#Nancy is there just to remind them that she got there first

[fandoms-in-law]

Ophelia's Son: Smoking

Following on from Ophelia's Son to avoid everything going in its reblogs

Summary: In an effort to avoid nightmares, Robin gets Eddie and Steve to try meditation with her. An Addams trait derails it

Authors Note: This bit starts with me mixing up todays idea with tomorrows, cause I didn't check them before going out for the day

/\

Ophelia had gone back to Steve's father, set on keeping the flowers she'd started growing again and reminding Richard that a Frump should never be a second priority. Steve had laughed to hear that but agreed wholeheartedly that she should demand her due affection again.

The kids had been uncertain of her the few times they'd visited during her stay, mostly the boys because she immediately took El and Max under her wing to learn judo. Robin and Nancy had sat in on a few of the lessons too but after the third time of getting roped in for them to practice throws Steve and Jonathan teamed up to suggest actual classes they wouldn't be part of for them.

Lucas hadn't had luck in doing the same and was the only boy willing to come with the girls on their visits still. He did sigh in relief to realise Ophelia was gone however and immediately radioed the rest that it was cleare, getting snickers from the girls.

"We have something else to do now anyway." Max agreed, turning an expression full of plotting to Steve.

"Which is?" he asked, bemused.

"What flowers grow on your head?" El asked, bringing seed packets out of Max's bag.

The pair smiled innocently at him, holding the seed out and Steve couldn't avoid smiling, "Okay and you think they sprout in record time or is today just scattering them on my head then waiting to see if any stick long enough to grow?"

Yhey shared a look, frowning for a moment. "Wait here. We're picking some flowers from your neighbours." Max decided, grabbing El's hand.

"No.No! My neighbours will call the police on kids and they will kick up hell if Hopper doesn't seem to do anything." Steve stopped them. "Get weeds, wild flowers, hell go explore the woods taking cuttings of anything you can identity and bring them over another day. Don't cut the neighbours flowers."

Max straightened, matching his glare and crossing her arms. "We want to test it now."

"Well you can't. Go get Joyce to help you plant the seeds so they're at least sprouted before you shove them on my head." He gestured to the door where the Byers had indeed just pulled up.

"Fine." Max dragged Lucas and El out with her, Lucas once again talking into the radio as they went.

/\

“We’re meditating.” Robin decided.

She and Eddie had slept over the night before and they’d all been woken three times by the nightmares they had and Robin’s parents had been suggesting meditation as a solution for nightmares since a month after Starcourt. So far she and Steve had refused, certain nothing could actually get them past everything they’d gone through.

Steve blinked over to her from where he was nursing a coffee and nodded, “Sure, fine, might as well see if it’d get us a single nights sleep.” The agreement was easy. Perhaps when their nightmares woke them a couple times a week for fear of Russians could be carried on through, and perhaps feeling tired for half the week could be pushed past, but if they were together they woke each other if the nightmares got bad and apart Steve was sure none of them slept after their first nightmare of a night so they had to try something.

Eddie stayed silent, looking between the pair curiously.

“I’ll bring the books and tapes Mum tried pushing me to use tonight. You make a blanket fort in there.” Robin nodded, certain the decision was unanimous without him speaking.

/\

Listening to a tape was easy, even as sceptical as Steve was that mediation would help. He could follow the voice asking him to focus on his breathing, to imagine a flat colour or whatever else it was talking about.

He could not however keep focused on it when Robin yelped, suddenly scrambling from where she had been sat next to him and started batting him with a cushion, especially not when Eddie joined in, freaking out and asking where the lighter was and how something had happened.

Steve had automatically rolled up, moving his arms to shield his head but blinked at the pair when they stopped a moment later. “The hell was that about?”

“You were smoking!” Robin yelled, somewhere between panicked and accusatory.

“I was meditating! What the hell would I have been smoking? Eddie keeps whatever he shares with us when we aren’t intending to smoke.” He argued, looking to Eddie for support but only seeing his head shaking rapidly.

It took a moment before Eddie stopped. “Nope, not smoking a joint or anything, there was literally smoke coming out of you. You were smoking. Is that an Addams thing? A Frump thing? Do Addams’s smoke?” He asked the questions rapidly before realising neither Steve or Robin would know.

“I could ask, but can I first try doing that so I can see what you’re talking about?” Steve hesitated, glancing from his friends, to the phone and back again.

Robin pulled him up instead, walking around him, lifting his arms and even inspecting where he’d been sat. “Okay, no signs of anything having burnt, or anything like that. I will rewind the tape to the beginning. Eddie and me will watch you and not listen to it. You decide if you’re following it with eyes closed or open.” She concluded, going to do just that.

“Gotta be an Addams thing.” Eddie muttered, but did move so he was facing Steve instead of beside him now.

Once Robin hit play again Steve kept his eyes open, staring at Eddie while following the breathing guidance. He saw the twitch as Eddie tried not to react to something and glanced down to see he was indeed smoking while breathing and relaxing.

“Mum didn’t leave a number for where she and father are now.” He stated, trying to remain calm. “So I’ll just call Morticia and see if she knows what this is.”

It was an easy call to make and Morticia sounded delighted to hear the question. “Oh, Steve, that’s wonderful. I smoke just like that. Of course it’s normal. Everyone smokes, just remember to be polite and check if any guests are comfortable with you doing so before you do.”

“I will Aunt Morticia,” He promised, hanging up and smiling at the pair listening as closely as they could. “It’s something she does. Apparently I’m not taking after just my mother now.”

“Please, please smoke around the band. I wanna see their reaction to it.” Eddie immediately requested, comfortable to accept the new ability now they knew an origin for it. “Actually no. I’m gonna make a character you can play for a campaign, have you smoking at so many points until they ask how you manage that.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Can we go back to trying the full meditation now? I do want a full nights sleep sometime.”

“Okay. Just no developing some other weird feature if we do it this time.” Robin teased, once more rewinding the tape and arranging cushions so they’d all be comfortable.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie’s live-streaming in his studio when Robin asks if he wants the rest of her milkshake. He’s like ‘yeah’ and she says, “Woooow, look at that. Once again, Eddie Munson gets my sloppy seconds.”

Eddie, playing along: Hate to break it to you, Rob, but Steve was with me before he married you, and during, and after.

Robin: Yeah, but I put a ring on it first.

Eddie: Actually, you didn’t.

Robin: In the eyes of the law, I did.

Eddie: Well, I slept with him

Robin: Ew. He confessed his love to me first

Nancy, not even looking up from her laptop: I don’t know about that…

[dinitride-art]

Nancy and Mike (and Robin) - Character Relationship Analysis/Exploration

Nancy and Mike’s relationship has always been really interesting to me. We don’t see Nancy pull away from Mike but we see Mike reacting to Nancy’s absence in his life. He tells their parents about Steve, and takes Nancy’s things, and tries to hold onto their relationship in the only way he knows how to. Because Nancy acknowledges him when he’s annoying her and when she’s angry at him. Or when he’s in danger. That’s it.

Nancy doesn’t play D&D with him anymore. She doesn’t talk to him anymore. Even in season four, the most we see of their relationship is Nancy driving Mike to school. And even though Nancy’s been pushing Mike away, he still goes to her when Eddie tells him and Dustin to find a replacement for Lucas. Mike keeps trying to come into her life, and Nancy keeps pushing him out.

Nancy is constantly trying to find a place in the world. She’s with Steve in season one because she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to do. And she gets good grades and studies and goes to party’s in season two. Even to the detriment of her relationships. However, she doesn’t take any blame for her actions, because of the societal pressure for her and everyone else to conform. Jonathan confronts her about it when they’re trying to find Will and Barb and she’s immediately defensive. She gets back together with Steve and blames Jonathan for not making a move sooner. Barb tells Nancy that she’s making a mistake with Steve, and Nancy tells her to go home.

But Barb dies.

Nancy blames herself for that. She blames herself for a lot of things. But she doesn’t want to understand why she blames herself for these things. Jonathan’s already told her that living married to Steve and conforming to societal expectations is bullshit. And she knows it is. But admitting that she’s hurt people by conforming, and trying to get them to conform, means that she’s hurt more than just herself. She’s hurt Barb. And Jonathan. And she even hurt Steve.

But most of all, she doesn’t want to admit that she’s hurt, and has been hurting, Mike the whole time.

That’s why she doesn’t like Robin at first. Because Robin is very similar to Mike. She’s loud, and impulsive, and says the wrong thing at the wrong time. And she can’t help it in the slightest. It’s not Robin’s fault that Nancys cold to her at first. It’s got nothing to do with Robin. Nancy just doesn’t want to admit that Mike hasn’t done anything wrong either. Because that means she’s wrong. And that means that she’s hurt him.

Mike and Robin both display autistic traits. Honestly, a lot of the characters in Stranger Things do, but these two are the ones with the most on screen brushback against those traits. Everyone has autistic traits, and having autistic traits doesn’t necessarily mean that someone’s autistic but. Considering that this is a writing choice, I think it’s fair to assume, at the very least, that they’re autistic-coded. And the reactions we are told and that we see, like Robin telling Nancy that she doesn’t pick up on social queues easily, and that her mother thinks she’s got something wrong with her. Versus what we see with Mike, people calling him annoying and an asshole and oblivious. Going to Lucas for help with El because he doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to do.

The key difference between Mike and Robin is what we see and what we’re told. Robin always tells us what she’s thinking and feeling and who she is. But with Mike we’re shown what’s happening. Same with them being queer characters, we’re told that Robin likes girls, and we’re shown that Mike likes Will. Robin is a queer character for a heteronormative audience. Mike is a queer character, regardless of the audience’s biases. Robin tells us that she doesn’t pick up on social queues. She explains that to Nancy, and Nancy is confronted with what we’ve seen the entire time with Mike.

Mike doesn’t pick up on social queues either. And Nancy knows this, and she’s seen all of his similarities to Robin as a bad thing. And she’s told him that he’s doing something wrong for being that way.

The reason that Nancy doesn’t like Mike, why she pushes him away, and calls him annoying and an asshole, is because Mike can’t be like her.

He can’t conform in the same way that Nancy does. And she doesn’t understand why he can’t.

Until she meets Robin.

And there’s a neon sign in front of her face that says, “Mike didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t his fault. He’s different, and so is Robin, and you told him that something was wrong with him.”

Nancy hurt him. She pushed him away. Told him in every way possible that his interests, and friends, and personality were wrong. And that she didn’t want a brother who was like that.

And now she knows why. Robin told her why.

Nancy doesn’t hate Mike. She’s scared that she was wrong. That Mike hasn’t really done anything wrong. That it was her fault that their relationship is like this.

And she’s scared.

Because she’s a lot more like Mike than she wants to admit.

[rebelspykatie]

Robin convinces Steve that Eddie is interested in him, just based on how frequently he flirts with Steve. Uses the same logic that Steve deployed to convince her to give Vickie a shot. Except, there’s no doubt about who Eddie could be attracted to. He’s gay and doesn’t really flirt much with women, keeps it more surface level. 

But with Steve, he’s all over him, getting in his personal space, tapping his chin, batting his eyelashes and draping himself over his lap during movie nights. Steve’s confident in his newly discovered attraction to men, and subtly tries to turn up the charm on his end. Flirting back, giving as good as he gets, but it never seems to affect Eddie. 

Steve’s gotten used to striking out. Never really catching anyone’s attention these days, what with the lackluster attempts at being interested in the mundane things some of the girls drone on about, to being afraid to sleep over for fear of a nightmare tearing him from sleep, to the way no one makes his skin buzz. He’s given up the pursuit of anyone else, setting his sights on Eddie, pushing gently at the boundaries that barely exist between them. 

Until the first time Steve and Robin are invited to see Corroded Coffin perform at the Hideout. He watches from afar as Eddie bounces across the room before the show. He hasn’t spotted them yet as he makes his way over to the bar. There’s a cute, older guy bartending, probably in his late twenties, buzz cut hair, ripped leather vest accentuating his arms. 

Steve watches in what feels like slow motion as Eddie leans over the counter to get as close as possible to this guy. That mischievous smirk that Steve’s used to seeing pointed at him is out in full force. Eddie is saying something, looking up at this guy, reaching out to squeeze a bicep and getting playfully batted away. Eddie lets the guy tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, almost a caress along the side of Eddie’s face. 

And there’s a moment where Steve feels like he’s floating on air, suspended in a moment in time before a catastrophic shift changes his trajectory. He’s careening to the ground at break neck speed and crash landing all in a matter of seconds. A vice-like grip squeezes his heart, reminding him that he’s not special. He’s dissecting every memory of Eddie flirting, finding nothing consequential there in the wake of this discovery. 

How stupid could he have been to think that it meant anything? That must be why Eddie never reacted to his advances, they were just a blip on his radar. He’s got this guy wrapped around his finger, just like he’s had Steve. Except Eddie’s never blushed like that around him, or let Steve tuck his hair away. 

As much as he wants to turn around and get the hell out of here, he promised he’d come to Eddie’s show, even if looking at Eddie right now feels like a shot straight through his heart. That inexplicable draw to Eddie doesn’t just disappear. He wants to cross the room and drag him away from this guy, but what right does he have to do that? 

He feels Robin’s hand slip into his, turns to look at her, sees a mirror image of how she looked on the grimy bathroom floor of Starcourt, letting Steve down gently. Their friendship past the point of needing to verbally communicate anything. Robin gently tugs on his arm to convince him to sit at a table, clasping his hand underneath it tightly when Eddie finally spots them and Steve has to pretend like he’s fine. And he is fine. 

But he’s also not. His heart is cracking open with each note Eddie sings, the fault line growing until it feels like he’s split in two, bleeding out on the floor of this disgusting bar. When is he going to get it right? When is it his turn to feel wanted? Nancy and Robin hurt, but he feels blindsided by this one. He was so confident he was right, that this time it was reciprocated. 

But maybe he’ll always be the fool.

[steviewashere]

Kiss and Tell

(Can be found on ao3)

Steddie WC: 2,279 Tags: Post Season 4, Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder, Eddie Munson Loves to Talk, Minor Angst, Mostly Fluff, Queer Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, But He Already Knows (Sort of), First Kiss, Lots of Kissing

Based on this post that I made. Happy reading! <3

-------- Steve has a staring problem. He knows this. He's been told this. And it's not something he can help or fix or find an alternative for. This is just what he knows.

It's something he's tried to maintain since he was a little boy. And, on that same note, is something he picked up while being a boy in a room with two adults who were fast talkers and big negotiators and all-in on the nature of their careers. But his parents certainly hate that he has a staring problem. Which, that's not unusual, most people hate that he does. Because he doesn't look them in the eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time. And even if he does, he doesn't hear a single thing they said, politely asking they start over, and feeling hurt when they just scoff as loud as possible and walk away from the conversation all together.

The audio just doesn't process. Never has. Probably never will.

He listens to music, but doesn't understand any meaning. He talks over the phone, but must have all other sound blocked out and the curtains shut and his eyes closed to imagine what the words look like leaving the other person's mouth. He argues, but loses track of the original point of the argument—when he laughs instead of apologizes.

And it would be fine—if—he wasn't close to losing his life every year. Where he has to listen to everybody and the important tiny details and the plans and the reasons for what they're doing. Which leads him to danger. Which gives him a bruised face. Which makes the listening even harder, once the concussion leaves and he's just got the leftover damage of his quirkiness.

It would be fine—if—he wasn't made to feel so stupid for what he must do. The jabs and the constant reminders and the...yeah, his sob story.

But there was Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who he could keep up with. Because they'd talk about the same things over and over, until he could practically relay all the information, pulled straight from the deep crevices of his brain, and it ends up that they had forgotten, rather than him.

And there was Nancy Wheeler, who was polite enough to repeat things. Who had flash cards and a soft, focusing voice. It was easy to write off looking at her lips. "Eyes up here, Steve," she'd say. "Sorry," he'd respond sheepishly, "getting lost." And he'd chuckle and she'd giggle and then they'd kiss a little and he wouldn't be reminded that he's just a little weird. That, maybe, he just isn't normal.

Robin Buckley makes things easy-ish. She talks fast. And a lot. And she never looks him in the eyes, unless she's asking for a very serious favor, or he has something on his face, or she just feels the need (she claims it's that she hasn't looked in a while, but he shrugs her off every time). (If he can get away with staring at her lips, then she can get away with never looking him in the eyes.) He's mentioned, though, that he has a hard time following her sometimes. That he needs the words repeated a few times. Explained the lip thing, with a tense voice and a quake in his chest and his fingers tapping at the sides of his thighs. And, for a brief moment, he had felt like a creep. Like one of those weirdos that preys on the idea of women kissing. And he wanted to open up Family Video's register, shove his head inside, and sort himself out into the container of fives. But she shrugged, said "Okay," and went back on some ramble, to which he was immediately drawn to her mouth. And saw her repeat the name, Vickie, at least twenty times. He grinned and then when the store was empty, he leaned across the counter and teasingly said, "You have a big fat crush on Vickie, don't you?" To say that he was proud of her sputtering is an understatement.

Now, Dustin and the others were harder to get through. Because they moved at their own pace. And they don't really stop to add him to the conversation. He gets it, to an extent. He knows that he's not really all that intrigued in what they enjoy. (Even if he really leans into the conversation when they mention Sherlock Holmes or Dracula or Star Wars or, even, Star Trek. And he pretends to not be interested in their science fair projects. Or the one time he caught them huddled around a Sports Illustrated, in which he fought the urge to chat their ears off about both baseball and basketball statistics.) But there's a point in the conversations where he's made to feel a little dumb; even if he was staring where they were speaking, but they always grow frustrated, a huff of air released, when they notice he's not "paying attention" (translation: looking them in the eyes. "Because, Steve, it's just talking etiquette!" Dustin had shouted once).

He loves all of them anyway. Even if he misses words. And he loses track of what they were saying. He just wishes they were a little bit more forgivable about it at the end of the day.

Then, Eddie Munson is walking along side him in an alternate universe. He's peeled the vest off his back and chucked it at Steve. And they're talking. Jealous of one another, but talking. But, Eddie's voice goes soft and quiet, his eyes pointing towards Nancy's back.

Steve is looking at Nancy, words fading into the background. And it's not a moment of realization. Or a moment of longing. Yearning, what say you. No—it's one of his moments in which he's "listening," but not processing. So he looks back. And for a mere second, Eddie's eyes are big where Steve stares. Big and wet and curious. Big and wet and persuasive. Big and wet and not at all his lips and Steve is still not listening.

But his lips. Well, Steve's seen lips. These are pretty. They're pink. Chapped and bitten and plush appearing. Mesmerizing. Stretching over Eddie's sharp teeth, exposing dimples and smile lines, making his recent stubble more noticeable than it's ever been before. But his lips are pretty.

Like girls lips, Steve muses. Not really taking in what that means. Because Eddie's saying something about true love. And—shit—okay. Steve can get behind an act of true love. He can get behind sharing denim and coating Eddie's clothes in blood and staring down his lips and—god, his eyes, Steve can't help but notice once more.

Eddie's like a vulnerable cow. With pretty lips, he has to point out. Or a baby deer. With such pretty lips. And he's talking and Steve's finally listening. But it's not just processing. No, Steve's intrigued, interested even. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. Leaning in. Eddie's breath ghosts the tip of his nose. And, sure, it's a little rank. But weirdly sweet. Warm where Steve is otherwise cold. Warm in places Steve's never considered to feel warm in, but he's willing to give in, to wrap up in whatever Eddie has to say. If it all means more of him.

So, it makes sense that after all that they go through, Steve finds himself in Eddie's orbit. As a friend. As a trauma bond. As everything Eddie needs him to be.

He sits on the Munson's couch. On the cushion that dips a little too low. The lights orange and dim and casting beautiful streaks of almost candle light on Eddie's soft, beautiful features. Highlighting where his nose is the most bulbous. His pronounced Cupid's bow. The outer edges of his irises, golden and honey against the off-white of his scleras.

Eddie talks like Robin does. Excited. A lot. Fast. But his voice is soft, focused on the information—like Nancy's. It's teasing, like Dustin's. Soft, though. So gentle. Murmured. Which makes sense, if Steve were to stop and think about it for just a moment. With how late it is. With the little amount of weed they smoked. And it all just fits, with how slow and careful Eddie's lips move. As if testing the words. As if searching for what he means.

But, god, Steve is following along. Of course he is. Hanging onto each one of Eddie's words.

"So, the cashier at the record store got all apprehensive about selling me this tape. Which, I guess makes sense because it's a special edition. Comes with a photo card or whatever, but like—Come on, y'know? If he wanted it so bad, he should'a bought it the moment it dropped. Not my fault he slacks on not just his job, but also his opportunities," Eddie rambles. And, that's right, he's complaining about the music store encounter he had today. Trying to buy some album for some band. Steve got lost part of the way through, so he's not sure who exactly Eddie was getting a tape for. The style of music. But he has most of the information. He just—

Has to squint harder.

So, Steve leans in. As casual as he possibly can. And narrows his eyes at Eddie's lips. The word pretty comes to mind again. Because of course it does. And he can't pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. For some reason, the tips of his fingers tingle a little. Wanting to reach out. Trace his lower lip, right where it sticks out, just above the divot of his chin. Would it be soft, he asks himself. Does he wear chapstick? Steve sighs softly. I wish I could...taste it. His eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. But he ignores that in favor of whatever Eddie is saying. If only he could make it out. He leans impossibly closer.

And there it is again. The soft puffs of warm air. On the tip of his nose. His own lips. Tickling his stubble. Eddie's breath smells like weed and strawberry Tab; a little bit of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe the smallest trace of pepper—

"Uh, Steve?" Eddie nervously calls out. But gets no response. Steve is only a couple inches away from his face. Eyes hooded. Glassy. Zeroed in on Eddie's lips. He's not talking. Doesn't even give a hum. Just...keeps staring.

Eddie sucks in a breath. Eyes darting over Steve's face. He doesn't talk again, hoping maybe Steve will stop. But, nope. In fact, the only thing Eddie gets as acknowledgement for the fact he's stopped talking, is that Steve pouts. Upset. As if his lips no longer moving is some great catastrophe to Steve, some tragedy, some misfortune.

And, Eddie, the awful wreck that he is, can only assume that this means one thing.

Steve wants a kiss. And is, maybe, too chicken shit to close the gap.

So, with no other option. And definitely not wanting to get away from the heated, stirring, calm mask of Steve's face—Eddie presses his mouth against Steve's. Hesitantly smushing their lips together. Dragging his lower lip against Steve's soft scowling one.

And he pulls away. Because Steve isn't doing anything in response.

No, in fact, Steve is extremely expressive now.

Wide eyes. Mouth opened into a silent "Oh." His cheeks are flushed. And as quick as it came upon him, whatever realization that was, fades. Like a cartoon character, Steve's face melts into one of pure infatuation. Mouth lilting. His posture slouching. Eyes going soft against the extreme red of his face.

"Do that again," Steve whispers.

Eddie obliges. And he obliges. And he keeps obliging until they're under a cool top sheet, skin slick with sweat and eyes piercing one another's mouths.

That's when, in the silent air of Eddie's tiny bedroom, Steve admits the greatest thing in the world. "I don't really process when people are talking unless I'm looking at their mouth. I have to read their lips. I didn't—I wasn't trying to kiss you at first, but—" And the motherfucker giggles. "If that's all it took..." Then he's kissing Eddie again. Like it's the last thing he'll ever get to do. And Eddie thinks, If I die from running out of breath doing this, then I've done everything in my life correctly.

So, sure, Steve has a huge staring problem. And he doesn't really listen. And it's something he'll never fix, even if there's a way to.

But he finds that his technique—the thing he's crafted since he was a little boy—no longer works. At least, not on Eddie. Because suddenly, looking at his gorgeous pink lips makes Steve only able to think about one thing: Kissing. And he can't follow along unless he fulfills that want.

Eddie could be in the middle of a deep, all inclusive description of his recent trap in the campaign he's crafting. He could be singing. He could be complaining about some movie he rented. But that doesn't matter. Because he stops talking the moment Steve leans in and kisses him. Kisses like he needs it to live.

And though he rolls his eyes. Huffs a breath. Smirks and barrels on. There's that giddiness, that love pooling in Eddie' heart. Just knowing the effect he has on Steve. And the way he's affected, too, when Steve just whispers, "Sorry, I got lost again. Start over?"

He obliges. And he keeps obliging. And his lips are usually swollen by the time he's finally done rambling.

Steve stares. Eddie talks. And it's the combination of a lifetime.

--------

❤️

[pinkie-quinns]

rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to ?? | fame au p2 | p1 p3 p4 p5 interlude p6

The picture itself is not incriminating.

In the five years since Eddie’s wet dog apology they have been cordial to each other. Eddie seemed to have finally grown up. Finally got the hint. He doesn’t bug Steve after that night. He stays in his lane.

After a few years it’s a nod at a charity event. A half-smile at the town’s trendy new restaurant. A card when Steve gets an Emmy nod for his HBO series. Steve tries to not mind it. Tries to not let it get under his skin. He doesn’t send Eddie anything when he gets his Grammy.

LA is a small town. Eddie moved back once he finished his first tour. Steve does his best to keep his circle separate but LA is a small town. He nearly ends up at Eddie’s 30th after his coworker tries to drag him to some “rager in Loz Feliz.”

Sometimes, after another break up leaves him feeling shit-all, Steve drives past their dingy old place in West Hollywood. Tries to picture the version of the story where Eddie wasn’t eaten by his monster ego. Lets himself imagine them happy. Lets himself cry over it again. Like it happened yesterday instead of a decade ago.

But then he blinks and it’s been twelve years and yeah, maybe he hasn’t felt home like he did with Eddie, maybe no one else has fit him quite so right. But maybe he was just young and everything felt bigger then.

He feels weirdly at peace about it all. It’s not forgiveness, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stomach that, but it is acceptance. It took a long time to scar but it's finally just a faded pink line. He’s happy.

And then the photo starts to circulate.

The picture itself is not incriminating.

It’s their old WeHo apartment. Eddie’s hopped on the grimy kitchen counter, acoustic guitar in hand. He’s smiling at Steve and Steve is leaned against the wall and he’s smiling back. And it’s Them. And Steve thinks they’ve never looked so young.

He doesn’t know who took the photo. Maybe Robin or Nancy or Jon. They visited a lot in that first year.

He doesn’t know how it ended up digitized, posted to a random pop culture subreddit.

What he does know is that he and Eddie have never publicly acknowledged each other.

The internet treats the picture like a cute little chachki in the first few days. A buzzpop factoid #67. It’s “Did you know Tommy Lee Jones and Al Gore were college roommates?”

But then news outlets were picking it up. And Eddie was halfway through promoting his third album.

They’re dead lucky the picture is not incriminating.

Steve’s still not technically out– he’s had quiet relationships with men but his team preferred a starlet on his arm at the carpets.

Eddie’s out the way a rockstar is. He’d fuck anything as long as it made him a pervert.

Their teams move fast.

The official story is that they’d both moved to LA to pursue their careers. They roomed together because they knew each other from their small town. Then Steve booked his show and Eddie moved to London and they lost touch.

Eddie repeats it on talk show after talk show. He lies and says they’re still friendly now, but their schedules keep them both so busy. They haven’t caught up in a while. He goes wistful when he says it. Steve tries not to feel downright bitter. It does quiet the chatter down.

In November, his manager tells him he’s presenting at the Golden Globes. The studio had asked him specifically, still under contract to promote their animated movie. He agrees cause he needs eyes on the tiny indie he'd finally gotten made.

In December, he finds out who he’s presenting with.

Steve throws a fit. It’s uncharacteristic. It’s not at all in line with the nice-guy persona he’s spent years cultivating. But they’ve managed to get this far without him actually having to talk to the guy. He doesn’t ever want to have to talk to Eddie Munson again.

His manager lures him off the ledge. It’s too late to change the line-up. He's put in years of work to get his movie made. She reminds him that it’s Hollywood. Everyone has to deal with this shit. Not worth blowing it all up because he can’t handle 30 minutes with his ex.

So Steve plays nice but Eddie skips out on rehearsal. Of fucking course. Twelve years and he’s still so predictable.

Steve reads the teleprompter next to a random PA and decides then and there to say Fuck Healing. He did that. And now he’s being punished. Again. He’s fucking pissed.

He’s pissed that the photo got out. He’s pissed at whoever leaked it. He’s pissed enough to convince himself it was Eddie. He’s pissed Eddie’s shouldering his way back into his life even if it wasn’t him.

And yeah, he’s still fucking pissed that Eddie left in the first place.

Steve first sees him on the carpet. It’s from a distance, and he’s determined to keep it that way for as long as possible. He wishes Eddie dashed for the real thing too, but he knows his ego couldn’t take the blow. Eddie Munson loves attention too much.

Eddie looks great, cause he’s a celebrity & it’s a 10-person job to make him look great.

Eddie looks great cause he’s always looked great. Even when his hair was all frizz and his hygiene habits were questionable at best. And Steve hates him but his dick has never gotten the memo.

Steve deals with it by drinking a lot. It’s the Globes! He sits at his table and smiles and they give him alcohol and he drinks it. It’s stupid and it’s reckless and it’s the only thing that’s gonna get him through this torture. So he picks at his ugly velvet suit and he drinks.

The wranglers grab them 20 minutes before they’re set to present. It’s earlier than usual but Munson’s been known to dash.

They’re sitting on opposite couches in the green room. Eddie’s vibrating. Leg jittering nonstop. Steve’s starting to feel woozy. They’re not talking.

After five minutes, Eddie clicks his tongue and gets up. “Gonna take a leak.” His wrangler starts after him. “Follow me and I cut off your dick.”

Steve looks at the kid, weighing tearily whether his job was more important than his penis, “I’ll- I'll make sure he’s back on time.”

Steve stumbles riled down the hall, opens the door with a slam, “You leak the photo, Munson?”

Eddie’s already washing his hands. Steve catches his reflection in the mirror. He looks weirdly hurt.

“Steve,” Eddie says his name so... sad, “C’mon, man. I- I wouldn’t do that.”

Steve laughs cold, puts his hands in his suit pockets. “Sure, yeah, man. You’d just disappear for seven years. Come back with some horseshit apology because you finally got what you wanted. Cause your ego could finally handle being around me. But sure. You wouldn’t do that.”

Eddie steps back into the wall, looks at Steve with those watery brown eyes. They’re framed by crows feet now. “Steve, I–”

Steve boxes him in, makes it so he can’t slip away this time, “You know there was a week there where I thought you'd fucking died.”

He feels like a live wire. He feels every awful thing he’s felt for a dozen years bubble to the surface.

“Mike Wheeler told me where you went. Mike. Wheeler. I thought you were dead in a ditch, you asshole. Thought I’d lost you forever. But no. You just skipped town– Skipped town because I loved you and you fucking hated me.”

He doesn’t know when grabbed a fist into Eddie’s shirt. He wants to tear it. It’s probably insured.

“Stevie,” Eddie’s blubbering. Their faces are close enough that Steve can see his lip quivering. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Now Steve really wants to laugh. Baby. It’s such garbage. Total bullshit.

“I wish you’d died. It would’ve hurt less.” He says it dry, with his big wide movie-star smile. Then he spits, bullseye on Eddie’s cheek, “I fucking hate you.”

It’s so strange to see Eddie up close after all this time. He’s blurry in the memories but so vivid here, so harsh. Makeup cracking into nicotine wrinkles. Different. A mask of the person Steve knew.

He breathes, “I know.”

----

Eddie's tongue still tastes the same.

[steddiealltheway]

(happy happy happy happy happy birth-dae to @strawberryspence ilysm my Wendy’s frosty and chicken tenders friend. I hope you enjoy 💛🍓)

Steve was having one of those days. Then again, he seemed to have a lot of those after two run-ins with an evil alternate dimension combined with the aftermath of his "bullshit" relationship with Nancy. Luckily his parents weren't home to add to the general mood of things, but that just left him with a too big, empty house.

As soon as he got inside, he turned around and went back to his car. He knew where to go.

The drive was on the longer side, but Steve didn't mind. He felt like he could finally breathe when he saw the Leaving Hawkins sign. A few miles later, he pulled into one of the spaces beside a small diner.

He walked in and waved to Linda who smiled sweetly at him. He remembered a few years ago when he had first met her after taking his dad's keys and driving far away from his parents. Linda had given him a free meal and lingered around, letting him rant and not judging him for the things he said about his asshole parents and friends. She had simply listened and told him that he reminded her of her son when he was younger.

When Steve eventually left, Linda had told him that he could stop by anytime, and she would likely be there. She also hinted that maybe he should take a bus next time because he looked a little too young to drive. Steve had blushed and ducked his head at the comment, but Linda had just laughed and told him things would get better.

And it seemed like every time Steve came back, things would eventually get better.

But he can't help but feel a little jilted when he notices that his corner booth which is always available is suddenly not. He can't see whoever is sitting there as they face away from the door. Their shoulder-length curly hair sticks out to him, but he wonders if that has to do with Nancy.

He knows he should just find another booth or table or even sit at the bar, but Steve can't help but wonder who is sitting at his table. So, he approaches them slowly, noticing how they're bent over some book or something scribbling away only with a pink-tinted milkshake on the table.

He clears his throat when he gets closer, and the person looks up with big, brown eyes curious at first before becoming closed off.

"Munson," Steve says, not sure what emotion he's feeling because he was the last person he imagined to be here.

"Harrington," Eddie replies, sounding a bit irritated.

Steve frowns. "Why are you sitting at my table?"

Eddie looks around before saying, "Funny, I didn't see a sign."

"You know what I mean."

Eddie closes the notebook in front of him before he leans back and crosses his arms. "Do I?"

Steve runs a hand through his hair and rests his hands on his hips. "I sit here every time I come here."

The corner of Eddie's mouth quirks up into a small smirk. "Thanks for explaining, but I'm not moving for you, Your Highness." He tilts his head down in a mock bow that irks Steve.

"Thankfully, you’re not sitting in my side of the booth," Steve says as he slides into the bench on the opposite side of Eddie.

Eddie looks at him blankly for a few seconds and takes a sip of his milkshake. He swallows and says, "Just don't dump this on me, okay?"

"Why would I do that?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Why would King Steve humiliate The Freak? What a great question."

Steve frowns. "I haven't done anything to you before."

"And nothing is stopping you now."

Steve snorts. "It sounds like you almost want me to. Which I won't by the way. If that was seriously something you were worried about."

Eddie narrows his eyes at him as if expecting something as he clutches his notebook a little tighter.

Steve gestures toward it. "What that?"

Eddie frowns and looks down at the book. "You wouldn't care."

"Try me."

Once again, Eddie stares at him. This time Linda interrupts as she slides a burger with fries in front of Steve. "Everything okay here?"

Eddie and Steve both nod, but Linda raises her eyebrows at Steve as if saying behave.

Steve takes the message and kindly pushes the plate a little toward Eddie saying, "You can take a fry if you want."

Eddie stares at the plate and considers it.

"I promise in the time Linda brought it to me and I pushed it to you, I didn't poison it." Eddie still doesn't take a fry, so Steve reaches over, grabs one, and takes a bite. "See?"

Eddie looks at him and says, "Can never be too sure." But he takes a fry and dips it in his milkshake before taking a bite.

Steve's eyebrows furrow.

Eddie does the same thing with the other half of his fry and asks, "What?"

Steve grabs another fry. "What flavor milkshake is that?"

"Strawberry."

Steve frowns again as Eddie sighs. "I get a fry in a vanilla milkshake maybe, but strawberry?"

"Don't knock it before you try it," Eddie says pushing the glass toward him.

Steve stares at it tentatively.

"Unless you're afraid of double dipping after a freak."

With that comment, Steve looks Eddie in the eye, dips a fry into the shake, and bites into it. And it's not... unpleasant. He even takes the other half and tries more. "It's not bad. But I'm still confused about the choice of a strawberry milkshake."

It seems to be the wrong thing to say as Eddie retreats back into his shell a bit.

"I'm just more of a vanilla or chocolate guy," Steve tries to clear the air.

Eddie glances up and shrugs. "I used to get one here with my mom."

"Not anymore?" Steve can't help but ask.

"Considering that she's six feet under, no"

Steve's heart jumps at the response. He doesn't really know what to do other than reach over and rest a hand over where Eddie's rests. "I'm sorry."

Eddie glances down at their hands and shrugs. "Happened a long time ago. There's no need for all that."

Steve squeezes his hand one more time before pulling back. "Still sucks," he comments before biting into his burger.

"It is what it is." Eddie looks away and shakes his head before stating, "So, you've obviously been here often. When did that start?"

Steve finishes his bite and shrugs. "A few years ago. I tried to run - or rather drive - away from home. But I ended up here. I've been back whenever I need a break and to know that things will get better."

"How are things looking right now?"

"Better," Steve says with a small smile. He pushes his plate toward Eddie again. He takes the hint and grabs another fry.

"You know, chicken tenders taste pretty good with the milkshake too."

Steve laughs. "I'll have to take your word for it."

Eddie smiles, revealing his dimples, and Steve can't drag his eyes away.

Steve finishes his burger as Eddie makes a dent in his fries - not that he minds. The silence between them is nice, comfortable even. Steve's not sure the last time he's had a moment like this with someone.

Eddie glances up at him and hesitantly asks, "Did you really want to know what the notebook's for?"

Steve nods and leans across the table to get a better look as Eddie opens it up, explaining his D&D plans and showing off his drawings. As he flips the page and reveals a drawing of the Demogorgan, Steve slips out of the booth and sits next to Eddie, getting a closer look. "That's not what I expected it to look like."

Eddie looks at him. "You know what the Demogorgan is?"

"I kind of babysit these kids who play Dungeons and Dragons, so yeah. I know of it," Steve somewhat lies.

Eddie continues to stare at him in disbelief, and Steve finally realizes how close they are. He finds that he doesn't mind the small distance between them, and he especially doesn't mind the way Eddie's cheeks get a little pink before he turns away to flip through more pages.

And as much as Steve is impressed by all the effort and obvious talent that went into his notebook, he can't help but get a little distracted by Eddie himself.

He doesn't leave his side of the booth, opting to keep the close proximity, knees knocking into each other and fingers brushing as they reach for the plate of fries.

Steve doesn't want to leave his little booth, and he doesn't think he wants to come back later if Eddie won't be there.

But as it starts to get darker outside, Eddie glances at his watch and curses, "Shit, I need to get home before my uncle leaves for work."

"You can leave now, I'll pay for your shake."

Eddie looks at him, and sighs, "Thank you." He squeezes Steve's hand before they both scoot out of the booth.

They both have a moment where they linger and stare at each other, unsure of what happens next. They both know the dumb social hierarchy at their school and even with Steve's fallen status, Eddie's friends would never accept him. So maybe this is it.

"I'll see you around," Steve says, laying a hand on Eddie's arm and squeezing, lingering a little longer than he should.

"I'll see you around," Eddie echoes, hesitating for a moment before leaving.

Steve lets out a deep breath as he sees him walk out the door. Things will be better. They have to be.

-:-:-:-:-:-

This is definitely not the way Steve thought Eddie would be reintroduced into his life, and more than anything, he wishes Eddie wasn't involved in this. He just wants to go back to the sanctuary that is Linda's Diner. And he wants her to tell him that everything will be better.

Instead, he instructs Dustin to grab Eddie a strawberry milk from the store, and later grumbles without being able to explain why when Dustin comes back with a Yoohoo.

"Who the hell drinks strawberry milk? Chocolate milk is the obvious choice," Dustin defends.

Steve's heart tugs a little when he remembers having nearly an identical conversation.

-:-:-:-:-:-

(Ending 1)

Steve wipes at his tears as he drives away from Hawkins, getting stuck in the traffic almost immediately as everyone tries to get away from the cursed town.

He can’t do this right now. He doesn’t want to be given time to think about Eddie.

He pulls over to the shoulder and speeds along, ignoring all the car horns going off as he passes. He just needs to get to the diner.

A few miles later, he quickly turns into a space next to the small building and gets out quickly, rushing inside to his little sanctuary.

But as he stares at his table, he only gets memories of Eddie sitting across from him and next to him. And he feels like he can’t breathe here anymore.

But he still sits down in the booth, taking Eddie’s side instead, facing away from anyone who might enter.

He can’t be gone.

He sits in silence, staring at the place where Eddie’s notebook used to lay, where they shared a plate of fries, where Eddie’s strawberry milkshake used to sit.

A plate is slid in front of him, and Linda appears quietly at his side, knowing that he doesn’t want to talk about it. But when she slides a singular strawberry milkshake in front of him, he finally breaks down.

Maybe the town of Hawkins wasn’t just cursed. Maybe strawberry milkshakes were too.

-:-:-:-:-:-

(Ending 2. Aka an apology for ending 1)

Steve can’t sit still in the waiting room of the hospital. He has too much that was left unsaid. Too much at stake. But the doctors say it’s touch and go. And he has to wait.

Steve finally sees Eddie’s uncle, someone who was mentioned to him forever ago but has appeared sporadically in Steve’s thoughts. He wondered where Eddie’s dad was. Why he lived with his uncle. If his uncle was kind to him. If his uncle was on his dad’s or mom’s side. How he took the news when Eddie’s mom died. When he took Eddie in.

There were so many questions that were left unanswered because Steve was a coward. God, he wishes he would’ve seen that there were bigger, more important things than the school hierarchy. But even when he was fallen, there was a reputation he needed to somewhat uphold.

Steve doesn’t know how much longer he can take the waiting and thinking. He just needs a break from it all. He needs… Linda’s Diner.

He jostles Dustin awake and lets him know that he’ll be back in a while. Dustin just kind of gives him a look before shrugging and mumbling, “Okay.”

Robin grabs his hand, asking if he needs her to go with him. But he shakes his head and lets her know he’d rather her stay here and update him when he comes back.

He leaves the hospital quickly, racing to his car and speeding down the roads to the small dinner. He can’t help it. He needs to know that everything with get better as soon as he can.

When he gets there he takes a moment before going inside, looking away from his booth when all he can recall are the memories of Eddie. Instead, he heads to the bar and asks Linda for a strawberry milkshake to go.

After she puts in the order, she walks up to Steve and lays a hand over his. “Is he okay?” She asks gently.

Steve should’ve known that she’s seen the news, but he’s relieved to find that she knows Eddie isn’t guilty. That he would never be capable of the horrible things he’s been accused of.

“He’s touch and go right now,” Steve admits, trying not to let his bottom lip quiver too much.

Linda squeezes his hand and says, “It’ll all be better soon. I just know it.”

Steve smiles at her and whispers, “Thank you.”

Moments later, she hands him the milkshake, and Steve leaves soon after. He needs to get back as quickly as he can.

He drives faster than when he left, almost regretting his little pit stop when he feels like he needs to be there. He races up to the waiting room and finds that Dustin and Eddie’s uncle are gone. Steve’s stomach drops as he looks at Robin. “Is he?”

Robin hugs him with tears in her eyes and whispers, “He’s awake. And he’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”

Steve sighs in relief and feels a few tears spill out of his eyes. He ducks his head into Robin’s neck and tries to hide his reaction from anyone else.

“Steve.”

Steve takes a deep breath and looks toward the doorway where Dustin is standing. “He wants to see you.”

Steve smiles and squeezes Robin’s arm before practically dragging a confused Dustin down the hall while asking where his room is.

Dustin leads him to it and says, “I don’t understand why-”

“Later, okay?” Steve asks, cutting him off. “I promise. I’ll tell you later.”

Dustin nods and for once he lets Steve go easily. “Okay.”

Steve jostles his hair around before slowly going into the room. He nearly gasps at the sight of Eddie so pale and almost lifeless, but when he sees his chest move slowly up and down, he’s flooded with relief.

“Eddie…” Steve says, practically running up to the bed and placing a gentle hand over his.

Eddie weakly smiles at him before glancing down at his hand. “What’s that?” He asks quietly.

“A strawberry milkshake from Linda.”

Eddie smiles a little wider. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. How could I forget?” Steve sets it down on a little table next to his bed and finally confesses, “Eddie, I wish things would’ve been different between us because out of all the things I got from Linda’s diner, you were the best. And I’m so glad you stole my booth because I needed you that day. And I need you now and-”

“Steve?” Eddie says softly.

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s eyes move toward the foot of his bed.

Steve glances over and jumps when he sees Eddie’s uncle watching him with a small smile. “Go ahead, I’m enjoying this.”

“Wayne,” Eddie tries to groan but it ends up coming out way too soft.

Steve just laughs and grabs Eddie’s hand. “What I’m trying to say is that after your name is cleared and you’ve healed and they determine that neither of us have demobat rabies, would you want to go on a date with me at Linda’s diner?”

Eddie smiles and squeezes his hand. “Absolutely.”

“Thank god,” Wayne mutters from his seat.

As Steve laughs and Eddie tries to glare at his uncle, he can’t help but believe that everything will truly get better.

[rottenaero]

Saw someone say El gets found by Wayne instead of Mike and the gang to which I say hell yeah.

Waynes working late at the plant when hears these noises coming from the woods, then a girl with a shaved head rushes out to grab his coworkers sand which they’d forgotten about hours ago.

She dirty, wearing a hospital gown, and he approaches her. Asks if she has a place, and she’s so fidgety that he’s shocked she hasn’t run away. She must see something to trust in him because when he asks if she wants some real hot food, she says yes.

He grabs an extra coat from his trunk so she can cover up and brings her through a drive through, lets her eat her food in the back while drives back to the trailer. It reminds him of Eddie, when his father had first gone to jail. His hair was buzzed and he was cagey, but was quick to pick through his burger and fries.

He brings her home, learns her name is Eleven, and Eddie meets her. He’s excited to meet her an quickly gives her the nickname El which just sticks. She warms up to the pretty quickly.

About a week after she first gets there, Steve Harrington shows up, trying to get weed for Tommy because the fuckers to lazy to get it himself.

She pokes her head out of Eddie’s room and sees him. She immediately comes out. “Shit,” Eddie mutters, “El, just stay in there another minute.” But she doesn’t, she goes straight up to Steve and just stares.

“Pretty…Pretty hair.” Steve beams, and crouches down to her level. “Thank you. Wanna touch it?” He asks. She nods enthusiastically, starry eyed as she reaches out and runs her hands through it.

“Didn’t know you had a little sister, Munson.” He raises a brow between the two. Eddie doesn’t reply, just stares at the sight.

“I- Uh, yeah.”

“You don’t,” Steve starts, pauses. El’s still playing with his hair when he continues. “You don’t smoke anything around her, right?”

Eddie is quick to shake his head, “Jesus! No Harrington, I only do it when I’m out of the house.”

El pauses. “..Harrington? You are Steve then.”

Steve nods, and Eddie’s are blown wide mouthing nononono, “Yeah, why?”

“He talks about you sometimes.” She shrugs, and pulls away, before looking up at the long-haired guy who looked embarrassed.

“Eggos.” She states. He nods, “Alright, Harrington, the goods, they might take a minute.”

“Dude, are you serious? It’s like 3pm.”

“So? The girl wants Eggos, why not?”

“Because it’s not healthy?” He sighs, gets up, and walks into the kitchen like he owns it. He opens the fridge door, and the freezer. “Do you have panko crumbs and cooking oil?”

He approaches, and leans against the bar, a bit hunched so he doesn’t knock down a hanging mug with his head. “It’s a no on the panko, but we’ve got some veggie-oil.”

Steve grabs eggs and chicken from his fridge and setting them on the counter, and begins opening random cabinets. He gets to the one with the food and grabs half-eaten lays chips, flour, and oil. “Got any seasoning?”

“Dude, what are you even doing?” He asks, El comes up beside him and jumps onto the counter. Steve opens another cabinet and grabs a couple seasonings. “Cooking real food.”

“Well aren’t you a little house-wife.” He snorts as Steve takes a pan off a nearby hook and puts it on the stovetop. His eyes widen, “Oh wait, you’re serious?”

“Uh,” Steve fills it with a little bit of oil, “Duh?” He gets a couple bowls out, cracks some eggs into one, another he puts flour and some other shit into.

He pushes the bag of lays to El, “Can you crunch all of these into tiny pieces?” Before going back to whatever he was doing.

In the end, the chicken tastes good. El loves it, and when Steve leaves she mourns him.

“I like him. He’s nice.”

Steve starts coming over everyday, usually during lunch but sometimes dinner, and makes them foods.

She meets the party who are looking for Will when Steve suggests she meet some friends from Hawkins, and introduces her to Nancy’s little brother.

Eventually, they all get sucked into the upside down when Eddie learns she has powers, and Steve fights the demo-gorgon.

Then El disappears and they’re all super upset, and when they found out that’s she was alive they’re pissed.

She still loves Hopper, but she also loves Wayne so they do weekend swaps and shit.

Steve starts greeting Eddie at school, hanging out with him sometimes. Eddie notices how he doesn’t let anyone touch his hair, but the way that anytime El asks he’ll gladly let her.

Idk, I think it’s sweet. Wayne gets another kid he adores, Eddie as her lame-but-cool-to-her older brother, and Steve as the babysitter, not just for her but Eddie too, because he’s also not allowed Eggos at 3pm are you fucking kidding me??

El is at Hoppers the week the whole star court thing happens and him and Wayne goes to pick her up and she’s sobbing, and Steve’s got his face beaten in.

When Joyce suggests she being El with her to California, Eddie doesn’t want her too, but Wayne thinks it’s best so they hug goodbye.

Steve still drops by everyday.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Y’all are the best. Seriously. I love y’all. One quick note: if y’all reblog, please include the tag “#if I should stay” (mind the capital i) so people can find the rest of the parts! Thanks so much!!! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Eddie does end up following Robin because he does not, in fact, have a death wish.

Even if, apparently, he dies in the future. Go figure.

She instructs him to grab his guitar. “Why in the fuck,” he starts, then reconsiders when Robin whips around to stare at him. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying?”

Robin shrugs a shoulder. “Not as much as they should.”

She stashes her bike in the back of his van and directs him to the Harrington residence, where Steve’s waiting, arms crossed, wondering smile on his face. “Miracle worker,” he calls, and Robin laughs as she grabs her bike from the back.

“Hate to break it to ya, Dingus, but you’re just not scary.”

“I’m plenty scary. I’ve got a nail bat.”

“Right, because that would beat Nance’s sawed-off in a fight.”

“Hey, it could! You never know! They’ve got different ranges!”

Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, like she’s asking if he can believe it, which. No. No he can’t.

“Sorry,” he says, regretting everything when they both look at him. “What the actual fuck is happening?”

“Come inside,” Steve says, suddenly all business. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.” His eyes find Robin’s. “One of ‘em took Barb last night.”

“Fuck,” Robin whispers.

“Yup. Will’s been missing for two days. Maybe, if we get down there soon enough…”

“Let’s hope so. Which one of the rugrats found El?”

“I think they all did? But Mike’s the one who took her in.” He shakes his head, mouth a grim line. “I saw Dustin today. They’re kids, Robs.”

“So are we,” she reminds him, heaving a tired-sounding sigh. “A buncha kids fighting real-life monsters.”

“Monsters?” Eddie parrots.

Somehow they end up inside while Steve goes to pick up the Party. Who the party is, Eddie doesn’t know. Just like he doesn’t know why he’s in Steve’s Harrington’s house with someone who isn’t Steve Harrington.

“Who’s the Party?” He asks Robin. “And why am I here again? If I die, doesn’t that mean I shouldn’t be here? Should be somewhere far, far away instead?”

“The Party’s a group of kids Steve babysits. They’re the first ones to go through this whole mess. And admittedly, you’re here partially because you can help, and partially for selfish reasons.” She offers him a lopsided grin. “Believe it or not, watching you die was kinda traumatic.”

“Right,” he says slowly. “And you and Steve? How do you know each other? He and Nancy Wheeler are the talk of the town, and if he’s stepping out-”

“He wouldn’t,” she says harshly. “Ever.” She takes a breath. “Two years from now, or a year ago, he and I work together in a mall. Long story short, we get captured and tortured by Russians. High on truth serum, I tell him I’m a lesbian in the bathroom, we help take down the big bad, and boom. Instant platonic soulmates.”

Eddie gapes at her. “What the fuck.”

“Just about,” she nods. “Oh, and the kids love D&D, so you’ll have plenty to talk about. They’re little shits but they’re also kinda great once you get to know them.”

Eddie stares at her. The front door opens, and Steve walks in, followed by a gaggle of preteens and Nancy Wheeler.

“Robs,” Steve says, not slowing his stride as he begins taking the stairs two at a time. “Bathroom. Now.”

Robin grimaces. “Breakdown time,” she murmurs to Eddie, then follows Steve, leaving everyone else staring at each other.

“So,” Eddie says. “I heard you like D&D?”

A dark-haired kid who looks suspiciously like Nancy narrows his eyes. “You play?”

“Play!” Eddie repeats. “I don’t just play, my young friend, I am the greatest Dungeon Master this side of the Mississippi.”

A curly-haired kid begins to grin. “I think we should put that to the test.”

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[sp0o0kylights]

Someone on Twitter proposed Steve and Gareth as cousins whose family had a major falling out, and then someone else brought it up recently and long story short no idea who to credit the idea too bc you can’t search for SHIT on Twitter but it's theirs not mine. 

Anyway I wrote a lil thing as a warmup 

PART TWO

"Why don't you come sit with Hellfire?" Gareth asked, angrily leaned against the bathroom wall while Steve fixed his hair.

He'd tried not to cling since he entered high school. Tried to keep things on the downlow, least any gossipy mouths started running. 

It was so stupidly, needlessly, hard. 

 His cousin was only two years ahead of him but they'd spent the last year in different schools because of it. 

 That year, and the lack of Steve's presence in it, had grated. Now that he finally had Steve back, Gareth was loathe to play by the rules. 

"Sit with you and Eddie, "the freak" Munson? I'll pass." Steve said, but there was no bite in it. 

That, Gareth knew, was because Steve was  using Eddie as an excuse. 

"You'd like Eddie if you spent five minutes with him, King Steve." Gareth fired back on automatic. His fingers dug into his arms, as he resisted the urge to pace around the bathroom floor. 

Unspoken was all the shit that had taken place.

Steve and Nancy's breakup. The rumor mill in overdrive, first about how Jonathan Byers had taken creep shot photos of them, then about how he'd taken his shot with Nancy herself. 

The supposed cheating, the public fights, the crazy background of Jonathan's little brother being missing. 

Billy Hargrove beating Steve to a pulp. 

Now friendless, Steve had thoroughly fallen from his place at the tippy top of the social hierarchy and between his utter lack of friends and his shit tier parents, Gareth was concerned. 

"You do not want me to sit with you, Gary. I'd tell all your little friends that you're apart of the royal family." Steve turned, making an exaggerated face. "How's Munson feel about cozying up to a Prince?" 

"I'd technically be an Earl, Steve, not a prince." Gareth grumbled. 

He got an eye roll in response. "Somehow I don't think he'll care." 

"I do though." Gareth blurted out, absolutely thoughtless. 

Steve blinked at him. 

"What?" He said. 

In for a penny right?

 "I care." Gareth said, looking down and scuffing a shoe, making it squeak against the grimy tiles. "About you. You dick." 

"Wow Gary you almost sounded loving there."

For once, he ignored the jab. "I'm worried about you, man." He said it quietly, the painful truth pulled out of him almost by force. 

He knew better than anyone how few people Steve had. Knew how his dad was likely taking all the crap Steve had been involved in lately. 

Richard Harrington hadn't been the wedge that had separated his and Steve's mother, but the man hadn't done them any favors, either. 

His intolerance towards the working and lower classes, his demand for perfection, the way he looked down his nose not just on Gareth's parents but on his own wife and son…

Gareth's mom didn't tolerate it. 

Likewise, Stella Harrington didn't tolerate her sister ruining her shot at being a rich trophy wife. 

Both their sets of parents were dramatic and neither of them weren't anywhere near the concept of "good" but at least Gareth's weren't neglectful and abusive. 

Shitty absolutely, but he never worried about getting thrown out, or that his mom wouldn't acknowledge his birthday because he'd "complimented her outfit the wrong way." 

(”It's fine dude she just thought I called her ugly. It was a miscommunication. Dad said it's a good lesson about how women work."

"Casual reminder that your dad's an asshole and also how is telling your mom that she looked lovely in the sunlight telling her she's ugly?”

“It implied she wasn't lovely the rest of the time or some shit, I dunno man.”) 

The BMW was a shitty prize when compared what Steve had dealt with to receive it. 

"I'm okay." Steve said seriously. "It's almost the end of the year anyways. I can tough out having some extra alone time." 

"If you're sure…"

"Yeah man, I'm sure. Thanks though."

Then Steve pulled him into a hug and fuck their parents, who demanded they continued some stupid grudge. Gareth clung to him just as hard as he had at ten. Unsure if he'd ever be allowed to see Steve again.

[solarmorrigan]

So this started out as some scribbly thoughts on FTM Steve and devolved a little bit into smutty Steddie rambling. As happens. So anyway, explicit text below the cut, click through at your own discretion, et cetera

Warnings(?) for some clumsy language and hints of period-typical transphobia; some discussion of Steve and Nancy together, but only for Steddie purposes. This is mostly just silly

-

“So, wait, you slept with how many girls in high school, and still managed to keep this a secret?” Eddie asks, brows climbing his forehead.

“Not as many as rumor would’ve had you think.” Steve shrugs. “Like maybe four? The rest, I just… didn’t discourage when they exaggerated. Helped my image.”

Eddie can’t help but snort. He’s glad Steve outgrew that image. “Still, four is a lot to keep a lid on. All of them agreed not to tell and then just – didn’t?”

“Actually, most of them never found out. It was only–” Steve pauses, eyeing Eddie cautiously, as if talking about his past female sexual conquests with his current boyfriend is fine, but what he’s going to say next will be a bridge too far. “It was only Nancy who ever knew.”

Ah.

Ah, yes. Nancy. Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s one true love.

Until now, Eddie fiercely reminds himself. He eyes the t-shirt that is very much his that Steve is very much wearing and slides over the jealousy to address his more pressing question.

“Okay, how did you have sex with at least three other people without them finding out you don’t have a–” Eddie stops short, fumbles for a moment, “a, uh, conventional dick?”

Steve snickers. “Nice save. And, uh – I never actually took off my pants. My talents are in other areas, and I always provided enough of a distraction that they didn’t seem to notice when I just… took care of myself.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, who can’t help but give him the laugh he’s looking for. “It didn’t say flattering things about my stamina, but multiple orgasms are a pretty good bribe. I got good reviews.”

“Huh.” Somehow, Eddie can’t help but feel impressed; he doesn’t quite understand why Steve had felt the need to do it at all—still doesn’t really understand Steve’s drive for popularity when he’d been in high school—but he can admit the skill in the subterfuge. “But you told Wheeler?”

He’s not sure why he’s asking. A part of him, he thinks, wants to make sure Steve had been able to tell her on his own terms, rather than having his hand forced.

Steve shifts, shrugs. He doesn’t look sad, but he’s maybe a little melancholy.

“Nance wasn’t… temporary, for me. She wasn’t a fling, and I didn’t want to hide from her. And it’s the same with you.” Steve’s gaze falls heavy on Eddie. “You are the… third? person I’ve ever told. I want you to know just– all of me.”

Eddie reaches out, grabbing for Steve’s hand; he’s pretty sure he’d be physically incapable of stopping himself from somehow touching Steve after an admission like that.

A thought is beginning to form, however, leading back to what had started this conversation in the first place. Eddie would bet anything that if Wheeler was the first person Steve told, then Buckley was the second.

And that meant only one person Steve had slept with had ever known all of him – but just how much of all of him had Wheeler been interested in?

“How’d she take it? Wheeler, I mean,” Eddie asks, as casually as possible while his thumb is still stroking Steve’s knuckles.

“Uh… pretty good, actually. She was kinda surprised, and she wanted a little bit of time to come around to the idea, but I think she was mostly just bothered that she didn’t figure it out before I told her.” Steve smiles, distantly fond. “But after that, she was cool. We didn’t talk about it much, but I knew that I could talk to her if I wanted to. I’d never had that before. It was… nice.”

It does sound nice. It had probably been the first time anyone had ever been close to accepting every part of who Steve is, and Eddie feels almost bad about turning the memory to sex.

Almost, but not quite.

“So… she was cool with…” Eddie’s eyes flash down below the belt, obvious and significant, “getting involved?”

A sly grin spreads over Steve’s face as he catches Eddie’s eyes. “Are you trying to ask what Nancy and I did in bed?”

Eddie throws his hands up in defense, forgetting for a moment that he’s holding one of Steve’s hands and pulling it up with him. “I’m just trying to figure out what I’m working with here,” he insists, smiling a little too hard to be innocent. “Now, you insinuated you have talents in the oral and digital departments—which I am very interested in, by the way—but what I want to know is what’s been done for you.”

Steve eyes Eddie like he’s considering whether or not to answer, but the way he’s licking his lips says he’s already decided, even if he doesn’t quite realize that himself.

“She… definitely didn’t mind being involved,” he says finally; there’s a slight stain of pink gathering at the tops of his cheeks that Eddie sort of wants to bite. “She would finger me. Sometimes she’d go down on me, but I think we both enjoyed it more the other way around. I think she liked seeing me get myself off while I did it, and I– definitely liked that, too.”

Eddie makes the mistake of imagining it: Steve on his knees, fingers buried in his cunt, wet and dripping, his hips jerking down onto his own hand, maybe kneeling between Eddie’s legs while he does it, maybe looking up through his lashes while he sucks Eddie’s cock.

A little noise escapes Eddie.

“How about… toys?” he manages after a moment. He’s leaning closer now, raptly watching the way the flush on Steve’s face darkens. “You ever try those?”

“I have a… a couple,” Steve says, voice gone low and rough, his eyes fastened now to Eddie’s mouth. “We didn’t use them together, though, they’re just mine.”

Oh, they’re going to revisit that. They are absolutely going to revisit that, but right now Eddie is on a mission. He won’t let himself be distracted.

He slides closer, practically on top of Steve now, one hand on his hip and the other spread warmly over his ribs.

“Never thought about a strap?” he asks.

Steve shrugs, not nearly as nonchalant as he’s pretending. “Thought about it, never quite got there.”

“Which way were you thinking? Would you have worn it? Or…” Eddie is going out on a limb here; just because Steve has a pussy doesn’t mean he likes the idea of penetration, but Eddie has a hunch. “Or would it have been the other way around?”

A sharp breath escapes Steve’s chest. “Do you want that?” he asks, soft, almost hopeful.

Eddie strokes a thumb across his ribs. “Want what?”

“To fuck me.”

This time it’s Eddie who goes breathless. “Is that even a fucking question?” he demands, and then, in case he wasn’t clear, adds, “I would want very much to do that, yeah. If you want me to.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would,” Steve says. “I mean, I know you’re strictly into guys, and I don’t exactly have… a conventional dick.”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” Eddie asks, eyeing Steve’s smirk.

“We’ll see,” Steve says, which likely means no.

“Fine. But Steve,” Eddie reaches up, cupping Steve’s face in his hands, “I am one hundred fucking percent into you. You are a guy. You are an incredibly hot guy whose pants I have been wanting to get into forever, no matter what you’ve got in there.”

Steve smiles, and Eddie caresses the corners of it with his thumbs.

“Well, you do seem to prefer the weirder shit, anyway,” Steve murmurs.

“Not weird. Different,” Eddie says, and Steve makes a face at him but readily allows him the kiss he presses in for after that.

“So have you…” Steve starts, once they’ve broken apart, “ever been with a guy with my, uh– sort of equipment?”

Eddie would make fun of how awkwardly the words had tumbled out if he hadn’t suddenly been feeling a bit awkward himself.

“Not, uh, exactly.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him and Eddie amends snappishly, “okay, fine, not at all, no.”

“But you’re open to it?” Steve checks, as if the way Eddie has pressed against him like a needy cat has left any room for doubt.

“More than open,” Eddie says. “I might just, y’know– need some direction? To start with?”

“Directions, huh?” Steve smirks. “I can work with that.”

Eddie has no doubt that he can – and that Eddie will enjoy every second of it.

[robinsno1lesbian]

Hi! So i have an idea for some Nancy smut because we are in desperate need of it!(at least i am)

Imagine you and Nancy have been roomates in college for about 3 months but,ever since you first laid eyes on her,you can’t get her out of your mind. You know that Nancy is probably not into girls and that she would never like someone she met 3 months ago,but this felt right.

However, you are way too scared to speak up and tell her about your feelings, because you are shy and awkward,but also because you were pretty sure she would reject you,Until one day,you were exhausted from how much you were studying and even though you knew it was wrong,you decided to ‘relax’ by masturbating,letting your imagination run free with thoughts of Nancy. And of course,when she gets back to the dorm weirdly earlier than usual,she catches you whispering her name as you hump a pillow you secretly stole from her.

So sorry for the long request,i added way too many details but i’ve had this idea for so long i memorised it:’)

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

-n.w. x reader

summary: falling in love with your roommate in college, who happens to be nancy wheeler (because, honestly, who wouldn’t fall in love with her?) (3k)

warnings: SMUT!! masturbation, pillow humping, r gets caught, mention of oral sex, strap-ons & sex toys, vaginal fingering (r receiving), pet names (baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, darling), as always: i didn’t beta read before posting, let me know if i missed anything! :)

a/n: thank you so much for the request anon! don’t worry about it being “too long” or “too detailed”!! i love receiving new requests!! anyway i hope you like this! <3

things had been great. they���d been perfect, even. the day you got the acceptance letter from emerson, you’d been bouncing off the walls, happy to finally leave your small town behind.

they’d been great, still, when you learned who your roommate would be. she seemed nice, from the things you were told about her: nancy wheeler. from an equally small town somewhere in indiana. majoring in investigative journalism. and you thought, you really thought, maybe the two of you would become great friends.

and unfortunately for you, you did.

nancy was a great roommate from the start. she’s reliable, probably more than you are yourself, and caring. the kind of roommate who puts effort into really knowing you: she arranges movie nights and dinners together to have conversations.

she’s as old as you are, meaning you’ll graduate the same year, and often talks about her hometown, about some ex boyfriend of hers back in indiana and her family there.

nancy always waits until you’ve finished your breakfast or dinner before getting up, she helps you with your chores and even offers to help with your studying when she’s not too busy.

and, while you appreciate all of this, it’s slowly but surely driving you mad. nancy is.

she’s gorgeous, that’s the first thing you learned about her when the two of you met: brunette perm that’s framing sharp features and sapphire eyes, always watching you. her touch is firmer than you would expect, judging by her height and rather petite physique, and it seems to linger on you more often than not; her hands moving you by the waist to reach the dishwasher, fingers curling around your wrist when there’s a jumpscare in the horror film you’re watching together.

none of this would be a problem, if it wasn’t for the way it makes your heart flutter. it reminds you of falling in love for the very first time all over again: the secrecy of being head over heels for a girl you will never have. you thought that nancy wheeler would just be another one of those presumably straight girls who’ll never know how much you really liked them.

and while you were convinced you’d get over it in the first couple of weeks, it only got worse over time.

the more you learned about her, the more you fell for your roommate: you figured how she takes her coffee (black, no sugar or cream), and that she, for some reason, knows a whole lot about guns. you learned to love each of her facial expressions, from that tight lipped smile she’ll occasionally offer you, to the frown on her face when she’s trying to figure something out.

by the time your exams are right around the corner, you’re hopelessly in love with nancy wheeler.

you should be focused on nothing but studying and yet your roommate is all you can think about.

even when you’re sitting by the desk in your room, behind a pile of books and notes, you can’t stop your stupid mind from wandering.

you flip your pen around your index finger, groaning quietly as you find yourself rereading the same paragraph for the third time in a row without actually taking in the words. it’s all just one big blur.

if nancy was here, you find yourself thinking, she would praise you for the hard work. she would run her fingers up and down your shoulders from behind, her breath hot against the side of your neck…

“you’re working so hard sweetheart” imaginary nancy whispers in your head. “see? you’re all tense. god, darling, let me help you with that, yeah?”

you groan and bury your face in your hands. you can feel yourself throbbing in your pants and it’s pathetic.

you wonder if nancy would think so too, as you press the heels of your hands against your eyes. if she would scold you once she feels your slick against her fingertips, mock you for the amount of wetness and-

“fuck, fuck, fuck” you mutter, slamming your pen down onto the table top in frustration.

there’s no point in studying like this: when you’re practically soaking through your panties.

perhaps, you think, you just need a little stress relief. ever since you had moved in with nancy, you’ve made sure to keep quiet when it came to that. you had always slammed a hand over your mouth whenever you would be touching yourself in the quiet of the night. even after making sure nancy was asleep, you had made sure that your roommate wouldn’t hear the quiet whimpers of her name that would fall from your lips whenever you’d get close.

it was disgusting, you knew, perverted even. to get off to the thought of her and reach your height with nancy’s name on your lips, to close your eyes and picture her and the way she would sometimes come to the breakfast table in nothing but an oversized shirt and a pair of underwear that you’d catch a glimpse of whenever she’d get on her tiptoes to reach the upper cupboards.

the thing is, you can’t seem to stop.

you can’t stop watching her, you can’t stop thinking about her, you can’t stop your hand from slipping into your panties when you’re by yourself.

you couldn’t even stop yourself from taking the pillow nancy had left on the couch once. she must’ve forgotten it there after napping in the living room and you found it when cleaning the dorm. looking back at it now, you have no idea what possessed you to do it but you grabbed the silky pillow case and took it to your own room. nancy never asked for it back, never even noticed it was missing.

you let your gaze wander over all the notes on your desk one last time, sighing in defeat. studying like this is pointless, you decide, as you shake your head and get up, already peeling off the top you’re wearing and unbuttoning your pants. you drop them on the hardwood floor before laying yourself down onto your soothingly cold duvet.

you don’t bother to lock the door to your room: nancy said she would be out until later tonight and, given the fact that she’s always on time, you believe her.

your lashes flutter shut when you trace your fingertips over your skin: over the swell of your breasts, down your ribs and to the side of your hipbone.

you wonder if nancy touches herself like this. if she takes her time with it, teases herself through her clothes and lets her hands wander. or if, perhaps, she’s too impatient. maybe she gets straight to the point, you think, sucks her fingers into her mouth to get them nice and wet before fucking them into herself.

with a slow exhale, you feel yourself relaxing already. your heavy-lidded eyes wander until they reach your closet. in there, in the lowest drawer, you keep a box where you hide a couple of toys. and, right by that box, is nancy’s pillow.

you know that you shouldn’t. you know it. but your body moves on its own, walking over and getting it out.

when you lower yourself on the pillow, you picture her. it’s easy like this, finding a position that creates the perfect friction between the fabric and your center. you moan her name, quietly at first, but louder when you start grinding against the pillow.

-

when nancy enters the apartment, she’s quiet. it’s not that late yet, but she knows you’ve been studying for the upcoming exams and it wouldn’t surprise her if you’re exhausted from all the relentless, hard work.

she slips inside quietly and makes sure to shut the door behind her without causing any loud noises.

when she’s about to untie her shoes after putting aside her keys, she hears it for the first time. it’s just a little noise, somewhat of a gasp that echoes down the hall. yet nancy freezes. the sound obviously came from your room.

she stops in her tracks and turns her head towards your door. nancy quietly kicks off her shoes, unsure of whether or not she had just imagined it.

she has not.

another breathy moan comes from your room, one that’s unmistakably her name.

nancy inhales sharply, eyes wide open at the realization. she’s home earlier than expected, so you must’ve thought you would have the dorm to yourself for the night. she knows this is wrong. she should make a noise, clear her throat or drop the keys to make her presence known.

nancy wants to, she really does, but she can’t turn away.

instead, when she picks up another gasp of “oh my god, nancy” she moves towards your room.

hearing your pretty moans like this is something nancy had always wanted. she hadn’t expected the feeling to be mutual though, nor had she expected to hear you like this.

the idea of what you’re currently doing sends a jolt of arousal to her center as she approaches your room. the door isn’t fully closed, nancy notices, leaving a small gap that lets her see a glimpse of what’s happening inside…

-

you’re moving on the pillow frantically, your clit dragging over the silk deliciously.

you picture your roommate, beneath you, nails digging into your waist as you ride her face. you picture her tongue instead of the pillow, her mouth slurping up the slick of your arousal. her eyes, a deep shade of blue as they watch you moving on top of her.

you’re wet, you’re so wet, your underwear pushed to the side so you’re dripping all over the pretty pillow, grinding and gasping for air as you grip the pillow case tightly.

“oh, yes” you exhale slowly, whispering nancy’s name like a prayer. you can feel your orgasm building in your core already, the pillow soaked with your wetness. you roll your hips against it, chasing the heavenly feeling of your release.

“y/n…?”

your eyes immediately snap open. the reality of the situation only sinks in through the hazy fog of pleasure when you see nancy in your doorway. immediately, regardless of how weak your limbs feel, you scramble away from the pillow and try to cover as much of your body as possible.

“fuck” you pant, flinching away from her. “fuck- i- i’m so sorry nance! i- i can explain!”

you can’t explain, you know that. there’s no way to ‘explain’ why you were humping her pillow like that mere seconds ago. why you were moaning her name. you know, right then and there, that you’ve ruined everything.

“y/n” nancy repeats, her eyes wide. strangely enough, she doesn’t seem mad. not at all. there seems to be something in her voice though, a low, husky tone you’ve never heard before “holy shit”

it takes a moment for you to understand but that is definitely arousal in her voice. nancy is biting her lower lip, her eyes darker than usual as her gaze wanders over the scene in front of her.

“i can explain” you croak again, weaker.

“don’t” nancy hushes you, walking further into the room. “look you can tell me if i got it wrong, alright?”

you nod, hands slowly sliding down your body, exposing your breasts to her. heat rushes through you when her eyes dart down to stare at them.

“were you-“ nancy mumbles, crawling towards you on the bed. “moaning my name, y/n?”

“i-“ you turn your gaze away. immediately, nancy reaches for your chin and makes you look up at her.

“it’s okay” she whispers, her thumb dragging down your lower lip absentmindedly. “is that my pillow baby?”

you shiver. why isn’t she disgusted with you? why isn’t she mad that you were fucking humping her pillow like that?

“mhm”

“you wanted me that bad?” nancy husks, her breath hot on your face. “that you just had to hump one of my pillows instead of just asking me to help you out?”

“you would’ve-?” you croak.

“help a pretty girl like you out?” nancy finishes for you. “mhm, yeah. i mean- fuck- have you seen yourself?”

her fingers trace your face gently as she speaks. her lips parted and pink. you’re not even sure who leans in first. all you know is that you’re kissing her, suddenly. her mouth is soft against yours, but demanding and hungry. you keep up, kiss her back like you had always imagined.

“you’re a sight for sore eyes baby. you didn’t have to rub that poor pussy of yours raw against my pillow you could’ve just-“ her free hand drops between your legs and her eyes widen when she feels your arousal, the sensation morphing her voice into a high pitched gasp “asked”

you grab her wrists, without really intending to, you just need her to stay right there. her palm is pressing against your clit just right and you’re so, so close already. your hips jump forward on their own accord, desperately rubbing against her hand. later, you’ll feel embarrassed for how greedy you are, but right now, you really cannot help yourself.

“oh baby” nancy whispers, her hand still in place. she even pushes it upwards the slightest bit, pressing it against your clit while her fingers sink between your folds. “you want it so bad don’t you?”

you’re too far gone to feel embarrassed for the whine you let out. all you can do is nod your head, over and over again.

“shhh” nancy coos, adjusting herself so she’s kneeling in front of you, hand still sitting firmly between your thighs. “you want my fingers baby?”

any other time, you would’ve verbalized all those fantasies you’ve been having. you would’ve asked her to ride her face, or for her to get out one of those toys you keep hidden in the drawer. you picture nancy with one of the dildos strapped to her body, her voice telling you to get on all fours for her. maybe you would’ve begged for her mouth or for her to bend you over your desk and eat you out like that. but for now, with your abdomen still coiling from the ruined orgasm, you know her hands will have to do.

“yeah” you nod, both eyes closed. “yeah please i need it”

“i know” she coos, her voice sending another wave of arousal through you. “i know, i’ve got you”

another thing you learn about nancy wheeler is that her fingers are fucking heavenly. she runs them through your folds, gathers your arousal on her index- and middle finger, and brings it up to your clit. nancy had always been quick to learn the way you like things: she picked up your favorite snacks and dinner within the first couple of weeks, learned how you fold your laundry and sorted your shampoo and body wash in the shower. now, she’s showing off that observation skill once more.

she finds your clit, draws circles around it with a finger and adjusts the pressure and pace until you’re falling forward against her body, panting heavily.

“oh yeah?” nancy says, pleased with herself. “yeah? right there baby?”

you know it won’t take long for you to cum like this, not when you’ve been painfully close the moment she first walked in on you and certainly not when nancy is stroking your clit the way she currently is.

“do you like penetration?” she asks, her voice soft and genuine.

you nod at her weakly, one hand grabbing her by the shoulder to keep her close, bracing yourself for the sensation of her stretching you open.

you moan when she pushes them into you, two at once after making sure you’re wet enough to take it (which you definitely are).

she pumps them into you a couple of times, quickly figuring out a rhythm that works for you and causes her thumb to brush against your clit with each thrust.

the only thing you can offer her is an encouraging nod and the quiet “ah ah ah” sounds that she draws from your lips.

“come on y/n” she pants, pressing her thumb against your clit. “i wanna see you cum. can you do that for me?”

the whine you give her in response briefly resembles a noise of approval but it’s enough for nancy. she picks up the pace of her fingers, her face a reflection of your own: eyebrows drawn together and mouth agape in pleasure.

“that’s it” she praises when she feels your velvet walls flutter around her fingers. “that’s it baby, give it to me, come on”

that, and a couple of rolls of your own hips to ride her fingers, is all it takes for you to stumble over the edge. the knot in your belly finally snaps and, for a moment, there’s only pleasure and the sound of nancy’s name. you hardly even realize it’s you who’s desperately moaning it out like that.

you stumble against her, her fingers still moving against that spot inside you as she wraps her free arm around you and holds you.

your body still trembles with the force of the orgasm when you register nancy’s soothing voice close to your ear.

“i got you, pretty girl” she says softly. “i’m right here baby, you did so good”

“n-nance-“ you finally manage, when the pleasure ebbs and reality comes crashing down on you. you fucked up. you fucked it all up and this is the end of shared dinners and movie nights and the friendship between the two of you and-

“i was wondering when you’d make a move” nancy’s voice snaps you back to reality. “i mean- i guess i wasn’t expecting…that”

“w-what?” you mumble, leaning back to catch her eyes.

“listen” she tells you gently. “i like you, y/n. and, judging by what just happened, i think you like me too? correct me if i’m wrong. but i think once you’re…calmer, i would really like to ask you out on a proper date? if that’s okay?”

your eyes are wide with surprise. this is not what you expected.

“i mean- i- yes!” you finally answer, after staring up at her for what must’ve been way too long.

nancy just chuckles, running her fingers through your hair soothingly.

“okay” she hums.

“okay” you tell her. “does that mean i get to kiss you?”

nancy smiles, happily leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 22: Santa Shenanigans

Steve was going to kill Robin.

Well, not really because he doesn't think he'd survive more than a couple days without her. But he'd certainly be giving her the stink eye next shift for suggesting a secret Santa between the older ones of the party.

"We just rog it so that I get Vickie and she'll fall madly in love with me, it's a perfect plan Steve!"

To her credit it was an ok plan.

"Last week you spent an hour bemoaning the fact that she smiled at a boy."

"But yesterday she spent two hours studying with me in the library!"

Steve rolled his eyes at her shenanigans but agreed nonetheless. They drew names the next time they had all gone out for burgers at the diner. Steve tried not to make it obvious when he saw who his name was. Eddie.

Steve wasn't disappointed, no, far from it, he'd been hiding a crush on the older boy for a few months now, let's just say Eddie spent a lot of time by Steve's pool last summer. But now he felt the pressure to get him the perfect gift. The plan hadn't even worked for Robin.

"I got Argyle! Now how will I win her heart."

"Could always plant some mistletoe."

"You're a genius! Who'd you get."

"It's Secret Santa, Rob's, it's meant to be secret."

"Boo you're no fun, bet it's me."

It took Steve weeks to finish his gift for Eddie and Steve found himself hastily wrapping it the morning of their little Christmas party, grateful that Robin had thought of the plan well in advance otherwise he'd have never finished.

Steve greeted everyone and watched as they placed their secret Santa gifts under the tree. They ate, laughed and picked a Christmas movie to watch after presents. One by one they opened their gifts.

Nancy got Vickie some water colour paints.

Argyle got Jonathan rolls of fresh film.

Jonathan got Nancy some new notepads with larger covers.

Robin got Argyle a big bright tie dye shirt with Groovy printed on the front, he quickly put it over the sweater he was already wearing.

Vickie turned to Robin and Steve quickly saw her cheeks start to redden. She passed her the gift and Robin unwrapped a bag full of pins and badges.

"I've been collecting them for a few weeks for you from around town and around where I went to visit my grandma, thought your work vest needed some more fun ones."

Robin grinned widely at Vickie, the effort making a big impact on her. Steve knew he'd be hearing about it for weeks but he hoped the mistletoe in the kitchen sped things along.

Steve was about to give Eddie his gift when he realised that this meant Eddie also got him for Secret Santa. He turned to the metalhead to find him already shyly holding out a gift.

"It's not much but I hope you like it, Stevie."

Steve unwrapped the small package to find a collection of mixtapes inside, Eddie's handwriting clearly scribbled on the side.

"I started making a mixtape of songs that made me think of you but U ran out of room on the first one and might've gotten carried away," he said shyly scratching his neck.

Steve glanced over the names of the songs and it was clear that the majority of them certainly wouldn't remind someone of their dear platonic friend. Steve smiled softly at him and passed him his gift.

"I think I know what you mean."

Eddie slightly confused at the statement unwrapped the gift, his mouth forming a small o looking inside. He took out the book, a worn copy of The Hobbit that Steve had thrifted as soon as he knew Eddie was his secret Santa.

"Stevie, you know I've got this one, it's my favourite," he said slightly awkwardly.

"Look inside."

Eddie slowly opened the book to see small dribbles of ink between the words. The handwriting clearly Steve's. As he flicked through he saw Steve's thoughts spilling into almost every page.

"It's your favourite and you're always wanting me to read it so I did, I thought it'd be fun if you saw exactly what I thought of it."

Eddie's eyes caught on one of the words near the end, a small red shape next to them, yeah, he thinks he and Steve are on the same page, but he'd wait until the end, no spoilers early after all.

"I love it, Stevie, thank you."

As Steve sat curled up next to Eddie on the couch watching the film he too had the same thought, definitely on the same page.

Ao3

[eds6ngel]

may i request some sweet robin x reader smut? like robin just got off work at the video store and she’s rlly shy n needy for her gf?? 🥵

desperate little thing ᝰ.ᥫ᭡。

robin buckley x fem!reader

summary: robin comes home from work to what you think is tiredness, but her movements against your body paint an entirely new picture…

warnings: SMUT!! fem!reader. kissing. fingering. oral (robin receives.) praise and dirty talk. r loves boobs and vaginas (as do i.) mentions of consent. use of pet names (baby girl, baby, honey, hun, sweetheart.) swearing. mentions of homophobia. implied lesbian!reader, but vague enough for any sapphics to enjoy !! established relationship. mentions of food. some fluff and comfort at the beginning and end. [1.7k.]

a/n: thank you for the request, sweetheart!! made this into my lil domestic smutty sapphic dream. hope you enjoy !! ♡

Dinner on the stove. Robin on her way home. Everything perfect for a relaxing night in as a couple.

You and Robin had recently bought an apartment together, residing just thirty minutes away from Hawkins. It was convenient enough to get out of the homophobic town and closer to the accepting lesbian spaces of the city, but still close enough to Family Video, as well as Steve, Nancy, Jonathan and the rest of your friends and family.

With your hand stirring the pasta, the sound of a key turning alerts you from your concentration, knowing that only one other person in your life would be entering at this very second.

“Smells good, sweetheart,” her voice comes softly through the hallway, keys being thrown into the dish by the door, her body slowly pattering towards the direction of yourself.

“Thanks, honey. Trying some pesto tonight. Haven’t made it in a while,” you reply back, her presence becoming closer before eventually two slender arms wrap around your waist, the feeling of brown locks tickling your neck, a soft cheek pressed into your shoulder.

“God, baby, you look exhausted,” you chuckle, feeling her relax into your body, a faint hum leaving her mouth.

However, what you soon discover is that she isn’t tired at all. Her body was already entirely pressed against you, but the slow movement of her clit against your ass has you reeling in the fact that maybe it was a different emotion entirely…

“You okay back there, baby?” you ask, trying to get her to admit to her neediness.

“Yeah… Just…”

Robin always became slightly shy when she was desperate, afraid to ask for what she needed. Despite you both being switches, she never wanted to cross any boundaries. It was sweet to you, always having to remind her that if you didn’t want to do something, you would simply verbalise it.

“Just what, hun?”

“Just… want you. S’been a long day.”

That’s what you needed her to admit. Your hand comes down to the knob, turning it so the stove was off, the pasta water quickly losing its bubbles.

You grab her wrists from where they are perched on your stomach, spinning around and pressing a light-feathered kiss on the top of each of them.

“Yeah? Pretty girl just wants to sit back and let me help her relax? Is that it?” you say in between the fluttering of your lashes, hands moving from her wrists, to her arms, all the way up to her two pink-tainted cheeks.

“Please, baby. Just want you. Do whatever you want.”

You bite your lip with a smile, pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw and murmuring, “No, baby. This is about you, ‘kay? Tell me what you need.”

Robin gulps, never liking to admit to her own needs and desires. She was a giver at heart and always followed your lead whenever you needed it. It was very uncommon for her to put herself first, but tonight… she may just have to do that.

“Need your hands on me, please…”

You chuckle lowly, licking your lips, “Where to, honey?” Teasing her, you begin to trace over every area that made her squirm, “This gorgeous neck of yours? Or maybe… your perfect boobs, all for me. Or…” you cup her mound, “Is it here?”

Robin lets a whine escape her mouth at the feeling of your bare hand against her clothed pussy.

“Oh, right here, sweetheart? I can feel it, too. Feel how wet you are through these pants.”

“Please, baby. I will do anything, just—”

This is the kind of behaviour you wanted from her. Needy to the max. “Nuh uh, none of that, baby. You had a tough day and I’ll take care of you however you need, okay? All I need you to do is strip for me and sit that cute ass on the counter.”

Robin follows your orders, ridding of her restrictive Family Video attire, meanwhile, you remove your flowery apron.

“That’s it. Such a good girl for me. So pretty. So gorgeous.”

Your hands instantly land on your favourite girls, needing them between your hands, flicking her nipples between your thumbs. You spend every minute worshipping every inch of her skin, drawing every moan and whine you can from her. There was something so magical, so alluring and arousing, about hearing your girl succumb to your words and actions. How some people found the art of treasuring and pleasing their girl to be boring and unattractive forever confused you. How could the pure action of worshipping your favourite person’s entire existence be a drag?

You finally come to her beautiful pussy. What a sight to see. She was an outie, which you relished in. There was something so gorgeous about them, about hers specifically, that made you thank whatever God or star that exists for her presence in your life.

“You ready for my fingers, baby? Think you’re wet enough for two, don’t you?”

Robin’s eyes are closed, her head already floating amongst the clouds, simple nods and rambles “Yeah, yeah. Two is good, perfect even. You’re perfect. Always perfect.”

You chuckle, pressing a light kiss to her clit, her hips bucking at the feeling, “You’re perfect too, baby.”

Sucking your two fingers between your lips, you dip them down before slowly pushing them inside of Robin, her thighs raising up towards your head, caging you in, perfect for you to eventually add your mouth to.

“Fuck, honey, y-yes. Just like that, baby girl. S-Shit, just like that.”

The squelching of her pussy against your slick fingers, combined with her praise and gorgeous moans had you subconsciously increasing the pace. You look up at her with innocent eyes, before slowly lowering your head down to her clit, lapping at her juices. Robin instantaneously throws her head back, eyes fluttering shut as she tries her best not to rut against your mouth.

You could feel her pussy gush more and more of her slick around your fingers, your mind spiralling with the fact that all it took was you doing a household chore, a basic human need, for her to get this damn worked up for you. For her to be sat atop the kitchen counter in your newly shared apartment, high-pitched whines echoing against the four walls, probably vibrating through the floorboards below, all because of your tender and loving care. The transfer from sweet to sensual sending shock waves to your own vagina.

Robin’s hands are scrunched up in balls amongst your messy hair, sweat transferring onto your cheeks from where her thighs are suffocating you, to which you have no complaint, of course.

Her praise and general explicit words are a bunch of babbles, your focus too much on the movement of your fingers dragging against her velvet walls, sucking you back in each time you tried to leave, and the flick of your tongue in both upwards and sideways motions on her clit.

You wrapped your entire lips around her bud, sucking it harshly, her hips instantly bucking in a now speedy motion, her urge no longer being able to be held back. Your movements were fast, harsh, Robin having no care about anything else in the world except for you. If she died right now and went to Heaven, or simply nothingness, she wouldn’t care. Whatever situation, it was for sure the best way to go.

With the extra brash movements, your fingers start struggling to move, Robin’s walls tightening around them, her orgasm approaching with the increased sweetness hitting your tongue and the beautiful noises of gasping breaths infiltrating your ears.

“G-Gonna cum soon. S-So, close. So, so close, honey.”

Knowing that your next action would tip her over the edge, you break eye contact with the beautiful girl in front of you to shake your head back and forth against her clit, lips suctioned around her as you feel her thighs crush you against her vulva.

“F-Fuck, I-I’m cumming. Holy shit, I’m cumming,” is what you make out of her breathy gasps and sweet moans, mouth open in a wide ‘O’ and eyes shut tightly as her entire body shakes against you. The grip of her hand against your hair tightens to the max as she rides out her high, hips rutting in small thrusts against your lips, your fingers slowing to a steady pace as to not overstimulate her.

Once her body stops shaking, you bring your fingers to a halt, Robin’s cheeks rosy and hair messy as she lets out steady deep breaths, catching herself back to normality.

“Less stressed now, Robbie?” you sweetly ask, lips parting from her clit. Robin opens her eyes to the wonderful sight of her slick dripping down your chin, more being added to the inside of your mouth as you suck your fingers clean.

“Yeah,” she pants out, “Feel so much better. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”

You cup her face, pressing a tender kiss to her lips before parting and stroking her cheeks, looking her in the eye, “You’re too sweet, honey. Just wanted to take care of you when you needed it.”

You almost melt with the amount of love and appreciation present in her eyes, her blue orbs sparkling with affection and adoration for your presence in this exact moment.

“I love you,” she whispers out, almost giggling like a schoolgirl in the waves of her afterglow, to which you had to admit was a different kind of gorgeous sight to witness on a multiple weekly basis.

“I love you too,” you reply, placing a kiss to her forehead, “How about I finish plating up this pasta for you and then we can cuddle and stick on a movie?”

“Ooh yeah! I love that!” she brightens up, “I actually brought a new one home today. It’s called ‘Desert Hearts.’ It’s actually a lesbian rom-com, which I was shocked to find as it’s basically perfect for us—”

You chuckle to yourself, heading back towards the stove to heat up the pasta once again. This was the Robin you came to love, that you wanted to see in every living moment, and you were glad you were able to get her back to her rambling, talkative self in such a small amount of time.

taglist: @agxxb

[formosusiniquis]

any cosmo girl would have known

“Oh she did it for sure.”

“Steve!”

“Ten bucks, Bobert, don't give me that look last time we agreed double or nothing.”

“No,” Nancy insists. “This isn't Murder, She Wrote or Scooby-Doo or Columbo-”

“You saw who did it in Columbo at the beginning,” Eddie reminds.

“I know it's an awful show.”

Robin and Steve remain in sync enough to each get a hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting on the coffee table to defend the only good cop show in existence.

“I'm only pointing out,” she rewinds the VHS taking it back the two or three minutes they'd talked over before stopping it completely, “that this is a movie, not a drama with a repeated format that Steve can pattern recognition into predicting.”

“You haven't seen it already, right?” Robin asks. “The one rule of Monthly Middle-Aged Movie Night is you have to pick a movie none of us have seen.”

“No, I haven't seen it already. If you'll all remember when I asked you each to go see it with me I got,” he points to each of them in turn. “‘Wouldn't you rather see Tomb Raider?’ from double VHS, prestige cinephile and ‘That's too much pink for me, baby, you know I have that intolerance, maybe Rob or Nance will go?’ from my emo-isn’t-a-phase husband. And ‘I'm a little busy with this new story, Steve,’ from Nancy, the only one of you with a real excuse.”

“Some feminist you are, Birdie.”

“I don't want to hear it from you. I watched two of the blandest men alive pursue Renee Zellweger while the screen writers tried to convince us she was homely because you ‘forgot’ you had band practice.”

“You said you liked it!”

“It grew on me, but sometimes you just want to see a woman in a tank top. And I won't be shamed by the same man who cried during Beauty and the Beast.”

“I went with my sweet baby Lucy Joan, you miserable hag,” Eddie says, “and they turned that hot werewolf into a boring looking man.”

“You weren't into that? Look at who-”

“Why am I getting made fun of? Can we finish the movie?”

“No, I'm not going to let this be another Sixth Sense situation,” Nancy says, holding the remote hostage, she knows no one will try to take it from her.

“Ugh don't even bring that up,” Eddie groans, “Dustin still mentions it in at least one letter a year.”

Nancy nods, prim and proper, “Exactly, so tell us right now why you think she did it, then we'll play it again.”

“Chutney, the daughter,” Steve corrects, “have you even been paying attention? Her hair's permed.”

“And press play,” Eddie shouts.

“No,” Robin smacks his hands as he makes his ballsy play to reach around her for the remote. “Show your work, Dingus, even I didn't follow that one.”

“I don't always like the movies everyone else picks but I at least watch them. Her hair is permed, she said she was in the shower. She would have had to have been washing her hair if she didn't hear the gunshot and she has a perm.”

“You can wash your hair with a perm,” Nancy points out.

“You would know.” Eddie snarks, fingering the ends of his own hair.

“You can't wash a fresh perm, you'll fuck up the ammonium thioglycolate. Then you're out forty bucks and you've got limp hair. She killed her dad and lied about being in the shower.”

“Press play,” Eddie decrees again, leaning in close to Steve's side to purr, “it's pretty sexy when you go all hair care detective.”

His hand starts to slip below the blanket. “This is how we ended up with Lucy in the first place,” Steve reminds him, just under the sounds of the courtroom drama picking back up. It doesn’t stop Eddie’s hand from wandering until the movie’s climax starts getting closer, and Eddie’s attention is captured just like Robin’s and Nancy’s.

“Unbelievable,” Robin says, when Elle cites the perm salt.

“Never again,” Nancy swears, when Chutney screams her confession.

“Lucy’s been asking for a brother or sister,” Eddie flirts, as Elle reveals that any good Cosmo girl could have solved it.

No more movies with mysteries or twist endings for a while, they all agree, Robin can’t afford to keep betting against Steve.

[artiststarme]

Swimming Ground

Warning: mentions of su!cide

Steve hated his pool. Not swimming or lounging near water but the pool in his backyard in particular. He hated the reminders it held. The pool in the Harrington backyard held too much power over him.

He remembers when he was in the eighth grade and his parents decided to get the pool. He remembers how happy they were to be one of the only families in Hawkins with a new in ground pool that Steve could practice for the swim team in. They never could have imagined that just two weeks later, they’d find Steve floating in it. His mom looked out of the kitchen window to find her beautiful boy fully clothed, face down in the water. They didn’t love the pool so much after that.

They didn’t love their son too much after that either. To his parents, Steve had tried to take their precious boy away from them and they could never truly forgive him for being so selfish. They started taking more business trips and longer vacations away from home to forget about the son that wanted to die.

And Steve was left at home with the constant reminder that he failed.

He used the pool to make friends and to throw rambunctious parties but he never stepped foot in it. The first time he did since the eighth grade was with Nancy when he pushed her in. That was the night his pool took Barb. After that night, the kids thought his hesitation around his pool was because of guilt over losing Nancy’s best friend which he went with because it was so much easier to explain.

He’d throw them pool parties and play lifeguard but he would not touch the water.

Some nights, Robin would swing by to the Harrington house just to find Steve sitting at the pool’s edge. Close but never touching the water. She’d lure him inside to complain about girls or any other topic that helped distract her from the uneasy feeling she got when she saw him sitting there.

After their final bout with the Upside Down, Loch Nora was destroyed. Steve’s house was barely standing and his backyard was a chasm. The pool that had haunted him for years was gone but the thoughts that gave the pool such power remained. Steve didn’t know why he deserved to live more than Eddie and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to. As he thought about his fallen friend that could’ve been more, he yearned to feel the floating like he had in eighth grade. He wanted to feel his lungs burn for air and the fire in his chest when he finally breathed in.

But the pool was gone, he couldn’t do what he’d wanted to since he first tried and even though it was gone, the temptation remained. Instead of sinking into the chilly water, he slouched down next to the blazing chasm where his pool used to be. He felt the heat envelop his body and knew that it was the right decision. He was supposed to perish in the Upside Down as a martyr fighting for his friends. That didn’t work out though so now he had to pull the role of a coward and die a fiery, reasonless, self-imposed death alone.

He didn’t leave a note, didn’t think he needed to. His friends would care or they wouldn’t but nothing he said would make the situation better.

So, he closed his eyes and stepped into the void just as he’d done so long ago. There wasn’t peace or panic like there was the last time, just nothingness as he stepped into the crack in the earth.

Strangely, the afterlife wasn’t dark as he’d expected (but to be fair, he hadn’t thought about it much). Instead, it looked exactly like the Upside Down almost as if the chasm wasn’t a portal to hell but a gate to the alternate Hawkins.

When Steve sat up, still alive despite his efforts, it was face to face with Eddie. A bloody and scarred Eddie that looked a little pissed off but Eddie nonetheless.

“Well hello Harrington, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Goddammit, the swimming excuse wasn’t going to work this time.