smacks him. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone, you bitch?”

He giggles, swatting her hands away, and he shifts in his seat to face her, hesitating. His heart is beating faster than it should be, and this weirdly feels harder than it was to tell Mike. Which doesn’t make any sense. 

But maybe it does. Maybe it’s because he’s kept it from her for so long. 

“Uh,” he says again, his mouth dry. He crosses his arms over his chest almost defensively. “I just… I didn’t, like, uhm.” He swallows, avoiding her eyes as she moves to face him, still holding the tape. “I couldn’t think of, uhm. When was a good time. To tell you.”

“To tell me… that you’re seeing someone?”

He swallows again. Nods. Glances at her. 

“Just… who I’m seeing.”

She leans forward, over the center console. 

“Babe… Who the fuck are you fucking?”

It makes him laugh a little, but his hands are shaking again, and he hates himself for being so nervous. It’s stupid, he knows. But he looks away from her eyes again. 

“Uhm.”

“Who else knows?” she asks softly, and she doesn’t sound upset. Just a soft prompt so he doesn’t have to tell her yet. So he can work up to it. 

“Uh.” He winces. “Mike?”

“Mike?” 

She bursts into laughter, not upset at all like he thought she’d be, and he finally smiles weakly. 

“Why does Mike know?” She freezes, suppressing a laugh as she looks at him with wide eyes and a gasp. “Oh my god, did he fucking walk in on it—”

“No,” he says quickly. “God, no, it’s just— I can’t really tell you, it’s just a whole thing.” He gestures vaguely, swatting his hand in the air like he’s dismissing it.

“Okay,” she says, laughing, relieved. “Who is it?”

He looks at her. 

His lips part, and he stammers silently for a moment, his voice stuck in his throat again before he finally manages to speak, his voice weak and thin and quiet.

“...Ed— Eddie?” 

She blinks, expression blank, and then her shoulders slump, and she looks away, eyes wide as she thinks. 

“...Oh.”

Oh. Okay. Not what he was anticipating. 

“Oh?” he questions. She nods absently, eyes staring down at the emergency break, and she flips the tape over in her hand. 

“Yeah,” she says thoughtfully. “That makes sense, actually.”

“It… It does?”

“Yeah, I mean…” She looks up at him, her eyes sparkling. “That one movie night we had. You fell asleep on his shoulder, and I swear he would have killed any of us if we tried to wake you up. So we left you guys there.”

He remembers it. He had tried to stay awake, but he’d had a long day, and with Eddie’s warmth next to him, he couldn’t help it. He’d drifted off with his head on the back of the sofa and was barely conscious as his head fell to Eddie’s shoulder, as he nuzzled closer, as Eddie’s arm slid across his lap under the blanket they were sharing. When he woke up, they were tangled together, legs entwined, arms tight around each other, and Eddie’s curls were in his face. They, luckily, woke up before anyone else, and got a few minutes to make out on the sofa before they got up to make breakfast and coffee. 

“God, I’m so oblivious,” Robin says almost to herself. “You always share blankets during movie nights. You’re holding hands, aren’t you?” she asks, looking up at him, and he nods. “God.”

He doesn’t know what to say. So he stays quiet as she pieces it together. 

“How long?” she asks after a few moments. 

“Uh, a few weeks. It was after the, uhm, well— kind of during, the— the pool party with the kids.”

She blinks. 

“You disappeared during that party, he— he said you weren’t feeling well.”

“It was… I was, like, whatever you call it. Overstimulated. The heat, and the noise and everything, and I just… I had, like, a… a meltdown. And Eddie just… I don’t know. Helped.” His cheeks flush with heat, embarrassed as he looks down. “He was really nice, and it just…”

Robin laughs, reaching out and poking one of his red cheeks. He glares, pushing her hand away. 

“He’s nice to you?” she asks, leaning back to lean against the door, looking at him, curling up into a ball comfortably like they aren’t in a parking lot. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, scoffing. “Jesus. Yeah. He’s…” He shakes his head, smiling absently, his fingers tangling in his lap. “He’s sweet to me. Treats me right. Real gentle.”

She leans forward in his peripheral, and he looks up at her. Her eyes are wide, and she’s smiling, and she gestures with a wave of her hand. 

“What?”

“Details,” she says bluntly. “Come on.”

“I’m not giving you details—”

“Not those details, dingus, just… Tell me about it.”

He sighs heavily, letting his head fall back to the window. The sun is hot on his arm, and the car is warm, but he just relaxes into his seat, mirroring her. 

“He, uhm.” He looks down again. “He’s… I don’t know Sweet. He’s, like… careful with me? When I’m feeling overwhelmed or— or when I can’t really talk, or when I’m upset about something. He always asks what I need, and he’s so fucking respectful, like he— he gives me as much space as I need, and he holds me just right when I need it, and he always just… reminds me that I’m okay ‘nd stuff. Tells me it’s not my fault.”

She listens intently, leaning forward over her knees, her chin squishing against her band-aided kneecap. 

“It’s like he can read me,” Steve continues. “He comes over, and he— he just knows how I’m feeling, even if I don’t even know, he can always tell if I’m tired or if I’m overwhelmed with something or if I’m hungry, and I don’t even know how he does it, but he still asks what I want, and— and how I want him to touch me or if I wanna be left alone, or…” 

He exhales, blinking as his eyes sting suddenly.

“He’s just so… good.”

Robin is quiet for a moment. And then—

“You’re in lo-o-ove…”

He scoffs, and he doesn’t look up, but she still sees the flash in his eyes, and she reaches out to smack his leg. 

“You are,” she says excitedly, hitting him again as he giggles and tries to catch her hand. “You’re in love with him, oh my god.”

“Okay,” he says loudly. “Yeah.”

“Does he know?”

“Yeah,” he says shyly. “We… say it to each other.”

She lets out a sound, a high-pitched squeal, and he rolls his eyes, looking away and suppressing a grin. 

“How did that go?” she asks, and he can tell that she’s full of curiosity. She’s never dated anyone, she’s told him. Never had anyone to talk to about crushes. 

“Just… Very casually,” he says, laughing lightly. “We just said it one night. Love you. Before we hung up and went to bed. I didn’t even realize we’d said it until the next morning, but we just… kept saying it. And then one day he randomly said he was falling in love with me, and I was… like, Yeah. Same. So.”

“And they say romance is dead,” she says dryly, raising an eyebrow, but her eyes are sparkling excitedly. “Have you gone on dates?”

“Not really,” Steve says. “‘S not easy. I wanna take him to a diner for dinner and shit, but… this fuckin’ town. And even if we were in Bloomington,” he adds, glancing around outside. “Or— Or Indy, we just…”

“Yeah,” she says quietly. 

“But he picks up takeout sometimes before he comes over,” Steve says, lightening. “And we watch movies or I help him with his new battle vest and stuff. We’ve gone out to the quarry twice.”

She has a little smile on her face as she listens intently.

“It’s…” Steve hesitates again, and he wants to cry. His eyes sting, and his chest feels tight, and his hands are trembling a little. “I’ve never felt like this before,” he says softly, almost whispering. “About— About anyone, he’s so fucking… perfect. I’m just…”

He wipes his cheeks quickly when a tear falls, and Robin moves forward, eyebrows furrowed like she’s going to cry too. 

“And maybe it’s just the— the trauma bonding with the, I don’t know, the— the attraction or chemistry or whatever, but it feels so…” He thinks for a moment, wiping his cheek again. “Serious? Like… He’s fucking it for me.”

“Wow,” Robin breathes. 

Steve smiles, and she’s grinning back at him, and he pauses again before he holds his left hand up, showing her the ring on his finger. Her eyes look at it, and then widen a little. 

“Is that his?”

Steve nods. 

“He didn’t even say anything when he gave it to me,” he says, letting her take his hand and touch the ring. “Just leaned over and put it on my finger and kissed me. And he— he didn’t even have to say anything.”

He looks at her and sees her wipe a tear from her cheek. 

“That’s really cool,” she says softly. “That’s… really fucking cool.”

He laughs weakly, leaning forward, and she does the same, bumping their foreheads together. 

“I’m so in love with him,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking in love with him I feel stupid with it.”

She laughs again, and then she’s hugging him, stretching over across the center console to wrap her arms around his neck, and he squeezes his eyes shut, hugging her back. It almost hurts, this hug, and a part of him realizes how Robin must have felt that night in the bathroom when they talked about Tammy. He feels like something’s been lifted off his shoulders, like something is missing that he won’t miss. 

They part after a long few moments, sniffling and smiling, and Robin leans back in her seat, looking at the tape, at Eddie’s blocky handwriting and the uneven heart. 

“Have you guys fucked yet?”

“Holy shit.”

Steve turns back toward the wheel and buckles up, starting the car as he shakes his head and Robin laughs. 

Robin picks the music on the way home. 

edit: i keep forgetting i have a permanent taglist sorry yall; @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist

♡ buy me a coffee ♡

#i fucking went through it during mikes scene good lord #also i just think they should let finn have his natural hair as mike i beg #so pretty #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #mike wheeler #robin buckley

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 27

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! angst, jealousy, misunderstandings, mentions of unrequited love. smut, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, choking (kinda). Not giving away who the smut is about but uh, don't come at me.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Your anger and frustration take a hold of you, and for the first time, you take control and change things into the better... you hope.

Word count: 14k+

A/N: @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me so much, we've been talking about this chapter for two months now (or longer?) and I'm so fucking excited that we're finally here, aaaah!

series masterlist

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A look of anger is nestled deep into your soft features, your brows are knitted together, lips curled downwards. There’s a tired look in your eyes, it’s barely visible beneath the lingering rage. You are clenching your jaw, huffing in frustration ever so often. Despite the mess that must be going on inside your head, you still manage to look beautiful. That is something Heather has always admired about you. No matter what bullshit life throws at you, you always manage to look better than anyone else in the room. No amount of tears, betrayal or pain will stop you from making yourself look good. In fact, Heather is convinced that you look better and better after every fall that you take. 

How? She doesn’t know. 

She eyes you, admiring the way the short maroon skirt looks on you, sun kissed legs glowing beneath the dim lights, the tight black top adorned with dainty lace straps, boots that you wouldn’t have worn a year ago – you look good. Really good. She understands why Eddie struggles to keep his eyes off of you. Or why Steve still pines after you. You’re not just an amazing girl, you’re also a really fucking hot one. 

Another huff falls from your lips, your eyes flash with irritation as you slam one of the records on the shelf. 

Heather isn’t sure if she had ever seen you this angry. 

You are rarely ever angry. 

You weren’t even this angry when Steve stood you up on dates you were excited for.

“What is wrong with cheer captain over there?” Argyle whispers in his girlfriend's ear as he pretends to check out the tape in his hand. 

Heather snorts, looking over her shoulder at him, “she’s not a cheer captain anymore, you know?” 

He shrugs, “once a captain, always a captain, baby.” 

Heather shakes her head. 

“No, seriously. What happened to her?” He asks as he puts the tape back into place, placing his hand on her lower back as he glances at you. “I don’t think anger was an emotion that existed in her world,” he mumbles quietly, watching the way flick your hair back angrily as you make your way back to the counter. 

“I’m not sure,” Heather mumbles, wide eyed and confused, not knowing whether to confront you or not. “I guess something happened with Steve.. again.” Just a moment after those words leave her lips, the bell above the door rings and in walks Eddie with the usual smile that appears on his face whenever he sees you. 

Heather glances at him briefly, before her eyes move back to you, just in time to catch you rolling your eyes at the man you adore so much. She can’t even hide the look of surprise that crosses her face when you look down with a slight glare.

Argyle, who wasn’t blind to it either, laughs quietly, “uh oh, trouble in paradise.” 

Eddie, who is yet to notice the angry look on your face, walks up to the counter with a takeaway cup that he places in front of you, tearing your attention away from the magazine that lies in front of you. Without raising your head, you look up at him through your lashes, eying the cheerful look on his face, the smile, the stupid brown eyes that you love so much. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles, looking around the record store, he waves at Heather and Argyle before he looks back at you. “I got you some coffee, figured you’d need some after last night.”

He drums his fingers against the counter as he stares at you, taking in the sight of you in your pretty little outfit, your glossy, kissable lips, your soft wavy hair that you always spent the most time on. He looks into your beautiful eyes that you glare at him with. He waits for you to crack a smile but, just like last night, you only frown, your lips twitch as though you try to force a smile but fail to do so. You don’t even acknowledge the cup he had placed in front of the magazine that you were glaring at before he walked in. 

Eddie’s heart sinks a little. He hoped to see a smile on your face today. You had been acting weird from the moment you had excused yourself to the bathroom last night. When you had gotten back with another drink in your hand, you chose to sit next to Steve instead of him. Eddie knew that something wasn’t right the moment he saw how you were forcing laughter and pretended to be interested in whatever Robin was telling you. You barely talked to him or to Steve for that matter, but you had at least looked at him. All Eddie got were halfhearted smiles, short replies and a cold shoulder from you. Which hurt – a lot. 

He didn’t allow himself to overthink, to feel hurt over something that probably meant nothing. But now that he stands in front of you, looking into those eyes that seem even more rage filled than the night before he knows that he had every reason to overthink. 

“Thanks,” you mumble. 

Eddie blinks, staring at you with sad eyes. 

“Uh, you’re welcome,” he mutters under his breath, he straightens up, staring down at you with confused eyes. “Did you sleep well? You had a lot of whiskey last night.” 

You didn’t stay over last night. And he didn’t stay over at your place either. In fact, it’s been a while since you had slept in each other’s beds, since you both started working. He misses it. He misses you, he misses waking up beside you, feeling your body on his, smelling your perfume on his sheets. He wants to go back to the night you had stolen the bat plushie for him, when you missed him, when you wanted him to hold you, he misses it, especially now. 

“I slept just fine.” 

He clenches his jaw when you give him another glare. 

What is your problem? 

Are you angry? Or are you angry at him? 

“What do you want?” You ask, voice filled with bitterness. 

Ah. So, you are angry at him. Eddie had never gotten to know what it’s like to feel your anger before. What it’s like to feel your cold shoulder. Not once, had you been angry at him. Not once, had you glared at him, snapped at him, treated him unkindly. Not a single time, had you done wrong by him. You are always sweet, always kind, always good. Now he gets to feel it. And god, it doesn’t feel good. 

“Uh, well. I’m on lunch break and thought I’d drop by,” he mumbles, hating the way his voice wavers, the way he feels so awkward, knowing that Heather and Argyle are listening in on your conversation. “So, the guys canceled band practice tonight. Do you wanna hang out after work? I get off earlier, I can pick you up after your shift, we can go to the movies or have a few drinks at the hideout.”

Suddenly, you snap your head up, looking him directly into his eyes. Eddie is almost a little taken aback by the storm raging in your eyes. 

“Why? Did you run out of girls to eat out?” 

Eddie is stunned. Utterly stunned and dumbfounded. His mouth opens and closes again, too confused, too shocked to say anything. 

What? 

Heather and Argyle who feel just as stunned, look at each other with wide eyes. 

‘Holy shit, dude. That is like a soap opera.’ Argyle mouths with a funny look on his face as he points to you and Eddie. 

Heather glares at him, slapping his shoulder lightly. 

With an eye roll, you look away from Eddie and his confused frown. You turn around and walk away, not bearing to stand being in his presence any longer, you brush past your friends and walk into the backroom. Ignoring the guilt that is burning in your chest after seeing the look in Eddie’s eyes. 

His eyes follow you until you disappear into the hallway. He wants to follow you, he wants to move, he wants to confront you, but he stands frozen in place, not knowing what to say or do. 

What the hell just happened? 

Did you really say that?

“What did you do, Munson?” 

Eddie snaps out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at Heather, who is already glaring at him with arms crossed over her chest. The girl had always intimidated him a little, but especially now. 

He looks over at Argyle who looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or try to calm his angry girlfriend down as he looks between Heather and him. 

Eddie lifts his shoulders, shrugging with a confused and crestfallen look on his face. He is clueless and lost, not quite understanding what the hell just happened. Nothing you say or do makes sense to him lately. You say you wish you met him first, only to act like nothing happened the next day, like you don’t remember your words from the night you had gotten so drunk. He tried not to think too much into it, even after Dmitri’s encouraging words. You could never feel the same, could you? No. Then he thinks about the previous night, about how upset you seemed after his little sex talk with Steve. Surely you are not upset about the things he did but about the things that Steve did or well, didn’t do with you. Not because of what he did months ago, right? You wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t care about what he did with other girls or maybe you do, just not for the reasons he’d hope. You were – are probably just upset about what he did with strangers, what your own boyfriend never did with you but did with a girl he left you for. 

You wouldn’t be jealous, not over him, right? 

Not that he would ever want you to, he would never want you to feel jealous over him. For him, there is only one girl that he wants and that is you. The girls he had fooled around with, were merely a distraction and long before he had admitted to his feelings. The moment he had looked at you a little longer, felt his heart race a little faster, caught himself thinking about you more than he should have, he tried to distract himself, he tried to be with other girls, ones who were willing to touch ‘the freak’. Though, he could never go all the way, the moment he even felt someone else’s touch on him, pictures of you flashed right before his eyes, as much as he tried to force them away, he couldn’t. He knew he was done for when the thought of fucking some random girl left a bitter taste in his mouth and the thought of you stopped him from even going as far. He stopped it right then and there, despite knowing that he would never get a chance with you. It just felt wrong and not as good as it should have. 

“Who’s pussy did you eat, dude?” Argyle shakes his head at him with both an amused and disapproving look on his face. 

Heather glares at her boyfriend before she redirects her glare at Eddie, feeling the anger rise inside of her. She is not ready to see you pine after another guy who can’t keep it in his pants. Though when she sees the sad and confused look in Eddie’s eyes, her shoulders slump a little. She sighs, dropping her arms by her sides. 

“No one’s – what the fuck,” Eddie mumbles, ready to turn on his heels and run out of here. “That was months ago. I don’t know why she’s so pissed at me.” 

Heather knows. Despite not knowing what happened, she knows why you are so pissed. 

She makes her way over to him, squinting her eyes as she tilts her head. 

“What happened months ago?” 

He sighs, cheeks heating up. He doesn’t want to talk about something so meaningless, let alone with a friend who would probably kill for you. 

“And what happened in general?” She asks, now talking in hushed whispers. “We talked on the phone yesterday, she seemed fine and was excited to see you, so what the hell happened?” 

His heart soars to hear that you were excited to see him. 

He runs his fingers through his messy curls, looking around the record store before he looks back at Heather. 

“We hung out with Robin and Steve. We went back to his place, got high and had a couple of drinks.”

“And?” 

“And then we, fuck,” he sighs. “It doesn’t matter, okay? S-She’s just pissed at me because of what Steve did… or didn’t do.” 

Heather’s brows knit together, a confused look taking over her face. She hates the way she never gets anything out of him or you. You are both so confusing sometimes. 

“I just – I’m gonna go,” he mumbles in defeat but also in anger and frustration, “just tell her to give me a call when she feels okay again.” 

Before she can say or ask anything else, he turns around but not before taking another glance into the hallway, huffing when it stays empty. He opens the door and leaves. 

Heather leans against the counter, rolling her eyes. 

When you walk back out, you look around the store, checking to see if he is still here. You ignore the disappointment and guilt gnawing at your stomach. 

“So…. what happened?” Heather asks you when you start reading your magazine again, as though nothing happened. 

“Nothing.”

“Oh come on,” she groans, throwing her hands up. “Just tell me what happened, you clearly need to let it out!” 

With a sigh, you lean closer to her, not wanting her boyfriend to listen in on this conversation. 

“I didn’t fucking know that men eat pussies.” 

Heather doesn’t want to, she really really doesn’t want to laugh. But, the mix of anger and embarrassment in your eyes, the flustered look on your face along with your choice of words makes it hard for her not to giggle, she manages to suppress it though. 

“He found out that Steve never did anything like that with me and then he bragged about his skills to both Robin and Steve. I thought he was done with it, he told me he wasn’t hooking up with anyone anymore but then I found out that he fooled around two or three months ago, Heather! He fucking fooled around with other girls!” You yell in a whisper, getting angrier and angrier. “He was fucking and doing god knows what w-with – god, I don’t even want to know. But then he got mad at me for kissing Steve! He treated me like shit all day when he found out about the kiss, yet he was doing so much worse!” 

Heather’s eyes widen. Not because of what you told him but because of the look on your face. The anger in your voice. The very clear jealousy and storm raging in your eyes. 

She narrows her eyes when she feels Argyle watching. He begins to whistle, pretending to not watch you throwing a fit. 

“It made me so mad, so fucking mad. I-It’s not even that he fooled around with girls, he was– is single and free to do whatever he wants. It’s just – fuck,” you grab your hair, shaking your head as you close your eyes, trying to take deep breaths. “On top of that, I find out that Steve did everything with Nancy fucking Wheeler.” 

You are frustrated. That much is clear. Angry, jealous and irritated. But there is a different kind of frustration, right now. 

“Babe,” Heather whispers, reaching over the counter, she pulls your hands out of your hair, pulling them down and placing them back on the counter, “breathe with me.” 

You open your eyes, looking into her calm ones. 

“Just take a deep breath,” she repeats. 

“I got a joint for you if you want, y/n,” Argyle says from the other side of the room. 

“Argyle!” Heather snaps, glaring at him again – something that only makes him chuckle in response, shrugging. “She needs to chillax a little.” 

You crack a smile at his words.

“Look! There she is, the first smile of the day, good job, Heather!” He grins at his girlfriend with a thumbs up. 

“You made her smile,” she chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully. She looks back at you. 

“Look, Steve sucks, we all know that.” 

“Sucked.” 

She huffs at your correction. 

“He will always suck to me – but anyways, what I’m trying to say is,” she pauses, holding your hands tighter. “Eddie is not Steve. I know you’re scared to watch the guy you like fool around with other girls, like you had to with Steve back then but, Eddie isn’t him. Besides, didn’t he say it was months ago?” 

“Yeah,” you mumble. “Two or three months ago.” 

“See, that’s a long time for a guy, trust me,” she mutters with wide eyes. “It didn’t happen recently, it happened months ago. He stopped for a reason, besides I don’t think there’s a reason for you to feel jealous. I know you like Eddie–”

“I don’t like Eddie,” you blush. 

“Sure you’re don’t, y/n,” Argyle chuckles, not even hiding the fact that he is listening in on your conversation. “You’re not fooling anyone, neither is Eddie. You’re both idiots.”

You frown at his words.

“Don’t listen to him” Heather shakes her head. “Listen, I get why you’re upset but, you need to learn how to speak up and talk about whatever is bothering you. You never talked to Steve, you always kept it all to yourself, which I get because he was a douchebag to you the few times you did open up. But, don’t do the same with Eddie. He cares about you, a lot.”

You look down, guiltily. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Heather sighs, squeezing your hands. “I think he deserved that little cold shoulder, he did the same to you,” she shrugs. “But seriously, just talk to him. Being the on the receiving end of the cold shoulder fucking sucks, you know that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I-I just don't know what to say Heather. Whatever I will say will make me sound like some jealous lovesick idiot.” 

She raises her brows, “are you lovesick?” 

You shake your head at her, though she can see you blushing. You are afraid of the feelings you had developed for Eddie, the ones you haven’t even fully admitted to yet. 

“Well, start with an apology and explain to him why you were angry. That it was unfair of him to treat you like that after the kiss with Steve when he was doing, well, that..” 

You nod.

“Talk to him, go to the hideout, after work. We both know you want to.” 

“Us three know, you want to,” Argyle corrects her. 

“Yeah, yeah. Us three,” she laughs. 

You snort, shaking your head at them both. 

“I don’t know,” you mumble. “What if he doesn’t want to see me? I was a bitch to him.”

Argyle snorts, “girl, he came here all the way just to spend his lunch break with you and he looked like a poor little kitten who was kicked to the curb by his owner. He does want to see you.” 

“I-I don’t know.” 

“Y/n,” Heather sighs.

“I just, I didn’t bring my car and I don’t want to walk all the way there.”

She knows that you are trying to make up excuses because you are too afraid to face him now after what happened. 

“I’ll give you a ride in the coolest pizza van ever,” Argyle grins, “it’s supposed to storm later, wouldn’t want you to walk home in the rain, anyways,” he shrugs as he finally walks up to the counter, throwing his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder, he grins at you. 

“See, you got a driver and a few hours to calm down!” Heather says with a big smile on her face. “Now let’s go before she says no,” she turns to her boyfriend, letting go of your hands to grab his, she starts to drag him out of the store. 

“Oh,” Argyle chuckles, “see ya later!” 

“Yeah bye,” you sigh, already dreading the moment you will have to face Eddie. 

You busy yourself with the new records that came in today, trying to ignore the abandoned cup of coffee on the counter, but you keep looking at it, feeling worse and worse the more time passes by. 

Eddie didn’t deserve the way you treated him. Even when he was once a dick to you, he still didn’t deserve it. But anger controlled you and maybe a pinch of jealousy. Eddie is single but that won’t stay that way forever. He might not be around for you, forever. Someday, someone will come into his life and steal his heart, someone he will fall for, someone he will leave you for. The thought of it, puts a frown on your face. Imagining him with another girl leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, it makes your insides feel as though they’re twisting and catching on fire. You hate it. You hate the thought of him with someone else. 

But it will happen someday. Anyday. 

A mix of emotions run through you all day and it almost becomes unbearable on the drive to the hideout. Neither Argyle’s attempts at making you laugh with his silly jokes or his music manage to calm you down. Nothing manages to make you feel better in the slightest. By the time you jump out of the van, your hands are shaking and your heart is pounding. 

What if he doesn’t want to see you? 

What if he is angry at you? 

What if you just ruined a friendship that means everything to you?

The rain is pouring, forcing you to find shelter quickly. Normally, you would’ve given yourself at least five minutes to calm down before walking inside but you refuse to walk in looking like a wet dog. 

With shaky hands, you open the door and step inside, ignoring the raindrops rolling down your cheeks. You take a few deep breaths, pulling the jacket tighter around your body. You look towards the little booth you usually sit at, only to find it empty. 

You swallow nervously, furrowing your brows. 

The sound of a girl's laughter pulls your attention towards the bar and for a moment, your heart stops beating, your breath hitches in your throat. Unable to move, you stand frozen in place with hands that shake for different reasons other than nervousness now. 

Eddie is sitting at the bar, talking to some girl. She touches his arm, leaning closer to him. You hear her giggle and you see his smile and that is enough for you to regret even thinking of coming here. Of course, he went out to find someone else the moment you rejected his invitation. 

Your heart starts pounding again, your throat feels tight, too tight. You can’t bear to stare at the sight in front of you any longer. To see him smile at someone like this, to see someone else touching him, to see him so happy with someone other than you. 

The moment you hear his laughter is the moment you know you’re done for. It’s too late to come back from this now. It’s too late to try and keep your heart safe from yet another heartbreak. It’s too late to stop yourself from falling because you already fell. And you lost, again. 

Tears prickle in your eyes, your bottom lip starts trembling. 

The urge to walk over to him feels strong, too strong. But you fight it, not wanting to make a fool out of yourself, you turn around and storm out of the bar, not caring about the pouring rain. You step out into the cold, letting the rain crash down on you. 

You don’t even acknowledge his van as you walk past it. 

You’re blinking away the tears, not wanting them to fall. The feeling of dread, anger and sadness is starting to consume you, again. It feels like Halloween night, all over again. 

The door slams open behind you and footsteps echo through the empty streets. You keep walking, not bothering to look back, not even when you hear his voice calling your name. Only when he catches up to you, blocking your path by standing in front of you do you stop walking. 

You see the irritation in his features, the confusion as he stares you down. 

He is trying to shield himself from the rain but to no avail, his bangs are already sticking to his forehead. 

“I called your name!” 

You huff, trying to step around him, but he only moves in front of you again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” He finally snaps. “Where are you going!?”

“Home!” You try to walk past him once again, but Eddie is stubborn, not letting you go. You huff in anger, looking up into his eyes with a glare, “Go back to your girl, I don’t want to be the one getting in the way of you and some pussy, Munson!” 

His eyes flash with confusion, darkening in frustration. 

“I– what!?” 

You shake your head at him, scoffing at his faked confusion. 

“Get out of the way.” 

“What!? No!” He shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to take your hand and drag you towards his van but he doesn’t want to startle you in this moment, not after what happened with Ray. 

You clench your jaw, glaring at him. You watch how his breathing gets heavier and heavier, how he glares into your eyes with both anger and frustration. 

Something like this has never happened before. 

You had never gotten into a fight before. Not once. 

“Get in the van, sweetheart.” 

The nickname that usually rolls off his tongue so sweetly, sounding so bitterly now. 

You shake your head. 

He huffs, looking away for a moment, he suddenly no longer feels the cold rain on his skin, the goosebumps underneath his clothes. He only feels the irritation rushing through him. He looks back at you, staring at the frown on your face, the furrowed brows, the pursed lip, the way you’re breathing so heavily. 

You are angry and so is he, he is fuming. 

“I’m not letting you go until you get in the damn van.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, not minding the pouring rain, at all. 

“No.” 

He stares at you in disbelief. Who would’ve thought that you could be such a brat?

He takes a step closer, looking down at you, “get in the van,” he says, slowly. 

Eddie expects you to stay stubborn, to shake your head and continue to argue with him on that. To his surprise, you drop your arms to your sides and turn around but not without an eye roll. 

He shakes his head at the attitude you’re still giving him, the one that got even worse. He reaches for his car keys, following you to his van. Despite his anger, he still walks over to the passenger side, opening the door for you. The rain dripples down your face, you get in the van with a mad look on your face, not even sparing him a glance. 

Another huff falls from his lips when you continue to ignore him. He closes the door, not wanting to stand longer in the rain than he has to, he rushes over to the driver's side, quickly getting in. 

He pushes the key into the ignition, starting it but not moving to start driving yet. He looks over at you after taking a deep breath. You’re staring out the window, not moving, not speaking, not turning to look at him the way you usually do, even your knees are pointed away from him. 

“Are you gonna talk to me?” He asks as he grabs the steering wheel. 

Silence. 

He closes his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, at least?” 

You only shift in your seat, huffing. He notices how fast you’re blinking, how you keep pressing your lips together to keep them from trembling. His eyes soften a little when he realizes that you are trying to blink away the tears that are threatening to fall. 

“Can you just drive me home?” You ask in annoyance. 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a long minute, trying to figure you out. He feels restless, his heart is pounding and he dreads the moment he has to drop you off at home, knowing that this will stay unresolved, but what can he do? 

With a sigh, he turns away from you, he doesn’t even bother to turn up the music when he starts driving. For the first few minutes, the car ride is spent in silence. There is a storm raging in his mind, a million questions running through it, ones that he will find no answers for himself. 

You are silent. You are never this silent. You always talk to him, you never ever ignore him. 

“What the hell is going on, y/n?” He asks, keeping his eyes on the road. “Are you ever gonna speak to me again or are you gonna continue to act like a goddamn brat?” 

The faintest scoff sounds through the space between you, though this is all he gets out of you. 

He clenches his jaw and holds the steering wheel even tighter than before, he taps his finger against it, getting jumpy the harder his heart starts pounding. He doesn’t want to leave things unresolved. He doesn’t want to drop you off at home like this. He doesn’t want to deal with this tension, this anger from you any longer. He can’t take it. He can’t take the cold shoulder, not from you.

But he feels so powerless, not knowing what he did wrong, not knowing what he did to make you so angry. 

“What is wrong with you!? I invited you tonight, and you clearly rejected the invitation! You’ve been acting like a total bitch to me since yesterday night at Steve’s!” 

Not a single word leaves your mouth. He tries, he really tries to stay calm but he’s scared. He’s fucking scared that he messed it up without realizing that he did. 

In his state of anger and panic, he pulls the car off the road, slamming the brakes as he brings the car to a stop. He unbuckles the seatbelt, briefly glancing at you to find you staring at him in confusion. 

Oh, so now you’re finally fucking looking at him?

He gets out of the car, ignoring the way you mumble his name or the way you look at him with those big irresistible eyes. He stands beneath the pouring rain, not caring about the risk of catching a cold. He needs to cool off. He needs to breathe. He needs to think. 

He starts pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, thinking too much, too hard. 

He hears the door slamming and when he opens his eyes, he sees you standing there, even in the darkness, he can see the confused look, that same one that he has been wearing all day. Not just today, for the past few weeks. 

“Get back in the van!” 

He almost wants to laugh. 

“Seriously, come back, Eddie!” 

He won’t stop pacing, he keeps looking at you, at the way you’re standing there, not moving. 

“You make me so fucking mad and confused sometimes!” He yells over the loud rain. 

He sees the way you draw back, the way you look so offended for a second, before you start making your way over to him. 

“I make you confused? With what!?”

“Y-You tell me you wish you met me first, what the fuck does that even mean!?” He throws his hands up, he finally stops pacing. “You act like it never happened, like you never even said it. I-I don’t understand what is going on anymore! Why are you so fucking angry at me?”

You tense up, not daring to say anything. 

Eddie wants and needs an answer, he deserves one. You owe it to him. His brown eyes are filled with anger but they are also pleading. You have to tell him the truth but you can’t do that, despite what Heather said, you can’t do it. You’re scared.

You look down, huffing with your shoulders slumped, “fine, if you won’t drive me home, I’ll walk,” you say, stubbornly as you take a few steps before he jumps in front of you again.

He scoffs in disbelief, “oh, you’re not going anywhere until we work this out!” 

“Eddie–”

“I’m done with you running away from everything!”

“I’m not running.” 

He shakes his head at you, “no? Then what do you call this then, sweetheart? You keep running away when things get difficult or confusing but please, just this once, don’t run, don’t walk away from me,” he pleads, wanting nothing more than to take your hands in his.

You look up, finally meeting his eyes again. 

His hair no longer holds the volume from before, it’s drenched, water dripping from it, his face is soaked from the rain, his eyes blazing with anger and frustration, your eyes move to his lips and you once again, feel the fluttering in your chest, that you try to ignore, especially now. 

“You never say how you really feel, you never give the whole truth, you make me all confused and leave me hanging, all the damn time!” 

You shake your head, “when did I ever leave you hanging!?” 

He raises his brows, eyes widening as he looks at you in both disbelief and confusion. 

“How about the time you avoided me after you kissed Steve? Or the time you just disappeared on me for a whole week–”

“I called you every night!” You yell with a frown on your face. 

“Yeah? Well, you never told me why you suddenly needed to stop seeing me!” 

You swallow and look away, something that makes him roll his eyes. 

“Or the time you told me you wish you met me first? I-It’s been fucking with my mind ever since and I can’t make sense of it! You said these words to me and then passed out and the next day, you acted like nothing fucking happened!” 

You close your eyes, bouncing your knee and digging your nails into your palms. 

“Why does that matter now?” You ask, getting irritated the longer you stay out here, the longer you feel the clothes sticking to your cold skin. 

Eddie can’t explain the rage that is cursing through his veins. It isn’t directed at you but at the feelings he can’t set free because he can’t ruin this thing between you even more.

“It matters to me!” He yells, sounding desperate to know the truth. “Why do you say these things to me? Why are you so angry at me? Why aren’t you fucking talking to me?” 

You snap your head up, hating the way your heart is filled with so much fear or the way your body won’t stop shaking. He looks so angry at you – he is angry with you and your silence. 

“You never give me a chance to know what you’re angry about! But fuck, this time you are getting into my fucking nerves because you – I don’t know why you are so mad and why you keep being so cold towards me when I didn’t do shit!” He exclaims, feeling like his heart is about to jump out. 

He is angry, but he is mostly scared. Scared to lose you. 

You look offended by his words and despite it, you move closer and closer to him, drawn into him like a magnet despite the anger that should push you away, the way it always pushed you away from Steve for a little while before he’d come back asking for forgiveness. 

“Oh, so I’m cold now!? So you can be mad at me and act cold whenever you want, but I fucking can’t!?” 

He knows what you’re talking about. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. And as he looks into your eyes and he sees something else besides anger, he slowly begins to understand. He looks into your eyes, he watches the way the drops of rain run down your cheeks, the way your angry eyes are filled with unshed tears, the way you are so much closer than before, the way your chest is rising up and down heavily as you stare at him intensely, eyes scanning his whole face. 

He feels desperate. He wants and needs to fix this, he needs you to explain to him what happened so he can fix it, he needs you to stay, he needs you to stay with him. He can’t lose you. 

You stare at his lips for a long time, you listen to the way your heart is pounding, to the way your hands itch to touch his skin, despite the situation you find yourself in, despite the anger that is still cursing through your veins. 

You can’t bear this any longer. You can’t take this, not with him. You are so sick of the fighting. You are sick of being scared. You are sick of losing. You are sick of wondering and never taking action. 

“I at least explained to you why! You are afraid of telling me your reasons, and I honestly have no clue what your deal is! So can you please just tell me–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down, not wasting a second, you smash your lips against his, not letting yourself second guess it any longer. You finally do it. You kiss him. 

You kiss Eddie. 

With your eyes closed and your body almost pressed against his, you move your lips against his as you hold his face with your hands, getting lost in the feeling of kissing your best friend, not even noticing how still his body is. 

Eddie stands frozen in place. His eyes are wide, his heart is racing like crazy. He stares at you, not quite understanding what is happening, not believing what is happening. Is this real? Is he real? Are you real? Are you really kissing him? Is this really happening?

This is everything he ever wanted. To feel your lips on his. To find out what it’s like to kiss you, even if just for one time. 

As you stand here, kissing him under the pouring rain that is crashing down on the both of you, Eddie can’t believe that this isn’t something out of his dreams. Not even the cold rain can pull him out of his trance, not even the racing of his heart can pull him out of whatever shock he is under. 

Only when your lips stop moving and you shakily remove your hands from his face, you open your eyes, almost fearfully. You get flustered, so so flustered. Your eyes scan his whole face and he notices how anxious you now look. You swallow as your brows pinch together, a look of rejection flashes in your eyes as they begin to tear up. You blink, opening and closing your mouth. You take a small step back from him as your shoulders slump. You look crestfallen and that finally causes him to snap out of it. 

You blink, trying to hide the tears that are about to spill. 

He doesn’t want you. He never wanted you. What ever made you think that he could want you? Who does? Who could ever want you? 

You take another step back, raising your hands towards your lips, “I-I’m s–” 

Before you can even utter another word, Eddie takes two steps forward, he cups your cheeks, not letting you move away or doubt yourself any longer, not wasting another second, he leans down and he crashes his lips onto yours, taking your breath away with only the feeling of his lips moving against yours, you can’t even stop the gasp from escaping despite having kissed him just now. But you easily melt into his touch and against his lips. Your eyes close and you kiss him back in an instant. The softest sigh falls from his lips when you start to kiss each other like you’ve always wanted to. It’s soft and slow at first. His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, your hands are now pressed against his chest, you can feel his heart pounding loudly,matching the pace of your own. The softest sigh escapes your lips, enough to make Eddie weak in the knees. You are both savoring this feeling, the feeling of the way your lips move against one another, the feeling of your bodies pressed together, the fluttering of your hearts, the joy inside of you. 

Eddie already knew that he was done for before this. But now, he is ruined and he doesn’t mind it for a single second. Even if you are only giving him a taste of this, even if this is the one and only kiss, he will die a happy man. He doesn’t know whether he feels like crying tears of joy or screaming in happiness when he feels you deepening the kiss, still going slow and soft as before but wanting more, more, more. He can feel you holding back. 

His hands leave your face, slipping down your – his soaked denim jacket, he squeezes your arms before his hands find their way to your waist. 

He could stand here forever, just kissing you underneath the stormy sky. Embracing the tingly feeling you leave his lips with, the giddiness in his stomach, the racing in his heart. He doesn’t want this to end, even when he’s getting breathless, he doesn’t want it to end. He just wants to keep kissing you. He just wants to keep feeling your lips moving against his, he wants to feel your hands on his chest, your body pressed against his, your breath on his skin, the taste of strawberries on your lips. He wants this to keep going. He doesn’t want this to end. 

But neither do you. 

You pull away from each other and open your eyes at the same time, both gasping for air as you stare at each other wide eyed. Your chests are rising up and down heavily. Rain is dripping down both your bodies but neither of you feel the coldness of it. You only feel each other. You only see each other. 

You only see him. You only feel him. His lips are parted, his cheeks are flushed, he is staring at you, eyes scanning your whole face. He wants more. You can tell by the look in his eyes as he stares at your lips, wanting to smash his against yours again, wanting to kiss you harder. 

And you want it too. 

You want more. 

You want him. 

All of him. 

You can sense each other’s desperation and this time, you both crash into each other after a long moment of heavy silence. You throw your arms around his neck as he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you flush against him as your lips meet, once again. This kiss is unlike the first one or the second one. This kiss is filled with so much desperation, longing, and raw lust, it’s rough and everything you’ve ever wanted to feel. You moan at the feeling of his ringed fingers digging into your skin and his plump lips kissing you so roughly and passionately. 

Eddie still struggles to believe that this is actually happening, that you are kissing him, that you are letting him slip his tongue past your lips, that you are moaning against his lips, that you are letting him slam your back against the side of his van, only for you to dig your fingers into his hair, pulling and tugging at his wet curls. 

He moans into the kiss when you bite his lower lip, catching him off guard a little by the roughness of your touch. You press yourself against him, sighing and fucking whimpering for him. 

One thing is for certain, the friendship is ruined. 

Your tongues clash together, your noses bump into each other as the kiss gets rougher and rougher. Both of you are breathing heavily, neither of you want to move away but when the lack of air gets too much again, you part away from the kiss but Eddie can’t stop, he brushes your hair to the side and leans down to press his lips against your jaw, kissing his way down to your neck. 

“Eddie,” you moan in need, closing your eyes and biting your bottom lip when you feel his lips on your sweet spot. You keep your hands around his neck, keeping yourself pressed against his body. You have to squeeze your thighs together when you feel him against your stomach, when you feel his lips sucking on your skin, when you hear his moans as he starts pleading for you. 

“God, I have to have you, baby,” he murmurs against your neck. “I need you.”  

He is asking, begging for you. 

Your stomach flutters and your knees almost buckle. 

You want him too. You need him too. 

You reach for his face, cupping his cheeks as you lean in, desperately kissing his lips again. 

“The back,” you whisper against his lips, pecking them. “The back of the van, now.”

His lips twitch as his eyes light up, you keep pecking his lips, “please.”

He takes your hand, dragging you towards the back of the van, almost shaking from excitement. He opens the door and grabs your waist, “c’mere,” he murmurs as he pulls your back flush against his chest, pressing his lips to your neck before he urges you inside. Your stomach flips at the thought of what is about to happen. You bite your lip as you bend down, crawling inside, onto the mountain of blankets and pillows you and Eddie have put in here, months ago. Your palms land on the gray pillows as you crawl forward. 

Eddie’s eyes widen, his breath hitches in his throat when your short skirt rides up, exposing your black thong to him. His mouth waters and his pants suddenly feel ten times tighter than they did five seconds ago. 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, swallowing harshly.  

Who would’ve thought that his sweet best friend wears lacy black thongs underneath her short little skirts. Fuck. A few months back you were wearing polka dot underwear with cute little bows. He only knows that cause he accidentally walked in on you changing, a few times. Something that led to uncomfortable situations for him. 

Snapping out of his thoughts when your desperate eyes meet his, he finally follows you inside, closing the door behind him when you suddenly reach forward and eagerly grab him by the cuffs on his belt, earning a surprised moan from him when you pull him down, on top of you, not giving him the time to react before you slam your lips back against his. With one hand on the pillow beside you and the other cupping your cheek, Eddie kisses you back, savoring the feeling of your sighs and moans, the feeling of your hands on him, as they start to explore his body, moving down his shoulders and arms as you start tugging on his jacket. 

“Off,” you murmur between pecks. “Take it off.” 

His heart flutters at the eagerness behind your soft voice. Without breaking the kiss, he takes it off, throwing the soaked leather jacket to the side before he lets himself get lost in the feeling of you. 

Eddie feels like his heart might explode from how hard it is beating inside his chest, your soft moans are driving him insane, your touches, the way you run your fingers down his arms before they find their way to his waist, pulling him closer and closer until his body is flush against yours. 

He allows his hands to wander, moving them down to your chest and stomach, basking in the feeling of your hands gripping his sides harder when he slips his cold hand underneath your shirt. 

You are the first to break the kiss, you open your eyes as he does too, both of you are breathing heavily.

Eddie stares at the lust in your eyes, the pupils that have widened, leaving almost none of the color behind. Your lips are swollen from the kisses, wet hair already a mess, you are breathing heavily, tugging at his shirt. Eddie adores you. He really fucking adores you. He wants nothing more than to rip your clothes off and worship you. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie breathes. “Are you–”

“Fuck me,” you whisper before he can even ask the stupid question. “Fuck me, Eddie. Please.” 

Yeah, he for sure, died and somehow went to heaven. He is convinced of it. 

Your skin feels on fire. Despite the cold rain you’ve been standing under for the past few minutes, your skin feels on fire. Your heart is racing, not out of fear or heartbreak. No, it’s racing because of Eddie. You want him. You need him inside of you. Your body is aching for him. You are so lust filled – in a way you have never been before. 

Eddie’s cheeks are flushed, you can see it as you lay beneath the small string of fairy lights on the roof of his van. His eyes are black. His skin feels just as hot as yours. His strong hands are still on your stomach but you want them elsewhere. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about this, princess.”

You are aching. Absolutely aching for him. 

Eddie kisses your lips, your cheek, your jaw, your neck as his hands start to push at the denim jacket, desperately wanting you out of it. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs, grabbing at your waist, he pulls you up with him, so he can take your clothes off. You spread your legs over his lap, watching the way his eyes fall to your exposed thighs as your skirt rides up. His eager hands get rid of the wet denim still covering your body, he throws it next to his leather jacket. His lips twitch, curling into a smirk as you start pulling his shirt over his head, feeling just as eager as he does. You throw it down, not caring where it lands. 

You swallow as you take in the sight of his naked upper body. The chest you've looked at many times makes your skin burn now, the tattoos that linger on his pale skin now look delicious, and you just want your hands all over him. You lick your lips as you lean closer to him, stomach fluttering at the sound of his breath hitching when you press your lips to the tattoo on his chest, keeping your eyes on his. 

Eddie’s heart makes a jump, the butterflies in his stomach go crazy. He grabs your sides harder. 

“Fuck,” he sighs in content, trying to keep his eyes from shutting when you start to kiss your way up to his neck. “Y-You’re driving me crazy today, sweetheart. C-Can’t believe this is real.”

“You’ve been driving me crazy too, Eddie,” you mumble into his neck as you start sucking. “Why did you talk to her like that? You’re mine.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, a gasp nearly tears out of his mouth. 

Did you really just say that?

You suck harder, fingers digging into his scalp as you tilt his head to the side, needing more access to his neck. You switch between soft and rough kisses, gentle pecks and just sucking away like a vampire who’s starved.

“Mine.” 

Eddie’s heart nearly explodes. This has to be a dream, a very very good fever dream. He is surprised by the roughness of your touch and by your words, words that aren’t directed at Steve Harrington but at him. 

You’re surprised by yourself but your mind is in a haze, your blood pumping from all the adrenaline, you couldn’t care less about showing how jealous you were, how possessive you are of him. He wants you just as much as you want him, you don’t have to be afraid anymore, you don’t have to fear that this might push him away, you don’t have to hide your true feelings anymore, not the way you did with him. 

You can be jealous, possessive, angry, selfish, a goddamn brat. It won’t push him away. With Steve, you always had to be the good girl, the silent one, the one that was afraid to show her true side because you knew that it would push him away. 

But not him. Never him. 

“I’m all yours,” he breathes as he grabs your cheeks, pulling you back so he can see your face again. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, sweetheart.” And with that, he slams his lips back against yours, crashing them onto yours, earning a loud moan from you. He kisses you messily. Not knowing that his words make your heart feel more alive than ever. 

You smile into the kiss when his hands start to roam your body, sliding down your back and grabbing your ass, fighting to urge to push his hand under your skirt just yet, but the thought of your little black thong makes him groan into the kiss, especially when your hand slides down his stomach and you press your palm against his bulge, tearing another groan out of him. He starts playing with the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it up, his fingertips graze your bare skin, causing you to shudder. You pull away so he can take your shirt off, leaving you in just your lacy bra. He pecks your lips one more time before he pulls back to take a look at you. 

“Oh fuck,” Eddie whispers as he takes in the sight of you, nearly moaning in desperation. He saw you in a bikini before, he saw this much skin before, but it’s not the same. It’s different. This is different. Your chest is only covered by black lace, your skin is glistening beneath the dim lights hanging above you, you are breathing heavily, staring at him with wide eyes, begging for his touch. Your hair is sticking to your skin, your lipstick is smudged, you look like the prettiest girl in the world. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, staring at you with nothing but awe in his eyes. 

You are blushing at his words, and yet, you are the one to take him by surprise again when you lean in to kiss his chest, but not staying there for long, opting to kiss down his stomach as you begin to unbuckle his belt, moving lower and lower. 

His eyes widen when he realizes what you are trying to do. You want to suck him off. His cock twitches at the thought of your pretty lips around him but before he can let his thoughts get any further, he grabs you by your elbows and pulls you back up. As much as he is dying to let one of his fantasies become reality, he’d rather bring another, bigger one to life. 

“Nope.”

A frown takes over your face and you look up with a pout on your lips, one that makes it impossible not to kiss you. 

“I need to taste you, sweetheart.” He gently pushes you back down, making sure that your head hits the softest pillow, he steals another kiss. “Please, let me be the first to taste you.” 

His brown eyes look into yours, waiting for approval, waiting for you to say ‘yes’. It doesn’t take you long to answer, you nod your head quickly, begging with your eyes. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks as he grabs at your chest, squeezing your boobs, pulling another loud moan out of you. 

“Do whatever you want to me, Eddie,” you whine as you let all the frustration, all the pent up tension that’s been building up in the past few months, out.  “Please, just, please do something.” 

His stomach makes a somersault at your words, he is almost in disbelief of what the night has turned into, but for now, he pushes the shock aside and only focuses on you. He unclasps your bra with little effort, peppering your shoulder and your chest with kisses as he pushes the straps down your arms and takes the flimsy material off. 

“God,” he groans as he feels the uncomfortable strain in his jeans that have gotten way too fucking tight. “I knew they would look good, but never this, baby,” he moans as he grabs your boobs, leaning down, without wasting another second, he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking around it. 

“E-Eddie!” You gasp. 

His hand trails down your stomach, past your skirt that he flips over so he can touch you. He cups your pussy and he can’t even suppress the moan when he feels how much you have soaked through the thin material of your thong. He pushes it to the side, letting his fingers glide through your wet folds. 

“Please,” you whine, bucking your hips into his hand. “More!”

He smirks as he keeps sucking on your nipple, teasing your soaked entrance with his fingertips before he brings them up to your clit. 

“You’re so wet, sweetheart.”

Your eyes close and your lips press together harshly when you feel him rubbing your clit in slow, torturous circles, stopping only to tease your entrance the same way. It only lasts for a moment though when he gets just as impatient as you are. He releases your nipple with a pop!, trailing kisses down your stomach. 

You push yourself up on your elbows, blushing like crazy, the closer he gets to your heat, the longer he keeps looking into your eyes, even when he settles between your thighs. Fuck. You are aching for this – you have been aching for his touch for a long time now. Who would’ve thought that you would ever get him like this? 

Eddie takes his sweet time with you, getting rid of your skirt first before he hooks his fingers around your panties, yanking them down slowly. Your breathing picks up and your cheeks feel hotter than ever. Even in the haze of lust, you feel a little shy and nervous, having never done this before. All kinds of questions start running through your mind, filling you with sudden doubts – ones that Eddie quickly shuts down. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, almost drooling at the sight of your glistening pussy. “You’re so pretty.” He takes you off guard by licking a stripe up from your hole to your clit. “You taste so sweet too,” he moans as he repeats it again. 

“Eddie!” You gasp as you try to close your thighs, only for him to spread them open again. 

“Keep your legs open for me, baby,” Eddie groans, wanting nothing more than to just bury his face in your pussy and make you scream and cry until you’re begging him to fuck you – and that is just what he does. He grabs your thighs roughly, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he buries his face in your cunt. 

He teases your clit first, licking around it, sucking on it as he keeps his eyes on you, the whole fucking time. Wanting, needing to see you fall apart for him. You moan loudly, he keeps his lips attached to your clit as his fingers slip inside of you, slowly, stretching you open. 

You squeeze your legs shut around his head, elbows buckling when he starts fingering you. His fingers certainly reach deeper inside of you than your own. 

“Mmmh, Eddie.” 

Eddie’s cock is twitching, begging for release. You are moaning his name and he didn’t even get started. He slowly starts to pump his fingers in and out of your sopping pussy. Licking down your center and slipping his tongue inside of you. You expect him to replace his fingers with his tongue but instead, he fucks you with both. 

“That feels so good, Eddie! D-Don’t stop – please don’t stop!” You whine, a little shyly. He sees the flustered look on your face but the lust is stronger than any other emotion inside of you, right now.

He groans when you clench around his fingers but start grinding against his hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, princess.”

“I– you – ah!” You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut and letting your head hit the pillow, you dig your nails into the blanket. 

The van is filled with moans from both you and Eddie, heavy breathing and the wet noises of his fingers slamming in and out of you. 

Eddie has to restrain himself from grinding down against the blanket but you make it really hard not to. He keeps his eyes on you, watching the way you pinch your brows together as you bite your lip, still letting moans and whimpers fall, though. He sees the way you're gripping the blanket tightly, but he craves to feel you tugging and pulling his hair, something that Eddie wouldn’t allow anyone else to do. He reaches his hand out, wrapping it around your wrist, he guides it towards his wet curls and you instantly grab at them, earning a low growl from him.

He switches between licking and fucking you with his tongue and you can’t help but gasp and whimper at every flick of his tongue. This is unlike anything you have ever felt before. The feeling of his tongue slipping in and out of your wet hole, his thumb rubbing your clit, his moans that add even more to the pleasure. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, baby,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe that this is happening, that you’re letting me do this.”

You pull his hair harder and buck your hips up against his face. Your walls flutter around his fingers, your eyes sting with tears from the pleasure that he is giving you. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to look into his as he keeps staring at you. You open your mouth to speak when he suddenly tears a gasp out of you, by curling his fingers, reaching so deep inside of you that you almost sob from how good it feels. 

“Eddie! What – oh fuck!” You whimper, looking down at him through your blurry vision. You watch him fuck you with both his tongue and fingers, tearing high pitched moans out of you when you feel how deep his fingers are inside of you. Knuckles deep. And you can’t help but grind against his hand, holding onto his hair so tightly as you squeeze your eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of Eddie eating you out so desperately and eagerly. 

He watches the way you try to say something only to be cut off by your own moans and whimpers, you turn into a blubbering mess when his fingers find your g-spot and his thumb rubs circles on your swollen clit. This is all he ever wanted. To worship you. To taste your sweetness on his tongue, his newest addiction. The fact that he gets to be the first makes it all even more special, you definitely won’t forget this. 

Who would’ve thought that your jealousy would bring the two of you to do this. 

He licks your pussy, moaning as though it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He is holding your legs tighter now as he eagerly eats you out, shaking his head as he moves his tongue in a way you can’t even explain, you can only whimper out his name, pulling his hair harshly as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the tension in your stomach becoming stronger and stronger. 

Waves of pleasure run through your body, you’re getting closer and closer. You are falling apart, barely able to keep your shaking body still as you feel his fingers pumping deeper, tongue moving faster, his moans adding to the pleasure. You squeeze your legs shut around his head, opening your eyes to look down at him, the look in his almost black eyes, the desperation and lust behind him is what throws you over the edge. 

It’s Eddie. Eddie who cared for you since the beginning. Eddie who protected you from the moment you two started talking. Eddie who unconditionally was beside you through ice and fire.

“I’m gonna – Eddie!” A loud yelp escapes you when you can no longer hold it back, he flicks his tongue again, making you cum in a way that has you seeing stars. He laps up everything you give him, eyes almost rolling back when he continues to taste you. 

You chant his name, over and over again, making the strain in his pants more uncomfortable than ever. He doesn’t want to stop, he wants to keep going, he wants to keep tasting you but when you desperately tug at his hair and murmur a whiny ‘I need you’, he presses a kiss to your clit, smirking at the way you whimper his name as he starts to kiss his way back up your body.  

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, not even fazed by the juices dripping down his chin. You wrap your legs around his waist and bring him closer, both of you moaning at the feeling of his dick pressed against you. 

“Still jealous?” He smirks. 

“Shut up,” you frown as you pull him in for another kiss. 

“You don’t have a reason to feel jealous, I want you, I only ever wanted you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the confession, eyes widening and softening at the same time. 

“And what about those girls you’ve been with?” 

He kisses your lips, “I never thought you’d want me back, I tried to distract myself but it never worked so I stopped.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, your lips twitch, you can’t help but smile as you pull him in for another, deeper kiss, one that he reciprocates right away. 

With one hand on your cheek and the other playing with your boob, he flicks his tongue against yours, moaning and whimpering for more. 

“I need you,” you whisper against his lips. “I need you inside of me, Eddie.”

His eyes light up and his dick twitches at your words. He never thought he'd hear these words from you. 

“Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Please.” 

You push your hands down his body, grabbing at his belt again, you start fumbling with it, wanting to get rid of his pants quickly. He helps you, not stopping with the kisses even when he takes the rest of his clothes off. 

Realization rushes through him and he groans in annoyance. 

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” 

He watches the way your lips curl into a smirk. 

“We don’t need one. I never stopped taking the pill.”

His eyes darken even more, his stomach flips. 

“Shit sweetheart, you can’t just say that to me,” he groans at the thought of fucking you without one. This night keeps getting better and better. 

You giggle and catch him by surprise when you flip him over and get on top of him, straddling him. You wrap your hand around his cock, nearly gasping at the size. Pre cum is already leaking out of his tip and rolling down his length, you have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning. You need him inside of you, now. You press your hand on his tattooed chest, fingers grazing the chain around his neck as you slowly sink down on his cock, not wanting to waste another second. He stretches you open and you welcome it, loving the way it feels to be filled by him. 

You miss the way he stares at you in awe, the way he takes in the sight of you on top of him, the way you shut your eyes and moan loudly as you take in more and more of him, the way you bite your swollen lip as you moan for him.  

His eyes are wide, his dick is already twitching inside of you, the feeling of your tight, wet walls engulfing him almost throws him over the edge already because fuck, it’s you on top of him, it’s you sinking down on his cock, it’s you. He can’t believe that this is real, that this isn’t just another one of his dreams. 

“Mhmm Eddie,” you moan as you slam down onto his cock, letting him split you open. 

The moment he feels you clenching around him, he gasps, snapping out of his trance, he sits up, grabbing your hips roughly to keep you from moving. 

You open your eyes, a flash of insecurity washing over your face. 

“W-What, don’t you like–”

“Sweetheart, if you move right now, I’m gonna fucking bust, give me a second,” he whimpers, closing his eyes as he tries to concentrate on not cumming too quickly. He leans closer, pressing his chest against yours as he slides his hands up your bare back, pressing his lips to your skin. Kissing your throat, your neck, your jaw and down your chest. 

You wrap your arms around him, leaning closer, you bury your face in his neck, giving him a second to adjust to the feeling. You breathe in his scent, his cologne, his aftershave, the smell of cigarettes that always lingers. You kiss his skin and suck on it a little, wanting nothing more than to mark him up as yours. A whine leaves your lips when you start to move your hips, circling him. 

Eddie’s mouth waters, he moans your name loudly. He couldn't believe he could have you this way. The beating inside his chest is almost too uncomfortable for him to properly breathe.

Your hair is in his face, the smell of your shampoo and perfume filling his senses, driving him even crazier. You pull back, arching your back in pleasure and closing your eyes as you bite your lip with a moan. 

Before he can even react, you start moving, bouncing on his cock desperately. He watches wide eyed, with nothing but love and desperation in his eyes. 

“Am I dreaming right now?” He mumbles, unable to stop the whimper from escaping when you bounce harder. “Is this real? Baby, please tell me it is.”

You grab his hands, pressing them against your boobs “uh huh.” You keep bouncing on his cock, desperately. Surprised by your own self, by how desperate you are, right now. You’ve never been this feral before, and it has to do with the fact that since the very beginning you weren’t allowed to. 

He watches you, staring at the way your face contorts in pleasure, the way your tits bounce as he grabs at them, the way his cock disappears in your body. Fuck. This really is a dream come true. Suddenly, a flip switches inside of him, he grabs your waist and flips you over, getting on top of you. 

You open your eyes, stunned at the feral look that you see in his eyes for the first time. 

“I’m gonna do what I’ve wanted to do to you for a long time now.”

Before you can even say or ask anything, he holds your hips tighter than before and starts pounding into you, turning you into a dumb mess.

“Fuck,” he growls as his hips snap against yours and he fucks into you roughly, you feel so good, so fucking good. 

You can’t even form any words or sentences anymore, your mind is in a haze, your eyes barely staying open anymore, all you can do is moan and watch in awe how he fucks you in a way you’ve always dreamed of. His pace is brutal, his cock is splitting you open so perfectly. 

His hands are soft on you, his eyes look into yours in awe, with nothing but love but his hips move roughly.

He grabs your hands, pinning your wrists down beside your head, earning another loud moan from you. You love it. You love how rough he is with you, how he is fucking you so disrespectfully. He can tell by the look in your eyes, the fire behind them, the lust that keeps getting stronger and stronger with each rough thrust. You’re getting wetter, soaking his cock completely. 

You feel his breath on your lips as he presses his forehead against yours.

You wrap your legs around his waist, breathing heavily as he lets go of your hand, slipping his rough palm down your stomach, he presses you down before he ruts into you even faster and harder, totally knocking your breath away. 

“Feels so good,” you whimper as your eyes well up with a new wave of tears and your mouth begins to water. 

Pride swells in his chest, his heart almost busts. You are trusting him enough to do this with him. You are letting him touch you. You are letting him fuck you, make love to you. All his insides feel on fire, love and lust is all that he feels. His heart flutters in his chest when you look at him with tear filled and pleading eyes. You’re getting tighter and tighter around him. You try to raise yourself up on your elbows, only to fall back down when another wave of pleasure washes over you. Your stomach feels on fire, your legs are already shaking, you’re close, so close, so soon. 

He looks so good. With his cheeks so flushed, his eyes so dark, his pale skin that you want to kiss and lick, his arms that have gotten more muscular since he started working at the shop, his moans that drive you fucking crazy. 

One, two, three more thrusts and you can already no longer hold back, squeezing him tightly as you cum without even having to touch your clit. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie moans, not stopping his movements. “Just like that, sweetheart. Let go for me.” 

Your high pitched moans fill the van, the wet, squelching noises as he slams his cock in and out of you, not stopping as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“D-Don’t stop!” You sob, getting even needier despite the two orgasms he just coaxed out of you. “Please, Eddie!” 

He loves to hear you beg for him. He loves the way your body feels beneath his, so perfect and right. He loves the way you feel wrapped around his dick, like you were made just for him. Your juices are dripping out of you, making everything sound even filthier. He’s surprised by the way he’s able to hold himself back, the way he hasn’t busted in his pants while eating you out. He could cum just by listening to your moans. He is obsessed with you.

You are so needy for him. You won’t look away from him, refusing to shut your eyes, even as tears start to run down your cheeks and drool slips past your lips, you keep looking at him with that fucking innocent look in your eyes. 

As though that isn’t hot enough already. You grab his hand, raising it up towards your mouth and you wrap your lips around the fingers that were knuckles deep inside of you just moments ago. Your eyes roll back as you flick your tongue around them and start sucking. 

This almost makes him lose it. He almost halts all his movements as his eyes grow wider than ever. Holy fucking shit. 

“Mmmh.”

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him tighter than before, causing him to growl in response. 

“Y-You’re –” he pauses, unable to find the right words as he watches you in disbelief, how you release his fingers and move his hand down to your throat, looking up with glossy eyes. You want him to choke you. 

His sweet ‘innocent’ best friend isn’t so sweet and innocent after all. You’re a closeted little freak. He should’ve known that there was a hidden sight to you. He should’ve known that you weren’t ‘just’ staring at the handcuffs on his wall for no reason. You’re a naughty and dirty little freak. 

He wraps his fingers around your throat, not enough to choke you, but hard enough. The sight of it only turns him more feral. He pounds you harder, letting all the frustrations out from the day and you’re loving every second of it. Both your moans are getting louder and needier. He smashes lips against yours, kissing you roughly and deeply as his free hand slips down your stomach. 

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs between kisses. 

You wrap your arms around him, closing your legs around his waist, you feel the familiar coil in your stomach again and it takes you by surprise. He presses his fingertips against your clit, making you shudder and twitch, you’re sensitive, so fucking sensitive but it feels so good. 

“I-I’m, I can’t believe this is real,” he moans, rubbing your clit. His breath hitches in his throat, knowing that he won’t last any longer. 

You dig your nails into his back, the moment his thrusts get slower but deeper, deeper than before. He tears out whimpers and sobs from you. You have never felt anything like this before. 

He rams inside of you, fingers overstimulating your sensitive clit. 

“I-I’m gonna cum, where do you want me–”

“Inside! Please cum inside of me, Eddie!” 

“Are you sure?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Yes, yes, please!”

“Fuck,” he growls in utter shock and pleasure, he kisses you again. You gasp against his lips, one hand reaching into his curls, tugging at his hair and scratching his back with your other hand when he makes you cum again. He groans so loud against you. 

You’re shocked, confused and in so much pleasure that it makes you cry. How did he make you cum so many times in one round? You didn’t even know that it was possible to have multiple orgasms, you only ever achieved one with Steve, and sometimes not even that. 

He spills inside of you with a loud moan, coating your walls with his seed. He doesn’t move away from you, he keeps kissing you, slowing down his movements. You are twitching beneath him, whining and whitering. 

His heart is beating faster than ever, your walls are pulsating around him as he fills you up with his cum. He whimpers into the kiss. He has never done this before and you are the only one he ever wants to do this again with, in fact, he would do this all fucking night if you let him. 

Neither of you want to stop, neither of you want this moment to end but the lack of air makes you break the kiss. Eddie lets go of your throat and after a few more kisses to your face, he pushes himself up, pulling out of you and letting himself fall on his back beside you but not without pulling you into his chest. 

You are both breathing heavily, both coming from the high. Soft sighs fall from your lips and you keep your eyes closed for a long moment. There’s no thoughts in your mind yet, not doubts, no fears, nothing – nothing yet. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie whispers as he stares at the ceiling before he glances at you, with a slight fear in his chest, scared to see regret in your eyes but instead he sees a lazy smile on your lips. 

“That was –”

“Fucking amazing,” he breathes, finishing your sentence. 

You giggle and it makes his heart soar. 

“Yeah, really fucking amazing,” smile and turn your head, you open your eyes and look at him. Taking in the sight of his sweat coated forehead, the way his bangs stick to his forehead, the way sweat dribbles down his body, the way he is staring at you with awe in his eyes. 

“We should’ve done that a long time ago,” you whisper. 

He raises his brows, eyes lighting up at your words. Eddie knew you wouldn’t treat him like other girls did before, yet the fear still lingered, that you would push him away, that you would regret it but instead, you lean closer and kiss his cheek. 

You keep looking into his brown eyes, unable to fight the smile off your lips after what happened. There is no doubt inside of you, none of it yet, not when he keeps looking at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

You snuggle closer to him, kissing his chest softly as his hand finds its way into your hair and he starts to play with it gently. 

“Hey sweetheart?” He asks after a moment of silence.

“Yes?” 

“That girl at the bar earlier, she was Jeff’s girlfriend. He was there too, by the way. He was in the restroom when you came in.” 

He tells you this without a hint of smugness behind his words, even though he now knows that you were jealous. He could’ve teased you for it, made fun of you for assuming something and getting jealous over nothing. But, instead his voice is soft, reassuring. He doesn’t want you to feel jealous, he doesn’t want you to doubt yourself. 

“Oh,” you whisper, smiling when he kisses the top of your head.

You lay like this for a while, with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you, just enjoying each other’s company, not wanting it to end just yet. But when the thunder sounds through the night, shaking you both out of your little bubble, you realize how late it’s gotten. You only reluctantly start getting dressed, helping one another with your clothes, all while giggling and stealing kisses from each other. You are trying to ignore the fact that you are very sticky between your legs, though, you don’t mind it for a bit. 

Despite the giddiness that rushes through him, he can’t help but feel a little fear when you both get back in the front. Unlike the drive earlier, this one is filled with music and comfortable silence, even when he’s nervous about what will happen once this night is over. 

If he only glanced at you, he’d see the way you’re smiling, the way your eyes are glowing from all the happiness. 

He is tapping the steering wheel, he feels happy, happier than he ever did but he’s also scared, scared to look at you and see that you have come down from the haze, that you are back to thinking about Steve, that you are regretting it all. 

When he parks the van in your driveway, he takes a deep breath and turns to look at you only to see you staring at him already, with the cutest and brightest smile on your face. His shoulders slump in relief and his heart feels ten times lighter. 

You unbuckle the seatbelt, licking your lips as you move closer to him.

“Hi,” you whisper. 

Butterflies flutter in his stomach. He tilts his head, leaning in, “hi,” he smiles. 

You meet in the middle, closing your eyes as your lips lock. All the other kisses before were rough, passionate, fast. This one is sweet and soft, just perfect and it lasts for a while, even when you try to pull away, Eddie keeps stealing kisses. 

“Eddie,” you giggle. “I have to go, you have to let me go.” 

He cups your cheeks softly, smiling sadly as he leans in again, “I can’t let you go,” he whispers between pecks. “I don’t want this night to end.”

“It won’t be the last, Eds.”

Warmth fills him, his heart makes a jump. 

“Can I come inside?” He asks, not wanting to spend the night without you.

“You already did,” you giggle, making him laugh in surprise. 

“Well shit, sweetheart,” he smirks as he plays with your hair, caressing your cheek, continuing to peck your lips. 

If you knew you could feel this happy, this content, this fulfilled just by doing this, you would have done it ages ago. 

Fear, doubt and all your insecurities, kept holding you back from finding this with him. For once, you took the leap and you couldn’t be any happier than you are now as you sit here and steal kisses from Eddie.

“My mom is home.”

“So? I stayed a thousand times before with your mom at home.”

You giggle, this time it’s you stealing a kiss from him. 

“I know but this is different,” you whisper. “I don’t want to be quiet.” 

His eyes widen. He’s gone to heaven. The girl of his dreams, the girl he loves, the girl he thought he had no chance with, wants him. 

You grab his face, giving him one last kiss before you pull away, “I’ll see you tomorrow, handsome.” 

He stares at you dreamily, love filled with eyes and a smile that he can’t hide. Your hair is a mess, your makeup smudged but your skin is glowing and you look so fucking beautiful. 

You open the door but before you step out, you turn around and kiss him again, grabbing his cheeks and peppering his face with kisses, making both yourself and him giggle. 

“Good night, Eddie,” you murmur against his lips, looking into his pretty eyes. 

He pinches your chin between his fingers, stealing another kiss. 

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispers, smiling at you. You pull back and get out of the van, a small squeal leaving your lips when the rain touches you again, unlike before, you now feel the coldness of it. Eddie laughs when you close the door and start running towards the house, turning around one more time to blow him a kiss. 

Eddie shakes his head with a smile, chuckling as he blows you a kiss back. He waits until you’re inside the house. The moment he sees the door shutting, his smile grows wider and he pumps his fist into the air as feelings of joy rush through him. 

You are barely able to contain the giggles as you quietly make your way upstairs, smiling brightly. Your cheeks are flushed, your skin is burning, your heart and stomach both fluttering. You bite your lip as you silently walk into your room and close the door softly. 

You press your back against the wooden door, you close your eyes and raise your hand up to your mouth, touching your lips that still tingle from all the kisses. 

Another breathless, happy, giggle escapes you. 

You can’t stop smiling. 

You tilt your head up, looking at the ceiling as you think about the way it felt to be kissed and touched by him. Your heart flutters all over again. 

For the first time in a long time, you feel happy again, your heart full of love. 

Though, when you look around the room and your eyes fall on the picture frame in your bookshelf, your smile falls when your eyes lock with the man in your picture. 

Steve. 

Your heart drops a little and your smile vanishes completely. 

-

tagging friends & mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @corrodedseraphine @succubusmunson @take-everything-you-can @trashmouth-richie @xxhellfirebunnyxx @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @chrissymjstan @sherrylyn628

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #stranger things angst

[satureja13]

Ji Ho's Therapy Game - Part 2 It starts -> here

Princess Training continues. In the afternoon, the Queen took Princess Jihovere to the Royal Stables. She was delighted to learn that the Princess already excells at horse riding even though she descends from the Kingdom under the Sea. The Queen's eyes lit up when they reached the Stables.

The Queen: "Ah - and here is our Stable Master, Equerry Lunvik!"

Equerry Lunvik: "I will get the Princess' Horse ready." The Princess: "Thank you. This is a very beautiful Stable." Equerry Lunvik: "We have a lot of Beauty here." The Queen blushed.

It seems the Princess has also to learn show jumping. Neither Ji Ho nor Jang Mal ever tried this before ö.Ö' The Queen took her seat under the pergola to teach the Princess and Equerry Lunvik cared for the horses.

Does ingame Yang Mal even remember Ji Ho? Apart from the human NPCs they know in the real world, which don't know them, Diablo seemed to remember Vlad when they met ingame. Let's hope for the best ö.ö

Phew. Jang Mal and the Princess learned fast. I guess Yang Mal also remembers Ji Ho and they did very well. Ji Ho is determined to prosper here and is fully concentrated on their task.

Valerian: 'The Princess doesn't even notice that the Queen left her place under the pergola...' Lunatic: 'Probably for the best.'

Lunatic: 'Seems Diablo is not the only thing rising up high here.' ^^'

Then Lunatic and Valerian became aware of what he just said and it was awkward between them again. They still haven't sorted it out yet...

Equerry Lunvik: "Don't worry, my love. No one can see us here." (I wouldn't be so sure ö.ö')

The Queen: "It's about time Prince Caleb gets married so we can end this charade and go back home. I hate to hide you." Equerry Lunvik grumbled.

Little Goat: 'It's time the Boys get their stuff together! Let's have a meeting so we can end this game soon and meet back home all together again!' Little Goat: 'Right. We better push a little so this therapy shows some effects and we get to see some more spice!' (I really consider calling them 'Little Satyrs' instead of 'Little Goats'!)

Little Goat: 'We should also do something about Lunatic and Valerian. I can't watch this anymore... And then we'll have a party!' Lunatic: 'They are talking and looking at us! I bet they plan something!' Valerian: 'Let them.' Valerian really hopes for the goats intervention. It's far too long he's wooing Lunatic - in vain... (This refers to our The Stables spin-off)

After the training, The Queen and Princess Jihovere went for a ride. The Queen noticed that the Princess looked a bit off: "Is everything ok? Have you seen something upsetting?" Princess Jihovere: "No! I have seen nothing!"

And then they rode into the sunset.

'Smiles in the sunshine and tears in the rain Still take me back to where my memories remain Flickering embers grow higher and higher As they carry me back to the Mull of Kintyre'

Mull of Kintyre - Paul McCartney and The Wings

TMI: I've always loved this song so much. It had been very famous when I grew up. But I never knew what he even sang there and it took me a while to find out the song title hahaha. (The Mull of Kintyre is the southwesternmost tip of the Kintyre Peninsula (formerly Cantyre) in southwest Scotland.)

I didn't even know it was written by Paul McCartney omg (I thought Roger Whittaker sang it)! As often I googled the story of this song and it's quite interesting! You can find it -> here Oh - and have you ever heard of the Mull of Kintyre test? 'According to the myth, the BBFC would not permit the general release of a film or video if it depicted a penis erect to the point that the angle it made from the vertical was higher than that of the peninsula of Kintyre in Argyll and Bute on maps of Scotland.'

hahaha omg! More -> here

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

#underwater love #therapy game #the one #woo ji ho #Ji Ho's therapy game #kiri #yang mal #valerian #noxeema jackson #tyalindo #diablo #lunatic #grexee #The Royal Stables #goats #windenburg #sims 4 story #simlit #greg lunvik #simblr #ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 vanilla #sims stories #the sims

[eddiezpaghetti]

Your perspective on Byler is super interesting, thank you for these posts! I agree that Byler isn't queerbaiting, but what if it's still an accident in the sense that they intended to tell a story of unrequited love from Will's pov (like Steve/Nancy, or Dustin/Max in season 2), and this is what those shots of Will between Mike and El are for, and didn't realize that Mike could be seen by a part of the audience as queer and possibly loving Will back?

Okay, for the most part, I'd just be reiterating the post I already made. So let's narrow this down to something more specific. Why is it not like Steve and Nancy or Max and Dustin?

Let's look at Max and Dustin first. I'll make a post about Steve and Nancy later because this wound up being longer than I meant for it to be.

What first comes to mind with Max and Dustin is the moment it really ended. When Dustin saw Lucas and Max together in the junkyard. If Dustin and Max were similar to Mike and Will, parallel to them, then the moment Dustin saw Lucas and Max together in the junkyard would be the same beat in their stories to the moment Mike and El reunited in the desert.

However, take a look at how they're shot.

This, versus

This.

And, just as important...

This scene.

AND this scene.

As I said in my first post, the reunion scene is shot that way--with Will making direct fucking contact with the camera--because he's supposed to be the one you're paying attention to in that scene. Not El and Mike.

Likewise, you're supposed to be paying attention to Dustin's feelings in the shot where he's watching Lucas and Max, but you'll notice some key differences.

One, Lucas and Max arriving together is shot as significant, as the focus, before it shifts to Dustin's reaction, instead of Dustin's reaction being shoved INTO their arrival. There's an over-the-shoulder shot to show that he (and Steve) have noticed Lucas and Max arriving, but the focus is still on Lucas and Max, reiterating what the audience already knew, that they're blatantly going to be The Couple, as was made pretty clear by their previous scenes, which brings me to the next point.

Their previous scenes. Their previous scenes. Lucas and Max had previous scenes leading up to that moment in the junkyard. THOSE--Lucas filling Max in, showing up at her house, convincing her to sneak out so that he can prove that everything he's been telling her is true and winning her trust, and Max giving him at least that much benefit of the doubt--were the real equivalent to El and Mike reuniting in the desert (isolated from Will). You want the audience to care about a couple? This is what you do. You give them private moments. And I was truly remiss in my first post not to point out that...Jonathan and Argyle were also there. So was fucking Brenner. Why didn't we see them? Why was the scene shot in such a way that you briefly forgot their existence but Will Byers was staring into your soul? You know why.

Getting back on topic, the final piece of the puzzle here is the scene that followed Dustin accepting that Max liked Lucas and not him. Once more, Lucas and Max have a private, tender scene. Emphasis on private. Once more, we get them alone. They talk, get everything they have to say out in the open, and only once the conversation comes to a lull does the story move on.

You know what the equivalent scene would be for Mike and El? Well, you've got one of two options, and neither is great for them.

First, you have Mike in that scene where he makes the glasses and he starts to say something to El but immediately gets interrupted by Argyle throwing pizza on the table, ker-splat.

And second, you have the infamous "I love you" scene. Which they are emphatically not alone in. Famously, Will starts that conversation in the first place, and his face is hovering over Mike's shoulder the whole damn time. (Again, this could have been shot in ways that made us forget he existed for a little while, and the show decided not to do that.) But, I really must impress the importance of this...

EL. AND MIKE. WERE NOT. EVEN. IN. THE SAME SCENE. AT ALL.

They weren't even in the same place! Not consciously, at least! Sometimes the camera would show El on the counter and it'd be, like, the tip of her nose and a little bit of her brow, but that does not count. That's like showing the phone in a phone call. Her body is basically an inanimate object that only allows verbal communication at this point. Then who was phone? EL WAS PHONE.

Okay, outdated memes aside, my point is that this is not how romantic scenes work. There are things missing, things wrong, and things very present in places where they should be absent. And the creators clearly know this because those are the rules they've laid out before and the path they've followed since. Mike and El never had any private, intimate, romantic scenes in season 4, despite having them earlier in the show. This is carving out the trajectory of their relationship moving forward. It is a vector, it has direction and force, and it is going straight toward the bitter end.

So I guess this is mostly about why El and Mike aren't happening than why Will and Mike are. Which is only part of the equation, true enough. To play devil's advocate here, maybe it's possible that the result is that El goes on to be happily single because there's so much more to life than stupid boys, Mike lets go, and Will pines for the rest of his days. Sure, whatever. Possibility, I guess.

One thing, though.

You wanna know who did have private, intimate scenes before and after the desert reunion?

Ya bois Michael Wheeler and William Byers, that's who.

Edit: I meant to say one more thing that I'm just realizing I forgot to mention. Dustin's face while he was watching Max and Lucas was clearly visible while Will's is not. We can see HIM, but not his FACE. This is like placing a wrapped box in the middle of the kitchen table and saying "Do Not Open Until Xmas". We're gonna unwrap that later.

#byler #meta #anon #As I said I'll do Nancy and Steve later. #Not getting to them isn't an 'I'll have to think about it'. #I've had my argument for them in my head from the second I saw this ask over breakfast. #This is more of an 'I need to practice guitar and get some sleep at some point and I don't think I can do that AND go into Part 2 tonight' #Does anyone else have any questions though?

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

@emen-98

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chrissy was nervous. Today was her first day back at school since it all happened. It was an entire month of bed rest, healing, and trips to the lab to be prodded by the doctors who took over Hawkins Lab. Will had already gone back to school since he wasn't as messed up as she was. Her black eye had healed, but the claw mark that ran through her eyebrow and over her cheek would always be there to remind her. As well as the scar on her stomach and her leg. At least she can still cheer and play softball.

"Chrissy, honey, there's a phone call for you," Claudia said, popping her head into her room.

"When did the phone ring?" Chrissy asked as she headed into the living room to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"Lady Henderson!" Argyle's voice yelled from the receiver.

"Argy!" Chrissy exclaimed happily.

"Hey, figured I would send you some positive energy your way since it's your first day and all," Argyle said.

"Thank you," Chrissy said and sighed. "I wish you were here with me."

"Yeah, man, me too, but Mama insists I finish out the school year," Argyle said and paused. "I just think she's having a hard time letting go of the house. I keep telling her it's not the house that makes the home but the people in it."

"That's actually nice," Chrissy said. "You know, Jonathan wishes you were coming to school with us this year too. I think he's more eager than I am to see you."

"Yeah, the dude's a good egg," Argyle said casually. "Dude's riddled with anxiety, though. He's like one of those trembling chihuahuas."

"So, you think he needs someone like you to help calm him down?" Chrissy asked teasingly.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. A little purple palm tree delight could definitely help that boy out," Argyle said and sighed. "Oh, man, I feel the sudden urge to call Jonathan."

"Maybe you can catch him before he leaves. I need to finish getting ready, anyway," Chrissy said.

"Good luck, fair lady!" Argyle exclaimed.

Chrissy pulled a dark purple cardigan over her dark blue turtleneck and slipped on her shoes before letting her hair down. It made the scar less noticeable. A car honked outside, and she frowned. She looked outside and found Steve’s car waiting for her. Nancy. Chrissy smiled.

"Oh, Nancy called earlier and asked if you guys wanted a ride. Dusty already accepted," Claudia said.

Chrissy rolled her eyes affectionately. She gave her mom a hug and a kiss before letting her fuss over her. Dustin dragged her out the door as she was pulling on her jacket, holding her hand protectively.

"I don't even know why you're coming to school anyway," Dustin said. "It won't be long now before we're getting off for Christmas break."

"I just need to get out of the house, and I'm ready to go back," Chrissy said. "I'm going to be okay, Dustin."

"It's just that they're already going hard on Will with the whole Zombie boy thing, and now you have a nickname too," Dustin said.

"I can handle a few assholes, Dustin. You do remember what I survived, don't you?" Chrissy asked softly.

Ever since she came back from the Upside Down, both her mother and her brother had been awfully clingy to her. Overprotective was the word for it, which she understood. She had been clingy to them as well and with Will.

"I know," Dustin frowned.

Chrissy hugged him tightly before moving towards Steve’s car. Nancy was in the passenger's seat, and Robin was surprisingly in the back. Dustin slid into the middle seat beside Robin while Chrissy slid in next to him.

"Thanks for the ride," Chrissy said.

"No, problem," Steve said. "Nancy was worried about you."

"Just Nancy?" Chrissy asked.

"I mean, I was too, of course. I didn't want you to face those assholes without backup," Steve said.

"Is this how you got Robin to come?" Chrissy asked.

"Oh, no, me and Steve are best friends now. Platonic with a capital p," Robin said.

"Yeah, you would think they were twins instead of me and Robin," Nancy rolled her eyes.

"So, you're not worried that Robin's going to steal your boyfriend?" Dustin asked.

"No," Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Chrissy all laughed.

It was in that moment that Nancy, Steve, and Chrissy realized they all knew about Robin being a lesbian. They laughed again, leaving Dustin in the dark.

"Am I missing something?" Dustin asked.

"Yes, Dusty, but you have to be a higher level to unlock that secret," Chrissy said seriously.

"Oh, shit, how high?" Dusty asked. "And what level am I at right now?"

"Pretty low, little man, but I think you can get there," Robin said, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Okay, what creatures are we talking about here? What do I have to fight?" Dustin asked.

"Demogorgon," Robin shrugged. "Several of them."

"Okay, do I get the assistance of my party members?" Dustin asked.

"No, on your own," Robin said.

"Well, that's bullshit!" Dustin cursed.

"Chrissy never shuts up about how smart you are, I'm sure you can figure it out," Steve grinned.

"Thanks, Chrissy," Dustin said and leaned forward. "What's my strategy here, Steve?"

"You know, Nancy's pretty good at that too, you know," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, Steve and Nancy, what's my strategy?" Dustin asked.

"Talk to Steve," Nancy said in amusement.

"Flirt with them," Steve said snapping his fingers.

"Oh, you would be one of those people. Just flirt with the monsters," Dustin said, rolling his eyes. "You're not allowed to play with us."

"Damn, just when I was working up the courage to ask you if I could," Steve said.

"Really?" Dustin asked eagerly.

"Yeah, no," he said with a smirk as Dustin huffed, sitting back.

Chrissy, Nancy, and Robin laughed as Dustin continued to argue with Steve. She always knew that Steve would get along great with her little brother. The arguing made the journey to school seemingly go by quickly. As soon as Chrissy stepped out of the car, a blurry figure rammed into her stomach and hugged her tightly. She laughed as she hugged Will back.

"Jeeze, Will, you almost ran her over," Jonathan said in amusement.

"I'm just really excited to see you," Will said. "I'm just happy you're back. Are you nervous?"

"A little," Chrissy said as Will pulled back. "I guess Argyle wasn't able to call you before you guys left."

"Damn, no, he was going to call?" Jonathan asked, his eyes lighting up, his cheeks pink.

"Yeah, this morning when he got off the phone with me," Chrissy said and laughed when Jonathan pouted.

"He won't stop talking about him," Will whispered, and Jonathan jabbed him in the side.

"Go on with Dustin to school, butthead," Jonathan said, rolling his eyes.

The group walked towards the school and tried parting through the crowds of students trying to escape the cold. It took a minute for Chrissy to realize that they were walking behind Eddie Munson. She smiled, and it was gone just as quick. Suddenly, Eddie slipped, falling backward in her direction. Chrissy managed to catch him in time but not without falling on her butt. Eddie looked up at her in surprise.

"Hi," Eddie said breathlessly. "I'm sorry."

"Are you apologizing for falling for me?" Chrissy asked with a smirk.

"Yeah, I mean no! Jesus, I'm sorry, but that's just cheesy for someone so. . .," Eddie trailed off, his cheeks pink.

"Someone so what?" She asked.

"You look familiar," Eddie said, squinting his eyes at her.

"Yeah?" She asked hopefully.

"Eddie," a boy with curly hair said, bursting through the crowd. "Why is Chrissy Henderson cradling you like a baby?"

"Oh, you're - OH SHIT!" Eddie screamed.

Suddenly, Eddie was flipping her over and cradling the back of her head. Now, he was on top of her, and an icicle had crashed to the ground near their heads. Their faces were so close together that Chrissy could feel his breath on her face.

"Awww, the witch and the freak!" Someone from the crowd exclaimed.

"A matchmade in hell!" Someone else hollered.

"Is that what they've been saying about me?" Chrissy asked.

"Sorry," Eddie muttered.

"I wonder what their babies would look like," someone cackled.

"A lot better than your parents'!" Steve snapped.

"Oh, damn," someone said. "I think he's saying you're ugly, Kenny."

"Yeah, thanks, I didn't get that."

"There's nothing to see here!" Steve exclaimed. "Get inside!"

Steve and Nancy quickly helped them up as the crowd started to dissipate.

"You saved me," Chrissy beamed at Eddie.

"You saved me first," Eddie winked. "See you around, Henderson."

He disappeared into the crowd with the curly haired boy. Chrissy watched the spot where he stood for a moment, grinning and blushing. She was startled out of it by the sound of someone clearing their throat. She looked over to find Steve, Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan looking at her.

"What?"

"So, when you guys inevitably have grandchildren, are you guys going to tell them about this moment?" Steve asked, and Jonathan laughed.

"Shut up, Steve," Chrissy said, but she was struggling not to laugh with him.

"So, is this crush on Eddie Munson new, or have you always known?" Nancy asked they walked inside.

"I do not have a crush," Chrissy rolled her eyes.

"Oh! Look! Eddie's coming this way!" Steve exclaimed.

"Where?!" Chrissy asked, peering over the crowd.

She stood back and glared at him as he laughed. She punched him in the shoulder.

"Asshole," Chrissy said.

"That was kind of evil, man," Jonathan smirked.

"No, that was fucking hilarious," Robin said as she high fived Steve.

"It was kind of funny," Nancy admitted.

"Okay, fine, fine. . .it all started in middle school. . ."

The first few periods, Chrissy was fine. The distraction of the lessons managed to get her through it. . .until it all started to slow down. She became more aware of the people surrounding her and the nickname that spilled from their lips. Chrissy the Witch. Apparently, the scar on her face wasn't enough for them to believe that she took on a bear with a knife and survived. She had to have used magic. Chrissy actually wasn't bothered by the nickname (it was actually cool), but it was the sounds of their voices and their close proximity. It was all so. . .overwhelming. She could feel everything and hear everything. She could hear ringing in her ears, and then for a moment, she was back there. . .back in the Upside Down. The hallways were covered in vines, the particles were swirling in the air, and a dark shape was moving towards her. A voice echoed in the darkness, calling her name. Suddenly, she was back in the real world, and someone dove at her, pretending to be a bear. She screamed and reacted quickly by slamming her fist in his face.

"You bitch!" Tommy Hagan cursed as he held his bloody nose.

Chrissy didn't even bother apologizing. She took off and found the nearest empty classroom. She entered and slammed the door behind her, locking it. Chrissy turned around and pressed her back to the door. She was in the science lab, and Eddie was sitting at one of the tables, a notebook in front of him. Eddie's mouth was open, looking comically surprised to see her.

"I broke Tommy Hagan's nose with my fist," Chrissy blurted out.

"What the fuck?!" Eddie exclaimed and then he laughed. "So, you punched him."

Chrissy sighed and plopped down next to him. She winced and rubbed her hand.

"You know, punching someone hurts both parties," Chrissy replied.

Eddie chuckled and took her hand, rubbing her knuckles gently. Chrissy bit her lip, trying to contain the squeal that was ready to burst out of her.

"That's true. So, what did Tommy Hagan do to incur the wrath of Chrissy Henderson?" Eddie asked.

"He pretended to be a bear when I was in the middle of. . .having a thing," Chrissy said. "He made it look like he was attacking me, and it startled me."

"That fucker deserved it," Eddie said as he continued to massage her knuckles. "I'm sorry he did that."

"I bet he's sorry too," Chrissy grinned.

"I bet he is," Eddie cackled. "You know, this isn't the first time that we hung out."

"It's not?" She asked innocently.

"Yeah, I mean, it was a few years ago at the Talent Show. My head was buzzed, and I didn't have these awesome tatties," Eddie said and flipped the hand that was holding Chrissy's to show her his puppet tattoo on his forearm. "My band - "

"Corroded Coffin! How could I forget?!" Chrissy said teasingly.

"I don't know, you're a freak," Eddie giggled.

"I think you mean witch," she corrected. "You're the freak."

"The witch and the freak," he smiled.

"I was totally messing with you," Chrissy said, pausing. "I do remember that day. It was a hard day to forget."

"Right. . .cause of your mom," Eddie said softly.

Chrissy almost made a wistful noise with her mouth as she gazed into his chocolate brown eyes.

"My birth mom, actually. Claudia Henderson is my true mother," Chrissy said. "I mean, Laura will always be my mom. There's no denying it. She's actually up at Pennhurst, I visit her sometimes. She's actually doing better, but she's not ready to leave. She's probably going to be there forever, but she's happy there, and she's happy that I am happy where I am. So, I'm glad it all worked out."

"Then I'm glad too," Eddie said. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your dad?"

"Left town when it all happened. Who knows what happened to him, and I don't particularly care," Chrissy muttered.

"I have a dad who comes in and out of my life. My mom's been dead since I was six. My uncle's pretty much the only one who is there for me, I mean, besides Hellfire and my best friend Ronnie," Eddie said.

"So, you get it?" She asked softly.

"Yeah," Eddie said. "I never thanked you for cheering for me."

"You deserved it," Chrissy said.

"Well, if you ever need me to cheer for you. . .," Eddie grinned.

"You willing to wear the skirt that goes with cheering someone on?" Chrissy asked as Eddie leaned on his elbow, his cheek pressed into his free hand.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie grinned.

"You know, some people would find that hot," Chrissy teased.

Eddie snorted with laughter, causing his elbow to slip off the table and his head to hit the table. He dropped her hand with a groan and rubbed his forehead. Chrissy stood up to look at his forehead, not thinking about the fact that she was standing in between his legs.

"Well, what's the prognosis?" Eddie asked.

"Hmmm, you're an idiot, but you'll live," Chrissy said as she stroked the spot between his eyes.

"That's good, I like living," Eddie said.

"So, we had a funny interaction, a shared childhood memory, and we exchanged trauma. You totally made yourself look like an idiot. . .are we friends yet?" Chrissy asked.

"Friends? Yeah. . .friends," Eddie gulped.

Chrissy suddenly realized how close they were and that Eddie's hand had found its way to her hip to steady her. Friends? Why in hell did she say that? Her eyes dropped to his lips. . .his perfectly plump lips. BAM! A bird flew into the window, startling both of them and causing them both to shriek. Chrissy stumbled back, knocking over her stool.

"JESUS H CHRIST!" Eddie yelled out as he clutched his chest.

Chrissy picked up the stool and set it back up before sitting back on it. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she tried to take deep breaths to steady it.

"Tell me about what you were doing so I can calm myself down. You're working on your campaign, right?" She asked. "My little brother plays."

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that," Eddie said. "Jesus."

After spending time with Eddie, Chrissy managed to make it throughout the day. She met Steve and Nancy out by his car.

"So, how was your day?" Nancy asked.

"Well, it was going pretty great until I felt overwhelmed, and I was remembering what it was like there. Then Tommy Hagan pretended like he was a bear attacking me, so I broke his nose. I ran to the science lab where Eddie was working on his campaign, and just as we were about to kiss a fucking bird flew into the window scaring the hell put of us pretty much ruining the mood," Chrissy said.

"Jesus," Steve said.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked.

"I mean, it could have been better, but it was pretty good considering I made friends with Eddie, and I got to slug Tommy H in the nose. I'm looking forward to seeing what it looks like tomorrow," Chrissy grinned.

"God, I wish I could have seen that," Steve said.

"Well, he's an idiot so there's a good chance it's going to happen again," Chrissy said, and they both laughed.

It wasn't long before Robin was also meeting them by the car and then Dustin, who threw his arms around Chrissy. Despite all that happened, she looked forward to the next day, and the next day after that. Eddie's dimpled grin swam in her head.

Chapter Five

#stranger things #chrissy cunningham #chrissy this is for you #chrissy cunningham lives #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #edissy #hellcheer #dustin henderson #henderfam #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #steve harrington #jonathan byers #stranger things argyle #with a side of #stancy #jargyle #platonic stobin #platonic ronance #platonic buckingham #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction

[once-upon-an-imagine]

for the shy!reader prompt could you do argyle x shy!reader in a friends to lovers type thing where he smokes w her for the first time?

btw i luv ur writing<3

ahhh thank you so much, love! 🥰🥰 and thanks for requesting Argyle he's one of my faves! ❤️❤️ Warnings: getting high with Argyle Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things😊 gif isn't mine 😁

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Tomato Soup & Grilled Cheese

"Hmm" you chuckled, coughing a little as you let the smoke out.

"Slow down, sunshine" Argyle laughed taking the blunt from you. "'S your first time, remember?" he said, taking a hit. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel like I'm floating in a cloud" you said, giggling and making Argyle smile at how adorable you looked. "Also, I'm really hungry" you told him, as you grabbed a slice of pizza. "Oh my God! This is the best pizza I've ever had!" you smiled, looking at him. "How do you do this?"

"That's just because you're high, amor. Everything tastes better" he told you.

"Nuh-uh. You are by far the best cook that's ever lived" you said, still munching another bite of the most delicious pizza you had ever tried.

"You're too sweet, love" he smiled. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard you talk this much. I'm gonna have to get you to smoke with me more often so you'll talk to me" he laughed.

"W-what do you mean?" you asked, feeling a little self-conscious. "I always talk to you" you said, confused.

"No, I know. But you've been a lot quieter since we met Jonathan, do you not like him?" he asked, curiously.

"N-no, of course, I like Jonathan" you insisted. "But you know I'm not like you. I don't feel comfortable right away with everyone" you said looking away. Argyle instantly picked up on your mood change.

"Hey" he said softly, lifting your head a little. "You know that's not a bad thing, right?" he said, frowning his eyebrows.

"It's just... I'm sometimes a little bit jealous of you" you admitted.

"Really? You're jealous of me?"

"Well, it's just that you can always easily make friends or make someone feel comfortable around you" you explained.

"You and Jonathan are literally my only friends" he chuckled.

"No, I know, but everyone at school likes you. You just... get along with everyone and you are really easy-going and you make everyone laugh and you're super chill all the time" you insisted.

"That's the weed" he laughed. "C'mon, sunshine, people like you too" he told you.

"Not really, I'm just kind of a package deal with you. But if I'm not with you, I don't think people even notice me" you informed him.

"Is that really what you think?"

"I don't mind it" you shrugged. "I can barely talk to anyone as it is. I don't know why. I just don't feel comfortable around many people-"

"You're comfortable with me" he said.

"You're different" you said as if it was obvious.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"Why am I different?"

"I don't know" you said, feeling your cheeks burn all of the sudden. You had said too much. "I just... know that I can be myself around you and you won't think of me differently for it or I can say my stupid jokes and you will laugh at them, or... I can go on and on about something that I like and even if you have zero interest in it you will still pay attention to me and... you always make me laugh and try to get me out of my comfort zone but in a good way. You still respect my boundaries and know even before I do if I'm not comfortable and you do whatever you can to make sure I am okay again" you explained a bit quickly.

"Is that really what you think of me?" he asked, smiling and feeling his heart beat a little faster.

"Yeah" you smiled brightly at him. "You're like... a human bowl of tomato soup" you giggled, as he frowned. "You're warm and soothing" you explained.

"Weed makes you really hungry, huh?" he laughed.

"But it's true!"

"Do you even like tomato soup?" he rolled his eyes.

"I love tomato soup, you know that" you smiled.

"So if I'm tomato soup... what does that make you?"

"Grilled cheese" you chuckled.

"Why?"

"Because grilled cheese goes with tomato soup and because you love grilled cheese" you smiled.

You knew it was definitely the weed that was making you basically confess to your best friend that you were perfect for each other in this food analogy you chose, but by the way he was smiling at you, you honestly didn't care.

"You are literally the cutest person I've seen when high" he told you.

"Really?" you asked and he nodded.

"You're always the cutest person" he admitted.

"I am?"

"You are to me" he said as you felt him place his hand on top of yours.

"See? How do you do that?" you smiled, looking down at your hands.

"Do what?"

"You always know the perfect thing to say, and I'm pretty sure you're the only one who knows how to make me smile" you told him.

"I don't know. It's easier with you. I just like when you smile" he said, cupping your cheek and bringing your face up.

"I like when you smile too" you said, in almost a whisper as you felt him pulling you closer.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah" you said, before he gently pressed his lips against yours. You felt him pull you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and you threw yours around his neck.

"I kinda like being the only one that knows how to make you smile" he said, once the two of you pull apart.

"You know how else you can make me smile?"

"By getting making you tomato soup and a grilled cheese?"

"Seriously! Is like you can read my mind!"

The End

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A/N: I hope you liked it :D

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #argyle #argyle imagine #argyle x reader #argyle drabble