#billy bob is kissing boys

[rhysiespeeces]

me when . me when william blazkowicz . i’m obsessed with him, made an oc to pair with him (sorry anya)

here’s my oc. my sweet boy . he’s not sweet he’s mean, but he’s cute look at him .

pls i need to speak to like minded wolfenstein fans

#wolfenstein #wolfenstein oc #wolfenstein the new colossus #wolfenstein the new order #william blazkowicz #bj blazkowicz #oc #oc: casimir majstrować #billy bob is kissing boys #i don’t care what anyone says that man has to be the tiniest bit bisexual #HE HAS TO #pls i need to talk abt casimir he’s so mirmir #mine

[upsidedownwithsteve]

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

PART ONE

Tell me that it's not my fault

“Steve!” You yelled the boy's name on instinct when you saw him the morning after the cabin incident. “Hey, Steve!”

He looked startled to hear you, to hear his name on your lips when it wasn’t snarled or yelled. But he stopped anyway, blinking at you in the sunlight as you jogged over to him, hair still damp from the lake, leaving your shorts unbuttoned over your swimsuit. 

“Hey,” you said, softer now you were closer. “I heard about Billy.” 

Steve made a face that you tried not to smile at, his expression somewhat regretful, like he was expecting you to tell him off, something you would’ve normally done. Instead, you turned your attention to the cut on his cheek, the small scratch that still looked too fresh not to hurt. There was a bruise forming around it, blotchy blue and purple, high on his cheekbone. 

[THIS MUST BE THE PLACE (COVER) BY THE LUMINEERS]

You ached to reach out, to take Steve’s chin between your finger and thumb so you could pull him down to you, so you could kiss the mark better. “Are you okay?” You asked instead. 

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, eyes darting around the forest floor, at the trees and the sun, before they settled on you. He swallowed hard and tried not to watch the drop of water that was running from the nape of your neck down your chest. “Yeah, m’fine. No big deal.”

You huffed, a familiar sound that made the corners of Steve’s mouth pick up, because you still sounded soft, huffy in a way that made him want to fix it. 

“That’s not what Eddie said,'' you told him, finally giving in and moving a little closer, toes of your sneakers pushed into the moss so you could peer at his injuries with concerned eyes. “He said you really went for Billy. That he’d never seen you like that before.”

Steve froze as you inspected his cheek, closer than you’d been in weeks. You still smelled the same, he noted, under your sunscreen and the lake water. Your perfume still clung to your skin and Steve watched with parted lips as you reached up to push some of his hair back in order to get a better look at his cheek. 

You kept your gaze lowered as you did so, careful not to move too fast, wary about making eye contact. But Steve didn’t move away. 

“S’nothing, honest. Just got out of hand.” Steve swallowed again, mouth too dry and Adam’s apple bobbing as his hand accidentally grazed your hip as he shifted. “Um, what else did Eddie say?”

You frowned, letting your hand drop from Steve’s face, albeit grudgingly. The boy was pleased to note that you didn’t move away. “Not much, apart from that. Why?”

Steve shrugged, feeling clumsy, feeling lovesick, like a teenager with a first crush, like a stupid boy who didn’t know how to function with a pretty girl so close. A month ago, he’d had taken this opportunity to pull you behind the kayak stack, nimble and sure fingers slipping down the straps of your swimsuit as he kissed you until you whispered his name the way he liked to hear. 

Instead, he gave you a small smile. “No reason. Hey, do I, uh, still have sand or somethin’ in the cut? Feels itchy.” 

Steve knew that the slice on his cheek was more than clean, he’d spent long enough cornered by Joyce as she squeezed cotton balls soaked in antiseptic over the injury, again and again until he batted her away with pleading eyes. But he was desperate for you to touch him again, to be this close to you without arguing. And if he couldn’t kiss you, well, maybe your soft hands on his cheek would just have to do. 

You took the bait, whether you’d seen through his plan or not, Steve didn’t care. You leaned in, fingers careful on his jaw as you tilted his face this way and that, close enough that your nose almost skimmed his cheek. Steve thought you were warmer than the sun then, a heat against him that he missed even more than he’d realised. He held his breath, clenched his hands at his sides and tried not to touch you. 

“Maybe there’s a little something,” you lied, “just there. Hold still.”

Steve did as you asked, frozen as you swept a gentle finger over the tender skin. You wanted to kiss the bruise, the mottled shape on his cheek that had darkened over night. But you kept your eyes lowered, movements careful, pretending to swipe away something that was never there. 

“Think it’s some sand or something,” you whispered. 

Steve licked his lips, hummed in agreement and let his gaze land on your face. You were just as pretty, he noted, even when you looked so sad. 

“What do you think of Shelbyville?” The boy asked it so suddenly that you stopped what you were doing, your hand paused against Steve’s cheek, your fingers splayed over his jaw. 

You wrinkled your nose, confused as you considered his question. “Shelbyville? Why?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just smiled a little weakly and made a half shrug with his shoulders, waiting for your answer. 

“It’s nice, I guess,” you finally replied, still confused but answering honestly. “S’pretty. My aunt lives there, out by Blue River. I like it.”

Something in Steve’s chest grew, an elated feeling that felt a little like hope, like a new possibility. “Yeah?” He smiled a little more confidently, brows raised. 

You still weren’t sure why he was asking, or why he suddenly seemed so happy but you couldn’t help but smile back. You nodded, squinting up at him through the rays of sun that had appeared through the tree canopy, turning you both golden. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. Grudgingly, you dropped your hand from his face, fingertips trailing down his jaw until you had no choice to step back, finding no reason to be so close. Not now. “There we go, all clean.”

Steve nodded, smile dropping slightly as you moved away, and his hand reached up to his own cheek, to the same spot you’d held. Like he was chasing your touch. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, just as soft. 

It hurt to walk away, it physically hurt. So you backed up slowly, like keeping your eyes on Steve for as long as you could would somehow help and the boy stayed where you’d left him, his hand on his sore cheek, staring at you as you made your way back to the dock.

Robin was there, a stack of lifejackets in her arms, the ones you’d dropped at the sight of Steve. You took them back from her, cheeks warm, gaze lowered. You watched as Steve finally left, almost walking into a camp sign, face burning pink as he frowned at it.

“What was that?” Robin asked, brows raised under her cap. It was on backwards and had been adorned with another patch, a purple Care Bear that had its middle finger lifted. 

You stared at her, wide eyed, as if that would help feign ignorance a little better. “What was what?”

“Bitch,” Robin scoffed, amused. “Don’t even try it.” She dumped more life jackets into your arms, laughing when you protested. “You’re not slick, you know.”

You kept your head down, a small shred of hope blooming in between your ribs like new flowers. If you smiled, Robin pretended that she didn’t see it. 

—————

“Capture the flag,” Hopper announced, standing to face the crowd of campers and staff alike. “Need I explain?”

The kids murmured excitedly and shook their heads, eagerly awaiting their weaponry as Murray weaved in and out of the groups with tiny balloons filled with coloured paint and an old, fraying piece of ribbon that was meant to be tied around an arm. “Red or blue?” he’d ask each kid, before grinning and giving them the opposite of what they asked for.

“Aren’t these supposed to go in paint guns, or something?” Lucas called out, squinting pitifully at the small balloon he held aloft. “These ain’t gonna do shi--”

“Language, Mr. Sinclair,” Hopper called back cheerfully. “And I’m so sorry, you seem to have mistaken our budget with Camp America. Take the damn balloons and pray you got a good arm, kid.”

The campers snickered and Lucas frowned, shoving a shoulder into Dustin who jostled Will and Mike, a red paint filled balloon popping prematurely and bursting over the smallest boy’s sneakers. Will sighed, a long suffering thing that was too weary for a preteen, and held out a hand for Murray to deposit another one into it. 

“Maybe we can do some fundraising for next year,” Murray added, making his way back to the front of the group. “I’m sure Mr. Harrington can help arrange something, right Steven?”

Every pair of eyes shot to Steve as he stood slack jawed and wide eyed, gaze finding yours in the confusion. You were looking at him with furrowed brows, wondering what on earth Murray could have meant. Next year? Mr. Harrington?

“Uh…” was all Steve had to say. 

Eddie snorted. Steve backhanded him in the stomach. You were still frowning.

“Team captains,” Murray announced, holding two more armbands aloft. These ones had a crown on each, penned on with black marker that had faded over the years. “Choose your leaders, people.”

It took approximately half a second for Eddie to shove Steve forward, sending him through a crowd of kids that squealed at the jostling. Unsure if it was planned or not, you swore when Robin did the same to you, nipping at your side so you squeaked. You glared at Murray when he approached, grinning wide. 

“This should be fun,” he drawled, teasing. His eyes flashed too much mischief for a man pushing fifty and you grunted your annoyance even when you grabbed the armband from him. 

You didn’t look to see if Steve did the same, but you heard his hissed argument with Eddie as you made Robin tie the material around your bicep, red cotton against your mustard yellow lifeguard shirt. 

“Harrington,” Murray announced. “Look sharp and uh, let’s keep it clean, huh, kiddies?”

When you finally spared a glance, Murray was looking between you and Steve, still grinning and the boy was knotting the blue band around his arm, his features pulled together in frustration. 

Hopper was pinching at his eyes, looking pained. “For the love of god, any destruction of property, will be coming out of your fu— out of your paychecks.” The man sighed, already tired and he huffed. “Take the damned flags and don’t trash my camp.”

And then the game began. 

The camp was alive with noise and colour, the sounds of kids laughing and screeching as they launched tiny paint balls at each other, all strategy and planning out the window after Eddie and Jonathan launched a sneak attack on Robin, dousing her in blue paint that they dropped from a tree. Subtlety was gone after that and the kids ran amok, abandoning their positions until you were the only one left defending the flag, an old ratty, red thing that was shoved up high and behind the stacked gym mats inside the hall. 

You were bored hearing the screams from outside, pacing the gym as you waited for either a teammate to return (Max and Will had left ten minutes ago for more supplies, but you heard the sorrowful sounds of Will being pelted with balloons mere seconds after leaving the gym. Max had snorted and left him behind), or for an opponent to try their luck at capturing your flag. You weren’t sure which option appealed less, as the semi silence you were left in gave you too much time to think. 

Why did Steve ask about Shelbyville of all places? Why did Murray talk like Steve was going to be here next year?

Outside, you heard someone yell, someone shriek and then a casualty was declared as Dustin yelped about having paint in his eye and how Max was playing too mean. You considered leaving, going to check everyone had it all covered but you heard Joyce fuss, kids giggling and soon enough, the game kicked back off. 

The late afternoon was turning to evening when the doors finally jolted open, a squeak and a whine of the hinges that let in the last of the golden coloured light, the sky turning pinky peach through the old, cracked windows. 

You turned to face your opponent with a balloon in your fist, already raised and aimed at the doorway. 

Steve. 

You sighed, trying your best to seem unaffected even though you could feel your own heartbeat in your ears. You pushed the toe of a sneaker into the gym floor, making it squeak. “This seems clichéd,” you joked. 

The boy snorted, a light huff of air that eased the pounding of your chest. “Right?” He agreed. “But Eddie got disqualified for unfair use of weaponry and fuck knows where Billy led Mike and Lucas.”

You frowned, genuine concern evident in your voice. “And no one thought to check on them?”

Steve shrugged, grinning. “S’fine. Mike’s been taking karate classes. Apparently.”

It was easy to joke like this. Just like it had been easy to forget about how Steve walked away from the cabin trap set by the kids, how you’d run to him the minute you found out he was hurt, how it was easier still to put your hands on his jaw, his cheek, play pretend and fake act nurse. 

But suddenly the last few weeks, the last few months, caught up to you and you were more aware than ever that August was soon approaching. You wondered if Steve’s room back in Hawkins was already packed up, if his carpet was covered in cardboard boxes, if his mom and dad would travel to Arizona with him, if he already had his class schedule, if he still really wanted to go. 

“What’s in Shelbyville?”

“What—?”

“Do you know someone there? And why did you hit Billy? Was it something to do with me?”

The boy was reeling from your onslaught of sudden questioning and the attention made him burn. “What? No,” Steve scoffed, trying and failing miserably to appear cool and collected. “Why? What did Eddie tell you?”

“What’s going on, Steve? Why’s Murray calling you Mr. Harrington, why are you—” 

“It’s nothing!” The boy interrupted. “Nothin’s going on.”

“Stop lying to me!”

Steve swallowed and let out a sigh that hurt his chest, a stuttering, wrenching thing because your eyes were turning glassy and he saw the way you caught yourself as your bottom lip started to tremble. 

“I’m no— I, fuck, I’m not trying to lie to you, it’s just…” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Princess, listen—”

A paint balloon landed on Steve’s hip, a barely there thump but the ball exploded with red paint, splattering across Steve’s clothes, his shirt, his forearm. He blinked up at you, lips parting in surprise. 

“Don’t call me that,” your words were thick with emotion, your lips in a tight line as you tried your hardest not to break. “And stop lying to me. All you’ve done is lie to me.”

Steve was speechless, holding his arms out before letting them drop back to his side in defeat. “I haven't lied to you,” he said mournfully. “At least I haven’t meant to, shit, it’s been— hard, okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know it’s been hard Steve, but god, tell me the truth! At least admit it to yourself.”

“What truth?” Steve yelled, grimacing when you flinched. He immediately felt awful, but the frustration in his chest was simmering over, clawing its way up his throat. “What do you want me to say, huh? That you were right? That I’m some kind of fucking loser that’s doing as daddy says? That I’m so stupid that only the way I can get into college is if I let my dad pay my way in?”

He threw a paintball at the floor, only feeling slightly bad when some of the colour reached the toes of your shoes, your bare shins. Bright blue streaked across your skin and you frowned, at the mess and Steve’s words. 

“You’re not a loser,” you growled, annoyance colouring your tone. No one was allowed to talk shit about Steve Harrington. Not even himself. Not to you, at least. “And you’re not stupid, Steve. Stop it.”

Another paint balloon was thrown, this time by you, a careful aim that caught Steve’s chest. He swore, staring at the bloom of red over his staff shirt before he glared at you. “Hey, the fuck was that for?”

“You’re not a loser and you’re not stupid and your dad is a fucking bully who can’t be happy for his son’s own choices.” You launched another, huffing when Steve managed to avoid it, paint exploding over the gym floor instead. 

“Stop!” Steve retaliated with his own weapons, chucking a blue balloon at your thigh, feeling a tiny flush of satisfaction when it burst all over your tennis skirt. 

“Are you still going to Arizona?” You were near breathless, adrenaline high as you held another balloon in your hand, ready to take aim. 

“No!” Steve burst. He swore, dropping the last balloon and groaning when the paint hit his feet. He scrubbed his hands over his face, streaks of blue over his cheeks and into his hair as he tugged on the ends. “I don’t know. Fuck, I— no. I don’t want to. I never fucking wanted to.”

You dropped your balloon too, red on the floor, on your shoes, your ankles. You stared at the boy, shocked as his admittance, despite how you’d known it all along. You weren’t sure what to do now, what to say. But tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and heavy. 

You sniffed, tears gathering at your lash line, making the boy before you blurry. You took a deep breath before your next question, wondering if this is the one that would hurt the most, but before you could, Steve spoke first. 

“You said I didn’t call you back,” he sounded as wrecked as you felt, his words thick and clumsy, his eyes holding too much emotion to try and decipher. “That night, after the party, you said I didn't call you back. When? When did you call me?”

You were stunned. One, that you’d admitted that, and two, that Steve had remembered. The vodka you’d had that night made the memories blurry, but you could recall your head buried in Steve’s chest, his sweatshirt on your frame, his cologne and leftover campfire smoke amongst cotton sheets. A mumbled confession, sad words and sleep. 

You shrugged, helpless. “Fuck, I— I called you the night after. The night after you told me about college. I rang and your dad answered.” You swallowed harshly, looking anywhere but at Steve. “He said you were busy. Said he’d tell you I called.”

If Steve had felt an annoyance, a disdain, for his father before, nothing really compared to the anger that burst in his chest like a bomb. “What?”

You shrugged at him again. 

“Ba—” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair until it stood on end. He said your name, agonised. “I didn’t know you called. I— fuck, I would’ve called you back. I spent fucking weeks standing at the phone wishing you would, tryin’ to work up the balls to call you myself.”

Steve stepped forward, once, twice. “He didn’t tell me. My dad didn’t tell me you tried to get in touch.” Steve’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out and take your own. “I would’ve called you back. Fuck, I would’ve driven straight over to you and—”

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence before you’d launched yourself at him. You didn’t know what any of it meant, not yet, not really. You didn’t know if Steve really was going to stay, what that meant for you both, what would happen next. Nothing could be fixed right now, not right away, not in the middle of the forest during a game of capture the flag, but you decided then and there - covered in paint - that eight weeks was too long to go without kissing Steve Harrington. 

He caught you, arms around your waist as you crushed yourself to his chest, your hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck so you could tug him down to meet your lips. Steve went willingly, your toes barely skimming the floor, your T-shirt tangled between the boy’s fingers as he gripped you like he’d never dream of letting you go. 

Not again. 

Not ever. 

It was a messy thing, that kiss. It felt new, like a reset, a restart, like the first time all over again. Your noses bumped and you breathed in the air that Steve blew out, a sigh, a swear, lips pushed together until either of you could handle it anymore. 

“I thought you hated me,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, eyes closed tight and his arms still around you. “Fuck, I thought—”

“No,” you told him, hands covering his jaw, thumb soothing over the apples of his cheeks, the cut that was still there. “No, no, could never. Could never hate you.”

Your feet were back on the ground now, the toes of your sneakers pushed to the gym floor, stepping in paint as you both swayed slightly at the desperation of each other's grip. That’s all Steve seemed to need to hear, because the boy dipped his head back down to yours and kissed you soundly, with more confidence than the first time, like he suddenly remembered that he knew how to do this.  His hands were up your shirt, fingertips skimming along your spine, palm flat to your skin to hold you to him so he could kiss you deeper, slower, longer.  

And when you parted your lips for him, you weren’t sure who made the first noise. But you whined and Steve groaned, tongues licking over each other’s, four hands getting greedy, pulling and shoving at camp shirts to feel more. 

“I don’t wanna go to Arizona,” Steve whispered, and you pulled back enough to soothe a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes. He looked at you so seriously that you felt it in your chest, a sharp pang of hurt and relief for the boy. “I don’t wanna study finance.”

“I know.” You nodded, bringing him back to you, kissing over whatever part of him you could reach. His jaw, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his closed eyelids, his chin. “I know, it’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy, you know that right?”

Steve nodded too, nose bumping yours as he stumbled backwards, clumsy footing taking you both away from the middle of the gym. “I know, baby,” he sucked in a breath. “M’sorry.”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He had you up against a wall before you realised, head tilted down to you as he nuzzled at your throat, your head tipping back so you could let Steve do as he pleased. He nipped at the skin there, kissing along your neck until you cried out his name and god, the hands he had on your waist just squeezed tighter in response. 

“Shit, Steve,” you sucked in a breath, overwhelmed. “I should be the one apologising, I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did, I should’ve—”

“Nonono,” Steve shook his head, catching your lips for another kiss again, swallowing your noises as you whined for him, fingers twisting and tugging meanly at his hair, the collar of his shirt. “Don’t wanna talk anymore,” he groaned. “Not right now, please…”

[MEDICINE BY HARRY STYLES]

“Storeroom,” you told him, nodding towards the double doors that led into the large cupboard, away from any prying eyes that would eventually come into the gym. “Now.”

Steve was apparently as desperate as you were, because he didn’t take his lips off of you, even as you both stumbled towards your chosen hiding spot. Feet tripped over each other as you made it across the gym, hands still in his air and tugging him down to you. Steve didn’t seem to mind, groaning loud when you sighed and tipped your head back for him, letting him lick and suck at your neck. There was paint smeared everywhere, splatters of red and blue mixing to make a lavender colour, streaking your skin and Steve’s. 

And then the door to the storeroom was wrenched open and Steve was guiding you in with a tug of his hand. It was funny how your stomach flipped, a nervous excitement, an anticipation hooking in your stomach like this was your first time with the boy all over again. Except you knew what he liked and you knew how to make him fall apart so easily, which is why you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself at him, Steve’s back against the wall this time as your hands cradled his jaw and you pulled him down to meet your kiss. 

Shoulders bumped old shelves, metal ball cages that were only half full now that the summer was coming to an end and there were stacks of old oars leaning against three kayaks, each plastered with patches of new paint that didn’t match the original colour. A quick fix it job that Steve had been tasked with last summer after he flat out refused to hand over the three hundred dollars Hopper demanded for a new boat. 

You thought of that stupid jar on your managers desk and wondered if it would be worth it. 

But once you’d pulled back, just a touch to look up at Steve, your mind was made up. The boy looked wrecked, tanned skin messy with paint, streaks of it running across strong forearms, dots of  it somehow mixing with freckles across his cheeks and nose. You’d gotten red paint in his hair when you’d grabbed at it, making it messier than ever. But Steve didn’t seem to care, nor if the way he was looking at you was any indication. Heavy, hooded eyes on you, roaming unashamedly over your face, your frame, the way you’d pushed your thighs together for some relief. He was already hard, thick and strained against the zipper of his jeans at the very first touch of your lips against his. 

Yeah, it would be worth it. 

“Missed you,” he whispered, reverent, ruined. His hands reached out for you again, fingers twisting in the sides of your shirt to pull you back to him. “Thought that was it, thought I’d never get to have you like this again.”

You made a noise of protest at the thought, a hiccuping thing that Steve swallowed with a kiss, his breath coming out heavy against your cheek. You were impatient now, too worked up, desperate for him. Your hands snuck under his shirt, slipping up and over his stomach, smiling when the muscles there clenched and twitched under your fingertips. You raked your nails back down him, anchoring yourself to his belt loops, wondering if he’d let you do what you wanted him with, if he’d be patient enough. 

Steve was working his mouth over your neck when you asked, his own thumb pulling at your shirt collar to try and stretch it out for himself, uncovering more skin to kiss. 

“Steve,” you were breathless and he hummed, never stopping the way he sucked and bit down at the crook of your neck. “Wanna suck you off.”

The noise that left the boy’s lips was unholy, a needy, wrecked sounding thing that had you more desperate to get on your knees than ever. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, popping it with a finesse that made Steve’s eyes flutter. 

“Please,” you added for extra effect, like you didn’t already know Steve would give you whatever you wanted. 

“Fuck, honey,” Steve pulled back, just slightly, his head falling backwards until it thumped dully against the wall. His pupils were blown wide, his hold on your waist tightening, hands sneaking under cotton to steal a touch of your skin. “You want me to fuck you, right?”

You nodded immediately, lips parting at the thought, head going fuzzy at the idea of having Steve inside you again after what felt like a fucking lifetime. Two years of regular sex had spoiled you, and not even your own fingers in a private Sunday morning shower had gotten you past frustrated. “God, yeah, yeah I do.”

Steve nodded like he knew, like he understood your frustration and well, he probably did. He reached up to trace a thumb over your bottom lip, hand cracking your jaw as he pulled it from place, watching awestruck as it popped prettily back into place when he let it go. You whined, moving closer, chest to chest and wrapping your hands around his wrist, anchoring him to you. 

Steve let out a quiet curse, breath uneven and watching you from under his lashes, bringing his thumb back to your mouth. He teased you just a little, rubbing the pad of it over the seam of your lips, taking it away every time you tried to part them. But when he saw you getting glossy eyed and restless, he gave in, sinking the tip of his thumb past your lips and resting on the soft of your tongue. 

Steve groaned when you whined, pulling you closer by one hip and wedging a thigh between your legs for you to push yourself against. His gaze was locked on your mouth as he dragged his thumb out past your lips, just a little, just enough to see the slick skin and the way your tongue chased it, curling around the digit. His cock twitched with jealousy in his jeans. 

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered to your doe eyed stare, your wet lips. “Can’t let you get your mouth on me, princess, m’sorry. Wouldn’t last a fucking second.”

You bit down on his thumb as some kind of argument, frowning when Steve slipped it from your mouth. But before you could protest, he was back on you, hands carding into your hair and pulling you flush to him, tongue on yours in seconds. You moaned into the kiss, a heavy, dirty thing that made you lick into him deeper, grinding yourself down on the thigh he’d so kindly given you.  

It didn’t take long for Steve to lose some patience - or maybe it was control - but he was effortless in the way he spun you both, trading places so he could pin you against the wall instead. You thought about resisting, thought about playing hard to get and keep up the pretence of still being mad but Steve’s mouth was on your throat and his hand was sneaking up the inside of your shirt. 

“Baby,” you squirmed, lashes fluttering, body boneless against him. You clung to him for dear life, fingers clutching his shoulders, his shirt, his hair. “Please.”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, but it made Steve moan, a rumbling noise that vibrated through his chest to yours and he pulled back just to peck at your lips, your cheek, your jaw. “Say that again,” he murmured, voice thick with an endless affection. His lips were swollen, pouty and pink, his eyes glazed over for you. “Call me that again.”

Your body buzzed, your brain foggy and it took a few seconds for everything to catch up. Steve was still looking at you, pleading, his hands kneading at your hips, your thighs, like he didn’t dare stop touching you. 

“Baby,” you repeated again and you see the relief in Steve’s gaze at the word. Affection, fondness, love, affirmation. He needed it too. So you pulled him back down to you, hands curled in the front of his T-shirt collar, kissing along his jaw and chin until he groaned and caught your lips with his. “Babybabybaby,” you mumbled against his mouth, sighing prettily between kisses, pulling him closer than necessary, scared he’d disappear. 

It was a needy kiss that turned dirty, the ache between your legs making you nip at Steve’s lips, pull at his hair a little meaner, rake your nails down the back of his neck and pant into his open mouth. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whined, your declaration messy and garbled as Steve kissed you between words. “Missed you so much.”

Steve nodded his agreement, eyes half lidded and heavy as he let you yank at his shirt, pulling it off and launching it over his shoulder. It hung from some racks, old metal shelves filled with broken gym equipment and a box camp hats that no one was made to wear anymore. 

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “Jesus Christ, c’mere.” Steve pulled you back to him, your own shirt joining his, your plain white bra the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He tugged at the straps until they slid down your shoulders, baring more skin for him to kiss. “Missed you too, you’ve no idea.”

Something about the admission seemed to kick everything into high gear and Steve was mouthing across your chest as he slipped a hand up and under your skirt, teasing at the elastic edge, fingers gripping and pulling until it snapped against your thigh. 

“Kept dreamin’ about you,” he confessed, whispering the words against your throat like something unholy. “Kept wakin’ up with a mess in my fucking boxers like a damn teenager ‘cause I’d fall asleep and dream about how you tasted.”

His fingers slipped past the cotton barrier, swiping achingly slow through your folds, parting them and feeling the slick there. You both moaned at the feel, one foot coming up to rest on the edge of a kayak, keeping yourself spread open for Steve. He swore and you felt his grin, a pleased and proud smile that settled against your chest. 

“Good girl, that’s it, keep your leg up for me, honey.” Steve didn’t bother taking your underwear off as he sank to his knees, he just hooked your thigh over his shoulder and his fingers into pink cotton, tugging them to the side. “Fuck,” Steve hissed, eyes flickering from yours down to the shiny wetness between your legs. “Look at her, honey, still just as fuckin’ pretty, she missed me too, yeah?”

Fire nipped at your stomach, a fast roll of electricity under your skin at the boy’s words and suddenly nothing bad had ever happened, you’d never broken up and Steve had you pinned against his shower wall, cold tiles on your back and sticky, dirty words pressed onto your skin. You whined, a loud cry that Steve grinned at and you nodded, quickly realising that you’d agree to anything Steve asked. 

“Yeah, she did,” Steve cooed, moving closer to kiss along your thighs, nosing at the crease where your leg met your cunt. “She’s drippin’ for me, shit, just begging for a kiss, huh?”

“Steve,” you hissed his name, half desperate, half a warning, canting your hips forward until his lips brushed against your folds. He pulled back a little, smiling wide, like he was having the time of his life. “We’re hardly in the privacy of a hotel room, fuck, c’mon, please.”

“S’where I’ll take you after camp,” the boy promised, voice low and sticky soft. He ran his mouth over your folds, a barely there kiss that made rise up onto one set of toes to chase his lips. “Gonna take you somewhere real nice, princess, gonna make up for this summer, gonna fix it, I promise.”

He was babbling, eyes closed as he kissed up and across the soft of your lower stomach, nose dragging through the soft curls below until he could lick a line over you, not parting you just yet, just teasing, tasting. 

You were breathless, body bowing over Steve’s head as you grabbed at his hair and held on. If you wanted to meaner about it, if it was two months ago and he was teasing you in your bedroom, laughter on his lips, you would’ve pulled his hair and rode his face, giving in and making him moan. 

But Steve was whispering promises into your skin like apologies and even in your pent up haze, you still had questions. “What about - fucking hell, Steve -  what about Arizona?”

“Later, I’ll explain later,” was all he said, before he parted you with two thumbs and licked a slow, wide stripe from your entrance to your clit. 

Steve knew how you liked it, had two whole years to learn what you loved, where to touch, where to kiss, when to slow down, when to speed up. He kept his eyes on you as he swiped over your clit, a soft, little kitten lick and that made you squeak and buck your hips down onto his face. The kayak you had one foot rested on groaned in protest. 

You heard him whisper praise into you, filthy, pretty words that you barely heard over your own heaving breaths and your head fell back against the wall when his tongue worked its way around your entrance, licking over you, nose nudging at your clit as he did. 

“Fuck, princess, she’s just crying for me, isn’t she?”

You could only whine, a soft, high pitched thing that made Steve palm at his cock through his jeans, pulling you onto his face with his free hand. He kept up those slow, lazy licks through your cunt, only speeding up when you started to roll yourself over his mouth. He groaned, a dirty noise that made you want to grab at him but you were hurtling towards an orgasm that you’d hadn’t been able to give yourself for weeks. 

“M’gonna come,” you whispered, your throat tight, your voice wrecked. “Steve, Stevie, please, I’m gonna come.”

The boy didn’t dare take his mouth away from you, not even to whisper encouragement. He just snuck his hand from your thigh to your ass, squeezing you tight and he coaxed you further onto his tongue, silently telling you to rock yourself over his mouth, to take what you needed. And as your noises got breathier, needy, little whines that turned into groans, Steve took your clit into his mouth and sucked at the same time he slid two thick fingers into you, hooking them in place and rubbing.  

You gushed around his fingers as you came, a sob ripping from your lips as your body gave in and bowed over Steve’s, hands clutching at his shoulders, his neck, trying to keep yourself up. Aftershocks jolted through you as Steve grinned, tongue seeking out your clit even still, licking over it softly as you came down, holding you in place as you tried to jerk away. 

“Steve,” you gasped at him, pushing softly at his forehead until he gave in, running kisses up your thigh and stomach as he stood. “Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—”

“How’d you want me?” He gaped out, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from your fingers and his lips glossy from the way you’d ground yourself against his mouth. “Huh, princess? Tell me, I’ll give you it, I swear.” The boy was desperate, clinging to you, his hands on your jaw as he dipped in for a kiss, groaning wild when you licked yourself from his lips, sucking the taste of yourself from him. 

You couldn’t really think, words coming out in strings of pleases and curses, begging for something you didn’t know how to ask for. So you pulled at the belt on Steve’s jeans instead, shoving the denim down his hips, just enough for you to pull his cock out and show it some proper attention. Steve’s eyes glazed over as you pumped him, thumb swiping over his leaking tip, your mouth kissing along his chest. 

He groaned, a gasping, rough sound that you knew so well and Steve shook his head, batting away your hand before he came all over it. He patted at your hip, held his hands out for you. “Up,” he commanded. 

You hopped easily, Steve’s hands catching your bare thighs, palms curving around your ass as he turned and set you upon the stacked kayaks. You were just the right height for him to slip into you, but he kept you waiting, playing with himself as he pulled down the cups of your bra, freeing your tits for him. He thumbed over an already hard nipple, watched in awe as it pebbled even more and he licked his lips, cock nudging at your thigh. 

“Like this?” He asked you quietly, running a hand down your front, curling his fingers around your throat, squeezing gently at your chest, your hip. He was everywhere at once. “Could fuck you like this, or I could bend you over, huh?” 

The kayak stand shook a little when Steve tugged at your calf, bringing you closer to the edge and his cock. You had zero faith the boats would withstand the movements that were about to ensue, but you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care. 

You’d help Steve burn the camp to the ground, as long as he kept touching you. 

“Like this,” you whined and god, you sounded bratty, needy, the way Steve liked it best. “Need to kiss you,” you told him and it was the truth. You were as desperate to kiss and hold and look at the boy as much as you were for him to finally fuck you. 

Steve’s expression softened then, melting brown butter, his gaze sugar sweet. He leaned in, nose nuzzling yours as he kissed you, a one, two, sweet peck of a thing before your mouth fell open for him and you were gasping his name. 

“Steve!”

He’d slid into you easily, caught your noise with his lips, kissing it away as he groaned through it too. You were soaked still, but the stretch and burn of taking him again for the first time in months was apparent. You whined, clutching at him, letting the boy coo and soothe you with kisses everywhere, scattered pieces of affection dotted over your nose and cheeks. He felt you clench around him, tighter than ever, and his hands found your jaw. 

“Honey - Jesus Christ - baby, look, hmm? Look at me, baby.” Steve sounded almost serious, his tone low and soft, determined for your eyes on his. He caught your jaw, cradling it as he pulled out of you, just enough for the tip of him to stay inside of you, throbbing. “There we go, there, that’s it, princess.”

You could’ve let your eyes slip shut at the pleasure of it all, lips parting and jaw falling slack when Steve thrust forward again, a slow and steady rhythm that kept you stretched out and wet for him. But you knew that Steve wanted you to keep gazing at him, his own eyes heavy and half lidded as he leaned in, his forehead against yours, his stare hot as he picked up his pace. 

“S’fucking amazing,” you moaned for him, almost unaware of the shuffling and banging noises you were both beginning to make. The kayaks were bumping into the wall with each rock of Steve’s hips. “Fuck, keep going, please.”

It turned harder, faster. A dirty snap of the boy’s hips against yours, his hands everywhere, one holding a thigh wide, the other tangled in the hair at the nap of your neck, a hot and commanding hot that made you arch your back for him. Steve grunted at the push of your tits bare against his chest, skin on skin and your bra, a tangle of wire and straps around your ribs, your skirt tucked up to meet it. 

“M’really not gonna last long,” the boy admitted, his chest heaving, his eyelashes fluttering as he glanced down at your spread legs, the soaked cotton of your underwear stretched at the seams around one thigh, the slick, shiny wet of you coating him with each rock of his hips. “Fucking hell, s’too much, so fucking good.”

The sound of skin on skin and the rattle of kayaks filled the small room, the soft glow of the sunset coming in from the tiny window that was partially hidden by old gym mats. It turned you both bronze, shades of gold and rose and copper in the light, breathy gaps and whines that morphed into moans as you both reached the edge. You weren’t sure how long it had been, if the game was still being played, if someone had captured your flag - or Steve’s - if a whistle had been blown. 

Fuck, it didn’t even matter that camp was ending next week, that you’d go back to Hawkins and live a life without the boy. Maybe. Maybe? Would you see him again? Before he left? Would you go to his parents house and stand in the same driveway you left him in and let him leave you? Would it hurt less or more after this, after you let him kiss you in the shadows, in the last bit of the sun? Would this fix it? Would it matter, once you had your clothes back on?

It was like Steve could tell you were floating away from him, like he could see you trapped in a box in your own head. He tugged gently at your hair, nudging his nose against yours and worked his cock somewhere deeper inside you. He tilted his hips up until you gasped for him and he smiled, nodding against you as you caught him for another kiss, swallowing his soft “there you go, honey, just focus on me.”

You couldn’t take much more after that, emotions and the feeling of Steve hitting that pretty spot inside of you over and over and over suddenly becoming too much. You blinked at him, body flush with his, clinging to his shoulder, his neck, his messy strands of hair. Neither of you mentioned your glassy eyes, the stuttering sob that broke in your throat when you told him:

“Need t’come, Stevie.”

Steve just kissed you sweetly, a lingering push and pull of his lips against yours that felt warmer and softer than a summer morning. Steve Harrington was still the afternoon sun and blue skies, those endlessly big clouds, the sound of a creek, the splash of a lake. He was blue raspberry popsicles and pink lemonade, he was the taste of honey, the smell of cedar and wild mint. 

He was still yours. 

You were sure of it. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, letting a hand fall to your cunt so he could flick over your clit, thumbing soft circles as he started a dirty grind of his hips into yours. “Gonna come for me, honey, yeah? Gonna come with me?”

And you did, easily. Too easily. Your whole body tightened around him as you came hard, crying out and blinking back tears. Steve was quick to follow, losing his rhythm as his hips stuttered, his face pressed to the crook of your neck as you petted his hair and whispered to him, pushing him closer and closer. 

“Baby, where can I—”

It was strange to hear him ask the question. Of course, it had been asked before, a few times, years ago, when sex with each other was new and exploratory, when condoms were still used and the afterglow was filled with shy laughter and out of breath kisses. 

Then comfort and familiarity grew between the tension, and intimacy took over from that new excitement. It was even better, knowing each other like that, being able to touch and feel and know what the other liked, the easiness of falling asleep stretched out beside each other, naked and ready for toothpaste kisses and a shared cup of coffee the next day. 

You missed it. 

You missed all of it. 

“Inside,” you whined, eyes clenched shut as Steve swore and pulled you closer still. “Inside, please.”

Steve kissed you when he came, a mash of his lips against yours, an open mouth groan that you swallowed, a clumsy, aching thing that made you want to keep him this close forever. 

But then the kayak underneath you squealed loudly, an ugly protest as it dug too hard into the stack beneath it, the shell of it splintering. You swore, clinging to Steve with both arms and legs before he could even pull out of you. He took your weight just as the boat cracked, a jagged hole in the bottom of it taking your count of destroyed call equipment to an all time high. 

The silence was deafening. 

Eventually, Steve spoke. His arms were still tucked under your thighs, his face at your neck, close enough that you could feel the twitch of his grin. “Maybe we could hide it. Y’know, before anyone sees.”

You laughed, a tired sounding thing as you tightened your hold around the boy’s neck. You wanted to kiss his cheek, his temple, his forehead, you wanted to love on him until either of you could take it anymore. You never wanted this to end - at least not with another broken kayak. But camp was almost over and August was crawling closer. So you hummed, shrugging. “We could throw it in the lake. It would sink, at least.”

—————

Neither Hopper nor Murray believed you when you told them you’d hurt your foot in the scuffle of capture the flag, as convincing as your limp may have been. And they certainly didn’t believe you both when you claimed Steve was there to help. 

Hopper had narrowed his eyes at the marks on Steve’s neck, the mess of your hair, the rosy tint to each of your lips. You both shrugged, staring at the forest floor before Murray had snorted, breaking the tension and sending you both back to your cabins. 

No other questions were answered that night, especially seeing as Murray was ten feet behind you both at all times, trailing you through the forest with a flashlight as he whistled jovially, ensuring you both ended up in your respective beds. So you took one last look at Steve and smiled, somewhat hopefully, maybe a little sadly, before you clambered up the porch steps and into the darkness of your bunk. 

You didn’t get a kiss goodnight. Or was it supposed to be a kiss goodbye?

I don’t wanna lose this with you 

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve took a deep breath and made his way out of his cabin. 

It had been a long week, the last days busy and filled with games, tasks, a swim meet, a gymnastics competition, Eddie’s musical extravaganza show - his title, not yours - and a campfire story every night. 

The kids were filled with marshmallows, made up of sugar and sunshine, tan lines and freckles littering their faces, messy hair smelling of sunscreen and the lake. Everyone was happy. That soft, slow kind of joy that faded into melancholy as the days turned over. For those last few days you’d spent at the lake, you regretted asking Hopper to let you run swimming with Billy more than ever before. 

It kept you away from Steve, all the way across the camp so all you could do was try to keep your eyes on the kids in the water and wave at the boy when your eyes met. It was only a little embarrassing, that kind of childish, first crush kind of interaction, eyes meeting, cheeks warming, hand raised to say whatever it was you couldn’t to his face. 

Not yet, anyway. 

It was made even more painful with Billy lingering behind you, still sprawled on the same deck chair he stared the summer in, minus his sunglasses, because his broken nose was still too tender for them. 

“Could you get more pathetic?” The boy scoffed, a little nasally, biting down on the toothpick between his teeth. “Honestly, Hawkins, you’re too hot to pine.”

You scowled, flicking your towel over your shoulder so the corner of it whipped at the boy’s shoulder. He glared at you as much as he could with his sore face. 

“I’m not pining.”

“Moping then,” Billy offered, grinning. “Either way, it’s disgusting. I thought you two were over.”

“I wouldn’t tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, Hargrove,” you squinted at him through the sun, sparing a glance when Dustin pulled himself onto the dock, only to barrel roll back off of it. “What makes you think I’m discussing my love life?”

The boy huffed, a smirk on his lips, mean and cruel, like always. “Or lack of,” he commented. “You think one quick fuck can solve your problems? You think that what you got between your legs is good enough to make Harrington stay? Defy daddy dearest? Even Harrington isn’t stupid enough to turn down a free ride.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared stone faced at the water, watching the way the sun changed the ripples from white to blue to gold

Billy scoffed, taunting. “Keep dreamin’, princess.”

It hurt, his words. Billy Hargrove was a bully, a mean boy that liked nothing more than to make other people hurt as much as he did. You knew that. You’d always know that. But all that was left of you and Steve’s encounter in the gym was a fading lavender bruise on where your neck met your shoulder, a blurry bite of evidence that it had actually happened. 

Your scowl deepened and you decided that being close to Billy wasn’t helping your mood. 

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, you sat in your bunk, wondering if you’d be brave enough to do something about the gnawing want in your chest. 

You hadn’t been spying, not really, but it had become harder to ignore how often Steve seemed to disappear in and out of Hopper’s cabin. You’d spotted him through the window when the kids were eating lunch, everyone else distracted by the pizza party Robin and Bob made for the last weekend of the summer. But Steve was sitting with Hop and Murray, heads bent over the desk, pieces of paper scattered on the wood. 

Hopper had looked pleased. Maybe even proud. Murray was chatting animatedly, hands waving, eyes bright. 

Steve had looked the most hopeful you’d seen him in weeks. 

But you didn’t get the chance to ask what was going on, because Nancy was dragging you out for one last hike and El was pulling at your hand, pleading for you to join them. You couldn’t say no and you were half way up the hillside when Steve eventually emerged, a folded piece of paper slipped into his back pocket. 

And when you returned, bug bitten and tired, you tried to seek the boy out, only to find him through the office window again, his back leaning against the cabin wall as he bent his head, eyes closed and the office phone pressed to his ear. You couldn’t hear, not from so far away, not over the yells of excitement from the campers as Eddie brought out guitars and old drums, but you were almost certain Steve was yelling, a frustrated furrow between his brow before he dropped onto the sofa with the phone cord wrapped around his wrist. 

You could’ve gone to him then. Knocked on the door and offered your hand, a smile, maybe a hug. And maybe Steve would’ve told you what was going on, maybe he would’ve explained everything. But it didn’t feel like the time, it didn’t feel right and Mike was pushing an out of tune guitar into your hands and challenging you to some sort of battle. 

Steve returned to the camp pit soon after, his eyes a little red but his smile seemed sincere when Dustin ran to him, a faux sort of tackle that made Steve catch him round the middle. They grinned as they wrestled, laughing brightly and the air around the older boy seemed lighter than it had in weeks. When Steve caught your eyes over the kid’s head, he smiled. A real thing, pink cheeked and achingly full of love, that sticky sweet kind of adoration that you’d missed so much it had hurt. 

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve knocked on your cabin door. 

It was late, well after dinner and the kids were in their bunks full of sloppy joe’s and chocolate pudding, telling stories by flashlight, trading cards and secrets while they finished off their stashes of candy. Twilight had set in, that hazy lilac light that came after the sun had set and the forest was falling asleep. Cicadas buzzed in the depths of the trees and fireflies grazed the edges of the lake, that green-yellow glow that made you want to stay up a little later. 

The knock came as Robin was painting her toenails, a cherry red she’d stolen from you, her damp hair wrapped up in a towel. She didn’t even look up at the sound, just slicked another coat of polish over her nail and said:

“That’ll be for you.”

You frowned from behind your book, setting it down with the pages splayed so you wouldn’t lose your place. The story of two star crossed lovers that pined for each other seemed more addictive than it usually would’ve been. 

“M’not expecting anyone.”

Robin just huffed out a laugh and nodded at the door. “Don’t keep him waiting, babe.”

You padded barefoot across the cabin despite your confusion, sleep shorts high on your thighs and thank fuck you’d decided against wearing Steve’s staff sweater to bed, because the owner was standing on your porch when you opened the door. 

“Hi.”

He had his shoved in his pockets and he looked flushed, slightly out of breath like he’d ran over. And maybe he had, considering it was lights out hours and no one was supposed to be out of their bunks. 

“Hi.”

Steve smiled just as you did, a dopey, lovesick thing that felt awkward and lovely all at once. He shuffled on the wooden boards before he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to something you couldn’t see amongst the trees. “D’you wanna go for a drive?”

It was the easiest thing in the world to nod your head yes, trying to hide the smile that was making your cheeks ache. You dipped your chin as you turned back to your bunk, grabbing the sweater you kept under your pillow, avoiding eye contact with both Steve and Robin as you pulled it over your head. The material dropped to your thighs, the boy’s name stitched over your heart. 

“Have fun and don’t get caught,” Robin warned cheerfully. She waved her nail polish brush between you and Steve before you had the chance to pull the door closed. “If either of you come back crying, we’re having words.”

You snorted, cheeks warming as Steve ducked his head with the same awkwardness. “We are?” You joked. 

“Uhuh,” Robin nodded, “full intervention. Eddie will be here.”

“God forbid,” Steve deadpanned, wrinkling his nose at you when you laughed. He tugged his sweater sleeve, his fingers brushing over your wrist. “You comin’?”

You looked down at Steve’s hand like you weren’t sure whether to take it or not, if you were supposed to slip yours into his, fingers intertwined. But you nodded again, that little, shy smile still on your lips that Steve hadn’t seen in so long. Together, you walked between the cabins, keeping to the treeline and the shadows, smiling fondly when you heard the giggles and whispers from inside the kids' bunks. You were almost at Steve’s car, the BMW parked up in the makeshift lot behind the gym, when you both stopped in your tracks at the sight of someone else out in the dark. 

Murray was walking back from the mess hall, a mug of something hot in one hand, an oversized cinnamon bun in the other. He was in slippers and a tartan bathrobe, his jovial whistling coming to a slow stop as he spotted the two of you out of bed. 

“Shit,” Steve groaned, squinting awkwardly at the man. He raised a hand, half a wave, half a sign of defeat. “Murray, we weren’t—”

“That’s weird,” Murray interrupted, looking around the wooded area theatrically, eyes wide. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.” The man shrugged before looking right through you, whistling again as he passed. 

“Wha—?” You were stunned, both you and Steve pivoting in the mossy ground, brows raised. 

“Must be the wind!” Murray announced again, continuing his walk back to his own cabin. “But if it was a couple of rogue staff members, I’d be sure to tell them to be back by midnight. You know. If I saw any.”

Murray turned back before he took a turn in the path. He didn’t say anything else, but he winked and raised his mug before disappearing. 

—————

You didn’t ask Steve where he was driving you. Honestly, you didn’t mind. Didn’t care. The passenger seat of the BMW was as familiar as your own bed, a sense of ownership and melancholy hitting you in the chest as you clicked your seatbelt into place. Steve smiled as you tucked your knees up, legs bare and feet shoved into unlaced converse, his grin widening when you fiddled with the radio dials until the mixtape he had playing turned up a little louder. 

[TWICE A FOOL BY #1 DADS]

The windows were down as Steve drove down a road you’d travelled before, the wind still warm from the heat that made the day suffocating, the smell of pine needles and wild mint lingering on it. The breeze picked at your hair and Steve’s, lifting the strands until they were brushing your cheeks and sitting between your lashes. 

It was all sunburnt cheeks and sore knees, achy and bone tired from a whole summer of hikes and swimming in the lake, chasing kids who were too adventures along the creek beds and hanging from tree branches when the sun went down. 

The smell of sunscreen, lake water, lemonade, Steve’s cologne, wildflowers, home. 

It was a broken heart that was still splintered around the edges, the anxious gnawing feeling of the possibility of loss, of something new and unwanted, something you couldn’t control. It melted into hope, into the idea of reaching out and holding Steve’s hand until he gave you something to cling to. 

Steve wouldn’t drive you somewhere pretty and quiet and peaceful, just to break up all over again. Would he?

So you sucked in a breath - pine needles and wild mint and mountain air - and reached out to where Steve’s hand lay idle on the stick shift. Your fingers brushed his, cautious, nervous and he looked from the road to you with surprised eyes. Shock turned to warmth, like he’d spent the last ten minutes wondering the same things you had, sharing the same worries. He flipped his hand, palm outstretched, waiting for you to slide yours into his. 

Your thumb found the scar on the back of his knuckle, the small silver line that he got four summers ago, from helping a tiny Lucas Sinclair try archery for the first time.

So Steve kept one hand on the wheel and his other in yours, a small smile on his face that seemed so content, full of a fondness that rivalled the warm comfort of the wind in your face, the lavender shade of the sky, the way the moon was just starting to rise over the mountains in the distance. 

Everything was tall trees and the distant trickle of a creek, a long road that turned to gravel and dirt and Steve. You held his hand all the way to the lake. 

It was the same one you’d been to before, two years prior with Robin on a day off, Eddie and Steve trailing with you in a last minute change of plans. The last time you’d been on this shore, you’d had an odd realisation that you didn’t actually hate the boy you were supposed to hate. Now, as you toed off your shoes and stepped into the same sand, you were overcome with the urge to ask Steve if he still loved you as much as you loved him. 

Anxiety rippled over you the same way the lake lapped at the shore, and you suddenly hated the silence you once cherished. You could hear the wind between the trees on the other side of the water, the quiet trickle of the creek that fed into it, the soft huffs of Steve breathing. 

Neither of you said anything when Steve shrugged off his shirt, letting it drop at his feet. His shoes joined yours in a pile and you watched as he closed his eyes, just briefly, the stress leaving his body. His shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched and when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t prompt you into anything, but you pulled off your sweater too - Steve’s sweater - wiggling your hips until your sleep shorts fell and soon you were in your underwear, some cotton mismatched things that were less than enticing. 

But it made Steve grin, the daisy print on your bra familiar, one he’d seen so many times before. His belt buckle clinked in the night and soon, his jeans were on the sand and he was hopping out of them as you laughed. 

It was the most simple thing to do, to follow him into the water. 

[SKINNY DIPPING BY SABRINA CARPENTER]

The night made the lake cooler, an inky navy thing that nipped at your skin for the first few seconds. But you let it swallow you whole, waist disappearing, shoulders dipping under, hair slicked back and eyelashes dripping beads of it.   

Steve followed suit, a warmth underneath the water that your body recognised, his own hair clinging messily to his forehead as he ducked under the surface, hands brushing your ankles briefly before rejoining you. It went like that for a little while, the sky getting darker, the lake ready to copy. There were stars on the surface, a mirror-like reflection when you weren’t making ripples. So you swam circles around each other, Steve’s car parked up on the sand, the mountains in the distance, tall trees all around. There wasn’t a sound except the small splashes of water, the soft bubble of laughter when either of you swam too close and your shoulders bumped. 

 Steve ducked under one last time before he resurfaced, swiping at his hair before he took a breath and told you:

“Hopper offered me a job.”

You blinked at him, lips parting so you could start asking one hundred questions. But Steve beat you to it, treading water as he smiled a little shy. 

“The whole, ‘Mr Harrington’ thing, that’s what that was about,” he shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. Water dripped from his chest, his neck, rolling into beads from his messy hair. “Uh, him and Murray, they’re opening this community centre for kids. S’gonna be a year round thing. After school, weekends. They, uh, they want me to manage it.”

You gaped at the boy before the smile you couldn’t contain started lifting the corners of your lips, a ridiculously happy thing that made your eyes crinkle and your cheeks ache. You thought about Steve - your Steve - running after kids all day, tired but content, paint stained and giving quiet pep talks, glitter in his hair as he clapped his hands and yelled for order. 

“Steve,” your voice was almost too loud in the night. It shook, a trembling, overjoyed sound. You were so happy for him, even if you didn’t know what this meant. “You’d be perfect for it— if, if you want to take it, that is.” The unsaid hung between you, the elephant in the room that was the size of a whole other state. 

Steve held your gaze and smiled nervously. “It’s in Shelbyville.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Oh,” you said slowly, realisation dawning on you. Things were starting to make sense now. But instead you said in a whisper, “that’s much closer than Arizona.”

Steve laughed softly as you tried not to sound hopeful, but there was a sticky, cloying ball of emotion stuck in your throat and it was barely holding back the tears. What you were almost crying for, you weren’t overly sure, but Steve moved a little closer, ankles brushing yours under the water. You could count the freckles on his nose by moonlight, you could see the faded green ink on his bicep from where El had tried to give him a ‘tattoo’ two days ago. 

“It is,” Steve agreed and there was a smile on his lips, a barely there thing that you wanted to rub your thumb over. “It’s so much closer than Arizona. Like, thirty minutes on a good day.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what Steve was trying to say. Hope bloomed between every crack of your ribs like wildflowers and it was overwhelming, breath catching, it made you want to make a break for the shore and beg the boy not to crush your heart again. 

“Steve—”

“I don’t want to go to Arizona,” he interrupted. “I never wanted to go to Arizona. I— fuck. You were right.”

You shook your head. “That’s not the point, I didn’t want to be proven right.”

“I know, but you were. It was all my dad,” Steve smiled and it was sad. “He came in one night after a day of golf and like, eight martinis. Told he spoke to an old friend and boom, handed me my whole future on a piece of fucking paper.” Steve laughed, dry and humourless and you moved closer still, close enough that your thighs grazed his and you could see the hurt in his eyes. “He didn’t even ask, you know? Just sat down at the dinner table and told me what I was doing for the next ten years of my life.”

You could imagine it. So easily. Michael Harrington’s imposing figure in a sharp suit and slicked back hair. You’d always wondered if it was once as wild as his son’s, if he ever liked the same music or spoke about movies and games with the boy. Michael Harrington was a straightened navy tie and a leather briefcase, polished shoes and numbers on a sheet. 

“He told me he knew what was best for me,” Steve continued and his voice hit a crack that he didn’t even blink at. “He told me that he was my only chance and making something out of myself, that without his help, I’d spend my thirties and forties stacking shelves and regretting having a kid with you before we were twenty five. He told me I needed his help, even if I didn’t know it yet.”

Anger bubbled inside of you, intense and hot enough that you were surprised the water around you didn’t bubble and hiss. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “Steve, you know that’s not true right? Your dad— shit, Steve, when was the last time you ever needed your dad?”

You waited as the boy thought, confusion on his features as he struggled to recall a memory. Eventually, he shrugged. “When I was sixteen, seventeen maybe. Crashed my first car trying to show off to my friends. I was shit scared on the side of the road. Everyone else ran. I walked to a pay phone and told him I needed his help.”

You raised your brows, waiting. 

“He told me to fix my own mess.”

More anger, a surge of it, pushing at your chest, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you shook your head, hands coming out of the water to finally touch Steve. You clung to his damp shoulders, still warm from the sun even now. 

“You don’t need him,” you whispered fiercely. “You never needed him. Not then, not now, not for your future.”

The boy smiled, sad and tired, if not a little relieved. “I know that now.”

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” you swallowed hard, pride and stubbornness going down with it. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t make it easier for you, I was just so— so sad that you were going to give everything up for something you didn’t want.” You let your hand trail to Steve’s neck, thumb brushing the spot under his ear, an unbelievably soft touch. “You know I would’ve supported you completely if it was something you wanted to do, right?”

Steve nodded, his hands finding your waist, bringing you closer. 

“But finance? Fucking finance?” You made a face and Steve barked out a laugh, a sharp bright sound in the dark and it made your chest ache, hearing such a happy noise from him. 

He nodded again, humming in agreement before he gave in and hid his face in your neck. “Fucking finance,” he repeated. “I hate numbers.”

You laughed too, watery and happy at being so close. His touch was overwhelming, stubble on his jaw scraping at your throat, his lips ghosting at your jaw when he smiled. “I know you do,” you whispered and god, your voice was thick with affection. 

There was more silence for a minute, a long, slow moment suspended in the water, holding each other, feet brushing the bottom, your arms wound around each other. An owl called out from a tree and somewhere in the distance, a car revved its engine. 

“I took the job.”

You froze, unblinking, scared to move, scared to talk. Eventually, Steve lifted his head from your neck and he studied you, waiting for your response, cheeks pink and eyes nervous looking. 

You wondered if your heart had stopped beating, if the world had stopped spinning. You couldn’t fathom another reason for the stillness you felt at his words. “What?”

The boy cleared his throat, his big hands squeezing gently at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing the band of your soaked bra. “I took the job,” he said again, a look of amazement and incredulity on his features, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “I told Hopper yes.”

Those wildflowers? The ones filled with hope that had wound their way into your chest? They flourished, blooming bright and big until the garden grew and grew and your bones cracked with the enormity of it. 

“Steve—” you tried to say more, but nothing came out.

“My dad didn’t take it all that well,” he shrugged, grinning now, like he was suddenly weightless. He looked brighter, even in the night. “Yelled a lot, but I think we’re gonna have a talk when I’m back, a good one, y’know? He didn’t seem as… fucking furious when I told him about the job.”

“In Shelbyville,” you said, like you need clarification. You wondered if this was a dream, a really mean one. 

Steve laughed, grinning all pretty. “In Shelbyville,” he nodded, looking at you through his lashes, tired and happy and feeling like things might just be okay. He hoped they’d be okay. “C’mon, let’s get you dry and warmed up, yeah?”

So you let him lead you out of the lake, a blanket pulled from his trunk that the boy wrapped you in first. You let him rub at your shoulders, your chest against his, sand sticking to your feet, water dripping from Steve’s hair onto yours. You were staring at him, still shellshocked, eyes wide and disbelieving and it made him laugh; soft, sweet thing. 

You dressed with eyes on each other, wandering, lazy, greedy, seeking out the bare skin that you’d missed touching, kissing. And when damp legs were pulled through shorts and Steve’s sweater was back on your frame, you crawled into the front of his car and let the boy pull your calves over the console and into his lap. 

He traced shapes there, copied the constellations from above onto your skin, joining freckles and scars until they made up a Milky Way and you could let your head rest against the window, languid, happy. You weren’t sure what all of this meant for you and Steve, but you’d go back to your bed happy, knowing that Steve was. 

“Shelbyville isn’t far from Hawkins,” Steve murmured softly, his cheek against the driver's seat, his eyes on you. He smiled, shy, unsure. “Maybe you could check it out with me after we get home.”

You smiled, tired, the night a yawning thing through the windscreen. It was nearing midnight, the moon above the mountains and the sand glittering on the car floor. “That sounds nice. You think you’ll move?”

Steve nodded, shrugged, nodded again. “Maybe? Eventually.” The boy swallowed, nervous. “Could find a house by a creek, big yard. Big enough for a dog.” He squeezed your knee, a longing touch. “A start of somethin’ new, maybe. Somewhere different. Us. If you’d want.”

You thought about it, about the savings you’d both piled together, the extra shifts, the clip outs of apartment listings in downtown Indianapolis neither of you really wanted but could just about afford. You thought about the late night talks with your cheek pressed to Steve’s pillow, trying to hide your smile as you both whispered about houses with flower boxes and a tree you could hang a swing from, maybe a porch, maybe a lake you could walk to on the weekends. 

‘Are we fixed?’ You wanted to ask. ‘Were we broken?’ You wondered. 

And maybe Steve could sense your questions, maybe he just knew you that well. His hand swept from your knee to your ankle, fingers curling around, warm and soothing. His thumb stroked over the top of your foot, playing with your untied laces. 

“S’okay, if you don’t want to,” he said. “I know you’ve got your job in Hawkins, I know your family is there. I don’t— I don’t expect us to just, you know, act like nothing happened.” Steve didn’t sound as nervous as before when he said, “But I know I love you. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t— that’s not changed.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. You knew the boy still loved you. You saw it when he looked at you, when he frowned at Billy when he got too close, spoke too boldly . You saw it when you strayed too far, when he searched for you in the crowds of campers, when he helped your drunk self into his bed, when he refused to take his sweatshirt away from you. Still, relief flooded you and your breath hitched, emotion catching in your chest. You held out a hand, palm up on your lap, fingers spread for Steve’s to link between. 

He let go of your ankle to do just that, fingers twisting, his thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. He looked just as hopeful as you felt as he gazed back, all shades of navy and lavender in the night. 

It was too easy to say, “I know I love you, too.”

Meet Me In The Afterglow

[YOU’RE SO COOL BY HANS ZIMMER]

The last of the kids left Camp Upside Down the way they arrived: in a flurry of colour and sticky hands, forgotten backpacks left on porches, teary eyes as they hugged their favourite counsellors. 

You were left behind with Steve as the rest of the staff left one by one, more hugs exchanged along with new email addresses and promises to visit different cities and states before Christmas. And when the parking lot was just settling from clouds of dust and dirt, Steve appeared from Hopper’s office, a small folder in his hands, signed contracts and a set of shiny new keys. He twirled them around one finger, a smile on his face he was trying to tamp down with a crinkle of his nose and you raised a brow at him. 

“Hey, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve let out a low whistle, joining you in between your two parked cars. He leant against his BMW and made a show of looking you over. “Oh,” he grinned. “Say that again?”

You laughed, slapping at his shoulder before pinching the papers and stealing it from him. You looked over the print, smiling warmly at the official look of it all. Full time hours, managerial role, pension plan, holiday pay. Hopper and Murray’s signatures were at the bottom with Steve’s and you looked up at him and beamed. 

“Are you happy?” You asked. 

Steve seemed to consider the question for a moment or two before he nodded, hair falling into his eyes that he didn’t bother brushing away. He pushed himself off his car with a foot, taking the two steps it needed to lean in close to you instead. He brushed away an invisible piece of dust from your shoulder, took it as an excuse to brush his thumb across your neck, ‘cause two months apart made him feel like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore. But you did you both a favour and leaned into it, lashes fluttering when his big hand cupped your jaw. He let his thumb push softly against your bottom lip in lieu of a kiss. 

“Yeah, I’m really happy, princess.” Steve let out a small laugh, a breathy thing full of surprise. “It’s stupid how I happy I am.”

You turned your head to catch his palm, pressing a soft kiss there that made the boy turn pink, a flash of affection warming his eyes and it only made him drop his hand from you to tug you closer, fingers catching the belt loops of your shorts. 

“What ‘bout you?” Steve asked quietly. A hand crept up the side of your shirt, fingers seeking warm, soft skin and familiarity. “You happy?”

You nodded, pushing yourself closer to the boy, hands running over broad shoulders. It was easy to touch him again, even though your heart thundered like it was two summers ago and you were like a preteen with a crush. But you’d missed him too much to let that get the best of you. 

“I’m happy,” you murmured. “We got jobs, roofs over our heads, friends, families that don’t wanna disown us—”

“Still to be determined,” Steve quipped. 

You tutted. “It’ll be okay, handsome. And you’ve got me.”

Steve turned soft for you, brown eyes caramel and sugar, lips lifting back into a smile, thoughts of his parents forgotten. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. A promise. “Always got me.”

The words seemed to soothe him and if the birds above hadn’t stopped chirping at the right time, you wouldn’t have heard him whisper a ‘love you’ into your hair when he turned to kiss the side of your cheek.  

“You’re gonna be a whole forty minutes away from me,” he grumbled, like it was an awful, awful thing. A hardship. 

You were both - maybe more you - determined to take it slow before rushing back in. Steve asked you to help him find a new home, an apartment in Shelbyville, maybe even a small house. You’d agreed enthusiastically with the promise to talk about moving in together in six months or so. Despite the joy that leaked out of you like summer and warmth, there was a lingering sting of rejection in your chest. You knew it wasn’t the case, but you’d spent a while with thoughts that told you Steve picked Arizona over you. 

“S’not far,” you told him. “I’ll stay over, you can come round on weekends, it’ll be great. We’re taking it one step at a time, remember?”

Steve stole a kiss, a barely there press because he was smiling too much. His contract was a crush of paper between you. “We’ll see.” 

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Steve had found a house in Shelbyville that quickly became a home. 

It was a small thing out by Big Blue River, a patch of land just outside of town where the river led into a creek and wild raspberries grew in the garden. You helped him move in, watched from your car as he hugged his mother and received a firm handshake from his dad. They didn’t help him into his new home, but they invited you both for dinner the following weekend, so it placated Steve enough. 

So you spent days at your job in Hawkins, a bag of clothes always in your car so you could drive to Shelbyville after work, music blasting, engine sputtering. You’d take turns making dinner, cooking some pasta as Steve built a bookcase, a lopsided coffee table, hung up his favourite movie posters a little squint. But the house was filled with Steve and a little of you, photos of you and the boy dotted around the house, Polaroids of your friends stuck to the fridge with magnets. 

It got harder to leave each time. 

It got harder to leave when Steve kissed you senseless against your car in the evenings, a slow building, needy thing that came with wandering hands. It was lazy mornings with a shared pot of coffee, a bed with soft sheets that smelled like him and you, your body wash in his shower, your clothes in with his piles of laundry. It was long lies on the weekends with the promises of a walk along the river, lunch by the creek laid out on a blanket, the sun on your cheeks and Steve’s head resting on your lap as he made you laugh with stupid jokes. 

Then one night your car broke down before you could make it out of the yard and Steve didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, humming thoughtfully. He was all hands, sneaking up your skirt, pushing back your hair, lips against your neck, soft enough to make you shiver. 

“Guess you’ll just have to stay,” he murmured against your jaw. 

You snorted, “I need my car fixed, Steven.”

A shake of his head, his lips still on your neck. “S’a piece of shit anyway, princess, been yellin’ you for years.” It was cheeky enough for you to pinch at his side but the boy only grinned and took your face in his hands, cradling your jaw. He turned a little more serious, smile still there, but his words were determined. “I’m serious, babe. Stay. Please.”

“I just stayed all weekend,” you told him, your fingers tracing patterns along his collar. Your heart was thundering. “You’re not sick of me?” 

Steve tutted, acting up. “You know that’s not what I meant. Move in. I want you to move in.” He nuzzled your cheek with his nose, smelling like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “Wanna live w’you.”

So the next day Steve gave you the keys to his car and painted the bedroom your favourite colour. You told your parents, who were unsurprised, packing up bags and boxes with your things, a bubble of excitement in your chest that you didn’t think would pop anytime soon. The drive to Shelbyville from Hawkins was like the drive to camp, and the same anticipation of a new adventure was in the air. You drove down roads lined with tall trees, wheat fields that turned golden past the old water tower, the beginnings of Big Blue River greeting you at the bridge. 

And when you turned down the dirt lane that took you to Steve’s house - your house - it felt more like home than ever. The shutters were painted sage green, the flower boxes beneath the windows filled with blooms, and the old oak tree round the back looked the perfect height for a swing. A dog didn’t greet you, not yet, but Steve did, with all the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever. 

Neither of you bothered with your bags, not right away, because Steve was pulling you from the front seat with a smile on his face that rivalled the sun. Steve Harrington was summer and sunscreen and lakes at night. He was mountain hikes with sixty kids, he was car racing out of town, he was sneaking out, sneaking in, he was lemonade, he was broken kayaks and hiding in the gym, he was arguing, he was kissing to make up and everything you ever wanted. 

He was yours.

And he was staying here. 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot

[goosita]

something something, sucking off virgin!billy at a party—

“shhhh,” you whisper, pressing his back against the wall. you had found a secluded bedroom in the house, dragging billy inside and pressing your mouth to his. your tongue teases his own and he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, pulling you closer by your hips.

you’d been seeing each other for a few weeks, but hadn’t ever gone past a few heated kisses. you knew billy was a virgin, something that surprised you. he was so charming and handsome, you thought surely someone would have lured him into their bed by now.

billy watches with wide eyes as you sink to your knees in front of him, undoing his pants quickly.

“baby—“

you cut him off with a look, narrowing your eyes at him. you needed him to be quiet, the walls in this home were thin and someone was bound to hear outside, even as the party carried on.

“gotta stay quiet,” you whispered. “can you do that for me?”

the room was dark, save for a single oil lamp sconce on the wall and it illuminated him beautifully in a golden glow. he nodded in understanding and exhaled slowly.

“good boy,” you whispered again, voice low. you palmed at him through his trousers, looking up at him. “can i make you cum? hm?”

billy nodded once more, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide and shiny at your question.

he was already so hard just from the way you’d kissed him, hot and filthy until his head spun. it was so easy to work him up, knowing he’d never been touched or fucked before. at least, not by anything else besides his own hand. once you tugged his pants far enough down his hips, you wasted no time in leaning in to give the head of his cock a soft, curious lick. you could hear him hiss through his teeth, and you smirked. you kept your eyes on him as you slowly dragged your tongue along the length of him, watching the way his eyes squeezed shut and his lips parted into a pretty “o” shape.

billy’s cock was salty and heavy on your tongue when you took him into your mouth fully. his head dropped back against the wall making a loud, dull banging noise.

“f-fuck, sorry! sorry…” he whispered, his pretty baby blues rolling back as you took him deeper. your tongue did wicked things to the underside of him, pulling back to lap at the slit slowly. you took one of his hands and guided it to your hair as you sucked him, encouraging him to pull.

and pull he did, making your thighs press together.

you bobbed your head, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand. billy started rocking his hips, fucking into your mouth shallowly. he let out a soft moan and you pinched his thigh in warning, glaring. he gave you an apologetic look, his brows furrowed.

“baby…darlin’, m’gomma cum, i—“ his words were choked off by a soft gasp as he spilled down your throat, shuddering hard against the wall and pulling at your hair. panting softly, billy looked down at you with his face flushed.

“s-sorry,” he whispered, embarrassed by how easily and quickly he had cum. you smiled up at him and licked a stray drop from the corner of your mouth, standing back up.

“it’s okay,” you said quietly, kissing his cheek. “m’glad it felt good.”

billy stared at you for a long moment before cupping your face suddenly, dragging your mouth back to his to kiss you deep and slow.

it seems you may have ignited a fire in him.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x you #tom blyth #tom blyth billy the kid #tom blyth x you #tom blyth x reader #william h bonney

[thissortofsorcery]

Billy’s one loud asshole.

He’s always making one kind of noise or another, always moving, either blaring his music, or singing, or dancing, or just. Talking to the damn TV.

For Steve, who’s used to drifting through his empty house like he’s haunting it, Billy’s noise is a beautiful thing.

Billy’s just— alive. Warm and bright and thrumming with energy, spinning through the room like a shooting star, leaving sparks on Steve’s skin every time they touch.

Steve leaves the light on in every room in the house so he feels less alone, Billy lights every room he occupies like the morning sun streaming through the windows.

And when he laughs, it’s. It’s like fire crackling in the fireplace, warm and intimate and feeling like home. Every time.

Billy doesn’t seem to know that, though.

For all his enthusiasm, sometimes he’ll catch Steve watching and just— stop. His smile dims, and he looks down, and he shuffles in place, just a little, before he puts on a big smile, a little too sharp, and changes tracks.

He saunters close to Steve, puts his hands on Steve’s hips, cages him in against the counter.

“You like what you see, pretty boy?” His voice is like rolling thunder, coming from deep in his chest to reach into Steve’s and wrap his heart in a fist.

“You know I do,” Steve matches his tone, leans in closer to wrap his arms around Billy’s waist.

Billy nudges his nose against Steve’s, teasing him with an almost kiss, a brush of lips. It’s why he doesn’t see it coming when Steve dips him, arms secure around him, and plants a big, exaggerated kiss on his mouth.

“Mwah!”

“What- Steve, what the hell?” Billy’s laughing again, a musical, bright sound, and that’s all Steve wanted to see.

“You tell me, sunshine, what’s it look like?”

Steve turns the volume of the radio back up, gets the music bouncing off the kitchen tiles. With one hand still grasped in Billy’s, he puts a hand on his waist and pulls him into a slow dance.

“Steve, we can’t slow dance to Ratt,” Billy complains, but the smile on his face is big and beautiful, teeth glinting, tongue peeking out. They shuffle side to side slowly, completely off-sync with the song.

“I don’t know man, looks like we’re doing it,” Steve says, and it gets Billy laughing again. Steve watches his head tilt back, his lips stretch, plump and wide, his throat bob with joy. “But we can dance faster if you want!”

Without warning, he spins Billy away, making him slide on his socks, and on the spin back he catches himself on Steve’s chest, still snickering.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Steve says, placing his hands back on Billy’s waist. “I just really like you.”

And as much as Billy’s answering grin is sharp and sexy, the pink on his cheeks is telling.

“How much do you like me?”

“Hm… I like you more than I like basketball.”

“Basketball?” Billy raises his eyebrows. “I’m not feeling the love there…”

“I do! I like you more than the Beamer,” Steve says, and Billy looks interested. “I like you more than hairspray!”

Billy gasps, “Not hairspray!”

“I do!” Steve half-yells, both of them caught in fits of giggles. “I do. I really like you,” He adds more softly, just to watch Billy turn pink again. He cups his cheek in his hand just to feel how warm it is.

“You’re a sap, Harrington,” Billy says, but his voice is low and intimate, crackling fire in the hearth.

Steve shrugs. Doesn’t deny it.

He kisses Billy instead, takes a sip of all that warmth, takes it between his lips, lets it burn him to his core.

It’s like Steve’s been sleeping this whole time, and Billy’s the dawn that woke him up. Beautiful, blinding, burning. The least Steve can do is stoke his fire.

-

every time anti bullshit shows up on my dash, I write Steve loving on Billy | VI

#please reblog #I come back with the SAPPIEST OF SAP #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #Harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #sorcery writes #mine #spreading billy love

[greatlydelirious]

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

Billy Loomis x F!Reader

wordcount: 6k words

summary: Your boyfriend is another girl’s boyfriend. Safe to say you didn’t imagine your high school love story to go like this. Although it was all for the sake of revenge you couldn’t be more jealous.

warnings: smut, angst, mentions of violence, possessiveness, toxic dynamic, build-up

Today sucked. Correction, every day for the last year seemed to chip away at you. Just like how you were currently picking at the salt on the tiringly bland cracker in your hand. At least this time it wasn’t your skin. Light scars jumped and skipped across your body from all the times you accidentally dug your nails a little too deep trying to put a lid on your emotions.

Although the emotions plaguing you weren’t anxiousness. No; each pick and scratch were futile distractions from the dread and anger that boiled higher and higher as the days passed.

For most of the students enrolled at Woodsboro High School today was just as predictable and mundane as the previous. They lived each day like their last wasn’t looming around the corner.

That wasn’t the case for three students. The trio didn’t only feel the chaos that was about to ensue but anticipated it. Each had a cynicalness that melded with the thrill of danger. Just as every predator did; and you would rather be damned to hell than be the prey to that kind of maelstrom of desire.

Bright light and warmth encompassed the town of Woodsboro as morning gave way to evening. Students from Woodsboro High were out and about with their friends as it was currently lunch and few wanted to stay inside when the weather felt near perfect. Like a calm before a storm; although this one would run red rather than clear.

Jumbled chatter and laughs flowed throughout not only the school grounds but the nearby plaza. Each group had a certain spot they frequented; whether that be a bench, a patch of grass, or under a tree as they conversed and messed around with each other. Six friends in particular were perched on the elevated fountain in the center of it all.

Nothing around you was able to stop the thoughts plaguing your mind. Even though you were basking in the sun and the wind was giving you fleeting kisses across your skin; you were far from content.

Too much and too little were happening all at the same time. The intensity of everything was rushing through your blood like searing lava. Not quite an intense explosion, but a menacingly slow spread.

Adding insult to injury, you weren’t the type to play the long game. It only made you become a ticking timebomb personified by the constant bobbing of your leg.

Oddly enough, the root of your winded-up emotions didn’t lie in the sinister secret that you kept, but in the state of your love life.

Many girls swore that playing “hard to get” added to the appeal and many boys said “the chase” is what made finally getting someone in bed so thrilling. However, in those cases, the two people were only fleetingly entangled together. They never shared heated murmurings about what their life will be like in five years. At this point, those five years seemed long gone.

On multiple occasions, you tried to gaslight yourself into thinking it was all just pillow talk. As luck would have it though, your relationship was not that cut and dry. “Normal” boyfriends gave their girlfriends flowers when they wanted to express their love. Yours promised to drain the blood out of the woman who was coming between you both.

Something thudding against your arm finally pulls you from your musing. A half-bitten apple lamely bounces off and falls to the pavement below your feet. Looking up, you focus a pointed glare on the giggling culprit.

Randy Meeks sat at the end to your left and to your right sat Tatum Riley, Stu Macher, Sidney Prescott, then at the other end Billy Loomis.

“Welcome back to reality sweetheart! How was your trip?” You reach across Tatum to push Stu’s chest. “Real funny dickhead.” He puts a hand over his heart and fixes you with a pout; “You wound me so.”

Rolling your eyes at Stu’s usual dramatics, you try to focus on the conversation happening around you. You’re not surprised when you realize they’re debating over each other about horror movies.

Randy was currently on a rant about female slashers. Context clues you caught on to showed the gist of the discussion which consisted of who was the best one.

“Come on, Carrie and her telekinesis? Game over. One second, you’re joking about a girl’s wonky glasses, and the next you are a human shish kabob.”

“That’s why you have to watch out for what girls you mess with.” Sidney smiles while giving all the boys a pointed look. Randy purses his lips, “I’m a saint, it’s those two you have to worry about.”

The hidden truth didn’t drift past you. What was that phrase? “Hiding in plain sight?”

“How would I ever get a woman to hate me? I have nothing to worry about.” Stu feigns indifference while folding his arms behind his head.

If he gave you a couple of hours you could list the ways.

Tatum scoffs, “Um… Fatal Attraction, hello? You’re Mr. Playboy. Nothing is scarier than a scorned woman.”

“Or a cucked one,” Randy added with a quirk of his brow. While they chuckled, you had to suppress a cringe. That hit too close to home. At this point, the lines felt blurred on who truly was “the other woman”.

“Something about Alex Forrest does make her stand out from the others,” Stu says. Randy scratches his head in mock contemplation, “Let me guess… is it her tits?”

It was Tatum’s turn to throw food as she scoffed and pelted Randy with a grape. “That is so sexist.” Unphased, Randy catches the grape and tosses it in his mouth, “That is the industry baby.”

Satisfied with his heckling Randy nudges your shoulder with his own. “Thoughts and opinions?” Now all eyes were on you. Shrugging the answer came to you faster than accepted.

“I think Annie Wilkes from Misery could give anyone a run for their money.” Randy holds his chest with a gasp, “A girl after my own heart.” The rest of the group nods their head in agreement.

“If you want to talk about scorned woman, nothing is more dangerous than a woman who can’t have the man she loves.” At the end of your statement, your eyes drift to Billy. Of course, he said nothing while staring right back at you. Those unrelenting dark eyes that reminded you of a shark tried to convey something you weren’t in the mood to listen to.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? When the person you adore keeps dismissing you.” You ask him in your head. Not that he would admit that to you anyway. The reason you fell head over heels for Billy in the first place was because he opened up to you about his darkest secrets. Now he barely could get his feelings out without flying off the handle.

The vibe seemed to of turned a little somber by the end of the conversation. Everyone nibbled at the rest of their food while watching the wind rustle nearby greenery.

Sidney quietly pipes in, “Can we talk about something a little less dreary.” As if she just rubbed a genie lamp, her wish is granted.

“All right!” Randy claps his hands while standing up to face the group.

“Let’s cut the shit and remember what matters. Tonight. My place. We are partying it up like brokers on Wall Street. Booze, chicks, costumes, whatever gets you going; we are having a fucking blast.”

Whoops and cheers erupt from the gang at Randy’s proclamation. God knew you could use a good time.

“I can’t believe your parents are trusting you with the house while they’re away,” Sidney states laughing. Randy bats his eyelashes, “What would make you say such a thing? I’m the walking definition of purity.”

Stu turns his attention towards you. “Are you going to bring anybody this time?” The question was normal for the average person, but the twinkle in Stu’s eye meant he knew exactly what he was doing. Pushing your buttons was his specialty.

“Why don’t you bring that boy from math class?” Sidney offers innocently; interrupting the death stare you had trained on the tall idiot to your right.

Tatum nods in agreement. “If you told him to jump, he would ask how high.” Her eyes become soft while still maintaining her smile, “It’s about time you put yourself out there.” You can’t help the small amount of guilt that creeps into your heart at their genuine efforts.

Unbeknownst to them, except for Stu of course, you were already spoken for. To the girl’s dismay, you have been “single” since you transferred to Woodsboro High two years ago. Not that you haven’t been approached or caught a few signals from Randy. Each time you say you’re either “not looking for anything serious” or “very picky about whom you date”.

Before you start drowning yourself in your thoughts again, Randy slings his arm around your shoulder, “Ladies, please. All she needs to be happy is The Meeks, all right.”

Stu puffs out a snort, “In that case, she’s better off alone.” The two boys immediately start to playfully argue back and forth while the two girls giggle, but it gets drowned in the background once again.

There was one person who had yet to add a comment to the conversation. Instead, he opted to stare in your direction while you purposely didn’t spare him even a glance. There was only one person you wanted to be glued to at the party, but that spot was already taken.

Feeling a sudden swell of emotion, you decide to get up. “As much as I appreciate your attempts; I’m perfectly content without a plus one.”

“I mean how long are you going to do that for?”  

“Stu-“ Tatum tries to stop him.

“No, it’s okay.” You cut her off quickly. “Some of us just prefer not to whore ourselves out.” A round of scathing “oohs” sounds off as you stare down Stu.

Now he wasn’t just pushing your buttons; he was ripping them off and throwing them in the fucking fountain itself.

“I’m more than content with waiting for the right person to decide they want to get their act together and be with me.” By the end of the sentence, your gaze made its way toward Billy again; which only made the impact of what you said more potent.

“I find that quite romantic actually.” Sidney backs you up. The irony almost made you fall into a fit of laughter. Thankfully, you were too angry to find the comedy in the situation. Your teeth clash together as you watch Sidney lean into Billy’s neck.

Lucky for you, Stu had to give you one final push, “Sure it is, but you can at least look happy about being a loner.” Letting out a deep sigh through your nose you offer Stu a wide mocking smile.

“Oh, I’m just the happiest fucking girl in Woodsboro.” Snatching your bookbag and the previously discarded apple you quickly get to your feet.

“C’mon sweetheart! I’m just joking around!” Turning around you chuck the apple with enough force to make Stu wheeze as you hit him square in the chest. Without wasting another second, you storm back towards the school.

Billy finally decides to pipe in while leaning towards Stu to flick him on the forehead, “Do you ever shut your mouth?”

-

Papers were strewn across your sheets as you sat on top of your bed trying to focus on something other than Billy Loomis. Of course, that was easier said than done. Not even the masterpiece that is Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” could keep you distracted for long enough.

Love was complicated. Even more so when the one you love is with another woman more than half of the time.

A pang of strange guilt ate away at your jealousy that seemed to sprout horns and a tail. It’s not like Billy wanted it to be this way, but it had to. If anything, you were making his life harder rather than the other way around. The second you came into his life you changed any plans he thought he had secured.

You met Billy after you transferred to Woodsboro High. It started as any cliché teen romance does. You shared some of the same classes, but when you walked through the door, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The second you made eye contact a fire started to burn between the two of you. One so fierce that it couldn’t just be shrugged off as newfound attraction.

For a year you were simply friends. A title that betrayed the growing tension between the two of you. It was hard to even be in the same room as Billy. Your whole being practically screamed at you to be as close to him as you possibly could. Thankfully any closeness was disguised easily as the whole group was close to one another.

However, like any roaring fire, it was bound to get out of control. Everything came to a head when Billy was over at your house for some late-night studying. Usually, Stu or someone else from the group came with him during these rare sessions, but for the first time, you were both alone together.

The night was going suspiciously normal. That was until out of nowhere Billy grabbed your face to pull you into a searing kiss. Patience was a virtue, and Billy had neither.

In an instant, greedy hands explored foreign skin while two mouths savored each other’s taste. It didn’t take long for things to escalate further. Clothes were torn, moans were swapped, and any control that was holding the two of you back vanished.

You spent the rest of the night arched on your bed as a hungry mouth delved into you and even hungrier eyes never left your own.

For days after Billy contemplated over and over again about what he should do with you. In the end, he came to one conclusion; you were his. “End game” as you now liked to joke while twirling your pinkies together.

Not long after, Billy and Stu decided to let you on what they were planning.

Billy practically tore out his heart for you to hold. When he told you everything about his mother’s abandonment because of what happened with his father and Sidney’s mother; you were aghast. Soon enough his rage became your own.

Was it logical in any sense of the word? No; but love will make you do crazy things. Especially when your mind has already traveled to the darkest places. That’s why you and Billy were drawn together in the first place. Darkness recognizes other darkness and creates an inseparable bond. Even in death.

The sound of a knock coming from your window doesn’t startle you: but adds more fuel to your anger. It must be fun for him to run around Woodsboro doing whatever he wanted. Was that a petty way to think? Yes; but it was still the truth.

Book still in hand you decide to acknowledge the object of your desire and frustration. When you pull back the curtains a dark-haired boy is sitting on your windowsill like a gimmicky magic trick. Instead of pulling up the glass you just stare at him.

“Your mood is macabre.” Billy gives you a smirk as he gestures at your book. If he was trying to break the tension, it didn’t work.

Letting yourself indulge in your foolish heart you flip to the page with a red sticky note and read the quote below it. “I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.” Billy gives you a frown in silent understanding. Bram Stoker could voice your anguish far better than you ever could.

“And just like Dracula, you would make Judas proud with your jaded ruthlessness.” A character flaw that got his beloved killed. You might share that fate with the way things were going.

Billy is noticeably clenching his jaw as he stares at you through the glass. When you make no move to unlock the window he yells from the other side, “I’m not in the mood to play your games!” The irony of that statement makes you impulsively unlatch the window and slam it open. “My games? Do you know how much I’m sacrificing for you, Billy? I’m willing to risk my life for you because I love you! The least you can do is show that you care.”

Before you know it a hard body shoves into yours. In the process, your book falls to the ground and you lose your footing. Strong hands grab your hips before you can fall. With the aid of his grip on you, Billy makes you sit on the edge of your bed.

You tried to push at his chest but a hard squeeze of your hips made you look up. The way Billy stared down at you was almost intimidating as his legs brushed against your knees. He quite literally put you in your place.

“Trust me; I know.” The words come out in a growl. “Are you choosing to forget everything I’m doing for us? Do you think I like following around that fucking brat?”

The metaphorical horns sprout from your head when you answer the rhetorical question, “Well the two of you look real cozy together.” You hiss when his nails start to dig into your flesh.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not playing your part too. Randy? That pathetic fucker in your math class? We both know your innocence is all an act.” Each word is filled with more venom than the last. He was fed up, but you have been for much longer.

Pure anger takes over as you spit back, “You know? You’re right! What if I went around kissing and getting cozy with them then? Anything for the plan remember?” Billy grabs your jaws and pulls you inches away from his lips, “You don’t want to know what I would do.”

His grip was harsh enough to leave bruises. A part of you wanted him to. It was like a souvenir; a physical reminder that you were the only one that could expose Billy’s most carnal nature.

The line between violent obsession and love was so blurred it practically didn’t exist. Wasn’t that the appeal though; the exhilarating high of not knowing if you would be an unrelenting duo or tear each other into pieces? At this point either option was tantalizing.

As if he was thinking about the same prospects, Billy starts to graze your jaw with his teeth. Rapid breaths fan your skin making goosebumps erupt as the anticipation started to build. He trails down your neck till he nips the thin skin at the juncture of your collarbone and shoulder.

“When will you understand you drive me fucking crazy?” His voice edged with a grave vulnerability.

“More than you already are?” Dark eyes come back up to stare into yours, “So much more.”

Before you can heave out a proper response a shrill ringing starts coming from your desk. It takes a little pushing before Billy begrudgingly lets you go.

Rubbing your temples, you pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey! Tatum’s at my place helping me pick a costume for tonight and we need to consult you.”

As Sidney starts talking excitedly about what they are going to wear, you turn your attention back to Billy and nod your head toward your open window. He hesitates until you make the gesture again. Luckily for you, you were too preoccupied for him to get into another spat.

Unbeknownst to Billy, your heart clutches as you watch him leave from whence, he came. Just like usual, nothing was resolved after his surprise visit. Billy got to come and go as he pleased, while you greedily took whatever scraps of attention, he spared you.

Fuck. You were getting angry all over again.

“Did you hear me?”

Shaking your head to clear your mind for the hundredth time today you force a smile against the receiver. “Sorry, Sid. What did you say?”

Sighing Sidney thankfully doesn’t pry and repeats herself, “I think you should wear something red. Put yourself out there.”

“Nothing screams ‘I’m game’ more than red! Oh; and something short! Don’t skimp on that!” Tatum yells from what you surmise is Sidney’s closet.

Maybe they were on to something. “Okay, Billy,” You thought. “Let the real games begin.”

-

By the time you make it to Randy’s place, the party was already in full swing. Despite how Billy and Stu made fun of him, Randy was good at wrangling people together.

The vibration of the music coming from the house tickled your fingers as you knocked on the door.

Randy opens the door revealing a Hugh Hefner-Esque silken pajama set paired with loafers and a pipe hanging from his upturned lips. How not fitting and fitting at the same time.

“Where’re your bunnies?”

His smile grows, “If I had a pair of ears, you could make it work.”

It was true. Your outfit merely consisted of a red dress that fell above your mid-thigh with a black corset cinching the middle and a pair of black heeled boots with fishnets. The ironic red devil horns adorning your head made your outfit an actual costume. Safe to say you followed Tatum’s advice perfectly.

Randy widens the door to let you in. As you walk in you scan your surroundings. You recognized a couple of people from school and some not so familiar before you found whom you were looking for.

Stu and Tatum were dressed as Fred and Daphne, although you thought Shaggy would fit Stu’s personality better. (hehe) To your petty delight, Sidney and Billy were not in a couple’s costume. Sidney was dressed as a cute witch and Billy was in casual attire.

Spotting you at the same time, your friends excitedly wave at you. Sidney bumps Billy with her shoulder, “Doesn’t she look drop-dead gorgeous?”

“Consider me in mourning,” Billy mumbles into his beer.

Ignoring his muted response, Sidney and Tatum run up to you.

They immediately bombard you with squeals and compliments. Moments like these almost made you second guess what you were participating in. Almost.

“Listen, about Stu-“ Tatum starts.

“Stu is Stu. Don’t apologize on his behalf. On the bright side, I have a free pass to kick his balls in.” Tatum and Sidney giggle as you effectively calm any worries. All Stu was doing was making you feel less and less guilty about that stab to the side coming his way.

Regardless, you had bigger plans for tonight. Plans that included the unsuspecting Randy Meeks lounging on the leather sofa in the living room.

Booze was such a deliciously bad idea. Sure, it had the upside of making you become the life of the party, but the downside was that it made you a little too friendly. Only two beers in and you found yourself sitting on Randy’s lap with your arm secured around his neck as you both looked at the TV.

Everyone was dancing and chatting, but here you were watching a movie in the middle of a house party. The damsel in distress screams as the killer grabs her hair and makes her tumble down the stairs she just tried to run up. “This is exactly what I’ve been saying! Don’t run up the stairs if a psycho with a knife is chasing you!”

Randy’s movie buff passion mixed with the corny scene manages to make you genuinely laugh for the first time today. The sound caught the attention of whom you wanted hook, line, and sinker. Billy’s eyes were pure black as he watched you snuggle into Randy.

He knew exactly what you were trying to do based on your prior argument. To his increasing frustration, it was working.

As you glance toward Billy you try to figure out how to up the ante. After only a minute, a mischievous idea pops into your head, making you smile far too wide. The drunken haze you were in only increased your want to make Billy feel what you feel, consequences be damned.

Tracing your fingers along Randy’s jaw you look up at him through your lashes. “You’re always so passionate about this Randy. It’s so… adorable.” As you draw out your words you notice how his adam’s apple jumps.

Randy tries to laugh it off, “Dumb and Dumber would say that makes me a loser.” Sitting up you ghost your lips against his ear, “I’m not them though am I.” It takes everything in you not to burst into a fit of laughter when Randy’s eyes quickly flit to your cleavage pressed against his chest. “Certainly not.”

His empty beer bottle clunks to the ground in an almost comedic fashion. Swiftly you swipe up the bottle and stand. The second you do so Randy crosses his legs. It’s nice to know you still got it. “I’ll fetch us some more, don’t stray too far.”

You hear him mumble “I couldn’t even if I wanted to” under his breath which makes you snicker. Looking up you hope to feel the victory of seeing Billy’s rage, but the spot he was occupying next to Stu was empty. As you open your mouth to ask Stu where Billy is, he merely shakes his head with an expression you couldn’t read.

Sighing you make your way to the back of the house. Billy must have gone home. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to do that to avoid making a scene. Still, a win is a win.

Flipping the light switch you walk into the dim garage. The hum of the bulb melded with the muffled voices inside the house. You were thankful for the reprieve.

The small set of steps creaked under your boots. Even with the light on, the garage was still dark enough that you had to strain your eyes to find the fridge.

Opening the fridge, you sigh at the cold air that wisps across your hot skin. When you leaned forward to grab two beers a creak made you whip around.

No one was behind you. “Paranoid much?” You ask yourself letting out an exasperated chuckle. It didn’t help that you have been high-strung for the last couple of months. That’s only more reason why you need to get fucked up tonight.

Toasting the air, you chug down one of the beers. You place the empty bottle on the nearby workbench and grab a new one. Swaying slightly, you make it up the stairs again.

Blowing out a breath you scold yourself for your anxiety. How cliché was it to be scared of a dark room? Nothing would happen here of all places.

Unlike before, all the people near the door were gone. Just as you’re about to step out of the hallway a rough hand pulls your forearm. Before you can cry out another hand clamps around your mouth while you’re pulled into a room. The beers in your hand fall victim to the hard floor as they shatter.

The door slammed shut with a bang, but you’re positive no one was able to hear it over the bumping music and cacophony of voices. The breath is knocked out of you when the hard wall meets your back. A hand moves to squeeze your neck as harsh words are pressed into your ear, “I think it’s about time you learn a fucking lesson.”

The familiar voice makes your frantic heartbeat go even faster. When you try to talk back your attempt is muffled by the hand still secured over your mouth. Billy lets out a chuckle that is far from humorous. “You’re so beautiful when you’re quiet.”

The fingers around your neck move to tangle in your strands of hair. You groan at the sharp pain when he pulls your head back. Like the predator he was, he descended on his prey.

Sharp teeth tug and nip at your skin. Each burning sensation is followed by the coolness of his tongue as he sucks over each spot. The pain was synonymous with pleasure as Billy’s cruelty was synonymous with his love.

Desperate for more connection you try to grab at Billy’s shirt. Your attempt is quickly thwarted. Each wrist is caught in his much larger hand. Now that your mouth was free you sucked in much-needed air.

“Fuck you.” His grip turned into pure steel as you made futile efforts to get free. “Don’t worry baby; I plan to.” Rough lips slam onto yours. There was no finesse in the kiss, but you didn’t care. Unsatiated need made you both feral.

The lust mixed with alcohol drove you mad. In retaliation, you bite Billy’s lip. If he wasn’t going to play nice neither were you. You’re rewarded with a groan and a push of Billy’s hips. Now you were so flush together you could feel something hard press against you even through the layers of fabric.

Each grind made you slick to the point of discomfort. Looking down Billy notices the newfound wet spot on his jeans. In an instant, one of his fingers is stroking at your entrance. “This better all be for me.” Of course, it was, but you wanted a fight.

“Why do you care?” The sound of fabric tearing fills the room as your stockings and panties are destroyed. “What the fuck-“ Before you can get your anger out two thick fingers deftly fill you. Billy smiles when you clench around him. “Don’t think I didn’t see you staring at me the whole time. We both know the only man who can satisfy you is me.”

“Prove it then.” Those three words were all it took for everything to go into hyperdrive. Metal clanks as Billy made quick work of his jeans. You almost sigh in relief when his warm length falls against you. When Billy was inside you, you were an extra seven inches.

Instinctively you wrap your legs around Billy’s hips. He is deceptively sweet as he strokes your clit before proclaiming, “I’m going to treat you like the slut your acting like.” With that Billy sheaths himself in your depths. You cry out at the sudden fullness. It had been far too long since you’d been connected like this.

Without giving you time to adjust, he starts pummeling you. Your body feels overstimulated at the sudden flurry of sensation that was everywhere all at once. Billy was so close that every time he pushed into you his groin rubbed against your clit. Hands grabbed and glided over every inch of your body. It was like he was learning your body all over again.

Your moans quickly turned into uncoherent pleas that only made a sadistic smile pull at his lips. “This is what you fucking wanted, huh? For me to fuck you like the attention whore you are?” His words came out through clenched teeth. Each thrust of his hips was harder than the last. When you tried to respond all that came out were pathetic moans.

“Tell me!” Billy was always demanding, but your brain was too scrambled to make a snarky remark. You managed to stutter out a breathless, “Yes.” He buried his face in your neck. Hot breath further warmed hot skin. Your costume couldn’t have been more appropriate.

“I’m going to kill that fucker Randy just for the way he was looking at you.” And you did not doubt that. A part of you looked forward to it. By the way, a smile tickled your neck, Billy felt the way you clenched at his words. Was it love if you wouldn’t kill for each other?

As your bodies melded together you mewled out sweet words to atone for your past disputes. His thrust became deep and slow at your words. A tenderness that felt like whiplash compared to his previous roughness. The pressure deep in your core was building until you were certain it was going to explode any second.

You wanted to scream when Billy pulled out of you, but you were quickly silenced when he dropped to his knees. Your head falls against the wall when his mouth descends on your sex. His tongue lashes out to soothe the tender flash that was just subject to his sensual attack. While Billy’s mouth devoured you like you were his last supper, his fingers stroked your throbbing bud.

His actions sent a silent message, “See what you get when you obey me?”

In seconds you were gasping his name and pulling at his hair. By now the ongoing party outside melted away and all you could feel was Billy. With a cry of his name your orgasm hits like a crashing meteor; the resulting sparks make your vision spotty.

Amid your high Billy gets back up to push back inside you. He groans at the spasming of your inner walls while he chases his release. Grunts and growls spill from him like the animal he ways. All he craved was carnal desire and his blood lust.

After three deep thrusts that made you thud against the wall, Billy pulled you into a kiss unlike any you’d had before. Warmth floods your core as he gives you all the passion you yearned to feel for weeks. You moan out “I love you” like a prayer over his lips. Even the devil had those who worshipped him.

Billy moves so your eyes are inches apart. “You are mine got it? All fucking mine.” Instead of the words coming out harsh, they were nearly a whisper. Not a declaration, but a fact etched in stone. Although it wasn’t the coveted three-letter phrase, it meant just the same.

Billy’s dark eyes pierced straight into your soul in a way that turned you on while simultaneously scaring you. He didn’t just indulge in your body but consumed you. Billy was pure evil wrapped in sin and you were his fallen angel ripe for the taking.

Bonus:

Safe to say you stayed away from Randy for the rest of the night. Half because you more than learned your lesson and half because if you didn’t stay leaned against the wall your legs would collapse in on themselves.

Hanging out on the side, away from the majority of other students, you watch Billy chat with Sidney. He had that wide crooked grin plastered on his face and an arm slung around her. Jealousy should have burst back to the surface, but you knew who was the one that created that smile.

You were so distracted studying every last detail of your lover; you jumped when you felt a solo cup plop into your old one.

“You’re welcome.” You stare up dumbly at Stu as he sips his drink. “For what? Being a dickhead all day?”

“For being the wingman of the century. When the two of you haven’t shacked up in a while you both get all moody and agitating. I fastened the process.” You take a sip of your drink to take in what he just said. When the realization dawns, you dissolve into a fit of coughs.

“You busted my balls not to piss me off, but to help me… get off?”

Stu breaks out into a huge grin, “Bingo! As cute as the longing angst routine is, the stick it shoves up Billy’s ass isn’t so cute.” Stu was Billy’s honorary punching bag when he was in one of his infamous foul moods.

He winks and pushes himself off the wall to make his way toward Tatum. Before he makes it too far, he yells over his shoulder, “Love the new necklace by the way.”

Confused you look down. Your cheeks turn crimson red at the multiple dark bruises decorating your neck and collarbone. You curse and look at whose handiwork this was. Sensing your gaze, Billy scans you up and down. The further darkening of his eyes conveyed all you needed to know. There was more where that came from.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis #scream #scream x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #delirious masterlist

[jessicascharacterbananza]

Wake up call-polyghostface imagine !!!Smut!!!

I am not responsible for anyone underage reading this material. I’m also not putting an age limit on my writing, I had read a lot worse when I was young.

——————————————

They never woke up on time. No matter how loud the alarm clock, how much you would shake them, they would not get out of bed. Stu was the worst, he had a habit of being late to everything which was mainly due to his oversleeping.

You had organised for the three of you to go to a breakfast dinner date, which was booked for an hours time. Whilst you had gotten showered, done your skincare, gotten dressed and done your hair, the boys had slept.

Not wanting to miss the reservation you had been looking forward to all week, you decided on a different method to wake them up.

Climbing onto the bed, you pulled the covers down to expose their boxers. It had been a hot summer and the boys had u see that as their excuse to sleep almost naked every night. Not that you were complaining.

Careful not to wake them just yet, you pulled down each of their waistbands to expose their lengths. You wrapped you hand around each of them and began to stroke them, watching as them twitched in their sleep. Growing the pace you applied slightly more pressure, which caused Stu it left out a soft moan.

Billy began to stir so you took that as an opportunity to wrap your lips around his head and suck slightly. Licking him clean of the pre cum, you felt a hand push your head down. Gagging you pulled back, letting out his cock with a pop and feeling spit string from your chin.

You smirked at Billy and watched his face grin in bemusement as you turned to Stu and deep throated him. He woke up with a start and you chuckled on his dick, listening to Billy’s heavy breathing. Beginning to bob your head up and down, you hummed as you felt Billy’s hands reach down your trousers.

His hands teased at your underwear, running his fingertips along the hem. You closed your eyes, willing him to reach underneath and give you what he knew you desired. You whined and tried to move your hips to get some much needed friction but was met by a hard slap to your ass as he retracted his fingers.

Stu’s hand came down and pulled your hair back, forcing you off his cock. He instead replaced it with his tongue, kissing you deeply and pulling you onto his lap. Billy’s lips met your neck and you hummed as you felt Stu begin to pull at your shirt. He raised it above your head as Billy grabbed your bra clasp, undoing it in seconds.

Stu grabbed your tits, massaging them with hunger in his eyes. He reached forward and began sucking them. You moaned as you felt Billy reach down your trousers once more.

“We need to leave soon,” you whisper as Stu continues his attack on your chest.

“What would you rather, we go eat pancakes and act like we’re normal, or stay in bed all day and make each other feel good?” Billy asks before finally slipping his hand into your underwear.

He didn’t need an answer, your moans were enough.

Hey, it’s the author. Thinking of taking some requests for Billy and Stu (separately or together). Comment if you have a request or questions about any characters I will write for. :)))

#billy loomis #billy x reader #poly ghostface #poly!ghostface #polyamory #scream #scream 1996 #stu macher #stu matcher x you #stu x billy #stu x reader #smut tw #smutty

[fleursfairies]

im in a stranger things character music mood so here are some artists each character for sure likes

will: super obvious but the clash, the cure, david bowie, billy idol, the police, talking heads, etc. (i feel like this is a very basic answer but its the truth)

mike: he is so 90s so weezer, oasis, radiohead, etc (i already made a post abt this)

dustin: hall&oats, tears for fears, wham!, KISS, TOTO, a-ha, michael jackson, duran duran, baltimora

lucas: idky the first thing i thought of was bananarama but he would so love bananarama. beegees, michael jackson, earth wind & fire, jackson 5, stevie wonder, george michael, prince, idk

el: i dont think she really has time to listen to music but she would like popular 80s pop. like cyndi lauper, madonna, wham!, electric light orchestra, kim wilde, stacey q, the gogos, tiffany, soft cell, reo speedwagon, abba, bonnie tyler

max: kate bush obviously, blondie, duran duran, bon jovi, pixies, soft cell, tears for fears, rick springfield, no doubt, billy idol, pat benatar, tiffany, joan jett, etc

max and el are similar but el's is more 'listening to music for the first ever time' vibes while max is more lived in

jonathan: talking heads, the ramones, the clash, bowie, duran duran but only girls on film, the cramps, depeche mode, R.E.M., phil collins, the kinks, the animals, billy idol, the cure, the cars, blue oyster cult, jimi hendrix, styx, pixies, pink floyd, cheap trick, genesis, ozzy osbourne, foreigner, etc. i could go on and on. i think there would be a little more 60s and 70s in here too.

nancy: madonna, heart, reo speedwagon, billy joel, roxy music, cyndi lauper, joan jett, pat benatar, hall & oats, blondie, kim wilde, whitney houston, kate bush, tiffany, wham!, soft cell, bananarama, bonnie tyler, stacey q, lita ford, the bangles, cher, pet shop boys, john mellencamp, paula abdul, u2, olivia newton john, etc

steve: bon jovi, survivor, journey, boston, yes, DEVO, dead or alive, eddie money, kansas, foreigner, scorpions, warrant, etc. basically just basic (but good) bands that make him feel like a badass LMAO

robin: idk, just a slightly dorkier version of nancys playlist if that makes sense. i can envision it in my head i just cant execute it

joyce: heart, fleetwood mac, the mamas & the papas, journey, foreigner, boston, tom petty, toto, guns n roses, janis joplin, the rolling stones, jimi hendrix, blue oyster cult, ELO, led zeppelin, grateful dead, pink floyd, jefferson airplane

hopper: bad company, joe cocker, bob seger, eagles, the cars, jefferson starship, bob dylan, journey, styx, johnny cash, bruce springsteen

i could probably add so many more artists but it would probably go off the rails so i just gave u the basic ones

also i was looking at character playlists on spotify and most of them sucked (steve harrington is not listening to mitski) so heres some inspo for actual music they would listen to if you want to make a more accurate playlist

#i like some of these lists better than the others #stranger things #stranger things 5 #will byers #mike wheeler #byler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #el hopper #eleven #jane hopper #max mayfield #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #joyce byers #jim hopper #music #80s music

[milesdickpic]

His Little Girl | Bradley Bradshaw X Reader

His Little Girl Master List (WIP) 🫶🏼

Ch. 1: Just the Beginning

Ch. 2: Little Leia

Ch. 3: Revenge of the Sixth

Ch. 4: The Real Reason I’m Here

Ch. 5: Austin ❤️

Ch. 6: The Best Day of Your Life

Ch. 7: The Beach Scene…

Ch. 8: Bradley…Bradshaw…

Ch. 9: A Date?

Ch. 10: Time to Let Go

Ch. 11: “Stay, Austin.”

Ch. 12: You Were Each Other’s First Everything

Ch. 13: His Little Girl 🥹🫶🏼

Ch. 14: Every Time I Close My Eyes

Ch. 15: Goodbye, Again…

Ch. 16: Bradley’s Wings

Ch. 17: Dagger 2, Up and Ready

Ch. 18: “MAAAAAAV!”

Ch. 19: They’re Mine

Ch. 20: Our Little ‘Bob’

Ch. 21: Papa Mav Duty

Ch. 22: Bradley Meets Billy

Ch. 23: The Banquet

Ch. 24: Leia’s Family 🥰

Ch. 25: Hangman’s Little Wing-Girl

Ch. 26: It’s Been a Week and a Half…

Ch. 27: Lieutenant Bradshaw

Ch. 28: Leia is a Kindergartner

Ch. 29: Daddy Rooster, Sir. 🫡

Ch. 30: Leia’s Callsign Party

Ch. 31: Name: Leia Rey, Her Callsign: …..?

Ch. 32: Fanboy the Tooth Fairy

Ch. 33: Dagger Squad vs. Vapor’s Homework

Ch. 34: Welcome Home, Baby

Ch. 35: Party the Night Away

Ch. 36: Rooster’s Cockpit (that’s still me… 🥺)

Ch. 37: Scarred for Life

Ch. 38: Paradise

Ch. 39: The Venue

Ch. 40: Last Day in Paradise

Ch. 41: Welcome Home Kisses

Ch. 42: Leia’s Puppy

Ch. 43: Best Man and Maid of Honor

Ch. 44: Bridesmaids and Groomsmen

Ch. 45: Will You Give Me Away?

Ch. 46: The Fitting

Ch. 47: The Final Venue

Ch. 48: Practice Dinner

Ch. 49: The Breakdown

Ch. 50: Bachelor vs. Bachelorette

Ch. 51: Wedding Planning

Bradshaw Wedding Invitations 🤵🏻‍♂️❤️👰🏻‍♀️

Ch. 52: Our Little Secret

Ch. 53: At Last, My Love

Ch. 54: Love Forever, Nick and Carole Bradshaw

Ch. 55: The Wedding Pt. 1 " 'Til Death Do Us Part' "

Ch. 56: The Wedding Pt. 2 "The VIPs"

Bradshaw Wedding Reception Playlist 🤵🏻‍♂️🔥👰🏻‍♀️🍾

Ch. 57: The Wedding Pt. 3 "Surprise, Baby"

Ch. 58: The Wedding Pt. 4 "Bound Forever"

Ch. 59: The Deployment

Ch. 60: Take Care of Momma For Me

Ch. 61: The Bradshaw Twins

Ch. 62: Phantom

Ch.63: "Mav, Tell Me the Truth"

Ch. 64: Little White Lie

Ch. 65: Package Received

Ch. 66: Austin the Caregiver

Ch. 67: Perfect Father? Perfect Husband?

Ch. 68: Reunited With the Love of Our Life

Ch. 69: Two Weeks with Nat and Jake

Ch. 70: Bye Bye Kindergarten 👩🏻‍🎓

Ch. 71: "This One's For You, Dad."

Ch. 72: My Heart Will Go On

Ch. 73: "I Can't Do This Without Him."

Ch. 74: "I'll Always Be In Your Heart."

Ch. 75: The Awakening

Ch. 76: Baby Steps

Ch. 77: The Long Road Home

Ch. 78: It's Not Your Time. Fight.

Ch. 79: Welcome to the World, Bradshaw Boys

Ch. 80: Leia and Luke Bradshaw

Ch. 81: Luke and Bradley Bradshaw

Ch. 82: First Night Madness

Ch. 83: The God Parents

Ch. 84: Dadley Dadshaw

Ch. 85: Leia's Luau

Ch. 86: Days in the Life of the Bradshaws

Ch. 87: A Bradshaw Christmas

Ch. 88: Sleeping in the New Year

Ch. 89:

Ch. 90:

Ch. 91:

Ch. 92:

Ch. 93:

Ch. 94:

Ch. 95:

#His Little Girl Bradley Bradshaw x Reader #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Rooster Bradsahw #Rooster #Bradley Bradshaw #Top Gun Maverick #Top Gun #TGM cast #HLG #Bradley Bradshaw fanfiction #Bradley Bradshaw x Reader #Rooster x Reader #Rooster Bradshaw x Reader #Leia Rey #The Bradshaws #Dagger Squad #Roosterscockpit Originals

[sublimecatgalaxy]

can you do 18 and 21 from your prompts list with billy hargrove🤍

I love soft!billy man. I know it's not canon but I think it would be if they didn't unalive him lol.

'Gentle' is not a word most commonly associated with Billy.

He's been known as tough, rough around the edges, a bad boy, an asshole; sure. He's been describe as being cold and standoffish, having a short fuse, and being successful with anyone with breasts, especially when he first moved here to Hawkins from California.

He used to be someone associated with violence even.

But since the night at the mall, he's been a completely different person. This person- this Billy- is associated with the word gentle among other words.

His hair sticks to my wet skin and my arms slither around his neck, holding him tightly to me as the warm water passes down between us. He's been insistent on us 'conserving water' together after late nights in the backseat of his car, but I know the real reason is his need to be close to me, intimate even. And who am I to complain. Considering he was never warm and gentle before almost dying, I would never not take whatever he would offer me in the realm of intimacy.

Especially since I'm lucky he's even alive, that I get any time with him at all.

His face is tucked tightly into the crook of my neck, his back rising and falling in quiet breaths as silence consumes us, the only noise being the quiet music playing in his room, the sound of Lucas laughing down the hall with Max and the sound of the water running above us.

"You're warm." He grumbles quietly against my skin, a soft smile stretching across my lips as my fingers brush against his scalp, soothing his aching mind. Since being flayed, he's been struggling with terrible headaches, sometimes unable to keep his eyes open or focus, like now. The lights are completely off in the bathroom, not wanting the buzz of the fluorescent lights to hurt him any more than he's already feeling, the only light being the small lamp in the corner of the room.

"How are you feeling?" He shrugs at my question and I take that at face value, knowing that he just sometimes doesn't want to get into the horror stories that he's still struggling with; the stories he's not able to confide in anyone about.

He straightens up, his eyes barely seen in the dark room, the steam swarming around us as he leans down to capture my lips in a brief kiss. I hum quietly, rubbing my hands up and down his back as his own hands secure themselves on my hips.

"You bring me a sense of comfort that I haven’t felt in a really long time." He whispers shyly, eyes dipping lower than mine and he leans away from me, overwhelmed by his own words. He acts as if he didn't want them to leave his mind, shocked to hear them out loud, wanting to stay tough and distant like he used to be but something tells me that he struggles a lot to not tell people how he's feeling and the last person he wants to hide things from is me.

"I'm glad, Billy. You deserve comfort for once in your life." My hand cups his jaw gently, his head bobbing in a disbelieving nod and his eyes flicker back and forth between mine. He doesn't say anything else, just bites at his lip until I force him to stop, my lips capturing his in another distracting kiss.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan

#billy #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic

[latelyanobsession]

Whole Obsession

summary this newfound obsession was sparked by complete accident, but now that the cat's out of the bag, there's no stopping it.

warnings smut, pwp, no plot, m receiving, oral, rimming, teasing, fingering, hole play, shameless needy needy boy

word count 869

note brainrot that's been rotting for a while and i wanted you to share it with me. this fic will be gender-neutral and only feature x reader pronouns of "you/your" as the fic is centered on billy and will have no major descriptors of the reader's body. have fun my fellow gremlins. 😌 maybe i should make this part 1 and then make a part 2????

"More.... more," he groaned through heavy pants, hips rolling in time with each bob of your head. He was making it difficult with every reflexive thrust shoving his cock deeper down your throat until you gagged and choked.

This wasn't working for you as you pulled off for the third time to cough and breathe.

"Don't stop," Billy pouted, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. "I can't breathe genius," you complained with a hand on your throat. He smirked, falling back against the mattress, "Not my fault," he mused.

"You gonna finish me or what?" Billy asked impatiently, a knee crooking upward. You huffed, crossing and then uncrossing your arms over your chest. You were anything but a quitter. He licked his lips with a pleased smile, hips wiggling to meet you as you stretched back out along the mattress.

Determined not to tap out this time, you wrapped a hand around his base in a tight grip making him tilt his head back with a groan. Spit-slicking his cock you worked him back to full attention. "God just like that!" he hummed appreciatively as his legs splayed open for you.

You swallowed him down, your hand following your lips in rhythm. Up down, up down. "Fuck baby...!" he drawled, a loose hand wandering over your head. "More. Ughhh. More!" You spared a glance up at him. He was already lost in it, more wouldn't make much difference, but you didn't want to disappoint. Didn't want him to leave with that smug-ass look on his face.

Licking a flat stripe up his length, you pulled away, thumb rubbing in pressured circles against the hardened member as you traced your way down with your other free hand. With wet popping kisses your mouth traveled from his inner thigh to his taint, moving up to nuzzle the soft runched skin of his sac. His hips bucked as you licked and suckled him, your lips wrapping around one ball, tongue gently pulling him in. Billy was gone, quickly growing limp and pliant under your grasp as you backed off with a wet pop, treating its twin to the same.

Thoroughly wet, you plucked at his sensitive skin, small gasps falling from his open lips. His voice was going hoarse, cracking from strain and use.

You wanted to wring every single noise possible from his lungs as you pinned his cock flat to his torso with your palm, lifting him so you could taste him further. Licking down his sac you hooked your tongue, gliding it along his underside, a great bodily shudder rewarding you.

"More... 'm so close," he whined, thighs clenching.

You couldn't help but smile, as you dragged your tongue down his midline, pulling back and spitting only to smear it across his taint. He whined loudly, hips rutting helplessly against your hand.

Obliging him, you wrapped your occupying hand around his cock. The crown was covered in precum, which you generously used. Slowly gliding your thumb back and forth across his slit.

Your tongue was graduating lower, swiping and wagging further with each breath. Billy was shaking as his hips strained forward to accommodate you, his spine curling.

"Wanna stop?" you asked. "More," he panted as he pulled his legs up against his sides.

His hole was tight, just looking at it made you ache and throb. Reaching out, you lightly pressed a thumb to it in greeting. Billy responded in a low, broken moan that made your spine tingle. Retracting your hand, you lowered yourself back down and placed chaste kisses on each of his ass cheeks. In a broad-reaching swipe, you placed your first lick.

"Fuuuuuuck," he droned, his toes curling. Pulling back, you watched his hole clench and flex from your touch. It was making you hungry for him.

Abandoning your grasp on his cock, you spread him, your index finger lightly prodding his puckered hole. "Ooooh, oh!" Billy whimpered, adjusting to grab his dick and take your place. Dipping your tongue, you lapped at his hole. Delving deep with each thrust of your tongue, you pried him open, the taught muscle throbbing on your tastebuds.

"–m gonna cum!" he warned, voice breaking. But you didn't care as you maintained your pace and opened his hole. Wetting him down, you slipped a finger inside, gently setting up a pace as you kept lapping him up, loudly squelching and smacking your lips against his damp skin.

"Fuck, I'ma –!" he cut off, as his body seized up beneath you, his hips faltering as his hand pumped his swollen cock to completion. Thick spurts of cum shot from his dick as he whined, his hips struggling in your grasp. Your tongue riding him through the crescendo.

"Ah! Ah, aaaahhhh! Too much! T'much!" He whimpered, as you slowed your pace, slowly backing your finger out of his hole. As you licked him one final time, he let out a droning cry before letting his legs down. His chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

"More?" you asked with a smirk, climbing up to face him. He opened one eye to peer at you but said nothing. Instead, he rolled into your arms and closed his eyes.

#inthelo #billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargrove x gn reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things x gn reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[prescottsgirl]

SHE’S SO SOFT LIKE SILK CHIFFON

sidney prescott x tatum riley

summary: emotions are high after an eventual night. tatum and sidney can’t keep their feelings contained anymore at their sleepover. they can’t keep their hands to themselves either.

warnings: none

note: my first tatney/satum fic!! also title is inspired by silk chiffon by muna bc duh

Tatum lightly bobs her head to the soft melody playing and Sidney looks over at the poster on the wall of a shirtless actor. She thinks; she doesn't want to kiss that man as much as she does Tatum. She should feel attracted to that, but the only ounce of attention that picture gets is when Tatum makes her flustered and she has to look at anything else besides her.

She thinks about what it would feel like to kiss Tatum. To think about soft blonde hair, and soft skin, and kissing her best friend. She wants to do each others makeup, and giggle at movies, and paint each others nails, but she also really wants to kiss Tatum.

She notices all the little things about Tatum, and she falls further in love with her. How she wears shirts that barely cover her stomach and she loves to show off her legs with little skirts. But when it was just her and Sidney, she always wore childish pajamas and cuddled with her stuffed animals. Sidney got to see all of her. Not just the Tatum that the boys want to see.

"I think you're going to drill a hole through my wall if you stare at that picture any longer," Tatum says boldly. Sidney turns her head and looks shocked at the fact that Tatum was still even there. She realizes that she was staring right at her.

"What?"

Tatum rolls her eyes at her, but she doesn't do it with malice. "Okay, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Sidney shakes her head, but she continues on talking, "I just— do you think something’s...wrong with me?"

"What?" Tatum now says. She looks offended that her best friend would ever say something negative about herself. "This is going to sound bias but absolutely not. Why? Did grease-ball-Billy say something to you?"

"No," Sidney sharply replies. She broke up with Billy a few weeks ago. She wasn't attracted to him and she didn't think it was fair to continue the relationship. He, still, continues to try and change her mind. "I just— why don't I like Billy? You always tell me how he's so perfect and all the girls love him..."

Tatum sighs and moves over to the other bed that she bought specifically for Sidney when she sleeps over. Somehow they always end up in one bed by the morning. She sits cross cross and is directly facing her best friend. Sidney can smell Tatum's strawberry shampoo from where she sitting, and she can already feel herself falling into a hazy trance.

"So what? You're not attracted to Billy. There are so much better men out there." Tatum says it like it's not big deal, but Sidney's heart sinks and she feels the walls closing in on her.

Tatum notices that Sid's not content with her response. There's something deeper that's bugging her. "You don't need a boyfriend anyways. You have your best friend." Tatum nudges Sidney's shoulder and she only slightly smiles. Right. Her Best friend. That seems to be the problem.

"It's just that every time Billy touches me I just want to be small and run away. But everytime you even hug me I feel safe and it's comforting." Tatum's eyebrows raise at her best friends confession. Sidney doesn't even process what had been said until she sees Tatum's reaction. "Oh. I didn't mean it like—"

"It's fine," Tatum says. She doesn't want Sidney to work herself up, she doesn't want Sidney to stop talking either. "Keep talking."

Sidney was always very smart, but Tatum knew more about love and relationships than her. She was never interested and always had to pretend that she wasn't staring at the women in a romcom when Tatum would make her watch them.

"I know you're my best friend. It's supposed to feel this way."

"What way?" Tatum pushes, because they'll get nowhere if she doesn't. Sidney is good at doubting herself and falling back on her feelings.

"Like...jealous when Stu holds your waist or kisses you," Sidney admits, and her cheeks burn a bright shade of red because deep down she knows that that's not what best friends are supposed to feel. And deep down she knows that she wants to be able to kiss her the way Stu does.

Tatum reaches out and holds onto Sidney's waist. It's awkward because they're sitting down, but Sidney can only focus on the feeling of gentle fingertips on her body. Every time Billy tries to hold her like that, she squirms away. He's too aggressive with it and his fingers poke too hard into her skin. 

"Like this?" Tatum asks, referring to what makes Sidney so jealous.

"Mhm." Sidney's voice is weak and fragile, and if they weren't sitting so close then Tatum wouldn't have even heard her.

"I hate when Billy would touch you like this," she moves her hand down to Sidney's thigh. Closer to her knee than anything because she respects her best friend.

Tatum watches a lump go down Sidney's throat as she swallows down her anxiety. "You got jealous of us too?"

"Mhm," Tatum now says, sounding more sensual than Sidney did. "Made me so mad. Wanna know why?" All Sidney can do now is nod. She really, really, wants to know why, but she forgot how to even speak.

"Because I wanted to do that to you." Tatum whispers it, and they're so close that Sidney actually hears it. She can feel her best friends breath against her face and it makes her shiver. But she's not even cold. Why does she feel this way?

"Well...you— you finally got to," Sidney says and nervously chuckles. She feels like she ruined that moment but Tatum doesn't bat an eye.

"Maybe you should kiss me. So I can get the real idea."

Sidney doesn't even move. She doesn't even know how to do this. She's been in a romantic relationship but this is with Tatum. Her best friend, another woman, someone who actually makes her heart beat faster than it should.

"I don't know how..." Sidney trails off and hopes that her best friend comes to an understanding of her resistance. She wants to kiss Tatum so bad that it's actually dizzying, but she doesn't want to ruin it.

"Kiss me like you kiss Billy."

Sidney feels a boost of confidence with this. Tatum wants her to kiss her. She just wonders if Tatum wants it in the same way she does. She couldn't possibly...right?

Sidney puts her hand on Tatum's jaw so she doesn’t move. And it takes her a minute to actually put her lips on Tatum's. Her skin is just so fucking soft under her fingertips.

She finally moves her face closer. Her lips taste sweet like the cherry lollipops that she always sucks on. And then Sidney can't stop thinking about that goddamn lollipop and the way that her favorite blonde stares her down as she licks it. Suddenly, everything starts to piece together and make sense.

And she doesn't kiss Tatum like she kisses Billy. She kisses her likes she really wants it, like she needs it. That not how she kisses him.

The kiss doesn't last long, but neither of them seem to move more than a couple centimeters away from each other. They stare back at one another like they've witnessed the collapse and creation of the world.

Sidney doesn't know where to go from here. She liked it more than she thought she would.

"Do you feel something right here," Tatum pokes Sidney's stomach as she speaks, "that you don't feel when you kiss Billy?"

Sidney doesn't even want to answer that, because she can hardly even admit to it in the safety of her own head. Her face is a deeper shade of red now and Tatum's bright light is only accentuating that. That itself answers Tatum's question.

All Sidney does is nod and she doesn't understand why she feels the need to cry at this confession. She doesn't though. She just bites her tongue because crying right now would just be embarrassing.

"Me too." Sidney feels a little better at Tatum's same confession. If only it weren't for the nagging anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't supposed to like this. Her dad probably wouldn't approve and the entire school would be even more disgusted with her than they all already are. "I'm really into you, Sid."

But, suddenly, she doesn't care what anyone else thinks. All that matters is the fact that she just kissed her best friend and liked it. All that matters is that Tatum Riley just admitted to the same feelings Sidney has.

Sidney leans forward and presses her lips against Tatum's again. It's enough to show her that her feelings are certainly reciprocated.

Before Sidney knows it, she's being pushed back on the bed and Tatum's on-top, straddling her. Tatum's never moves her lips away from Sidney's. She can't get enough of the sweet taste of her best friend.

Tatum's blonde hair tickles Sidney's face and her body pressed against her makes her feel warm. But all she can think about is the way Tatum's tongue glides across her bottom lip, or even the way that her breasts press again her body. She thinks she's going to melt in this warmth.

Tatum's the one to pull back. She looks for any sign of discomfort on Sidney's face, but she can't seem to find it. She wants to keep kissing her, making her feel alive, but she can see her best friend is struggling to keep her heavy eyes open.

Maybe they should both sleep now. Maybe they should sleep and clear their heads.

Sidney holds Tatum by the back of her neck and tries to bring her in for more but she doesn't reciprocate it. She worries for a moment that she went too far, but Sidney quickly pushes back those thoughts as Tatum speaks. "You're so tired," she says. And it's the simplest thing in the world. They just made out, they just confessed their feelings, but Sidney's tired and she needs to sleep.

"I know but I wanna kiss you," her words are almost slurred. She's so drunk on Tatum. She needs to make up for all those years that she didn't kiss her best friend.

Tatum plops herself beside Sidney on the bed and before the young brunette can cuddle closer, she's being pulled on top of Tatum by her waist. She didn't know Tatum was that strong. Maybe she's just too sleepy.

She lays her head down on Tatum chest and the blonde girls arm wraps around Sidney's body. She feels so safe here. She hasn't felt so safe and comfortable since her mother died. But nobody can hurt her in Tatum's arms. She can rest. Finally, she can rest without being so afraid.

Tatum could stay up all night to make Sidney feel good, but Sidney was always had a schedule with herself. She would never be able to get up for school if she didn't go to bed. And Tatum cares more about Sidney's needs and wants than her own.

"Goodnight, Sid," Tatum says, and continues in a whisper, "I love you."

She's said it before. Of course she has. She loves her best friend. But now she loves her...girlfriend? Is that what she is now?

Sidney eyes quickly start closing in the comfort of her lovers arms until she's fully asleep. Tatum just watches with a gentle smile on her face. Watches the way her long dark eyelashes flutter, watches the way that her teeth show through the small gap of her parted lips.

She too eventually drifts off.

-

Sidney always thinks of Tatum as the sun goes down, and now it rises with her in Tatum's arms. It's a full circle, she's think. She's so glad that circles are never ending.

When Sidney wakes up, she's still in Tatum's arms, and the girl is still sleeping. She knows there's school today, and she's a good girl; she gets good grades and doesn't miss any days of school. But was the feeling of academic success better than this? She'd rather lay here in Tatum's warm arms than sit on a cold hard chair all day. So she simply doesn't wake her up.

Sidney tries to hold in a giggle at the way that Tatum's nose scrunches in her sleep as stray frizzy hair tickles her nose. She bites down on her lip, hardly realizing that she's nearly drawing blood. Her finger lightly trace the outline of the young blondes pale jawline.

She wants to lean down and replace her fingers with her lips, but her desires are interrupted by Tatum's eyes fluttering open. Her dark eyes were flaked with gold and Sidney seemed to be mesmerized by it. It suddenly didn't matter that they had this confusing affair going on. All that mattered was the way Tatum looked at Sidney like the sky rose and fell with her.

"Good morning," Tatum says it first, because she could see how lost Sidney looked.

Neither of them make an effort to move out of each others arms. It was then that they realized that they didn’t need to just sleep whatever happened last night off. They truly wanted what they gave each other.

"Mornin," Sidney responds and Tatum can hardly understand her when the brunette slurs her words with the way her mouth moves again hers.

Tatum's taken back but the sudden confidence in her lover. Her cheeks shine a bright shade of pink in the morning sunlight that peaks through the crack of her sheer curtains. She focuses on how noticeable Sidney's freckles are in the morning light, and the way that her lips are still plump from the kiss. She thinks she can get used to waking up like this.

"We gotta get dressed. Sorry for not waking you." Sidney’s not truly sorry. She knows Tatum shows up late to school most of the time and that she’d rather stay here in bed with her anyways.

Sidney attempts to get up, but Tatum grabs her arm and keeps her in place. There’s something in the way that Tatum grabs her that isn’t so greedy and aggressive. Her heart doesn’t sink when she’s pulled back. She doesn’t wonder if that hand around her arm is going to squeeze too tight until she just explodes. Tatum’s gentle, and her fingertips softly brush against Sidney’s arms while she holds it.

“Not so fast,” Tatum speaks to her in a quiet, tired manner. Her eyes are still foggy with sleep, and her brain is still in a dreamlike state. Maybe it’s just Sidney. Maybe she feels like she’s in a dream because she’s curled up in bed with Sid.

“We’re gonna be late—” Her words are cut off by the soft press of Tatum’s lips shutting her up. She sighs into it. A gentle, content sigh. And suddenly nothing else in the world matters too much.

“Okay now we can get dressed,” Tatum says, and gets up, but it takes Sidney a moment to process it.

-

Tatum sits at her vanity while she finishes up her makeup and begins doing her hair. Sidney’s stands in the background of Tatum’s mirror while she throws her clothes on. The young blonde tries so hard not to be distracted by Sidney’s lacy white bra on her body, or the soft pale skin of her stomach. She tries so hard to focus on her hair.

She gets frustrated as she tries to run a brush through her hair though. It's so frizzy and tangled and the more she brushes it, the puffier it gets. Tatum loves fashion and makeup, but as soon as she has to do her hair, it's a lost cause.

Sidney notices Tatum's struggle and walks over to her. She stands behind her and looks at her through the vanity mirror. "Stop fussing. Do you want me to do two braids for you?" Sidney talks so gentle and all of Tatum's anger flutters away. She picks up her brush before she even gets a response because she can't stand seeing Tatum so frustrated.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Tatum's picky with who touches her hair. In middle school, she was so stubborn that she wouldn't even let her own mother help her brush and style it. She would wait until she got to school to let Sidney do it for her. Sidney was always better at doing hair than she was and it never hurt when she brushes through all the knots for her.

She watched Sidney through the mirror the entire time that her hands work on her hair. Her eyes almost flutter closed as she has her blonde strands brushed through but she's too entranced by Sidney.

When she's done with her task, she looks at the braided hairstyle in the mirror. Instead, she meets Tatum's eyes, locking with hers. It's makes both of their cheeks burn a bright shade of red. Tatum doesn't get embarrassed that often, but this had caught her off guard.

Sidney finally clears her throat and lightly smiles. "All done. Ya like?"

"Love it, Sid. Thank you." They both pretend like it didn't happen. But then Tatum decides to stand up and kiss Sidney's pink cheek. She thinks it adorable how Tatum has to stand on her tippy toes to kiss her, especially with Sidney having a small heel on her boot.

Sidney turns her head to the side so she can properly kiss Tatum this time. Both girls are flustering messes at this point, but neither of them can stop.

"We should go have breakfast before we're late." Sidney says, somehow having Tatum's confidence rubbed off onto her now.

"Breakfast. Right. C'mon."

#scream #sidney prescott #tatum riley #neve campbell #rose mcgowan #scream 1996 #wlw #lesbian #tatney #satum #sidney prescott x tatum riley #tatney fic #satum fic #sidney prescott x tatum riley fic #sidney prescott x reader #tatum riley x reader #neve campbell x reader #scream 2 #scream 3 #scream 4 #scream 5

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [33K] summer camp, a few almost kisses, that friends to lovers shit and your own personal rule: no boys.

I want you to want me. 

The man in front of you seemed stressed. 

The fax machine was whirring, the phone was ringing and there was a large glass jar on the desk that was stuffed full of dollar bills, a faded label on the front that said “therapy kayak money.”

Jim Hopper, your new boss and camp leader, handed you a set of keys and a shirt, sighing as he scrubbed a hand over his moustached face. 

“Michigan? Right?” 

You weren’t sure if the man was asking where you were from or blessing you with a new name because he couldn’t remember your real one. But either way, you nodded. 

“Look kid, I’m sorry but things are crazy here today. The dumbass delivery truck is lost and we’re already a few counsellors down until the road through Martinsville opens back up.”

You raised your brows, confused. 

“Fallen tree,” Hopper waved his hand, “it’s fine. Listen, the campers don’t arrive for another three days anyway. Can you get yourself settled? I’ll find someone to show you the ropes soon, I just gotta answer some calls.”

You nodded again, clutching your faded shirt in your hands. The collar and cuffs matched the same sun bleached green that the word “staff” was printed in and the keys had a tab with “cabin thirty one” attached. 

Hopper must’ve seen your worried face because he sighed again, softening a little despite the way he was desperately shuffling papers and files. 

“You’ll be fine,” the man told you. It was almost reassuring. “The rest of the counsellors are great - well, the majority of them at least. Don’t talk to Billy. Anyway, the kids are easy enough and Bob actually makes some decent food in that old kitchen.”

Jim looked at you with kind eyes and his voice softened even further, despite the way the phone was still ringing. “Grab some breakfast, tell him I sent you, yeah? And take the morning to explore.”

It was alarming, the way you’d found yourself in the middle of Yellowwood State Forest, a whole other state away from home. But after graduating high school almost two years ago with absolutely zero idea of what you were supposed to do next, and an ex-boyfriend you so desperately wanted to avoid, you figured a few months in the wilderness wouldn’t do you any harm. Especially if you were getting paid for it.  

And besides, you were good with children. 

“Welcome to Camp Upside Down, kid, don’t eat the mushrooms,” Hopper smiled somewhat tiredly and then you were on your own. 

Fuck. 

Stepping out of the cabin, the warmth and smell of a new summer washed over you. The forest was quiet in the early morning but still very much alive, soft chirps and buzzes from hidden animals, insects that lurked in the too long grass by the edges of the lake. Something splashed by the dock, and in the distance, you could hear a car approaching, maybe two, one louder than the other. 

The dirt paths were empty, the lack of kids running around making Camp Upside Down seem almost serene. It was still early, the sun a little golden, the sky a little hazy and the light that shone through the tree canopy made pretty dappled patterns on the forest floor. Everything smelled like morning dew, damp grass and tree moss. 

And then your stomach grumbled. Deciding that your bags could stay in your car for a little while longer, you took Hopper’s advice and headed towards what you assumed was the mess hall. The dirt paths led the way through trees, past the unlit camp fire that sat proud in the middle of the forest clearing. 

You could smell coffee as you approached, maybe bacon, some maple syrup too. It cut through the scent of pine and leftover rain but then there was smoke and the familiar smell of weed and then - fuck - the solid frame of someone slamming into you. 

“Oh shit.”

Or did you walk into them? You weren’t sure, but whoever it was had been hiding around the corner you were turning, their back pressed to the old, moss covered wood of an unused cabin. You dropped your keys in surprise, catching your staff shirt before it fell into something that looked more like sludge than mud. 

But the person, the boy, you’d ran into picked up your keys before you could, your eyes a little wild because the forest had been so quiet and you hadn’t expected to see anyone. Not yet. 

“Cabin thirty one?” the boy asked you, holding the silver back out by the keyring. He was smiling, kind, wide, a slow and warm stretch that showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh fuck, he was pretty, and he was a lot more man than boy. 

You took the keys from his hand, smiling in thanks but your breath was stuck in your throat because this guy in front of you was far, far too nice to look at. Dark, messy curls, bangs that were falling into the biggest, brown eyes you’d ever seen. They looked a little soulful, bright, full of mischief and they blinked at you when you didn’t say anything.

“Fuck, thanks,” you managed and then you gestured back to the the corner you’d turned, “m’sorry, I must’ve not been paying attention, I didn’t even s-”

The boy grinned, brushed away your apology with a hand that was still holding a lit joint. He winced and stubbed it out on the side of the cabin, winking at you as he did. 

“Nah, s’fine, don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I was totally lurking. Definitely in places I shouldn’t be.”

He wasn’t wearing a staff shirt, you noticed. Instead, his was black with a band logo for Metallica on the front. The sleeves had been entirely cut off, the sides of the cotton gaping around his waist, tattoos showing through the slashes and there was so much bare skin. 

It didn’t look like a counsellor uniform. Nothing about the way this boy looked like it was by the book. More tattoos littered his arms: some bats, a spider, some kind of dragon, a scary looking puppet. His black jeans were ripped, his belt too long and the end of it hung by his knee. His big boots were creased and worn, black and already layered with mud and pine needles from the forest. 

And then he tucked what was left of his joint behind his ear and he was smiling at you in the softest way; big, brown eyes and dimples too. He suddenly wasn’t as scary as you thought he was trying to be.

“You're the new girl, right?” 

You twisted your lips, nodded, because you had to be right? No one else stood with you at orientation - if you could call it that - and Hopper hadn’t mentioned any other new counsellors. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned anyone. 

“I guess?” You replied, smiling a little more warmly when the boy grinned, tucked a curl behind his other ear and shoving his hands in his back pockets. 

His arms flexed and you swallowed hard. 

You told him your name, clutched your keys and your shirt a little closer to your chest because the boy was looking at you with those eyes that seemed to see through your fucking bones. Did you have a soul? You were sure he could see it if you did. 

“I’m Eddie,” he told you, kicking stray rock. Was he blushing? “Eddie Munson, I teach music here.”

“So you do work here,” you squinted at him, eyes narrowed on the slashed up shirt, the ripped denim. “I was starting to wonder if I was just talking to some random dude in the middle of the forest.”

He laughed, tilting his head to look at you, “well that just tells me you’re far too trusting.”

“Or just up for a little trouble,” you replied too quickly. 

His answering grin was nothing short of scandalous. 

“Where’re you from?” Eddie asked, moving in a way that told you he had a problem staying still. He walked into a burst of sunlight that lit the forest floor, came alive under the glow of it, his dark hair turning a little lighter, his pale skin showing a little more signs of being touched by summer. 

“Michigan, a small town you probably wouldn’t have heard of,” you told him. “You from around here?”

“Nah, Philly,” he replied, still smiling at you like he’d found his new favourite thing to do. 

You gasped, all faux shock like you’d stumbled across a celebrity. “Ooh, a city boy, in the woods? Do the papers know?”

Eddie laughed again, a proper, lovely laugh that made your cheeks heat up ‘cause you felt like you’d achieved something. 

He hummed, leaned against the cabin he’d been using for his hiding spot and crossed his arms over his chest. You tried not to stare at the way his muscles moved, or how the collar of his shirt shifted to show off a glinting, silver chain around his neck. 

“Sometimes it’s nice to just touch a tree, you know?” He smiled, almost flirtatiously if it weren’t for the fact his cheeks were rosy and his eyes were downcast shyly. “Plus, my parole officer says I gotta do at least another four summers here.”

“Par- what?” You tried not to let the shock show on your face. You weren’t sure you’d succeeded. “Oh.”

That grin was back, that wide, slow spreading one that showed off the dimple on his right cheek. It made his eyes flash, made them look darker than they were when he stood in the sun and Christ, fuck, he was a menace. 

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh.”

“Or am I?” 

You stood, slack jawed and unsure because this boy was still a stranger and even though he had nice eyes and a pretty smile, you didn’t really know him. 

He must’ve sensed your hesitation though, because he was suddenly stricken looking, curls bouncing as he shook his head at his own last words. “No, no - shit - I really was kidding.”

Maybe it was something in his face that made you believe him, that awfully earnest shine in his eyes. He looked concerned, worried that he’d scared you away so quickly but then you were snorting, not the most attractive sound, but it made the boy light back up. 

He was watching you carefully after that, your little sound of amusement leaving a pretty smile on your lips and he mirrored it, swaying a little on the spot like he was too excited to stay still. Then, a hand, not really offered for you to hold, but a gesture for you to follow him. Silver rings flashed in the sun, skulls and demons and was that a pig? 

It didn’t matter, your feet were moving and you were following him. 

He seemed as surprised as you were, looking over his shoulder at you with a big smile, catching your elbow when you tripped on a root. You would’ve been embarrassed if he didn’t do the same almost five seconds later, both of you snorting as his boots slid on some damp moss. 

“First time at camp?” he asked as a way of distraction, hands shoved back into his jean pockets, like he had to stop himself from reaching out to guide you through the forest.

You nodded, finding your footing with him as he led you onto a narrow pathway, the wooden signposts pointing you both towards the mess hall. 

“Uh, yeah, figured I’d try something new,” you said. 

Eddie grinned like he’d heard that answer before. “What’re you running from?” he asked.

His words made you stop, shoes pushed to the pine needles and you felt a little warm, a little shocked, that he’d figured you out so quickly. And if Eddie sensed your surprise, he didn’t show it, he just leaned up against a tree trunk and waited for you to say something, even if it was to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business.

But instead, you shrugged and told him the truth. 

“Tiny town with not much to do and nowhere to go,” you squinted at him in the sun, a humourless smile on your lips. “And maybe some people that get hard to avoid in a place that has a population of like, seven hundred.”

“A boy?” Eddie smiled knowingly. 

“Presumptuous,” you shot back but he saw the heat on your cheeks and the way you stared at the tree behind him. 

“But not wrong,” he countered. That smile was still there. He didn’t push at your silence though, just tilted his head further down the bath and said, “c’mon, trouble.”

“Have you worked here before?” You asked, scrambling to keep up with his long strides. It was obvious from the way he was leading you that he had, but you didn’t know what else to say. You winced in embarrassment. “Of course you have, I meant how ma-”

“This’ll be my fourth,” Eddie told you, putting you out of your misery by ignoring the way your cheeks were warm. “Started off as a lifeguard before I realised I can’t really save myself in the water, never mind some kids, and then Hop let me run my own music workshop instead.”

You were impressed, even though you tried to hide it. “A whole workshop, huh?”

Eddie smiled as he led you round another corner, passing empty cabins that would soon be filled with sticky handed kids. A larger building was finally in sight, with big windows and a pitched roof, a wooden sign with ‘mess hall’ above the door and the smell of fresh coffee coming from inside.

He hummed, a sound of confirmation and as you both strolled towards the hall, Eddie told you all about his job.

“A whole workshop,” he repeated, “I teach guitar, drums, a little piano and I’m working on getting some more percussion stuff in for the kids who are… lacking rhythm.”

“Oh, I’m definitely a percussion girl,” you cracked. “A triangle would be a challenge.”

“I give private lessons, if you need them,” Eddie murmured and you weren’t sure if you imagined the way his voice dropped a little lower, the way he seemed to be looking at you through his lashes. 

You stalled, stumbled, close enough to the mess hall now that you could hear the hushed hisses of coffee machines, the clatter of some dishes. If your cheeks hadn’t been pink before, they certainly were now. You could feel the heat there, a rosy beam you were sure. 

“Uh-”

“Ohmygodno,” Eddie rushed out, eyes wide and hands in front of him, like he was warding off a cornered animal. “No, no! I actually do give lessons. Private lessons.”

You were still staring, lips parted. The whole forest was quiet, like it was listening in too. 

“Guitar.” Eddie’s voice was short. Strained. God, his cheeks were pink too. 

“Oh.”

You were both silent. A beat passed, maybe another, and somewhere above, a bird called out, mocking. It suddenly felt so much warmer than it already had, the sun climbing, Eddie’s eyes trained on your shoulder, too shy to meet your eye. 

The air felt thicker than it should’ve. 

But then the boy was clapping his hands together, the noise sharp enough that it made a squirrel leap from a nearby bush and disappear up a tree. Eddie swung his arms, limbs clumsy, a little on edge and finally, finally, he looked at you again. 

“So, this is the, uh, the mess hall.” He pointed to the sign that said as exactly such and clicked his tongue, closing his eyes in more awkward embarrassment. “Yup.” 

You nodded, clutching your shirt a little tighter in your hand, keys clinking as you have an equally pathetic thumbs up to the boy. “Yeah, that’s great, yeah… thanks, Eddie.”

He clicked his fingers, pointed them at you like a fake gun and then he was groaning, thumbs pressed into his closed eyes as he stumbled blindly away from you. You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your chest, tried to hide it with a twist of your lips but it made your cheeks sore, in the nicest sort of way.

“Uh, yeah, so roll call’s at eleven sharp, Hop hates it when we’re late and uh-” Eddie stood a little away, what he seemed to deem a safe distance from you. “I’d offer to help you find your cabin but I’ve already proven myself to be an absolute sex pest, so-”

You really did laugh then, a choked off sound that made Eddie grin and you smothered your own behind you fist. 

He was sweet, cute. Really pretty. Even sweeter when he smiled at you like that, eyes sincere and so bright, his lips stretched out soft like he was amazed he’d gotten you to laugh at all. 

“They’re back past the firepit, right?”

The boy nodded, hooked a thumb over his shoulder and told you, “yeah, just follow the path that veers off towards the lake. You’re not that far from mine. If you come to a, like, massive cliff, you’ve gone too far.”

You tried to hide another grin, squinted at him in the sun and wondered how you were going to get through the summer with Eddie Munson and your own self appointed rule:

No boys. 

—————

Hopper's office was packed when you slipped back inside just before eleven o’clock. The fax machine was still whirring but the phone had stopped and you realised as you sat down, that a man you hadn’t seen before was holding the cable for it in his hand, unplugged and blissfully silent. 

He stared at you through thick framed glasses, clipboard in his other hand and he scanned his paper. 

“Michigan, right?” He asked you. 

You mumbled your own name, nervous to speak too loud with so many new faces staring at you. You spotted Eddie across the room, lazing on an old couch next to a pretty boy with wild hair and an even prettier girl on his lap. Eddie grinned at you, lifted his hand from his lap and wiggled his fingers in a wave. 

But the older man was huffing, scanning what you realised was your staff file and he brushed off your reply. 

“Yeah, uhuh, Michigan, that’s what I said.”

You didn’t argue, didn't dare, ‘cause every pair of eyes was set upon you, so you dropped to an almost empty sofa and stared at your feet. Next to you, a girl with short hair and a backwards cap leaned in. She had a warm smile, sleepy eyes and freckles across her cheeks, and knee nudged yours. 

She felt like a friend. 

“Unless you wanna be known as ‘new girl’ for the next six weeks, I’d let Murray call you Michigan.” She grinned, voice soft. “I’m Robin.”

Before you could reply, Hopper was standing back up, clapping his hands together and motioning to his camp assistant. “Okay kids, let’s go. Murray?”

“Roll call, shitheads, look alive!” Murray barked, grinning wildly like this was his favourite hobby. “Chrissy, welcome back, we missed you last year. You’re back on gymnastics, but we’re gonna need you to report to Joyce for a first aid refresher, okay?”

A blonde by the window grinned and nodded, eyes wide and bright, features perky and flushed pink. 

“Steve, Hawkins,” Murray pointed to the two on the sofa, neither really paying attention to him as they whispered to each other. “You’re both on games too if you can promise to behave-”

“-and to not break anymore goddamn kayaks,” Hopper cut in. The room snickered and the couple rolled their eyes, grumbling something about the quality of boats at camp. 

“-and Harrington, you’re off the lifeguard rota since you and Hargrove can’t play nice. We want you on orienteering and Jason, you’re on lake duty now.”

Two blonde boys who stood by the window fist bumped, and from the way one of them wore all denim and sunglasses indoors, you had a feeling that he was the Billy your boss had warned you about. 

“Argyle,” Murray barked and a long haired boy jerked awake from where he sat sleeping against the back wall. “Woodshop…let's keep it to bird boxes and kitchen utensils, yeah? Mrs Harlaw didn’t appreciate her son coming home with a custom rolling tray last summer.”

“Sure thing, my dude,” Argyle nodded, smiling happily. 

“Buckley, you’re back in the kitchens with Bob, the kids love your sloppy joes, who’d have thought it, huh?”

Robin gave an unenthusiastic salute, spinning her hat the right way around so she could pull the brim of it low enough to close her eyes and not be seen. 

“Munson, we’re gonna need your workshop schedule by tomorrow, please and thank you,” Murray handed Eddie some sheets of paper, “and you have seventeen new sign ups for private lessons. If you can make it twenty by the time the first week is out, we’ll look at negotiating pay.”

“Yessir,” Eddie murmured, flicking through the list he’d been handed. His eyes found yours and you warmed at the realisation you’d been caught staring. 

He tilted his head towards the sheet, smiled and mouthed, “wanna sign up?”

But then Murray stepped in front of him, barely looking as he said, “Edward, stop flirting with the newbie,” you burned at the laughter, looking at the wall that held a mess of Polaroids and crayon drawings, paintings that were dated back ten years plus. “Nancy and Jonathan should hopefully arrive tomorrow, once the road has opened back up, so in the meantime, please for the love of god, don’t make me have to babysit you all.”

The man turned back to you and grinned, almost menacingly, eyebrows raised in a challenge. “New kid, Michigan, whatever your name is…” Murray searched down the list for your information, a finger scanning over the page. “Okay we’ve got you on arts and crafts with Nancy and if Chrissy needs help in the gym, you’ll be working Fridays there too, got it?”

You nodded, smiling a little tight ‘cause everyone in the room was still staring at you. 

And just like that, Hopper plugged the phone back into the wall and Murray clapped his hands together, a signal for everyone to gather their things, schedules clutched in their hands as they stood. The ringing started again, the fax machine whirred and you were pushed outside with the rush of the small crowd. 

The morning sun caught you the same time a hand did, just as warm on the small of your back, right before you stumbled over old roots that had grown too wild. You turned to find Eddie, smiling kindly, a little shyly, holding you until you found your footing again. 

“Doing okay there?” 

You let out a sigh that you hoped he couldn’t hear shake, squinting a little in the sun. “Yeah! Yeah— just, just a little overwhelmed.”

He nodded like he understood, taking his hand away but you still felt the burn over your shirt, cheeks feeling just as warm as he kept smiling that smile. There was a boy hovering behind him, smirking a little, brown eyes on both of you as he pretended that he wasn’t listening. 

“Just wait until the kids arrive, you really gotta watch out for the ones that bite,” Eddie grinned when you laughed, hands shoved in his pockets and he hoped he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. 

“Are you speaking from experience?” You asked him, feeling lighter than you had inside the cabin. The air smelled like pine and the creek you knew that flowed nearby. “Should I have made sure my shots were up to date before I came?”

“Oh yeah, rookie error, sweetheart,” Eddie grinned wolfishly, “it’s the little ones that’ll get you, the five year olds that can still reach your ankles.”

You snorted and suddenly you were pushing at his shoulder, hand on his bare skin and he was warm and soft under the tattoo ink and nonono, you weren’t supposed to be flirting. 

So you cleared your throat and took a step back, eyes searching the moss at your feet and the forest seemed so much warmer than it was before. Before you could say anything else though - before you could dig yourself any deeper - the boy that seemed to be waiting for Eddie interrupted. 

He had wild hair and a staff hoodie that had a girl's name stitched on the chest instead of his own and he was smirking. 

“Uh, not to interrupt this little,” he waved a hand between the two of you, “thing, but if you want my help moving the amps, Eds, we gotta get it done soon.”

“I hope you can sense the irony in that, Harrington,” Eddie shot back and the other boy - Steve, you were sure - just grinned. “But yeah, I’ll get you at the van.” Eddie threw a set of keys at his friend and then it was just the two of you once more. 

“So, uh, there’s a staff party tonight,” Eddie explained, bringing one arm up to mess with the curls at the back of his head, squinting down at you like the sun was too bright and he was too casual to care about the words he was saying. “S’usually down by the dock, the beer is shit but it’s free. I’ll see you there?”

The boy was looking at you so earnestly that you couldn’t possibly have said no. Big, brown eyes, lined with impossibly thick lashes that blinked prettily at you as he waited for an answer. It wasn’t until you heard too much birdsong from the tree canopy that you realised you were staring at him, lips parted and saying absolutely nothing. 

Then you were nodding, trying hard not to smile too much because the boy’s grin was contagious and he was too pretty with the way the sun shone on him. 

“Yeah,” you told him. “I’ll see you there.”

—————

The lake was framed with the stacked kayaks, the sand so much cooler now that the sun had dipped below the mountains along the horizon. There was a din of music, laughter, conversation dulled with the sound of the lake lapping at the shoreline and the idea of this space in the forest being your home for six weeks, didn’t seem so bad. 

You wandered closer with arms crossed across your chest, wary and unsure of the unfamiliar faces and the smell of weed in the air that mixed with the pine needles. But a blonde girl that you recognised from the morning meeting caught your eye and waved, ponytail swinging as she walked over to you. 

“Hey! Michigan, right?” She smiled, cheeks and lips a matching bubblegum pink. 

“Uh, yeah. Apparently,” you smiled, not bothering to correct her, especially when she was handing you a red cup of something strong. You sipped, grimacing at the taste of cheap beer, lukewarm at best. “You’re Chrissy?”

You prayed you’d remembered right and when the girl grinned and nodded, you let out a sigh of relief. 

“How’re you finding things?” Chrissy asked, nodding towards the small fire that someone had made on the sandy knoll, to the group of counsellors sprawled around it. “Did you get settled okay?”

You walked with her, edging around an old dock that seemed ready to sink into the bottom of the lake, waving shyly to the people who greeted you, the music too loud to really exchange anything more. You leaned into the blonde, mouth near her ear as you replied.  

“Yeah, yeah— it’s been good!” You shrugged, somewhat unsure. “It’s different. Quiet.”

And it was. Your cabin was the last one in the row of counsellor homes, far away from the main offices and mess halls, almost hidden by the overgrown shrubs, wildflowers growing up the sides of the porch stairs. Everything outside was birdsong and the buzz of insects you couldn’t see, a tiny trickle of water from a creek that ran by the back wall window. 

Chrissy smiled and patted your arm, “enjoy it while it lasts, the kids will destroy the peace soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said wryly and just as you went to take another long sip from your cup, the girl's eyebrows shot up and she tilted her chin to something behind you.

“Someone’s waiting on you.” 

You turned, heart picking up in an embarrassing fashion as you spotted Eddie lingering by the dockside, a matching red cup in his hand as he spoke with Steve and another girl, who were debating animatedly about something you couldn’t hear. But he was watching you. 

You looked from the boy and back to Chrissy, hoping you didn’t look as flustered as you felt and Chrissy grinned, nudging at your arm with her elbow. 

“Go say hi,” she said and her voice was too sweet and small to sound commanding, but you did so anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow? We can go over the gym schedule.”

You nodded, already walking across the sand to where Eddie was standing and you wondered if you imagined the way he pulled himself up a little straighter at your approach. He met you halfway, seemingly eager to get away from his two friends who were now too busy making out, hands pulling at each other's belt loops. 

“Hi,” you smiled, wondering how he looked as pretty in the moonlight as he did under the sun. 

“You made it,” Eddie greeted, tapping his cup against your own. “Makin’ friends?”

Eddie waved at Chrissy over your shoulder, ignoring how she looked at your back and winked, shooting him a thumbs up in response to a question he didn’t ask. 

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, following him as he led you both over to a dried out log that sat a little away from the fire - and an apparent audience. “Yeah, Chrissy seems nice.”

“She is,” Eddie agreed, sitting close enough to you that your legs brushed. It seemed to be accidental, ‘cause he flinched and moved a little, leaving enough room between you both that you felt the cooler nip of the night air. “Most of the guys here are.”

“Most?”

Eddie scrunched his nose in a very endearing show of disdain. “Jason is questionable,” he stage whispered to you, leaning back in so you could smell his cologne and campfire smoke that clung to him. “And Hargrove is more than questionable.”

You snorted, eyeing the boy in question. Billy Hargrove was lit up by firelight, a can of beer held to his lips and his denim jacket was almost too tight across his shoulders. He was blonde, blue eyed and dangerous looking, the kind of pretty that was too good to be true, the kind your mother told you to stay away from. 

And with good reason, you noted, ‘cause the boy caught your gaze and even though he grinned, you realised there wasn’t much kindness behind those pretty baby blues. 

“Yeah,” you agreed mildly, “I’ve been well warned about him. I’m not interested in knowing more.”

Eddie seemed a little surprised, hiding his smile behind his cup as he took a sip. There was a rolled up joint tucked behind his ear that he seemed to have forgotten about, curls less wild than earlier now the heat in the air has fizzled out, a too big sweater on top of his previously slashed up shirt. 

“Not your type?” Eddie asked, aiming for casual. He was staring out at the lake, taking quick glances at you from the corner of his eyes as he waited for a reply. 

You huffed out a laugh and it sounded more like a sigh, the boy noted and the smile you gave him was a tired around the edges. You dug the heel of your sneaker into the sand, kicked at a rock you unearthed and tried not to sound too self deprecating when you explained:

“No one’s really my type, right now.”

“Oh?” 

You wondered if you misheard the disappointment in the boy’s voice, if Eddie really did look a little sadder than before when your gaze met his again. He was smiling, soft, eyebrows raised in question and his knee nudged your own. 

“I’ve sworn off relationships,” you explained, shrugging. The memory of a boy you wanted to forget was still lingering in the corners of your thoughts and it made your skin itch. “Kinda over boys, nothing but trouble, unfortunately.”

Eddie grinned wryly, placing his empty cup at his feet and fiddling with the silver rings on his fingers instead. You tried not to stare but the moon and the surface of the lake was glinting off of them, making you gawk at long fingers and wide palms, tiny silver scars that lit up in the low light. 

“Trouble, huh?” Eddie asked, head turned to you so you could see just how brown his eyes really were. “That’s a shame. I’m good at trouble.”

You inhaled on your drink, beer hitting the back of your throat at his words and you could feel the heat in your cheeks as you spluttered. Eddie was laughing quietly when you swiped the back of your hand across your lips and glared at him, embarrassment making your chest tight. 

“No boys,” you told him, choosing to ignore his reply. You didn’t really know what to say to that, not without being able to drag him back to your bunk afterwards — and that was the opposite of the plan. “I need a summer to just… recalibrate.”

Eddie was still smiling and he nodded, everything about his soft and gentle and lit up by the stars. There was a dimple on his right cheek you wanted to put your lips on. 

“Seems like a good plan,” he murmured, eyes flickering down to your lips and Jesus Christ, the night seemed as warm as the day next to Eddie. He brought a thumb to your chin, sliding upupup until the pad of it swiped at the corner of your mouth, wiping away a little drop of beer you’d missed. 

You swallowed, hard. 

“Still a shame though,” the boy told you, sighing dramatically, letting his hand drop away. Eddie stared back out to the lake, grinning when you frowned. 

“It is?” You weren’t sure where he was going with this. 

“Oh yeah,” Eddie assured you, nodding emphatically. Everything the boy said and did seemed to be dripping in drama, glitter and theatrics. It made you smile even when you didn’t mean to. “I had a plan, you see.”

It was your turn to seem intrigued, brows raised, shoulders leaning into him. “Oh?”

Eddie sighed again, just as playful as before, heavy and over exaggerated. “We were totally gonna fall in love,” the boy explained, trying hard to keep the smile off of his face, but his lips were turning up at the corners and his eyes looked like brown sugar, glittering and warm.

You scoffed, a sharp noise of surprise bursting from your chest and it made Eddie beam. He was all soft edges and softer eyes as he looked at you, ignoring the way his friends were watching, his gaze trained on the way you were grinning for him. 

“We were?” You laughed — you’d forgotten to be shy, you’d forgotten you didn’t really know this boy, not yet. 

But Eddie nodded again, curls springing, bangs falling into his eyes with the movement and you were closer again, knees brushing, toes of your shoes touching his in the sand. 

“Totally,” he told you solemnly. “Was gonna be a whole thing, we had the meet cute, right?”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, a lovely ache that reached your chest. You nodded, aiming to look as serious as the boy did but failing miserably. You remembered the way you’d slammed into each other, morning sun and a tumbling in your stomach that you didn't want to acknowledge. “Oh, of course,” you agreed. 

“And then we were gonna spend all summer doing that totally annoying ‘will they, won't they’ thing, y’know? Maybe a couple of almost kisses, an interrupted moment or two—”

“—wow, you’re a real romantic, huh?”

Eddie ignored you, but his smile grew bigger. “—but I guess we’re gonna have to change up the script. Start off as friends, do that slow burn kinda shit.”

“We are?” You hated that you were still playing along. You hated that you were so close to the boy, that you liked the way he smelled, like smoke and cologne and cheap beer and the way the lake smelled at night. “Do I need to learn lines?”

Eddie’s grin changed to something softer, gaze falling from your eyes to your lips and back again, his cheeks pink and his dimples deepening. He shook his head. “Nah, you’re a natural.”

Eddie was all pink cheeks and soft smiles, honey brown eyes and curls that made him seem like he’d just rolled out of bed. But he was looking at you like a new friend, a new something and the smell of campfire smoke and damp moss was the new scent of home. It clung to Eddie like it did you and it made your brain a little fuzzy, it made you forget about home and ruined plans and nine to five jobs in brick buildings and boys who broke your heart. 

This summer tasted like cheap beer and it felt like sand in your shoes, like sunburnt cheeks and a new kind of boy who seemed to like to make you smile. 

For the second time that day - your very first day at Camp Upside Down - you were struggling to remember why swearing off boys had seemed like such a good idea. 

I need you to need me. 

The kids arrived that Saturday and brought chaos with them. 

They poured out of the out of service school buses, sunshine yellow amongst the trees, parents cars filling up the usually empty parking lot. There was luggage everywhere, backpacks abandoned on benches and at the foot of trees, forgotten about as friends greeted old friends. 

Chrissy had been right, it was loud. The sounds of the forest drowned out by shouts and chatter, the overlap of parents yelling at their kids about the importance of vitamins and bug spray, all whilst Hopper, Murray and Nancy stood near the unlit fire and tried to yell out names. 

It was a little mad and you were clutching your own clipboard, a list of kids on it that you’d never met before and suddenly you were terrified that the bunch of preteens you were responsible for keeping alive would hate you.

The kids ran rampant, already hanging from tree branches and trading god knows what from the hidden depths of their backpacks and Christ, someone was blasting ‘Sex Machine’ by James Brown from a boombox no adult could actually find within the crowd. 

As if he could sense your panic, Eddie appeared at your elbow. He greeted you with the same smile he had on the first day, that slow, soft spread of his lips that made you feel too warm. His hair was pulled back today, a haphazard bun that kept the heat away from his curls and you could see more of his face; strong jaw, the slants of his cheekbones, the line of his neck. He wore the same staff shirt as you, long sleeves rolled to the elbow with his name printed on the front of his chest and there were a few patches sewn underneath. 

A guitar, a skull and crossbones and a small teddy bear. 

You grinned, reaching a finger out to poke at the last one. “Cute,” you said in lieu of a greeting. 

Eddie frowned, or at least you think he tried to. His lips were turned up at the corners, nose scrunched as he batted your hand away with no force behind it. He was standing close, close enough that you could smell the shampoo he must have used that morning, close enough that you could hear him over the roar of the camp.

“You couldn’t have noticed the more metal ones, huh, sweetheart?” he acted offended, chin tucked to his chest so he could peer at the red guitar stitched near his name. 

“Not a chance,” you laughed and Eddie lifted his head at the sound, gaze landing on your mouth as if he could see your happiness. “Why the bear?”

“Because--” Eddie hummed, scanning his list of names before finding the culprit on your own sheet. “--This little guy called me Teddy for his first two summers.” He pointed to a name on the bottom of your paper, someone called Dustin Henderson. 

“Even cuter,” you told him and he shrugged, cheeks pink and seemingly enjoying your attention. 

Eddie stretched, all faux bravado and charm his side brushing your own and you tried hard not to stare at the way his shirt lifted, a slice of bare skin peeking out between it and his jeans. “I know,” he sighed dramatically, like it was a hardship. “Fallen in love with me yet?”

You snorted, an awful noise that should’ve made your cheeks flush with heat but Eddie only grinned wider. 

“Not yet,” you told him and you rolled your eyes when the boy grabbed at his chest with two hands, as if your rejection wounded him. 

“There’s still time,” his reply was quiet and close to your ear, a brush of a stray curl over your cheek that made you shiver. “Anyway, what hellspawn have you been left with? Need help?”

You were grateful for both the change of subject and the assistance, handing Eddie your clipboard when he held out his hand. He chuckled at the list and nodded to himself, scanning through the names before giving it back to you and smiling kindly. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” he told you, “you’ve got a good bunch.”

You blew out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, smiling back at him, “yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” the boy assured and he nudged your arm with his elbow, squinting through the sun and the mess of loud colours at the kids that swarmed the main camp area. “And if they give you any trouble, you can just tell them your friend Eddie will sort them out.”

His words warmed you more than they should and the word ‘friend’ sounded lovely on his lips. 

“Friend?” 

Eddie peered down at you from behind his bangs, curls hanging messily in front of his eyes and it made him look a little younger than he was. There was that smile again, the wide, slow stretch of his lips and it was warmer than the sun, the summer, the June heat lingering even in the early morning hour.

He looked at you as if you’d told him a joke and he scoffed, “uh, yeah? This summer romance has to start somewhere, sweetheart.” He said it lightly, prettily, soft enough that you didn’t really want to correct him.

Besides, he was joking. Wasn’t he?

But then he was gone, reappearing ten minutes later with a gaggle of kids that were apparently a part of your group, smiling triumphantly when you visibly sagged with relief. The campers were still chattering, but they dutifully raised one hand and yelled out some sort of confirmation when you called out their names. 

Dustin Henderson.

Mike Wheeler.

Maxine Mayfield.

Erica Sinclair.

Janie Evans.

Adam Johnstone.

Eddie was walking back into the crowd to find his own kids just as Maxine was telling you that you were to call her Max and only Max. In fact, the redhead pointedly informed you she’d ignore you if you called her anything else. But you caught the boy’s gaze just before he disappeared, returning his wave with your own raised hand and you mouthed a quick ‘thank you.’

He winked and then he was gone, swallowed up by campers, parents with bags of medication and inhalers, lists of allergies and yells of the yearly battle of who had the top bunk.

—————

The second week went as quickly as the first, the kids were happy to get to know you, each one nosy and inquisitive, challenging and entirely too entertaining. You spent the afternoons in one of the wooden cabins by the lake, sheltered from the heat of the sun and covered in paint and glitter, guiding the campers through crafting sessions and hoping Max didn’t glue anyone else’s hand to a table. 

(Mike was still cursing a small chemical burn and Murray had insisted you could handle it, ‘cause the man admitted he was quite frankly, terrified of the young girl.)

Breakfasts were rushed in the mess hall, a noisy start to every morning but you got to say hi to Robin as she slid you extra strawberries in your yoghurt and Nancy always saved you a seat beside her and Jonathan. Every now and then lunches could be had in solace, a sandwich and a stolen carton of OJ eaten at the lake, the sun making the water glitter, toes dipped in the shallows. 

You got your bearings quickly, six days in and able to navigate the forest easily enough, from the gym hall to the last of the kids' bunks. You got used to the noise of the tannoy each morning, the moss that grew on almost everything you touched, the ever present smell of chlorine, sunscreen and bug spray. 

It was best at night, you found, when the kids were asleep - or at least pretending to be - when all the lanterns and torches were off, when the stars were the brightest thing around and you could find fireflies by the shoreline. 

And then there was the walk back to your cabin after dinner was done and the benches were cleared, after you and Steve had taken your turn at hosting story time around the fire pit and Robin’s s’mores had been demolished. 

Most of the kids were sent to their cabins for down time, to play cards, read books, share mixtapes and swap the candy they’d hoarded from home. Some went to Nancy for summer school classes, learning Spanish and Calculus to make up for failed grades. 

Others went to the cabin near your own, a small wooden structure that leaked out sounds and songs, guitar and piano and sometimes drums - some pretty, some questionably out of tune. But if you timed it just right, you’d walk by as the last of the kids were leaving, guitars on their backs and drumsticks in their hands, leaving Eddie on the small porch, lit up by the lamp inside. 

And this night, you’d strolled by in the evening heat, warmth still lingering in the air that smelled like cedar and leftover smoke, passing Dustin and his guitar on the pathway. The young boy stopped you with an excited grin, sheet music in his hand and he pointed out each new chord that he was able to play.  

It was easy to get caught up in his joy, his pride and you gushed over Dustin as he did his guitar. But you couldn’t ignore the feeling of eyes on your back, a heat that didn’t come from summer that was still trapped in the night. 

When you sent Dustin off after messing up his curls with an affectionate hand, you turned to find Eddie, just like you knew you would. He was leaning on the porch railing, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, an amber glow in the dark. 

He wiggled his fingers at you in a wave, a smile hidden behind the smoke he breathed out. His curls were loose and wild, his staff shirt swapped out for a Metallica tee that was cut shorter across his stomach. More skin flashed between his top and his jeans and you couldn’t help the way your gaze faltered, looking down. 

“Hey, new girl,” Eddie greeted and his voice was low and raspy from shouting intrusions at his students over the thrashing of bass drums and cymbals. 

The air around you buzzed with cicadas and something else, something unknown but not unwanted, fizzed alongside it. 

“Hey, city boy,” you called back and you felt admired from where you stood, Eddie a little above you on the porch, towering and broad and pretty. “Lessons over?”

Eddie grinned and stubbed out the cigarette against the wood, swinging himself around the post to come a little closer. He lingered by the door, hands shoved in his pockets. “Don’t have to be,” he smiled. 

You told yourself it would be rude to not follow him, that friends could hang out and it didn’t matter that you thought he was too pretty for his own good. It didn’t matter that you liked his curls or his tattoos or the way he smiled at you each morning, it didn’t matter that you liked his silly teddy bear patch or the way he chased the younger kids around camp with a stupid ‘monster voice.’ 

It didn’t matter. No boys. That was your rule. 

You could spend time with him, you could chat, hang out, maybe steal a smoke and listen to some music. You didn’t have to kiss him. You didn’t. 

You didn’t. 

The inside of the cabin was different from the larger one they held the main music workshop, the neat shelves of percussion instruments and chalkboard of music notes swapped for low light and a couple of chairs, a beanbag in the corner, a drum kit stacked by the door and some guitars and amps on an old paisley patterned rug. 

It smelled like Eddie’s cologne, a little like smoke and rain, and there really, really wasn’t a lot of space. Eddie gestured to the chair across from him, sliding a tin out from underneath one of the amps stacked against a wall and he wiggled it at you.

“Can I interest you?”

You nodded with a grin, dropping down onto the chair and relishing in the way silence hugged the camp again. If you listened carefully enough, you could hear the lake lap at the shore, water against the moored kayaks and the whispers of the kids through open cabin windows. And then there was the flicker of a lighter, the sizzle of something burning and Eddie sighed, slow and soft.

“Long day?” you asked him, leaning in a little to take the joint he offered you and you tried really hard to not think about his lips when you place it between your own.

Eddie hummed, watching the way you took a drag, not as long and deep as his, but he smiled when you managed to blow the smoke to the ceiling without coughing. He was stretched out lazily on the chair that looked more suited to the kids than his lean frame and his spread knees almost knocked against your own.

“You could say that. Been chasin’ kids all day after Billy slept in and didn’t turn up for his hiking group and Hop’s been riding my ass about getting extra sign ups,” Eddie took the roll up back from you and smiled, looking at you from under his lashes in a way you’d become familiar with. “S’lookin’ up now, though.”

You tried to hold his gaze, you really tried. But those big, brown eyes still managed to pierce right into your soul and it made you dizzy, it made you feel too warm. You huffed out a shy laugh and ducked your chin, eyes on the floor just for a second - enough for you to try to collect yourself.

“Are you flirting with me, Munson?” you didn’t sound as bold as you wanted to, your words coming out softer, a little breathier.

But maybe it worked all the same, ‘cause Eddie had turned pink and was hiding behind his curls, joint forgotten about. He brought his fingers to his lips instead, rings glittering in the low light and he looked thoughtful, like he was deciding what to say.

“I’m trying,” he chuckled, “but honestly, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

You wanted to tell him it was working anyway, that he didn’t even need to try. ‘Cause it had been a week at Camp Upside Down, a week of knowing him and you were already too far gone on his charm and his hair and his smile and his teddy bear patch and-- 

“You remember my rule, right?” you said instead, trying to smile about it, like you weren’t cursing yourself and your ex for making you so opposed to even trying with another boy. 

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed and nodded, bringing the half burned joint back to his lips so he could relight it. “You mean your ‘no boys, no fun, no summer fling’ rule?”

He grinned, smug.

“I never said I wasn’t going to have fun,” you protested. “I’m just-- planning on staying away from anything that can break my heart.”

The tone in the cabin shifted, the air in the small space becoming a little heavier but you didn’t feel suffocated. In fact, when Eddie stubbed out the joint in one of his empty coffee mugs and leaned onto his knees, you didn’t feel the need to do anything but move closer too. Your foot nudged his and one side of his mouth quirked up into a small smile, his eyes careful on you.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly. 

You shrugged half heartedly and watched the way the lights of the camp slowly started to switch off, one by one, until you and Eddie were the only ones still bathed in warmth. “Not much to tell,” you murmured, “not without sounding like a cliche.” 

Eddie’s knee nudged against your own, deliberate this time, and it made you look over at the boy. He was smiling, kind and so lovely. 

“I don’t mind cliches, remember?”

So you sucked in a breath and told him about life in Port Austin, how there were only really a few parks, the lake and a farmers market to look forward to on Sundays. You spoke about your job at Murphy’s Bakery on West Spring Street, how you volunteered at the gallery on weekends because you loved paintings and watercolours and wanted to go to an art school when you could afford it. You dropped your voice and tried to keep your tone light when you told him about the boy that stole your heart when you were fourteen and how he promised you the world when you were eighteen.

You really wished you still had the joint when you huffed out a laugh that held no humour and whispered how you found him in bed with a girl you used to be friends with when you were nineteen. 

And then there was another year and a half of your mom trying to make you stay with him because his parents ran the town committee and how were they supposed to show face when you made such a scene in their yard? And ‘didn’t you want to get married? Didn’t you want to settle down and have a family? Did you really want to have to start again? Is art school really a productive use of your time?’

Eddie, for the most part, stayed silent as you spoke, only frowning when necessary. And when you were done and your cheeks were a little damp and you sniffed without meaning to, the boy slid his foot along yours and held it there, the silence deafening. Night had finally set and the air smelled like oncoming rain and the remnants of smoke and Eddie Munson offered you his hand.

You wondered what it meant, you wondered what to do but when you looked at his face, his expression was soft and kind and open. You took it, palm sliding against his own and his skin was warm and rough, rings cold, fingers littered with guitar string calluses and they curled around you.

His hand was so much bigger than your own but when he gave it a squeeze, it was the most gentle thing you’d felt. You sucked in a breath and felt it stutter and hitch in your chest, gaze finding his in the low light and he smiled at you, a little sadder than before. 

“I’m really sorry that happened,” he whispered. 

It was nothing but sincere, the way he said it. Sweet and lovely and quiet, and god, you believed him. So you sniffed again, a little embarrassed and you wiped at your cheeks and eyes with your free hand - you didn’t dare take your other one from Eddie, not yet. 

You didn’t bother with the usual responses, none of the ‘it’s not your fault’s’ or ‘it’s alright.’ 

“Thank you,” you said instead, just as softly as Eddie had spoke, your smile a little watery. “M’sorry… I really didn’t mean to blurt all that out. You didn’t have to listen to it.”

Eddie’s smile was soft and understanding, and it made you so ache. He was looking at you with those big, brown eyes, shining with kindness and he was bold enough to not look away when you stared back. In fact, it only made him grin wider. 

So you had to be the one to break the moment, break the spell, gaze shifting to the wooden cabin floor and you let out a sigh that felt too loud for the space. You sniffed one last time and dabbed your fingers under your eyes, erasing any evidence of upset. You tapped a foot against Eddie’s converse, your toe touching the doodles he’d inked out along the sole. 

“What about you?”

Eddie eyes you somewhat suspiciously, corners of his lips lifted in a shy smile and without the joint, he started to twist his rings around each finger. You tried not to watch, breath caught in your throat ‘cause his hands were big and wide, his fingers long andandand—

“What about me?” Eddie asked. 

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling, “we can’t all be hiding out in the middle of the forest ‘cause a guy broke our heart, right?” You blew out the breath you’d been holding and tried to act normal. 

“How presumptuous of you, sweetheart,” Eddie’s grin was wicked and it made you flush, heat travelling from your cheeks to your neck. “But I guess you’re right, I’m just here for the money.” The boy swung a leg over the arm of his chair, slumping down low and he tipped his head back lazily, watching you from under his lashes. “And I s’pose the kids are alright.”

“You don’t wanna be hanging out in the city each summer?” You asked him, hoping you didn’t sound too nosy. The idea of a city as large as Philadelphia was foreign to you. “Aren’t you missing out on concerts and stuff?”

Eddie hummed and smiled at you in a way that made you feel shy, like he thought you were all kinds of cute. “And stuff, yeah,” Eddie agreed but then he was pulling at the ring on his thumb, a large skull and his brows furrowed. “It’s not as exciting as you’d think. It’s just my uncle and I - Wayne - we’re not exactly living the high life downtown, you know?”

You didn’t say anything, you just leaned in a little, silently coaxing the boy to keep speaking. 

“My mum left when I was pretty young,” Eddie explained, “don’t remember her all that much, not really, sometimes it’s easier when I see a photo or something. She dropped me with Wayne and just… didn’t come back.” 

Eddie sucked in a breath. “The dude that got her pregnant didn’t even hang around to see me being born, apparently,” he snorted but his laugh was humourless. “So he doesn’t get the title of dad.”

“That’s fair,” you replied quietly. 

“We didn’t have much money when I was growing up,” the boy continued. “Still don’t, I guess. But I remember being, like eleven, and really wanting to go to summer camp. I was obsessed with the idea of climbing trees and learning new shit in the middle of nowhere.” 

Eddie’s voice was lifting, gaining back that happy undertone and he was smiling again, a little shy, but it was there. His eyes glittered as he looked at you. 

“Wayne couldn’t afford it but he would take me to the park and create these treasure hunts for me - hell, he taught me how to play guitar too, never yelled at me once and Christ, he should’ve, I used to annoy the shit out of that old man as soon as he got home from work.”

You laughed and Eddie beamed, eyes meeting in the brief silence and the summer air felt warmer than ever, the open door seemingly incapable of letting in what little breeze there was. 

“So I guess I like it here,” Eddie admitted, “as much as I need the money too. I wanna help Wayne out, y’know? But it’s nice to be able to do it somewhere like this.” The boy gestured to the small room with its tower of amps and carpet of wires and sheet music like it was home. 

You leaned onto your elbows, close enough to the boy that you could tap your fingertips to his knee, once, twice, a small smile on your face that reached your eyes and Eddie thought it was lovely, the way you looked at him like he had every ounce of your attention.

“I think that’s a really nice reason to be here,” you told him.

And god, Eddie wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you really, really badly - ‘cause your hair smelled good and your eyes were real pretty and he was damn sure you were looking at his lips the same way he was looking at yours. But he was so aware of the heartache you had just shared with him, your self appointed rule of ‘no boys,’ and Eddie Munson was very much a boy. 

Maybe even more man than boy, you’d argue. And perhaps that was worse.

So instead he pulled back and your hand dropped from his knee and it was enough to make him miss you. Eddie looked at you thoughtfully, head tilted, smile shy and his cheeks were still tinged pink and all of it was awfully endearing. You cleared your throat, suddenly self conscious and Eddie stood.

“C’mon, sweetheart, lemme walk you to your cabin.”

It was easy to say yes. It was even easier to walk close enough to Eddie that your shoulder bumped into his bicep, arms pressed together and hands painfully apart. 

You whispered and laughed as you followed him through the forest, down the narrow trails that criss crossed through the camp like heartstrings. And when the ground got a little uneven and the night was too dark to see the roots that snuck out from the forest floor, Eddie’s hand cupped your elbow and everything about his touch was warm and rough and electrifying. 

The camp was quiet and it seemed like the world was made just for the two of you, the lake sitting like glass on your right and the soft silence of the woods and the trees on your left. 

He was pretty in the moonlight. Prettier when he stood at the bottom of your cabin steps with his hands behind his back as he smiled and said goodnight, like he couldn’t and wouldn’t trust himself to move closer to your door. 

‘Cause standing outside on a porch in the dark with a pretty boy surely led to a goodnight kiss, didn’t it? 

Didn’t it?

And just before you closed your door, on the moon and the forest and the boy, Eddie called out to you by your name and hid his grin behind his curls, rings glittering in the low light. 

“Happy first week at camp, sweetheart,” he told you softly, sweetly and you grinned in return. “M’happy to have you as a friend.”

Your heart stuttered and dipped at his words, a pretty warmth spreading over your chest and cheeks and you were ready to reply in like. And then:

“Just don’t, y’know, yell at me when you do fall in love with me.”

You barked out a laugh and hid your grin behind your door, too big and too wide to let him see, because goddamn it, he was getting to you too easily. 

“I’ll be sure to keep the yelling to a minimum,” you told him, voice mild and too casual. 

Eddie shrugged, still smiling lazily, “it’s inevitable.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, the rejection softened by the way you grinned too, eyes fond and stuck on him. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

—————

“She makes me—” Eddie let out a strangled noise that ended in a sigh and Steve frowned. “I feel— fuck.”

“Use your big boy words, Eds,” Steve commented mildly and from behind him, lying on the boy’s bed, Hawkins flipped a page of her magazine and snorted. 

Eddie has scrambled back to his cabin after standing before your closed door for a few seconds too long, eyes fond, his smile dopey and his heart beating a little too fast.  

And it was like the forest knew how he felt ‘cause the insects buzzed a little louder and there was something in the air that made it feel like a storm was on its way. He found Steve at the desk they shared, headphones around his neck and music playing quietly through static. His girlfriend was on his bed, flat on her stomach and too busy with her reading to really look up at Eddie, but she seemed thoroughly amused by the whole situation. 

“You know that song? The cheesy one? The one that’s like ‘I can’t fight this feeling anymore?’ That one?”

Steve blinked, staring at Eddie for a second before he smothered a smile with his hand. He coughed, hiding a laugh. “REO Speedwagon?” 

Eddie threw himself onto his bunk and whined, dragging his palms over his face. “Yes,” he replied mournfully. “Every time I see her it’s like that song plays and the wind picks up and everything is in slow motion.”

“Does she suddenly have wings too?” Steve countered. 

“Fuck you.”

Hawkins laughed again and instead of flipping another page, she groaned and stretched out, moving lazily to the desk chair that Steve occupied, throwing herself down onto her boyfriend’s lap. 

“Have I missed something or is there a reason you’re not asking her to hang out?” The girl was staring at Eddie earnestly, one of her hands buried in the hair at Steve’s neck. 

“We do hang out,” Eddie protested. “We just did.”

Hawkins rolled her eyes at the same time Steve did and Eddie wondered if being in love with someone made you as annoying as them. 

“Like an actual date, Munson.” She shrugged and gave him a smile that told Eddie she knew she was being annoying. “Some people brush their hair for it, maybe wear jeans without holes in the knees.”

Eddie huffed and let himself roll across his bed, face squished to his pillows to muffle his low groan of despair. For good measure, he kicked his feet against the mattress too. Finally, he resurfaced, cheeks pink and a little downturned and he said to his friends a little mournfully:

“She doesn’t date. Or, I guess, she doesn’t want to date.”

Steve looked perplexed. “Why?”

Eddie heaved himself up and sat against the wooden headboard, kicking his sneakers off until they thudded to the floor. “Uh, there was a shitty ex,” he explained. “Which I totally get… I just wish— I don’t know.”

Hawkins threw a pen at him, soft enough that it barely bounced off of his thigh but Eddie still sent her a look of offence. 

“Ow.”

“Shut up,” the girl huffed. “You better not be pestering her, Eds, if she said she’s not interested—”

“I’m not!” Eddie defended himself. “I’m not. I just like to remind her that she’ll eventually fall in love with me. Eventually.”

Steve choked on a laugh and tried to cover it when his girlfriend frowned at him. 

“Eddie!”

“What?” The boy answered petulantly. “I’m not serious about it,” Eddie lied, “I’m being, like, totally cute, s’fine.”

His two friends levelled him with a stare. 

“And besides! I like hanging out with her. She’s cool. And pretty and funny and she— it’s fine,” he repeated, almost to himself. “We’re just friends.”

Despite the conviction Eddie said it with, neither of the three people in the cabin believed him. 

I’d love you to love me. 

The third week brought a split lip, a sprained wrist and thunderstorm that lasted two days

The kids were more than antsy with having to spend most of their time indoors as the rain flooded the camp grounds, the banks of the lake tested as the water kept rising and the winds shook the trees. Leaves lived permanently in the air, whirling on the harsh gales, branches scratching at cabin windows like the soundtrack of a bad scary movie. 

So some activities doubled up, with more than the normal amount of campers crammed into cabin classrooms instead of being out on the lake or taking hikes into the mountains. 

It’s why you and Nancy were nearing your limit with over forty kids inside the arts centre, the summer air still humid enough to make the room sticky and heavy, to make everyone cranky and uncomfortable. The rain of the metal roof was a musical reminder of how there was no chance of escape. 

There were wars over glue sticks, more paint on the floor than on any paper and half way through the activity block, Argyle squelched in with another fifteen kids, all soaking wet and clutching wooden bird boxes in various stages of completion. 

“Cabin four is leaking, my dudes,” he explained with a smile. 

And that’s how Max tripped over Will’s bird feeder, how she slipped on some spilled watercolours and went careening into a kid named Josie. Josie had wire framed glasses that were entirely too big for her tiny head and Max’s lip got caught and split on the corner of them. 

With blood dripping down her chin and a smattering of colours on her bare knees and jean shorts, she looked a little startled, eyes wide at the red that came away when she wiped her fingers over her mouth. 

But Mike Wheeler was fourteen years old and a boy, which meant that Mike didn’t really know how to act in public yet and when he laughed at Max, the girl responded by shoving him into a shelf full of paint cans and pots of glitter. 

So the classroom was in chaos, Will was mourning his broken bird feeder, Max was bleeding and enraged and Mike was clutching his wrist that he claimed was broken all while pink and lilac glitter poured from his hair. 

When the tannoy rang out at one o’clock, you sighed in relief and watched as the kids ran out the door towards the mess hall, the smell of pizza pockets and macaroni and cheese making the campers scamper happily through mud filled puddles and towards the large building. 

Argyle wandered out after them, slow and lazily, like the rain that still poured didn’t really bother him and he didn’t seem to care that much when Dustin jumped into a puddle at his side and splashed mud up his slacks. 

You and Nancy worked diligently to clean up the mess left behind, crawling under tables to retrieve forgotten paint brushes and pens that were missing lids. But you’d barely managed to make a dent in the chaos before Hopper’s voice crackled through the tannoy system. 

“Can Hawkins report to the office, please,” the gruff voice was muffled between static. “—hit, Hawkins one, the good one, the first one… Nancy. Can Nancy report to the office.”

The girl rolled her eyes as she stood but there was a fondness there that told you she didn’t really mind, years of working for Hopper making her more than familiar with his bad habit with remembering names. 

“Pretty sure he wants to go over next week's schedule,” Nancy told you, brushing glitter from her knees. “I’ll be as quick as I can, okay? Sorry to leave you with all of this.” 

The girl did look regretful, brows pinched as she gestured to the mess around the room that only seemed to grow as more paint leaked out from tipped over pots. 

You shook your head and smiled, “it’s fine, don’t worry. I’m alright on my own, mess hall duty can't be that much tidier, right?” 

Nancy snorted a quiet laugh and hummed in agreement, “put it this way, lunch time clean up is usually reserved for punishments.”

“Poor kids,” you mused, crawling over to scoop up a fallen bucket of stickers and felt sheets. 

“Oh, not the kids,” Nancy smiled wryly. “Just ask Steve or Hawkins, I’m sure they’d love to tell you.”

Leaving you confused, the girl left, clipboard in hand and you watched out of the rain streaked window as she ran across camp, daintily avoiding the muddy puddles that were already getting larger as the storm rolled on. So you stayed on the floor, bare knees a little cold on the old linoleum and you were swearing softly at a bright blue patch of paint that didn’t seem to want to budge. 

You didn’t hear the door open again, not over the sound of the rain hammering down on the roof. In fact, you didn’t hear anything until someone let out a low whistle and started to speak. 

“Unless one of the little demons suddenly got real talented, you weren’t kidding about art school, huh?”

You narrowly missed bumping your head on the table edge as you shot up at the sound of Eddie’s voice, heart hammering and stomach flipping in that way you were still trying to ignore. 

The boy was perched against the edge of one of the small tables, legs crossed at the ankles and a too big sweater swallowing him whole. He looked cosy, the cotton a deep maroon and it had the camp logo on the chest, a small tear at the collar and leftover spots of rain over the shoulders. Eddie held up a notepad that you thought you’d placed face down, but he was showing you your own drawings. 

“Architecture,” Eddie was scanning over the sketches of buildings and parkways, tiny trees inked out in black, dotted with what little green paint you could sneak from the kids. “I didn’t expect that.”

You blinked at him, still kneeling on the floor with glitter on your palms, paint on your knees. You lifted a hand and brushed back your hair, blowing out a breath with how flustered you suddenly felt. The large cabin felt warmer than ever and the rain only seemed to get louder. 

It felt like the forest belonged to only the two of you. 

“Uh, yeah.” You nodded awkwardly, feeling shyer than you expected at the sight of your work in Eddie’s hands. It was hardly a portfolio, just a few quick sketches you were able to manage between squabbles over paintbrushes and stolen pens, but it was something. “Most people don’t.”

“You’re good,” Eddie replied and his voice was the most serious you’d heard it. But he was still smiling, corners of his mouth lifted as he scanned over the paper, pinky finger tracing the outline of a building that had wild ivy growing up the brick. “Really good. So, art school, huh?”

You nodded and clambered to your feet as gracefully as you could, leaning against the table across from the boy. If you stretched out your legs enough, the toes of your sneakers almost touched his boots.

“That’s the plan,” you said and gestured to the camp in all its messy glory, mud and rain and paint and glitter. “I’m hoping this place can get me enough cash to even consider it.”

Eddie placed the book back on the desk with the same care you’d watched him handle his guitars with and the sight of it made your chest ache. 

“Which one?” 

The question made your brow furrow, ‘cause so many other people in your life had asked the same question - albeit with a lot more exasperation and condescension than Eddie had. But you gave him the same answer you’d given your parents and your senior year guidance counsellor and shit, even your ex. 

You have a half shrug, eyes to the floor and picked at a fingernail. “I don’t really know yet.” You looked up at the boy and found him looking right back at you, brown eyes soft and warm. “To be confirmed.”

Eddie nodded slowly, pushing off the table and shoving his hands into the pocket on the front of his sweater. He stretched it down over his hips, grinned at you playfully and the mood inside the cabin lifted considerably, like he’d meant it to. 

“You know,” he mused, “there’s a great art school in Philly. One of the best, in fact.” Eddie raised his brows at you suggestively, all whilst doing his best to play coy - you weren’t sure how he managed it, but he pulled it off. 

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes at him in a way that now seemed to be routine. “Is that right?” You asked him, putting on the same overly casual voice he had. “How strange, isn’t that where you live?”

Eddie gasped, ripping a hand from his pocket to grab at his chest instead, damp curls bouncing as he took another step towards you. “Holy shit, you’re right, I do live there.”

You were grinning, not that you had any control over it and Eddie was beaming right back, moving so he could stand in front of you, finally toe to toe. He kicked softly at your sneaker, looking at you fondly from under his lashes. 

“What a coincidence,” he murmured softly.

“You’re flirting with me again,” you replied just as quietly and you tried to sound admonishing but your words came out just a little too breathily. 

He was too close. 

You watched him lick at him bottom lip, tongue peeking out for just a half second but it kept your heart ticking on a too fast beat for much, much longer. 

“If I was flirting,” Eddie started to say, speaking slowly, voice a drawl, as if he were picking his words carefully. “I’d tell you about this nice little spot round the corner from mine. How I’d take you there between classes, split a cheese steak and let you show me all your badass work.”

You were entranced, eyes bush tracing the shapes his lips made as he spoke, the dimple that came and went on his left cheek when he tried not to smile between words. 

“You’d graduate in the summer…” the boy mused and his voice picked up a little, lips stretching out into that wide smile you’d come to love. “We could totally have a fall wedding. I was thinking about early October?”

The spell was broken and you barked out a laugh, a hand shoving at the boy’s shoulder and Eddie grinned at the sound, letting you tip him backwards before he caught himself and acted wounded. 

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you told him but there was affection laced behind the jab and Eddie could hear it, his chest swelling at the sound. 

“But autumn tones suit me so well,” he quipped back and he laughed when you shook your head and moved past him, hiding your amusement by picking up ripped paper that hadn’t quite made it to the trash. 

“What a shame, I think I’m a spring,” you sighed dramatically and you didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know the boy was grinning. You could feel it, it lit up the room, it made you feel warm. “Guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Eddie snorted and pushed himself back onto the table, narrowly avoiding a wet splat of blue paint. “Well, if you won’t come to Philadelphia, how about Chrissy’s cabin tonight? Staff get together.” Eddie enticed, legs swinging. “More shit beer, Steve’s awful taste in music and probably some weed if Jonathan and Argyle manage to get into town after dinner.”

“More shit beer?” You repeated, gasping dramatically as you made your way back over to him. You tapped at his boot with your shoe, like you weren’t able to help yourself from reaching out to touch him in some way. “How shitty?”

“Like, the shittiest beer you’ve ever had,” Eddie replied, “very room temp, some would say warm. Definitely flat and the label probably has some questionable tagline on it.”

You were smiling and so was the boy, too warm and too close and Jesus Christ, had you been moving forward? Eddie’s boots brushed your shins and if you took another step, you’d be between his legs that he had most definitely spread for you. 

“How could I say no to that?”

Eddie shrugged, his smile all coy, cheeks a little pink and he was looking at your lips when he replied softly, “how could you say no to me?”

Your lips parted, breath caught in your chest and god, did he hear the way it hitched? Could he hear the way your heart rattled against your rib cage? Surely he could, it felt louder than the storm. 

He didn’t let you reply, not that you knew what to say, not that you could seriously articulate words. Eddie was still smiling, looking as flustered as you felt, like he hadn't meant to flirt, like he didn’t know what to do now that he had. 

 Eddie gestured to your cheek, unsure, pulling back just before he touched you. His gaze was settled on the curve of your top lip and he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You have, uh, some paint,” he murmured, “little dot… just there.”

You wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand, suddenly self conscious, wondering what kid managed to splatter you with god knows what colour. You caught your lip, bringing your hand back still clean and you looked at Eddie. 

The boy still looked so unsure, a different kind of shy, but he tilted his chin and said, “c’mere.”

You weren’t sure how you heard him over the rain, the roll of thunder, the way the world outside seemed to roar for you both, like the forest was excited, waiting, watching. 

You moved, hips bumping into Eddie’s knees as he coaxed you forward, a cautious hand on your chin, holding you still so his thumb could smooth over the spot of paint, the pad of it grazing your top lip. 

Eddie’s touch was slow and soft, careful with it, his eyes lowered as he watched what he was doing and you were almost sure he was holding his breath. 

You were. 

“Got it,” Eddie whispered but his hand was still on your cheek, thumb resting on your chin and he was staring at your lips again, eyes hooded and a dark honey. 

You made a quiet noise, maybe an agreement, maybe a thanks, maybe you were just disappointed, but neither of you moved away. Your own hands rested on Eddie’s knees, soft, worn denim under your palms and Eddie murmured your name like a question, head tilting forward—

The door bounced against the wall as it opened, the wind blowing rain and some stray twigs inside, causing you to stumble backwards, your eyes as wide as Eddie’s. 

Murray was standing in the doorway, dripping wet from the rain, glasses smeared with water and he sighed, disgruntled. He flicked his arms out from his body, rain splattering to the cabin floor as he inspected both of you with suspicion. 

Nose wrinkled, he appraised you from over his thick glasses: Eddie’s pink cheeks, the way you couldn’t look at anything but the floor. 

“No,” the older man barked out, indignant. “No, I’m not doing this shit again, for Christ’s sake.”

Murray turned, leaving the way he came with no explanation to his appearance in the first place. He wrestled with the door handle, the old wood sticking in its frame and he cursed. “You’re all rampant. Goddamn kids and - Christ, this door - and their hormones, it’s like living with animals.”

The door finally shifted and slammed, shutting out Murray and the storm, the only evidence he’d been there was a puddle on the floor and some leaves that had blown in, sticking to the streaks of spilled paint. 

Eddie looked at you, heart still thudding in his chest, only to see you busy tidying once again, head ducked down so he couldn’t meet your gaze. 

Whatever had been going to happen, was over. 

—————

Unfortunately, Jason Carver was the one to open the door to Chrissy’s cabin. You hadn’t seen much of the blonde boy around camp - not that you had minded - as he spent most of his shifts at the lake and preferred to disappear into town at night with Billy. 

But he held the door as you and Robin walked in, arms full of the leftover pizza slices the other girl had managed to sneak from the kitchen as she finished dinner service.  

“New girl,” he greeted, taking the time to rake his eyes over your frame instead of helping with the Tupperware. “Buckley. Still not like dick?”

“Go fuck yourself, Carver,” Robin shot back, rolling her eyes and ushering you into the room, dumping the food onto Chrissy’s desk. She grabbed two beers from the obnoxiously large stash, passing them both to Steve to open with the car keys he fished from his pocket. 

“Shame,” Jason called back over the low music, ignoring the way Chrissy swatted at him, cheeks pink with embarrassment as she tried to get him to stop. “You and your friend could’a kept me company later.” His beady eyes settled on you, mouth curled into a smirk. “Gets cold at night, doesn’t it?”

Steve coaxed the beer back into your hand, one arm thrown around his girlfriend’s shoulders and he shook his head at you, grimacing. “Ignore him, he’s swallowed too much lake water or some shit.”

Robin took a swig of her own drink and smirked, nudging a friendly hand to Steve’s shoulder as she said, “we’re ignoring assholes now, huh, Harrington?”

There was a private joke, a hidden story you didn’t know there, and Hawkins grinned too, covering her smile with her cup. 

“His fighting days are over,” she declared, pushing a hand to the boy’s cheeks with such affection that it made you feel like you shouldn’t look. 

Steve scoffed, all false bravado. “Says who?”

His girlfriend smirked and squeezed at his chin a little firmer, just until his lips fell into a pout and she was able to tug him down to her for a kiss. “Me,” she told him as she pulled away and Steve just grinned, no argument left in him. 

“Are we talkin’ about how whipped Stevie is?” Eddie appeared at your side, a beer already in hand as he grinned and dodged the other boy’s fist, snorting when it skimmed his shoulder. 

You tried not to react when his arm brushed your own, when everything suddenly smelled like smoke and rainwater and Eddie. He hadn’t looked at you, in fact, he was actively trying not to, his curls hiding his eyes and when you turned to him just slightly, he ducked his head and took a long pull from his drink. 

“Always,” Robin replied, matter of factly and she grinned at you as if to include you in these plans. “Where have you been, anyway?”

Eddie took another swig from his beer, gulping down the amber liquid almost too enthusiastically for how shit it did actually taste. He was stalling. 

“Uh, private lesson,” he explained grimacing. He still wasn’t looking at you. “Ran a little over.”

It was a lie, it was a huge lie - you knew it - and the truth made your face burn. ‘Cause Eddie had stood frozen after Murray had left, watching you carefully from where he was still by the table, chest hammering. 

He’d been so sure you’d almost kissed him. He was almost positive you had been leaning into him the same way he tilted his chin down to you. But the door had slammed, Murray had yelled and left and the silence that had taken over was more deafening than the rain on the roof. 

So Eddie had coughed a little awkwardly and waited for you to stop cleaning up the mashed glue stick from the carpet and look at him. You’d stopped, sure. You’d even stood up from where you’d been kneeling but you didn’t quite meet the boy’s eye. And when he asked you:

“What just happened?”

You had toed at a forgotten pencil case and shrugged, your hands in the pockets of your shorts and replied, “nothing just happened, Eddie.”

And even though you still didn’t lift your gaze from the floor, Eddie had nodded, lips downturned and eyes sad, before he muttered something that sounded like ‘sure’ and left. 

You’d watched him walk away from the camp, away from the direction of the music workshop and the canon where he held his lessons. In fact, despite the rain, he walked towards the lake, his hood pulled up over his head and his hands shoved in his pockets, the maroon fabric turning darker and darker the further he got from you. 

And now he was standing next to you in the small circle you and his friends had created and he was trying so hard to pretend he couldn’t feel your bare arm pressed against his own, that he couldn’t smell the perfume he knew was yours. 

He took another gulp of his beer, lukewarm and bordering on sour and he could sense your gaze on him. He caught Steve’s eye instead and his friend quirked a brow, gaze searching between him and you, questioning. 

Eddie shook his head, an almost barely noticeable movement but you lifted your beer to your lips, making your arm brush Eddie’s and the boy went pink. 

Steve started humming the opening bars of REO Speedwagon. 

Eddie glared. 

But then Billy was pushing into the small circle, all blonde curls and sharp, blue eyes, his smile even sharper. He clapped Eddie on the shoulder and wrapped an unfamiliar arm around yours, squeezing you into his side. Across from you, Steve and Hawkins scowled, busying themself with grabbing some cold pizza slices. 

“Truth or dare,” Billy announced and he smelled like smoke and whisky, a far cry from the cheap beer everyone else had been left with. “C’mon assholes, look alive.”

Eddie shrugged the boy off and took another beer that Steve offered, eyes hard and staring at the floor as Billy kept his arm around you. You were too polite to move away, too conscious of all the eyes that were on you but you huffed out a laugh and asked:

“Truth or dare? Isn’t that kinda childish?”

Chrissy’s cabin was cast in little light, only a few lamps emitting a low, too warm glow and Billy looked positively dangerous in the shadows as he grinned at you. He tutted and moved to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your face, acting sweet for you. 

“Not the way I play it, darlin’,” he grinned, all teeth and bad intentions and from beside you, Robin pretended to gag. 

“Gross,” she muttered. 

“Revolting,” Hawkins agreed and when Billy scoffed at her, she flipped him the bird and leant against Steve, her back to his chest. 

“That’s a little mean of you, isn’t it, princess?” Billy pouted at her, “considering I’m the damn reason you two are together.” He pointed a finger at the girl and Steve, looking smug. 

The rest of the room groaned, as if Billy taking credit for this was a regular occurrence. 

Again, you felt like you were missing out on a joke that you weren’t privy to, an inside story from a summer that wasn’t yours. So you turned to Billy and raised a brow, questioning. 

“What?” You asked, just as Steve pinned Billy with a stare and said:

“Don’t call her princess.”

But Billy ignored him and kept his arm around you, grinning wider than ever and he leaned in just a little, enough for you to smell his cologne and the nicotine that stuck to his lips.

His voice was all flirt, a soft drawl that made Eddie's nostrils flare. “Haven’t you heard?” Billy asked and he looked at you like he wanted to sneak a bite, like he wanted to know what you tasted like. “I’m practically Cupid.”

The rest of the group snorted and scoffed, all varying sounds of derision but Billy ignored them and just kept smiling, looking too handsome for his reputation, all the stories you’d been told about him. 

“Got your eye on someone, Sugar? I can shoot an arrow or two, see if it sticks,” he winked and god, you didn’t mean it, you couldn’t help it. 

Your gaze flickered to Eddie and fucking hell, he was finally looking back at you too. Billy’s grin turned bigger, wider, sharper. Neon signs flashed in your head and you swore you could hear your mothers voice. Danger! Warning! Retreat!

“Well ain’t that interesting,” he smirked, finally letting go of you. He stole your beer instead, wrapped his lips around the neck and drained the rest, smirking and wiping at his mouth when Steve muttered something that sounded like, ‘fuckin’ prick.’ 

“You sweet on the new girl, huh, Munson?” Billy was outright sneering now, turning to Eddie to poke and prod until he broke.

“Get fucked, Hargrove,” Eddie replied lazily, his voice a soft drawl as he leaned against Chrissy’s desk but you could see the way his eyes narrowed, the way his shoulders were set. 

Everyone in the cabin was silent now, eyes on Eddie and Billy as the blonde boy took a step forward and smiled, baring his teeth in a way that could only be taken as a challenge. Your skin prickled. 

“Truth or dare, Teddy bear?” Billy whispered. 

“I’m not playing,” Eddie grunted back. 

“Ooh, forfeit,” Jason laughed from the door, “toilet block duty for a week, Munson, better tie your hair up.”

But neither boy listened, both Eddie and Billy still squaring up to each other, eyes narrowed and jaws set. You looked at Steve, silently asking him to do something but Steve seemed to be waiting for the exact time he needed to jump in. 

“Hey now,” Billy murmured to Eddie, all soft condescension and false friendliness. He looked back at you and licked across his bottom lip, glittering eyes giving away his true intentions. “If you don’t wanna play, I’m sure someone else will happily give her a little bit of attention.”

“Grow the fuck up, Billy,” Robin snapped and her hand slid over your wrist, guiding you towards the door. “Let’s just hang out in my cabin,” she told you softly. 

“Aw, c’mon!” Billy jeered, holding his arms out like he was surrendering. The majority of the room shook their heads at him, not ready to entertain his antics. “I’m Cupid, remember? Y’gotta trust the process.”

The music stuttered and the tape got stuck, the last few notes of whatever Blondie song fizzing with static before it stopped, just as Eddie slammed down his beer and shouldered past Billy. He walked straight towards you, his eyes on yours for what seemed like only the second time that night. 

You saw something wild in them, something new and something different. You realised then that Eddie Munson didn’t do well with being challenged, and with the way Billy was still smirking behind him, it seemed like he knew that too. 

So the thudthudthud of Eddie’s boots on the cabin floor matched your heart beat and Robin let go of your wrist as the boy approached. He’d taken his sweater off from earlier but he still smelled like the storm, like leftover rain and pine from the forest, like a burnt out campfire, a little like a new home.  

The toes of his boots touched your sneakers and you had to tilt your chin up a little to meet his gaze. He looked torn, kind of panicked, pretty in the way he always did but he’d lost the softness that he’d gazed at you with earlier, with paint on your face and glitter pressed to your palms. 

You thought he was going to kiss you. 

His eyes dropped to your lips and nobody spoke, but you heard Billy let out a huff of laughter, a dark chuckle that made your stomach dip and you weren’t supposed to let this happen, even if it was just a stupid game, ‘cause fuck — Eddie was never going to be a hangover and a bad decision you’d try to forget the next day. 

He was standing too close. 

You steeled yourself, wondering if you’d be mad if he kissed you like this. If he kissed you at all. Would you be more angry if he didn’t? This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen at all. 

You felt yourself closing your eyes, lashes soft on your cheeks, just for a second. 

And then he was gone. 

—————

Eddie was sitting outside of his cabin.

The party was long over and you’d stayed behind with Robin to help Chrissy tidy up, keeping your head down as Billy swept past, a leftover beer in his hand and a satisfied smirk on his lips as he got into a car with Jason.

And when you walked through the forest, hearing the whispers of the kids in the cabins as you passed, you noticed a tiny light on the porch steps, the orange red dot of the end of a cigarette in the dark. Eddie stood when you approached, stubbed the end of the smoke out on the railing and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Nerves rolled off of him in waves and he took a step forward, old leaves and pine cones crunching under his boots. You shook your head and kept walking, the light from your own cabin a warm glow only a few dozen feet away. 

“Hey, hey, listen,” Eddie coaxed softly, “can we talk?”

“I’m tired, Eddie,” you began, still taking slow steps towards your own home. 

(And embarrassed and confused and frustrated, but you didn’t say that.)

“We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?” But then you made the mistake of stopping and looking back at the boy and he was all soft curls and softer eyes, sad and glittering. 

He caught your wrist, a gentle hand with careful fingers and his touch was warmer than the night. You looked down, watched his thumb rub at the back of your palm and suddenly you weren’t as sleepy as before. 

Maybe Eddie could sense the sway in you, maybe he was already a little too in tune with the way your body leaned into his. His hand slipped down, fingers skimming over your own and he wasn’t quite holding your hand but it felt just as nice, just as lovely. Eddie pinched your thumb between two of his fingers, looked up at you through his lashes and smiled, too sweet.  

“Can we talk?” Eddie tried again. “Please?”

So you nodded because it was getting harder and harder to say no to the boy, to keep away from the boy - and you knew deep down that you were more angry at yourself than at him. ‘Cause you kept breaking your own rules and you knew fine well that you would’ve let Eddie kiss you. And to be mad at him for doing exactly what you asked him to - to be friends - wasn’t fair in the slightest. 

But he was smiling now, soft and lovely, too sweet to seem real and his hand moved to cover your own and it left you wondering for the hundredth time: would it really be that awful to break some rules?

Eddie led you away from the cabins, hand in yours, fingers tangled in a way that made your skin feel too warm and you were both tripping through the trees in the dark until Hop’s office lights lit up the ground and you could see Eddie’s van parked a just away from the edge of the clearing. 

He fished out his keys from his pocket, wiggled them in the air and quirked his brows. His hand was still in yours and you wondered if he could feel your heartbeat through your fingertips, if you were looking at him the same way he was looking at you. 

Earnest, hopeful, with too much fondness. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Eddie asked quietly. 

You chanced a look at the cabin behind you, the warm glow from the window letting you both know that Hopper was still up, maybe even Murray and Joyce. 

“Are we allowed?”

Eddie smiled, a soft grin that made your stomach flip ‘cause it was full of nothing good, all mischief and trouble. The night seemed so much warmer, like it was filled with more than just summer, more than the linger heat of the sun. You wondered if it was possible for another person to make you feel like this, like teenagers at your high school locker, nerves like the anticipation of a first kiss behind an oak tree, a passed note that you kept in your drawer for years and years and years. 

He shrugged, too nonchalant. “No,” came the reply. 

You bit your lip to try and hide the grin you gave back, unprepared for the feeling of complete and utter excitement that clawed at your stomach at his words. Eddie’s hand tightened around yours. 

“Okay,” you whispered back. 

It felt like a daydream when Eddie helped you clamber into the front of the van, the inside still stuffy and warm from the afternoon spent sitting in the sun and it smelled like him. Like coffee and rain and smoke and spice, and you grinned at the mess on the floor. An old sweater, the lanyard that was stitched with the camp's logo that only Nancy wore, wrapped around the stick shift. There was an open box of guitar picks on the console, a couple empty cans of soda, sheet music with footprints on it, one drumstick, too many cassette tapes - none in their cases - to count. 

But every inch of the space screamed EddieEddieEddie and it consumed you. You didn’t hesitate to shuffle over to the middle of the bench when the boy sat behind the wheel, close enough that your thigh almost touched his.

You shouldn’t have. 

You didn’t need to. 

You couldn’t help yourself. 

He rolled the windows down as he pulled out of the car park, the headlights off until he reached the main road and neither of you heard Hopper’s truck screeching after you. 

Despite the late hour, there was still a pink tint to the sky, barely there and only making the horizon glow, a leftover streak of colour from where the sun had sunk. The rest of the night was dark, inky black and littered with stars and when the van picked up speed, warm air funnelled through the front of the cab and it picked at you and Eddie’s hair. 

You didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t ask. God, you found that you didn’t really care. 

So you let the wind cool down your sun warmed skin and you smiled when Eddie hit the button for the radio, a song coming on soft and low, an acoustic guitar and lyrics that were much sweeter than you expected. Neither of you said much, but Eddie tapped out a beat on the steering wheel and your gaze went between his profile and the trees that blurred at the side of the road. 

You drove until the wilderness became a little more tamed, until the darkness fed into streetlights and the roads got a little bigger. Toy sized towns sprung up from the forests, gas stations with two pumps, sleepy sidewalks and neon signs that flickered in the night. 

Eddie pulled up to a diner, one with wrap-around windows and red, leather booths, an aquamarine sign that flashed ‘OPEN 24/7.’ It was easy to follow him into the building, to get swallowed up by the smell of fries and coffee. The floors were a little sticky and the waitresses looked tired, the three other diners barely glancing back at you both as the bell above the door signalled your arrival. 

The boy ordered two milkshakes, one chocolate and one strawberry and he batted away your hand as you tried to push some dollar bills into his. There was a smile on his face as he did it, soft lips and soft curls and even softer eyes, and he gave no explanation as he took the large cups from over the counter and headed back outside. 

“You not letting me pay seems an awful lot like a date, Eddie,” you called out across the parking lot. 

He barely looked back at you as he headed to the van, a soft laugh caught in his throat as stood in front of the driver’s side door and grinned. When he did turn to face you, he looked like trouble, holding up the two shakes as he nodded down to his waist. 

“Grab the keys for me, sweetheart?” 

It sounded like another dare. 

You could’ve taken a milkshake from him. You really could’ve. In fact, all common sense told you that that’s exactly what you should’ve done. But you took a step forward and then another and another, toe to toe with the boy until you were both bathed under the aquamarine light, Eddie’s cheeks shades of pink and blue. 

Maybe he didn’t think you’d do it. Maybe he was only joking. 

But he held his breath and you could feel the air change when you curled your fingers around his jeans pocket, tugging a little cause the denim was too tight and Christ, you could feel the expanse of his thigh underneath when you fished for the car keys, the metal jingling in the quiet. He stared at you the entire time, sugar and strawberries filling the air and you gazed right back, chin lifted up to meet his eyes almost defiantly. 

You weren’t sure what you were trying to prove, but you were pretty sure it was the opposite of what you were supposed to be doing. 

The lock clicked and you didn’t look at Eddie as you walked to the other side, climbing back into the van that suddenly felt so much smaller than before. You kept your back to the passenger door this time, further away from the boy who was looking at you like he was scared you might take up cross country in order to get back to camp. 

He offered you both shakes, smiling and nodding when you took the strawberry with a quiet thank you. You both drank in silence for a minute or two, the parking lot emptying of what little vehicles remained and when the clock on the dash hit two, you and Eddie were alone. 

“Are you mad at me?” Eddie eventually asked, soft and a little apprehensive, looking over at you with worry in his eyes. “For not kissing you?”

Your breath shook as you let it out. 

“I mean, I didn’t know if— ‘cause you don’t want to kiss me, right? Or anybody, really, I s’pose— you have your rule and I totally get it but you seem like you’re mad at me and—”

“Eddie,” you tried to shush the boy, but your voice was too soft and too small and Eddie kept rambling. 

“—and maybe I’m crazy but in the cabin when it was raining… it seemed like you wanted to kiss me then too, but shit, maybe I’m just being optimistic, ‘cause I know you don’t wanna get involved in anything and I respect that and I’m happy to be your friend- so happy - but I don’t know what I was supposed to do—”

“Eddie.” You’d moved suddenly enough to surprise him, his words falling short as you shuffled to the middle of the bench, sitting on your knees as you gazed at him imploringly. 

You smiled around a sigh, a soft, sad noise that made Eddie’s lips turn down and you were gentle when you took his half empty cup from him, sitting it on the dash along with yours. 

“I’m not mad at you,” you explained when you turned back to him, your fingers pulling at a thread on the hem of your shirt, stomach tumbling at the thought of telling Eddie too much. “I’m pissed at myself, actually.”

Eddie’s brows shot up and a boyish confusion took over his features. He shook his head softly at you, as if to explain he didn’t understand. But he sat quietly, waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m annoyed ‘cause I think I did want you to kiss me,” you closed your eyes briefly at your admission, not wanting to see the way hope flashed across the boy’s face.  “And I shouldn’t want that ‘cause I told you I wasn’t getting involved with anyone and that’s not fair to you.”

You sighed again and it sounded even sadder, a huff of breath that hitched in the middle but you kept going, the cadence of your voice pitching higher as you rambled, the same way the boy had. 

“It’s so entirely unfair and I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of bitch who’s leading you on, ‘cause I’m not! Or at least, I don’t mean to be - fuck - and I’m sorry if I am and I don’t want this to be confusing or complicated or, or, shit I don’t know.” You took a pause to breathe, blinking at Eddie who just stared back, eyes too pretty to look away from this time round. 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” you said sullenly, as if meeting the boy before you was the worst thing in the world. Maybe it was. “And I’m sorry ‘cause I’m being real selfish, ‘cause I don’t wanna stay away from you and I like it when you call me nice things and when you meet me for breakfast and I think about ki—”

You broke off again and squeezed your eyes shut tight, like that would keep your secrets in too. And when that didn’t seem to work, you groaned and brought your hands to your face, fingertips still cold from holding your shake and you pressed them meanly over your lashes. 

“M’really sorry, Eddie.”

You heard a soft laugh, barely there and not unkind, an even quieter tsk before two strong hands wrapped themselves around your wrists and tugged gently. You let Eddie guide your palms away from your face and when you opened your eyes, he was a little closer than before. 

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he whispered. “And you’re certainly not a bitch.” 

You blinked at him, trying to keep the frustrated tears you wanted to let out at bay. 

“I like being around you too,” Eddie continued and he was looking at you in that way that made your stomach twist. “And if you only think you wanted to kiss me—”

You let out an embarrassed groan and Eddie grinned. 

“—that’s okay. I can wait until you know for certain. And if you don’t, then we can still be friends, like we are right now.”

Nothing about your relationship with Eddie felt friendly. Every look and every touch felt electric, like the air around you both knew more than you did, ‘cause it fizzed and buzzed every time he was around. It felt like something else, something more. 

“But for the record,” Eddie whispered conspiratorially, pink in the cheeks

despite the way he tried to act all theatrical for you. “I wanted to kiss you.”

You ducked your chin to your chest to try and hide the way you smiled, an embarrassing scrunch of your nose but Eddie saw and he grinned wider, you could feel it, you could sense the way the space between you turned lighter and heavier all at once. 

When you looked back up, Eddie was watching you, head tilted and curls a little messy and wild. He was still holding your wrists, his wide hands covering some of your own and you weren’t sure if he even realised. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for something else yet,” you told him and you hated the way you sounded scared. “My last relationship was so— so shit.”

“That’s okay too, well - the first part is. The second part is definitely shitty,” Eddie said, so soft it hurt and god, you believed him. He licked his lips, nervous and unsure, parting them as if to say something else but he stopped. 

“What?” You prompted and you flipped your hands in his, palm to palm, so you were able to touch a thumb to the underside of one ring. 

“Would it be so bad?” He asked, almost too quiet to hear. “To try?”

You took a breath, held the question and the answer in your chest until it burned and you wondered if it would be. Logic ceased to exist as you thought about leaning forward and pressing your lips to Eddie’s, the idea of your mouth parting slowly against his own was enough to make heat creep up the back of your neck. 

You wondered what he’d taste like, if he’d kiss you soft, if he’d kiss you rough, like all his patience had run out and he just had to have you. You thought about his hands, if he’d be soft with them too, if he’d hold you sweet by the waist or if he’d cup your jaw and pull you closer to him. Maybe he’d make pretty sounds for you, maybe he’d groan and sigh low and sweet when your tongue touched his, maybe he’d pull away to whisper in your ear, run his mouth like you knew he was good at. 

You were leaning in. 

You didn’t even realise. 

Eddie was too. 

Hands still tangled and resting on your lap, his breath mixing with your own as his forehead touched yours. A curl tickled your cheek and when the bridge of your nose bumped softly against the boy’s, your lashes fluttered as your eyes closed and your heart was thumpingthumpingthumping. 

Your brain was yelling. It sounded like your mother, like your ex and it sounded like you, shouting at them both that you didn’t need a relationship and you didn’t need boys and how this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Maybe you pulled back, maybe you just stopped. Or maybe Eddie just knew you better than you thought, ‘cause it had been three weeks of camp and he knew how you liked to visit the lake at least once a day, how you always woke up early and you liked it best when it rained through the night so you could sleep to the sounds of it. 

Eddie sat back in the seat, took his hands with him and left yours feeling colder than they should’ve. 

Before you could panic, before you could say sorry again and again, before the tears you felt thicken the back of your throat, Eddie smiled. He handed you back your milkshake, a little more melted than before. 

“You don’t have to kiss me,” he said gently, and his words hurt your chest but he kept talking. “You don’t have to prove anything to me - or yourself,” he added. 

He took a second to lean back in, just a little, the hand not holding his shake lifting to your face so he could push back a piece of hair that had fallen across your forehead. You think he just wanted a reason to touch you, and you realised then you’d let him do that as much as he wanted. 

“I don’t want you to kiss me if you’re not sure,” he explained. “And I don’t want to make you feel rushed or—”

“You don’t,” you interrupted and your voice felt too loud for the front of the van, for the soft quiet, the blue light and strawberry air. “You don’t make me feel like that at all, Eddie. I just— I feel…”

Scared, torn, nervous, hypocritical. 

You looked at him, sad, doe eyed and nervous, and if you chewed at your poor bottom lip any longer, Eddie was going to have to save it with gentle fingers. 

“How ‘bout this,” Eddie said soft and lovely, like a secret, “if you work out how you feel, and you work out what you want…” he trailed off, felt brave again and took your hand back in his, a thumb running over the back of it. “Come find me, yeah? Let me know.”

You nodded, fingertips pushed to his palm, across the tiny guitar string scars and rough calluses. 

“‘Cause I really like you,” he whispered. 

“I like you too,” you whispered back and Eddie smiled, wide and bright and adorably shy. 

“Good to know,” he nodded but his cheeks were flushed and he let go of your hand for the last time, curling his own back around the steering wheel. “We, uh, we better head back before Steve starts a search party for us.”

“For you, you mean,” you snorted. 

“Don’t be jealous,” the boy quipped back but he was smiling. “This is gotta be the part of the script where the van breaks down on us, right?”

You laughed again, a soft huff and sounded so fond that it made Eddie’s chest ache. You were busy clipping your seatbelt back in, your shake almost empty and wedged behind your thighs and Eddie tried not to stare, he really did.  

“And then what happens?” You asked, peering over at him, wondering if it was safe to ask, if you wanted to know. 

Eddie shrugged, gave a sort of half smile that told you he was already thinking it over. “Depends what horror movie you like best, I guess.”

You scrunched your nose and watched the lights turn Eddie from aquamarine to a too warm orange as he rolled out of the diner’s parking lot. “A horror?”

‘I thought this was supposed to be a romance,’ you wanted to say. 

You didn’t. 

“Yeah, pick your poison sweetheart,” Eddie laughed, gaining a little more speed as he left the town behind and the only light came from the moon. “Ghostface with a knife? He gets me first when I go look for help,” Eddie wiggled his brows at you theatrically. “Or how ‘bout a good old fashioned zombie mob, huh? They surround the van and I obviously sacrifice myself to save you.”

You snorted, too amused. “Obviously,” you tell him. 

“But once I’m all zombified, I turn on you,” Eddie grinned wide when you gasped, overly dramatic, just for him. “Start nibblin’ on that pretty neck like a chicken tender.”

You shake your head at him, still laughing. “You’re horrid.”

The boy shrugged, drove the van slowly through the skinny, dirt roads back into the forest. And when he stopped and killed the engine, silence settled over you both in a way it didn’t in town. Something far away chirped. 

“Yeah, I know,” he appeased. His gaze settled on you, wide and bright even in the dark, a lot more hopeful too. “But you like me.”

PART TWO

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fic

[insomniacwriter17]

A Quick Update

Hey there, everyone!

I've been really quiet this year, and I know I'm sure you're tired of hearing this, but I didn't mean for it to be this way. A lot of things have happened offline, and continue to happen, and I am trying my hardest to keep my head above water.

I'm not here to give excuses, I'm here to say that I'm trying my best. I'm writing behind-the-scenes where I can. Believe me, every day I sit down and try my best to get something down in hopes of building a story for you guys. Some days it works, some days it doesn't.

My world stopped spinning, and then started again way too fucking fast for me to do anything about it. My goal for 2024 now is to simply survive it.

I can't say thank you enough to my besties @littledemon-lilith and @ofhawkinsandvecna for putting up with me. My brain has not been a fun place to be this year, and they've been right there with me to love & support me.

I'm working on myself. I'm building my life back. I'm trying not to let what happened keep me down. Some days that's easier than others. But just know I love you guys and I can't wait for the day I make my return.

To my TLB readers: Billy and Steve say hello. Billy waved Tank's fin hello to you all and let Tank send you all air kisses and hugs. The three of them are content in my Google docs, watching movies and snuggling and eating as many green grapes as a Little Billy's tummy can handle.

To my Saved from the Flames readers: Bob and Billy are reading The Hardy Boys and eating ice cream sundaes. Billy can't wait to show you the toys his Grandma and Grandpa brought him after his adoption! They love you and want to remind you to always look for the family you can create <3

<3 Sending love to you all!

#this be a queue #personal #TLB #sftf #stranger things #insomniacwriter17 #writing #ao3 #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #bob newby #saved from the flames #the little buddy

[cherrydreamer]

Thinking about Billy rocking up early one morning at Steve's house and hearing the muffled sound of Metallica coming through the open windows. So he wanders in, a little confused, only to find Steve in the kitchen making breakfast while Jump in the Fire blares out from the fancy music centre in the living room. And Billy just watches for a moment, leaning on the doorframe, a soft smile growing on his face as Steve bobs along to the rhythm of the music, flipping pancakes and pouring out coffee and occasionally mumble-singing a little, "Jump in the fi-yah," under his breath as he works.

And when Steve finally notices that he's being watched- jumping back with a hand on his heart and a Jeez Louise, the very picture of a Midwestern grandpa- Billy can't help but tease him a little, plucking that fresh cup of coffee right out of his hands and purring, "Nice tunes, Stevie. Looks like I'm rubbing off on you in a whole other way, huh?"

But Steve's answering smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, and it takes more than a little bit of Billy's gentle coaxing before he sheepishly admits that, sometimes, when he wakes up alone and the emptiness of the house feels a little too much, he'll grab one of Billy's left behind tapes, set it playing nice and loud and just kinda... pretend that Billy's there too. Pretend that he's only a couple of rooms away, sprawled out on the Cassina couch, getting a little too into one of Mrs Harrington's Harlequin romances and blasting his music out with no regard for the neighbours. Cause it feels a little less lonely that way.

And Billy has to rein himself in from punching a hole through the drywall of the kitchen.

Because he's been trying so damn hard to pretend that all he wants from this is something casual. He's been trying so hard not to fall, and then, when that ship sailed immediately, trying even harder not to let on just how deeply he has fallen. He's been forcing himself to get out of Steve's bed the moment he's caught his breath, shoving on his boots and lighting a cigarette and practically hurling himself down the stairs without even risking a backwards glance because he knew that, if he gave into the temptation of actually taking any of the morsels of affection that Steve is so willing to hand out, well, he'd lose himself entirely.

But now Steve is looking at Billy, all big doe eyes and pouty lips and saying, "It's dumb, I know, but it...it just makes me miss you a bit less, I guess."

And Billy is lost. Entirely.

But he can't say that he really minds. Not when Steve's already found so much of him and apparently declared it something worth keeping.

So he stops pretending.

And the next time the mid-morning sun fills the Harrington's kitchen, it falls on Steve making breakfast. For two this time. And it also falls on Billy standing right beside him, pouring out two mugs of coffee before leaning over to pepper a whole constellation of kisses against Steve's exposed shoulder. And this time the only music they need is the soft crackle of the transistor radio on the counter, a gentle hum of The Beach Boys asking, "Wouldn't it be nice?"

And it is.

#harringrove #cherrywrites #more soft soft soft #it's what i do #fluff friday #is that a thing? cause i like it!

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Mr Electric

Ray Bradbury: Submitted for the approval of the midnight Society, I call this the tale of the eternal summer, the last vestiges of muggy august giving way to the bluster of autumn, the twinkling lights of town below in the humid night, young lovers stealing kisses in the dark, old men on the porch, jawin and chewin and chuckling at remembrances of romances long past Barker: you’re literally just describing a Thomas Kinkade painting Poe: clive

Stephen King: wow ray you really come up with some evocative imagery! King: whatever inspired you to become a writer anyway? Bradbury: well, it all started when I went to the county fair and met a wizard Koontz: whoa! A real wizard! King: no dean he’s talking about a magician Bradbury: [chuckling] am I? Bradbury: mr electrico was no mere magician! Bradbury: he had the REAL power!!! Bradbury: the power Bradbury: to fire a young boy’s IMAGINATION! Neil Gaiman: [clapping] right, right! Good show! Right on!

Ray Bradbury: and Mr Electrico pointed a flaming electrical sword at me and said Bradbury: “LIVE FOREVER!!” Bradbury: now I cannot be killed Gretchen Felker-Martin: oh yeah, big mood

Bradbury: Mr Electrico said “Live Forever!” Bradbury: Now I cannot be killed Bradbury: and it’s true Bradbury: c’mon try it out Stephen King: no no I couldn’t Bradbury: c’mon Bradbury: c’mon!!! Bradbury: come at me bro!!! Bradbury: I can take it!!

Bradbury: [slapping chest] c’mon, take a swing at me! Stephen King: I really don’t want to fight you Ray Bradbury: do it! Do it! Barker: I’ll do it Poe: clive Barker: I’m just giving him what he wants! Poe: clive Poe: clive he’s like 100 years old

Mary Shelley: sup fuckers Bradbury: mary!!! Come at me! Mary Shelley: okie dokie [immediately shivs Bradbury, blade snaps] Mary Shelley: what the fuck Bradbury: ha! this isn’t even a tenth of my power!!! Bradbury: what did I tell you?! Bradbury: not a single one of you could defeat you!! Mary Shelley: oh yeah? Mary Shelley: guess we’ll have to gang up on you!! Get ‘im boys! [Ann Radcliffe and Monk Lewis approach with chain and billy club respectively] [Bradbury effortlessly blocks roundhouse kick by Wrath James White] Bradbury: ha! Laughable! [Bradbury effortlessly sidesteps kung fu chop by Alan Baxter] Bradbury: ha! Pathetic!

Bradbury: come on! Come at me! Robert E Howard: you sure about this pardna? Howard: this ain’t no pea shooter hombre Bradbury: [slapping chest] what’s the matter, ya pussy? Bradbury: Fuckin do it!! Howard: hold on thar pardna Howard: I think ya might wanna calm down Bradbury: [grabbing gun and pulling Robert E Howard closer] Bradbury: DO Bradbury: IT Howard: [aiming gun] okay pilgrim you asked fer it Poe: bob Poe: bob this is getting ridiculous Poe: bob don’t Howard: [cocking gun] sorry pardna Howard: I gotta Howard: it’s the law of the west

Ray Bradbury: [flexing] Behold!!! The power of Mr. Electrico!!! The electric man!!! Barker: so ray Barker: I hear this magician’s fake Poe: clive Bradbury: he’s a real magician Barker: is he now Barker: then why hasn’t anyone ever heard of him Bradbury: he Bradbury: he lives in Canada

#midnight pals #midnight society #the midnight society #ray bradbury #stephen king #dean koontz #edgar allan poe #clive barker #neil gaiman #gretchen felker-martin #alan baxter #wrath james white #robert e howard #mary shelley #ann radcliffe #matthew “monk” lewis

[bakeryblood]

“Seriously, get some help..”

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Pt. 3 Finale

cw: Injury, Abuse, Blood, Internalized Homophobia, Alcoholism, no proof reading and obviously, angst

D/N= Dads’ Name

((This is 9.5k can you blame me for not checking for typos))

The atmosphere the next day at Hawkins High School was dreary as hungover teens shuffled their way through the halls donning sunglasses and more make up than usual to hide their dark circles and flushed faces as some recalled their drunken actions the night before.

Y/N had caught a ride with Jonathan, he remembered that. He didn’t recall begging him to take him to his house though, or falling asleep on the ride there giving Byers the semi difficult job of getting them in the house without causing a ruckus and waking up his mother and her boyfriend as he walked the intoxicated man to his room and let him flop back on the bed.

Pulling the laces of their converse undone and then removing their shoes just in time for them to pull their legs up on the bed with the rest of them. Jonathan sighed and grabbed the bottom of the sheet they were laying on top of and folding it over so it covered them as much as it could before walking back into the living room and taking a look at the dinner table in the kitchen that showed the remains of the dinner Joyce and Bob enjoyed along with a note telling Jonathan that leftovers were wrapped up in the fridge for him for even he got home. A festive ‘Happy Halloween’ at the bottom with a low effort doodle of a pumpkin finishing it off and he smiled softly before putting the note back and picking up the plates to put in the sink to soak overnight and then heading to the couch.

His feet hung over the side and his neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle but he eventually managed to go to sleep. For what felt like only minutes later, his mother walked Bob out and gave him a kiss at the front door as he headed off to get in to work before she came over shaking her eldest sons shoulder.

“Honey, Jonathan..” He squeezed his eyes shut before softly pushing her hand off of him. “Yes mom, what is it?”

“Where is Will?” His eyes flew open and he sat up in a flash, rushing down to check in the boys room though the door sat open as Joyce had does so first thing when she came out.

“Uh, call the wheelers. I forgot, they had me drop them off there for a sleepover..” He lied and prayed that was where his brother was. If he was he would make sure to have a talk to him about making deals with his older brother and sticking to them. Home by 9pm means home by 9pm. He rubbed his face as his mom quickly dialed up his brothers best friends to check on his whereabouts and Jonathan looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. He had actually managed to get six hours of sleep but he felt like he’d gotten none at all and he dreaded the idea of going to class.

Despite not having drank the night before he still felt absolutely exhausted as he stretched up, leaning against the wall next to his brothers bedroom door to brace himself as his back cracked. “Yes it’s Joyce, ah yes good morning! I just wanted to make sure Will was there?..He is? Oh thank goodness…Just make sure to tell him to come straight home after school. Right, thank you Karen.”

Jonathan gave a soft sigh of relief hearing confirmation that his brother was safe at his friends house. Making the short trip to his room he expected to have the troublesome job of waking up Y/N and facing their hungover wrath but to his surprise as he opened the door the man stood in front of their bed. Their shirtless back turned to him as they held up one of his old worn button up shirts, debating if it would fit him well enough.

“Oh, can I wear this? Mine smells like I spilled a drink or something on it..” Y/N turned their head and peered at Jonathan who was standing in the dark hallway looking in as the light that managed to get passed his curtains illuminated Y/N well enough for him to notice all the markings that littered his body. Various colors and stages of healing depending on the area, his back fresh and dark from the night before. He could clearly see where he’d come into contact with the wooden doorframe Billy had slammed him into, at the time he’d chalked up his lack of reaction to the alcohol which very well could have been a large factor. But mostly he was just used to it, giving his attacker as reaction tended to fuel them onward to continue.

“So can I?” Jonathan quickly nodded and made his way inside, shutting his bedroom door out of fear his mother might come moseying past and the morning would become a whirlwind of calls to the police station.

“Y/N, don’t you think..” He trailed off, his brain was still not running at full capacity and it was hard for him to formulate the words he wanted to. “Don’t you think we should do something? Look at this.” He reached over and brushed his fingers against the yellowing marks on Y/N’s ribs before he could move to slide his arms into the shirt and cover himself.

“No, I don’t. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Y/N stopped the process of buttoning the shirt and shot him a look that showed a hint of fear, conveying that he needed Jonathan to keep it down.

“Please don’t do this right now, okay?” He mumbled and rushed to get the shirt closed without missing any buttons as Jonathan took up a slow pace around the room.

“You come here apologizing for not being there for me but you want me to just ignore this? You think I didn’t hear what that asshole said last night Y/N? If we’re friends then we need to act like it. No lies. No secrets.” Jonathan pointed at him before grabbing his car keys off his bedside table and indicated that he would be waiting for them in the car, wanting to get a head start on the drive so perhaps they could address some of the issues without his mothers curious ears lurking about.

Y/N slid into the seat, tossing his jacket into the back after retrieving his almost empty pack of cigarettes. “Go on then.”

“What was with the guy last night?”

Y/N chuckled as he flicked the top of his lighter open and waved it over the tip briefly before flicking it back closed with a ‘click’ of metal on metal. “Well, He’s new. Just moved from California.”

Jonathan gave a hum, confirming he heard him and wanted them to continue as he turned his head to safely pull out of his yard and start a leisurely cruise towards the school. “We had athletics together yesterday, Steve acted like he knew he was going to be on him and to steal the ball when he was distracted.”

“So I did, and we ‘won’. It embarrassed him I guess.” He mused.

“Yeah, that all sounds about right, but he wasn’t talking about that. He said something about photography and you lying to him..?”

Y/N sighed and shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about that, or tell Jonathan that he’d had Billy bring him to their house earlier in the day. “Y/N. Don’t lie.”

“You know sometimes I go to the football field and just sit and think. Watch the sun come up…Well they showed up yesterday morning..” Y/N went on to fill Jonathan in, finishing just as they arrived at the school. Jonathan gave an irritated , fake laugh as he parked the car and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So let me get this right— You get attacked by him, he comes to ask why you aren’t scared of him, you both essentially tell each other about your jackass fathers and then you tell him where I live?” He kept his eyes locked on the dashboard of his car, not wanting to make you know how much that actually got to him.

“Essentially.”

“Well that’s just great.” Y/N rolled his eyes and opened the door to the car and tossed his cigarette butt on the asphalt before getting out. “See. You make me promise to not lie but I’m in trouble either way.”

“Yeah because I’m the person you need to worry about, right?” Jonathan clapped back as he followed him through the parking lot.

“I mean..”

“Exactly. So what we need to do is handle one of these situations. I know your dad isn’t on the table, so we’re going to the front office before class. If anything they can call Hargrove into the counselors and maybe she can help him.”

“I’m not snitching on him.”

Jonathan stopped and stared at them as they continued walking for a few steps before stopping as well and turning to look back at their friend who was quickly losing their patience. “Y/N, this isn’t snitching. This is getting them help.”

“Well they came to me and opened up, they have to make that decision on their own. Forcing it will only make things worse.”

“Make what worse?” Nancy had easily snuck up behind Jonathan and Y/N had simply let it happen as he saw her coming from the same direction they had come from as her and Steve filled out of his car moments after they had. Jonathan looked at her meekly as she stood beside him, all assertiveness he’d held earlier flittering away.

“Nothing. You feeling better?” Y/N questioned, effectively changing the subject as Nancy gave an embarrassed smile and nodded her head before coming forward and taking Y/N in a hug. “I’m sorry for ditching you last night, I understand if you’re mad at me. I deserve it, really..” Y/N tensed up at the embrace but reached up and gave her an awkward pat on the back.

“Of course not, I think we both drank too much last night.”

“That’s for sure..” Jonathan mumbled and Nancy let the boy go and looked at the other with a curious expression.

“You two came in together didn’t you?” Her lips twitched up in a sly smirk, wanting to get into the details of what Jonathan could be implying just as Steve tiredly made his way over. He’d also been on ‘drunken babysitting’ duty the night before, comforting Nancy as she cried and raged at him. Letting everything that she had been bottling up the last year spill out as they sat on the bathroom floor for the majority of the house party.

“I crashed at his place.” Nancys eyebrows raised up and the four of them began to make their way into the school as she thought over the implications of her two friends doing things similar to what Steve had done for her, at least that was where her imagination came in to fill in the blanks. Having no idea of Y/N’s personal life or the interaction with Billy after she had ran away out of the kitchen.

First Period. Second Period. Third Period.

The day was going so slowly. More students took to catching naps at their desks than causing a ruckus as they perhaps would have usually done, so any distractions that would have made the class seem to pass by faster were absent and the teachers couldn’t exactly keep up with the infractions. If they did the majority of the student body would have detention.

Once Y/N remembered his next class was athletics he quickly had made up his mind that he wouldn’t be going. He never skipped classes, usually only lunch if he felt the need to get away from the noise of the other students or to indulge his nicotine addiction. Heading towards Nancy’s locker to let Steve know he was on his own if he decided to pop off at someone this time he stood and waited, not seeing them.

“Y/N..” Billy had rushed through the throng of slowly moving students, pushing one or two out of his way as he captured you at the lockers, holding an arm out to stop you as he watched you start to take a step in that direction to walk away. “Can we talk. Please.”

“Why would you want to talk to me? I’m a liar, remember?” To someone else that knew the details of what had transpired last night the comment might have seemed a tad comedic. He was more worried about them insinuating he was a liar than the mild physical assault?

“Please. Just— Come on.” Billy roughly grabbed their arm and started dragging them through the hall, determined to get them out the front doors. Given that they hadn’t put up fight, willingly following to avoid the blondes fingers digging into their arm anymore than they already were, he succeeded.

As they stood there Billy held what must have been his best attempt at expressing regret. “What do you want with me?”

“I want to apologize. That wasn’t me last night..”

Y/N laughed dryly, “It sure did look like you, dressed like the terminator. But definitely you.”

“We we’re all drinking. And one of the guys brought coke and what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry, okay?” His eyes held the look of a frantic, wild animal as his brain and mouth fought against each other to explain his actions. Y/N just tossed a hand up in dismissal.

“I really don’t care what you were doing, because you aren’t addressing the real issue.” He went to walk away towards the parking lot only for Billy to quickly get ahead of him and follow.

“What’s the real issue then?” Y/N didn’t respond.

“Y/N! What’s the real fuckin’ issue!?” His face was getting hot as he was finding himself quickly losing his temper once again.

“This Billy! You want my help but the minute some asshole asks you to put on a show for everyone what are you going to do? Hurt me?” You hadn’t raised your voice in anger in so long it felt unnatural to you. You wanted to sprint away and lock yourself in Jonathan’s car, leaving the dumb blonde there to think it over, but you couldn’t as you looked into those eyes. You could see the gears turning.

“I don’t like this, this fake pseudo therapy shit. We’re both fucked up but I don’t actively go out of my way to hurt people just because I can..” Y/N turned away and started walking again as Billy followed suit. “I’m sorry okay! I’m really sorry, I’m trying to do better and I’ll try harder to stop myself. Yesterday really helped Y/N, I’ve never felt like I could just..say those things to someone before..” You reached Jonathan’s rusted up green car but with the man following your flight response told you that you needed to get away from him, he was dangerous. Even if you didn’t want to give up on him you couldn’t help it as you took a step, your shoe flicking gravel as you got one step into a sprint before he’d grabbed you.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I need you. You know how to help me..” He had his arms around you but not painfully so. It succeeded in stopping you but you could have easily gotten out of his hold if you’d wanted to. The weight of his muscular limbs wrapped around yours had a certain calming affect, Like hugging one’s self for comfort.

Y/N didn’t want to feel like that. Letting himself be held by another man and getting comfort from it wasn’t going to help him at all in the long run, having had to deal with emotions and situations similar to this with Jonathan early on in their friendship. “I need you.”

‘You don’t need me, you need help. You need actual help.’ Is what he wanted to say, bending his arm he reached up and placed his hand onto Billy’s forearm, rubbing his palm against the denim fabric that covered it. The two of them standing in silence as they reveled in the solace of having another persons body touching theirs and not having pain directly follow. “Billy..I need you to let go…”

“Are you going to run away?” The tone of his voice sounded so gruff yet laced with fear and Y/N pulled his arm down from around him easily before turning to look at them. He looked truly fatigued, the sleepless night due to the drugs and alcohol finally doing him in as he rested against the car and rubbed his face.

Y/N sighed and took the space beside him, crossing his arms. It seemed there was no way around this man causing him trouble. Emotionally or Physically and he’d have to choose. “You’re too easily peer pressured..If you want my help you can’t just kick my ass to save face in front of those assholes.”

“I didn’t ‘kick your ass’, but you also lied to me. This is the same car from your friends house I dropped you off at, y’all are a thing right?” Billy had an unamused tone as he vocalized his assumptions, taking his tired eyes off the sky only when he heard you start to snicker.

“Oh fuck, Jonathan? No! No..He really is just a friend. Maybe I liked him once, a long time ago, but..” Y/N shook his head with a grin. “He likes Nancy, the girl who yelled at you out here. He like Nancy, Nancy’s with Steve and Steve has to work overtime to keep up with her. It’s funny really to watch but the way Jonathan looks at her..”

Billy huffed and Y/N quirked an eyebrow at him, not allowing himself to dwell on his past unreciprocated feelings for the eldest Byers. “Why’re your so hung up on me being gay? First I was some love triangle with Steve and Nancy— which was pretty funny to imagine I’ll give you that. But then last night, you said that stuff about me and him.”

Billy licked his lips, subconsciously nervous about trying to come up with an excuse for his fixation on the topic. “I didn’t even actually know you were gay. At least the first time.” He shuffled around and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “In the showers, after the basketball game the other day, Tommy and the others were talking about you.”

You rolled your eyes at the relay of information and pulled the last cigarette from your pack before tossing it on the ground. “I guess it’s pretty obvious then..” You mumbled as you felt around for your lighter before turning to peer in the cars window to see if you left it in there just for billy to pull his own out of the pocket his hand had been resting in and flicking it open.

He lit your cigarette and returned the lighter and his hand to the pocket. “Pretty boys don’t light their own cigarettes, you know that right?” You laughed and waved the smoke that collected in the air between the two of you out of the way as you did before thinking up a response.

“You think I’m pretty Hargrove?” You asked before offering the cigarette to him which he quickly accepted.

“Prettiest I’ve seen in this hick town..” He was too tired to put a filter on the words that traveled from his mind to his mouth, the cold air outside helped excuse the pink color that started to spread across his face.

“Well it is a pretty small town, so I don’t know how far that compliment will get me.” As much as he wanted to indulge himself in the conversation, neither of them were in any place to be flirting. Especially not Y/N. The last thing he needed was to develop romantic feelings for someone like Billy.

“Won’t you get in trouble for skipping class?”

“They don’t even have the phone number to my house, so I think I’m safe. What about you?” Y/N simply shrugged, he supposed getting into trouble for skipping wasn’t entirely worth it now. Given that he was trying to avoid Billy and Tommy.

“Yeah..I’m sure I’ll be hearing about it.”

________________________________________

Y/N had told Jonathan about the conversation with Billy as they drove him home, leaving out the part where he’d asked if they were a couple. He was clearly displeased, not making any attempt to hide his expression of disbelief. This guy really thought a weak ass apology was good enough? Perhaps for Y/N it was, but they were clearly letting themselves be manipulated. At least that’s what it seemed like to him.

“I don’t think you should just accept his apology Y/N…He doesn’t seem like the type that says ‘sorry’ and genuinely means it..”

“He seems like the type that does and says a lot of things he doesn’t mean, but he meant it. I know it.”

Y/N sighed before sitting up in his seat and looking intently at Jonathan who kept his eyes on the road. “It’s fine, because I’m packing a bag and coming to your place to annoy Joyce and her new boyfriend.” Y/N grinned as he noticed his start to look amused.

“You mean Bob? God..Nothing can annoy Bob.”

“Well you know I’m not allowed to listen to music at my place. So I think that’s a pretty decent excuse to play every cassette you own.” Jonathan laughed and nodded his head.

“Decent enough excuse..Are you sure you don’t want me to just wait outside?” He asked as he pulled up outside the two story farmhouse with the peeling white paint and the broken down blue Ford outside. Y/N shot him and look before opening the door and climbing out.

“Get outta here Byers. Go let Joyce know I’m coming or else she’ll freak out ‘cause she didn’t cook enough.” You closed the door and turned your back to him as you made your way up the steps of the porch and he backed out of your yard. Getting inside and to your bedroom without incident would be the trickiest part but as you softly open and closed the door, praying the hinges wouldn’t squeak with them seemingly listening to you and granting your request, you heard the Tv playing loudly in the living room. Loudly enough you could tell exactly what game show your father was watching.

As you made your way to the staircase you hoped it would be enough to cover your foot steps as you slowly creeped upwards towards your bedroom to toss enough clothes for tonight and the next day in your long discarded school bag. You were so close to succeeding when you passed your parents open bedroom door.

“Y/N..? Come here, please..” Your mothers soft voice carried out to you as you took a step back to look at her form laying in the bed her and your father shared. You stood in front of the doorway for moment before doing as she asked. Walking in you stood beside the bed and stared down at her as she stretched out her hand in a silent request to hold yours. It felt like had been so long since she looked like the woman you grew up with, like she had been in that bed since the night the police knocked on the door and asked to speak to your parents alone.

“How was school?” You took her frail hand in yours and placed your other one on top of hers. “It was fine mom.” This situation seemed to be the only reoccurring interaction you had with her since then besides bringing her meals to her if you could. You tried to avoid looking in on her as much as possible whenever you came back for what usually ended up being a mostly untouched plate until she asked you what she normally did.

“Can you go make mommy a drink, I don’t think your father can here me over the tv..”You were sure he couldn’t, that was likely the reason he’d had it turned up so loud. You nodded and she softly smiled up at you before retracting her hand and turning over onto her side in wait as you treated from the bedroom and quickly went into yours to pack your clothes before fulfilling her request.

You debated just tossing the bag out of the window and taking your chance on the fall and avoiding the impending situation all together, looking out the window as the sun was quickly making its way down below the skyline. But you just couldn’t. You’d tried to convince yourself that the night your little sister died so did your mother, that the thing laying in that bed withering away, waiting for the day that she couldn’t even hold a glass to her own lips anymore, wasn’t your mom anymore. But it didn’t work. You just couldn’t.

You slipped your arms through the straps on the backpack and situated it on your back before rushing down the stairs and to the kitchen as the game show host on the tv congratulated the contestant whose guess on the price of the toaster was closer to the correct answer than that of their competitors.

Pulling the cheapest bottle of vodka the local stores had to offer out from one of the lower cabinets and placing it on the counter before getting a glass, putting a few cubes of ice in it and then looking in the desolate refrigerator for something you could mix it with. It wasn’t that she cared if it was straight liquor or not, it was just the only time you could get anything else in her. But no dice. You poured the alcohol over the ice and listened to it crackle as the room temperature liquid mingled with the cubes.

Y/N looked at the almost empty bottle for a moment and then at the opening to the kitchen that led to the living room before bringing the bottle to his mouth and tilting his head back to finish it off. Putting the bottle back without there being enough for either of them would have just pissed him off more than him having to go pick up a new one.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. One hand on the doorframe to steady himself as he stared you down, looking like he’d just woken up, or perhaps he had been spending the day working that bottle of vodka down to the level it had been at when you got it out. You dropped it into the trash can and attempted to ignore him as you picked the glass up off the counter only for him to quickly advance towards you.

“I said, what do you think you’re doing Y/N.”

“What the hell does it look like? I’m getting mom a drink, she sounds like shes been calling for you for hours..” you looked down at his hand pressed against your chest, tapping the tips of his finger against the fabric of Jonathan’s shirt as he made eye contact with you. One might imagine his eyes held anger like his voice, but they didn’t. They were just dark, and empty. He didn’t do the things he did out of anger. He didn’t have a reason or motivation, which made him that much more unpredictable.

“Y/N, your mother’s an alcoholic. She’d be calling for me five minutes after you give her that.” His hand moved down as if he was going to take the glass from you but you pulled it away from him. This bastard..if that wasn’t calling the kettle black..

“And? Are you actually going to do anything about it?” Your father laughed dryly and looked down at the floor, resting his hands on his hips as he took a step forward making you take a step back. “Y/N, I’m about to do something about that fuckin’ mouth of yours if you don’t just give me that.”

“Why? Are you too drunk to just go get another bottle? Or are we broke because you haven’t done any work in months.” Y/N glared him down but allowed his eyes to flicker towards the knife block on the kitchen counter behind his dad as he sighed and continued to come towards him.

“You know you’re why she drinks, right? She wishes it was you that night. She wishes you got hit by that car. And then I wouldn’t be stuck listening to that smart fucking mou—“

Y/N gritted his teeth and threw the vodka in the glass forward into the man’s face, watching as he cursed, pulling the bottom of their shirt up to try and wipe the alcohol that was burning their eyes away. Y/N continued to step away as his dad was now blindly walking towards him but as he did so the rubber sole of his sneaker came in contact with one of the many pieces of ice that skittered across the floor in all directions after hitting the middle aged man in the face and he found himself falling. Landing on his back he reeled as the air was knocked out of him upon impact and his head made contact with the cabinet beneath the sink, the the hard plastic cup he’d once held sliding across the floor loudly.

“You little shit!” Perhaps now, if your eyes hadn’t been closed from the pain of your lungs screaming at you for air, you would have seen the anger on the man’s face. But you weren’t given the opportunity as he placed one hand on the edge of the sink for leverage and swung his leg out, kicking you in the side just as you had reached up to hold your head. Crumpling over you gasped for air just before his heavy work boot made contact with your torso again.

“Say something! Go on, say some smart shit to me again!” You repeatedly coughed as your lungs tried to play catch up in vain as he kicked you again. And again. You instinctively had moved into a protective position, covering your head and face as much as you could until he got down on the wet, dirty kitchen floor alongside you. “Say something.” He grabbed your arms and pulled them away from their place on top of your head head so he could look down at your face, jerking you up off the floor slightly. “Say something you piece of shit!”

“Fuck..you…” Your breath hitched as you spoke, you could clearly feel the pain of a cracked rib as your lungs tried to expand against it. Unfortunately familiar pain. Your father pulled his arm back as he kept the other gripping tightly onto yours although you were in no condition to try and get away as he punched you in the head. You getting away wasn’t what he was concerned with though as he repeated hit you, pulling your limbs away each time you attempted to protect your face. That pretty face of yours, the one folks used to always tell you that you ‘got from your mother’ hands down, looking down at it was what fueled him on.

You never reminded him of himself, not one bit. No matter how hard you tried to do what he wanted on the farm, at school, the moment your sister was gone it was as if you were truly useless. Nothing but a reminder of the kid he didn’t want, and the one he did that had been taken from him. Maybe he still had an ounce of common sense as he stopped and looked your face over, remembering the call he’d gotten earlier in the day telling him you were absent from athletics and asking if he had perhaps came to pick you up for some reason.

“Get up..” he spat at you as he dropped your arm, needing both hands to help hoist himself up off the floor. As much as it was his god given right to discipline his child however he deemed fit, police chief Hopper and him had never gotten along ever since a little incident at the bar got a tad too physical. The last thing he needed was that fat bastard to show up here and give him a ‘stern talking to’. He watched you slowly collect yourself up off the floor and pull the strap of your backpack that had slipped off in the scuffle back into place, looking over your face to assess the damage as you glared him down.

“You can go a head n’ hand that bag over.” You stood there silently before shaking your head ‘no’.

“Y/N…I’m not asking. I’m telling.” You were hurting, but you were able to quickly push the pain as you thought what he said over. You knew you were getting out of there, how and in what condition you didn’t know.

“And I’m telling you no.” You had never hit him back. The thought had never even crossed your mind. But ever since you stood up to Billy his first day at Hawkins, you’d found it within yourself to do a lot of things you hadn’t found possible previously. Talking about the abuse, reaching out to Jonathan, going to a party with your friends…in comparison to all of that, this seemed insignificant. Your hand at your side closed tightly as you fought to breathe through your pain. How could you ever help Billy if you couldn’t even help yourself.

“Do you really want to go another round boy?” His nonslip boots squeaking against the wet tile floor as he took a step forward expecting you to again make retreating backwards steps away. You took him off guard by rushing into him, body turned to the side as to hopefully knock him to the ground whilst staying standing yourself, standing over him much like he had done to you earlier. You grabbed onto the counter to keep from slipping again on the now melted ice and your eyes flickered from him laying in front of the fridge to the knife block, grabbing the lone kitchen knife out of its slot and as your dad attempted to sit up you put your foot on his chest and pushed him back down.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You crouched down, your weight still pressing down on him as you did so and you moved to hold the knife in front of his face. “Listen to me D/N, because I’m not asking you. I’m telling you;” You leaned in as his father laid his head back to try and avoid the knife getting any closer to his face as they spoke threateningly. “I’m not going to fight you. I’m not going to hurt you. I will kill you, if you touch me again. And no one in this town will even notice your sorry ass is gone.”

Y/N stood back up and his father wheezed as their weight on his chest shifted making it even more difficult for him to get air until they finally took their foot off, holding the knife at their side as they watched them again push themselves up to rest against their hands. “You don’t have the balls, kid..”

Y/N sighed and seemed to nod in agreement before raising their foot up and bringing it quickly down between the man’s legs, stomping down with as much force as he could. Stepping back and watching on as they held themselves and writhed in agony, cursing incoherently as Y/N tossed the unused knife in the sink and left him there. He wanted to do more, he wanted to obliterate him, he wanted to follow through on his threat right then and there. But that wasn’t him, that was just his survival instincts telling him it was kill or be killed. Once he the cold air outside hit him he felt like he could think somewhat more clearly.

Y/N absconded from his home as quickly as he could, looking down at the dry blood that had painted his hand earlier during the conflict when he’d had used it in an attempt to protect his head. He used his other hand to check again, touching the wet hair at the crown of his head and pulling it away to look at the shiny, fresh red liquid as it was illuminated by the street light. It was difficult to tell how bad the injury was and the adrenaline rushing through him at the moment kept him moving on without dwelling on it. He needed to get across town to the Byers house, that’s all his mind could fixate on to avoid the pain of his broken ribs settling in as he pushed on, walking briskly down the paved asphalt road.

________________________________________

Billy tapped his hands against the steering wheel as Quiet Riot blasted through the stereo of his Camaro. He had caught up on some much needed sleep while the rest of the students finished out their day of school and when he awoke it was dark outside and the parking lot was deserted. After Y/N and his conversation earlier in the day he felt like the tension that had filled his body had once again dissipated, he still didn’t quite understand why the teen affected him the way they did.

It wasn’t like he’d never reflected on the idea that he might be attracted to men, he was actually pretty confident on the topic. You can’t spend your time constantly around attractive men at the beach or gym for years and not just—know. But with his dad being the way he always had been he always felt so conflicted and down right pissed if he saw someone that he recognized as being sexually appealing. So just like he had grown accustomed to letting anger be the emotion be his baseline, and was now noticing how different and natural it it felt when he was around you. He could joke, he could be vulnerable. And it felt good.

He knew the next step was acclimating himself to be normal around other people and to stop latching on to the people who reminded him of his dad and simultaneously gave him the validation he craved. He moved a hand off his steering wheel and palmed around in the passenger seat for his pack of cigarettes that had gone untouched for the majority of the day, When he a figure slowly walking on the adjacent side of the street came into view as his headlights cast light upon their form.

He had only gotten a look at them for a split moment before he found himself speeding past. The green and red flannel shirt was the most odd thing, it seemed so familiar. He immediately gave up on finding the cigarettes and grabbed a hold of the wheel, turning it in an attempt to make a sharp U-turn before hitting the gas The engine revved loudly as he accelerated far more than would be necessary under normal circumstances. But these weren’t normal circumstances. It was Y/N. And the red he’d seen was the blood that had made its way from your head, down the back of your neck, staining the shirt.

Y/N thought he heard the loud engine of Billy’s blue Chevrolet but when the car turned around and blinded him with its headlights all he could do was reach up to block his eyes, unable to confirm that it was them visually. “Wh-what the fuck! What the fuck happened to you?!” Billy left his car idling on the side of the road as he clambered out of the drivers seat and rushed towards you, going to grab your arms and pull you towards the car until your shot him a weary smile.

“I told you’d be hearing about it..right? Skipping class?” He waved him off as he started to talk towards the car, stumbling slightly on the loose gravel. Billy continued to stand there for a moment before following them back to the car and hopping in. “Where do you live?”

Y/N laughed and shook his head, keeping bent over as to not get any blood on the nice interior. “You sound so scared, it’s not that bad okay? I checked.” In reality it wasn’t that bad, but the constant walking he’d been doing for the last half hour kept his heart rate up and in turn blood leaking out. The edges of the sleeves on the shirt were blooded, a small trail down the collar at the back. Smears here and there from his hands. Billy had his ceiling light turned on as he drove aimlessly, his eyes flickering from you back to the road. He was hot, sweating even. Worse than he had been the night before all hopped up.

“Scared? Yeah..I’m real fuckin’ scared Y/N! I’m going to do something…awful..” He responded as he floored the gas, his other leg bouncing in restless anger. Speeding down the empty road in the direction you had been walking from, not slowing until you reached over and touched his bare arm, the immaculate heater in the car keeping him from having his jacket on over his shirt. “Can you just..lean back okay?” He took a deep breath and exhaled, slowing down even more as he took his right hand off the wheel to lay across you. Slowly pushing you back against the leather seat.

“You really want me fucking to your nice car?”

His controlled breathing was sabotaged by you joking at a time like this. “Yes, yes! It’s fine okay?” He kept his arm out to prevent you from leaning forward again. In reality it was more difficult for you to breathe when you weren’t all crumpled up as you had been when the rib was first broken, and despite the warmth and safety of Billy Hargrove‘s car the pain was really starting to set in.

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” Billy immediately felt Y/N attempt to raise up against his arm before they choked out a ‘No’ in argument. “Nope, lay back.”

“I’m not going to the fucking hospital Billy, so either stop the car or..”

“Or what?”

“Just..take me to your place.” Billy looked over at you and you stared back before relaxing against the black leather seat. He turned back to the road right as he hit a stop sign, jerking the wheel to the side as he ran it and headed in the direction to his house.

Once they were parked outside he took a few more deep breaths in an attempt to keep the anxiety that was building up inside him at bay, to no avail. He needed that anxiety. He needed to not get caught sneaking a injured, bleeding stranger into the house. Susan would have an absolute cow and that was on the mild side of things that could happen if this went wrong.

Taking the keys out he looked over at Y/N, who seemed to be looking out the window as they had their face turned to the side, out of view. With the light off now it was difficult to tell if they were even awake or not. As he shook their arm they immediately tossed their hand up, startled but not sleeping. Both of them have had enough concussions to know that wasn’t on the table right now.

“Don’t do that, you scared me..” Y/N whispered to him and billy made a face as if to say ‘YOU scared ME’ before opening his car door and exiting first, gingerly closing it like never before.

“Do you need help?” He whispered over as Y/N hauled himself up out of the seat, leaving invisible blood smears on the leather no doubt. “No I should—“ Y/N narrowly avoided wiping out as his foot slipped off the edge of the concrete drive way, grabbing onto the door of the car once again as they steadied themselves.

Billy rushed over quietly and grabbed them, looping an around their waist in an attempt to guide them and catch them just in case. “Neil was in the military when I was little, didn’t get past basic training, but one thing he was good at was overnight guard..” Billy told him as he opened the door to the closed in porch with his free hand before ushering Y/N in.

“I could get up to piss during the night and he’ll be standing there with a baseball bat. So when I mean quiet, I mean like a ghost.” Y/N painfully grinned, the thought of what Steve told him days ago during the basketball drill entered his thoughts, even now with him being as injured as he was, he had to restrain from laughing. Being like a ‘ghost’ was usually his specialty.

Billy unlocked the door as silently as possible with the spare key under the useless doormat, replacing it and slowly pushing the door open before taking Y/N back up and bringing him over the threshold hold. As he turned back around from closing it, he almost shit himself at the sight of Maxine standing there in her dark teal oversized night shirt holding a glass of water. She didn’t look scared, simply caught off guard at the sight.

“Billy—“ The man quickly step forward, reaching a hand out to cover her mouth while using the other hand to lift a finger up to his own telling her to ‘Sh’, his eyebrows doing the thing they did whenever she occasionally caught him scared. Usually in a situation similar to this, but not with some bloodied up guy. She pulled his hand off her mouth and he moved back to take Y/N by the waist again as he had started to lean against the wall in exhaustion. “Did you do this?”

“No I didn’t fuckin’ do this Max, just— go, lead the way.” He motioned down the hallway the three of them had to travel down, thankfully the light was on so they weren’t walking around completely blind. As they finally slipped past their parents shared bedroom successfully and into Billy’s he was also thankful max had caught them because he could use her. But before he could ask her to retrieve anything she had questions.

“Yeah yeah, I can see you have something to say billy. But first, what the actual fuck?” She placed her glass of water on the bookshelf next to the door and her hand on her hip as she watched him help Y/N sit down on the bed.

“Well max, he’s hurt. That’s what we’re working with.” Y/N chuckled and shook his head, piping up as he started to unbutton the shirt that was visibly filthy at this point after rolling on the floor with his father. “Nah, don’t lie to her..“

Max nodded expectantly at Billy who flipped her off, the two of them would never fully get along. They were too similar. “My dad did a majority of the damage, but my head was all me.” He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He felt so fucking stupid, slipping on ice.

“Wait, you did that?” Billy reached over absentmindedly and touched the crunchy, blood dried hair that surrounded the two inch cut in his scalp that had finally decided to stop bleeding sometime on the drive there. “Yeah dude, still hurts.” Y/N raised his hand up and shooed him back so he could pull the shirt the rest of the way off, tossing it on the floor after he did so causing Billy to walk over and snatch it up of the ground and find a place he could stash it until he figured out where to take the man.

“Wow, do abusive assholes just flock to Indiana or something?” Max scoffed before turning to leave until her stepbrother stopped her. “Max, can you please get a wet towel and a dry one too?” She looked at him shocked once again, this time because he actually said please. He had been completely different these last couple of days to an extent, she nodded and headed out of the room to get what he’d asked.

“She’s a cute kid..” Y/N leaned back on his hand that held him up on the bed, dragging the other over his bruised midsection. A distinctly dark patch wrapping around slightly a couple inches from his underarm. Billy stayed silent as his eyes scanned their skin. He’d gotten hurt plenty of times before, by Neil and others when he happened to pick a fight with the wrong guy, but this was too much. He wanted to go out and kill him. He had never wanted to take another human life so badly, not even his fathers.

Y/N reached a their hand out and Billy took a step forward until he realized Maxine had walked back in the room and was holding a mildly warm, damp towel out towards them which they took. ‘God, what is wrong with me..’ he didn’t know what he was going to do. Hug him? Take his hand like he had at the football field? He took a seat on the bed and moved so he was directly behind them before taking the towel and starting to clean up the dried blood on the back of their neck and back before trying to get at what was on their head.

“Anything else?..” Max felt like she needed to look away from the two of them, if it had been anyone besides Billy tending to someone else’s wound, man or woman, it wouldn’t have felt so unnatural. It was a little embarrassing how strangely wholesome it seemed. “Ice Pack, get like all of my ice packs.” He said to her without looking up, engrossed in trying to be as delicate as possible. Y/N tried to reach back but made a pained noise that caused Billy jerk away. Fearing he had caused it.

“Oh. Nope you’re all good haa..” Y/N wheezed out as he rocked slightly before leaning back against Billy as he held his side. “Maybe the hospital wasn’t such a bad idea.” He looked up at the ceiling as half of him wanted to laugh and the other half wanted to cry.

“I’ll still take you, if you really want me to.”

Some amount of miles away, at the Byers Family home Jonathan sat at the kitchen table next to an uneaten plate of food sitting in front of the chair next to him. A freshly showered Joyce walked out to turn the lights off and jumped as she saw her son by himself at the table, head in his hands.

“Oh my god, Jonathan. You almost scared me to death..” She trailed off as she came closer. “Honey? What’s wrong?” Jonathan finally looked up at her and she could tell he had been crying at some point since they had all sat at the dinner table earlier in the night together. He leaned his head against her and she held him as he began to tell her about Y/N.

That he was sorry he never told her sooner. That he was sorry he was such a terrible person for not making something happen sooner. That he was scared something really bad happened this time and that’s why Y/N didn’t make it there.

Joyce had become choked right along with him until he’d finished up, standing up to go find him until she grabbed his arm and shook her head. “No. Look, I’m proud you finally said something but we don’t go around looking for crazy, okay?” She then nodded her head and quickly made her way over to the phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen giving Jonathan one last look as she picked up the handset and then continued what she was saying before dialing.

“That’s the Polices’ job.”

And not just the police, but ringing up Hopper around midnight was sure to light a fire under his ass. Sure, it took raising her voice a little at first but soon the Hawkins Police chief of was getting his shoes back on after pulling himself out of his comfy recliner and heading out to finally deal with that old bastard D/N, With pleasure.

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