#Steve comes down a few times to bring Eddie a glass of water for when he wakes up and then later a snack because he always wakes up hungry

[morganbritton132]

Eddie’s live streaming when his insomnia finally catches up with him and he falls asleep. He’s sitting upright, slouched in the corner of the couch in the studio with his guitar resting in his lap. He’s like that for maybe an hour before you start hearing noise.

Steve is loud as he comes down the stairs into the studio, calling out Eddie’s name and talking about his day at work. When he sees Eddie asleep, he lets out the littlest, “Oh.”

Steve sits his work bag down in the floor and carefully removes the guitar from Eddie’s lap.

As gently as he can, he starts the process of getting Eddie horizontal on the couch without waking him up. He even gets Eddie’s heating pad and situates it under him because sleeping all slouched over like that is gonna cause him back pain.

He covers him up with a blanket from the back of the couch, lower the lights, and turns on soft music for him. He moves hair off his forehead before pressing a kiss there and whispering, “Sweet dreams, rockstar.”

And then Steve go back upstairs to let Eddie rest, none the wiser to the still streaming live watching him.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Okay, nobody does this because they want to be friends.

It smells like new carpet in here. Eddie looks around his new bedroom, all his stuff is there. It’s all neat, orderly. There are curtains hung, the bed is made with new sheets, his books are on the shelf and salvaged records all neat. Even his sweetheart is hung on a shiny new mount on the wall.

“Steve would, he’s a really good guy.”

Billy doesn’t answer, but Eddie can feel the look he has on his face. Well. If Billy had a face at the moment – well. It’s kind of complicated.

Eddie sets out his meds in a neat line on the dresser – only a few more days to go and he’ll be free of those too. He can hear Steve rattling around in the kitchen and heads down the hall to check on him. He’s putting something in the oven, “it’s jut a casserole thing, but there’ll be enough left over for Wayne and I figured you’d probably want to eat and get some rest?”

“Yeah, sounds...really good. Thanks, Steve. I really like, appreciate you doing all this, my room, bringing my stuff, visiting, the ride from the hospital, you know, all of it. I just...had to say it, it means a lot, you know.”

Steve smiles at him, twisting the towel he’s holding into a long rope, “I...it’s no problem.”

You’re doing that thing again. The staring at each other thing again.

No we’re not.

You literally are – and by the way he just looked at your mouth.

Eddie huffs a laugh, can’t help it really, and Steve does the same and looks away and...okay. Steve is blushing. Even Eddie can see that.

“Stay for dinner?”

“I made it for you and Wayne -”

Eddie shrugs, “there’ll be enough, maybe we can add something to it?”

“Okay I’ll – yeah. I’ll see if there’s anything in the-”

“I can help-”

“You should sit, you should be resting-”

This is painful.

“You’re a guest.”

“Eddie,” Steve stands with his hands on his hips, Eddie raises his hands in surrender, but goes to sit at the table so he can still see Steve.

“So...you watched the game with Wayne?”

“Oh, yeah, it was pretty good.”

Ask him how it went and I guarantee you I can get him to kiss you by bed time.

Eddie feels his face flame, knows he’s flushed red, tries to hide it behind his hair as he nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Here, man, don’t die,” and Steve puts a glass of water on the table in front of him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he does.

Don’t say shit like that.

In his head, Billy is laughing hysterically.

You really think he likes me?

Yeah man, I really think he likes you. You are gay though, right?

Uhm. Yeah.

Well you don’t sound so sure there.

Well I’ve never, you know.

Man I am literally the ghost of a dead dude living in your head, who the fuck am I going to tell?

In the kitchen, Steve starts humming as he peels potatoes.

I’ve never done anything, with anyone. Ever. So pretty sure I am but I’ve never, you know, tested it.

Huh.

Limited options, you know? Also, not exactly the most desirable, you know, reputation, I guess.

Doesn’t seem to be putting Harrington off.

What about you?

What about me?

Well, I mean, say, hypothetically, I kiss a dude...we are kind of cohabiting here, would that...bother you?

Aw, sweetheart, cute of you to ask...Nah, I swing either way. Eddie nearly chokes on his water, and Billy laughs. I mean, not been with a dude since I left Cali, you’re damn right about the limited options thing. But yeah, I’m not fussy, getting off is getting off, and I figure if I can taste your food and feel it when you scratch your ass...Besides, we’re walking around in your body, no ones calling me a faggot, I’m dead.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Sorry, what?”

In the kitchen, Steve is putting potatoes on to boil, Eddie clears his throat, “I said, so tell me about that Pacers game you watched with Wayne?”

Steve smiles, big and bright, “you really want to know?”

Say you could listen to him all day.

“Yeah, if it’s you talking I could...I could listen all day.”

Steve smiles, then sort of looks away and fiddles with his hair before he comes over to the table. If anything Eddie would say he looks suddenly shy.

Bingo.

“Well, they beat the Celtics a couple of days ago, a hundred and sixteen to a hundred and nine, so they were fresh off a fair win and it showed. Absolutely smashed the Nets, a hundred and twenty three to ninety nine. Fleming and Stipanovich both made really decent showings…”

Part Six

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 114

Part 1 Part 113

It’s fully dark by the time they trundle into the trailer park. The sceneries nostalgic, almost. Steve at his side, his feet aching from too long upright, not another soul in sight. There’s no ash floating in the air, and no vines squirming on the ground, and the sky’s not an ominous red.

Will he ever be able to walk down this familiar stretch of street without thinking of that time?

He almost hopes not. Without the Upside-Down, when he and Steve ever come together like this?

Maybe it’s stupid, but he wants to hold onto those memories just as much as this one. They’re what got him here, holding Steve Harrington’s hand, floating past cloud nine and straight into the stratosphere.

His glasses are chock full of roses.

It’s a tragedy that he has to drop Steve’s hand to open and unlock the door, but he makes do.

Wayne’s on his recliner when they stumble through the door, holding a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He glances away from the screen, double takes, then stares back, eyeing them both up and down with an eyebrow raised.

He takes a long, loud sip from his beer, then asks, “you boys have a fun night?”

Eddie glances at Steve, and it’s only then that he notices how disheveled they both must look. Steve’s lips are still swollen, and his hair’s fucked beyond repair. Steve’s eying Eddie in kind, making those same damning connections.

He looks worried around the edges, though, so Eddie does what he’s always done best: put on a show.

He turns to Wayne, hands planted on his hips and says, “Wayne, I’ve got something to tell you.” He reaches out, linking his hand with Steve’s once more. “I’m gay.”

Wayne snorts, coughing on his beer. It must burn because his eyes water as he gasps out, “you play too much, boy.” He wipes the overflow from his chin, glaring up at Eddie. “You finally figure your shit out?”

Eddie beams, squeezing Steve’s hand. “Stevie here figured it out for me.”

Wayne looks between them for a few seconds more before shrugging disinterestedly, says a flippant, “he’s my favorite son for a reason,” and then just turns back to the TV to continue flicking through channels.

And that’s it. That was all she wrote, and all that. The world just, keeps turning.

“Should we tell anyone?” Steve asks that night, curled up into his side the way he always is. “Besides Will?”

He pulls Steve closer, the fondness in his chest expanding to the point of pain. Will, who is a part of their fucked up little trio. Of course, they’ll tell him.

It might even help him come to terms with some things that were hard won, brutal battles for Eddie when he was Will’s age. Give the kid a little hope, and all that. Hope that there are partners better out there than Mike Wheeler, the turd.

Eddie hums, skimming his fingers up and down Steve’s arm. “Well, Wayne figured it out the minute he looked at us, that’s one down.” He holds up one finger before bringing it back to Steve’s arm and tapping it against it. “You told Carol, so that adds in her and Barb.” Fingers two and three, tap, tap.

“Jeff?”

“Oh, definitely Jeff.” Eddie raises a fourth finger, taps it once before unlocking his thumb so he can clutch Steve’s hand. He pulls it up to his own chest, pressing it to the beating of his heart. “He wants me to tell him about the Upside-Down.”

Steve’s quiet, and it’s too dark to read his face no matter how hard Eddie strains his eyes.

“Do you think I should?”

Steve sighs, digging his pointy chin into Eddie’s shoulder. “I don’t know, man.”

“Man,” Eddie cuts in, mockingly. “Your tongue was in my mouth like, ten minutes ago.”

Eddie’s body shakes with Steve’s quiet laughter. “Fine, whatever,” he huffs. “It’s not up to me, Loverboy.”

The nicknames got that same mocking edge Eddie himself had used. It still makes his heartbeat stutter in his chest.

“But I’m not sure this is a situation where not knowing would help them?” he continues, voice lilting up at the end like it’s a question. “I mean, it didn’t help us.”

Eddie sighs, letting himself melt into the springy mattress. Look at all of them. They’d left Carol in the dark, and she’d crawled her way into the inner circle by her hell-beast talons.

Stumbling around in the dark never helped anyone.

“I’ll think about it,” Eddie says, already knowing that its too late. The worm’s wriggled its way into his brain and made a home there.

But there’s an order to these things, and Will comes first, always. They clamber into Eddie’s van in the morning, ready to enjoy whatever somehow overcooked and overcooked concoction Mama Byers has made for breakfast.

Jonathan opens the door before they’re even out of the van. He leans against the door jam, crossing his arms and glaring hatefully out at them, still in his raggedy pajama pants.

“Johnny Boy!” Eddie calls, beaming as he bounds up to him, shoving past him to come into the house, uninvited. “You’re looking mighty cheerful this morning.”

“Sorry, I don’t have a cheerful face on for the early-morning uninvited guests,” he grumbles, stepping out of the way and letting Steve through with much less ire.

Eddie can’t blame him. Steve’s in his stupid yellow sweater looking soft and warm in the November air. Eddie can’t compete with that, doesn’t even want to.

“Is Will up?” Steve asks, in a far more appropriate volume for the early morning.  

Jonathan gestures toward the back of the house before stumbling over to the couch and sinking into it.

Mama Byers isn’t anywhere in sight, and the house is quiet enough that their voices may carry. Eddie’s not worried. These people are his family, and more importantly, they’re Will’s.

If the wall’s have got ears, he couldn’t pick anyone better to be listening. He’d bare any bit of himself here, if Will needs him to.

Eddie grabs Steve’s wrist and pulls him along toward Will’s bedroom. It’s time to get this show on the road.

Part 115

[little-annie]

*Steve had a migraine and Eddie comes lovingly to the rescue*

It's a fucking bad one.

Everything hurts.

Everything makes him hurt.

The sound of the old pipes in the house knocking, the sound of a tree brach creaking, the sound of his own fucking breath. It makes him hurt. It makes the pressure in his head swell with a fury.

The weight of his head on the pillow, the tightness in his jaw, the tension in his brow, the strain in his eyes. The fucking light glowing from his alarm clock or creeping in under his door from the hallway.

Everything's too bright, too loud and everything just makes him feel worse.

Especially that fucking phone that won't quit ringing.

It makes him feel worse from the sound alone, a fog horn blaring down the hall, echoing and bouncing from the walls. It's a vile sound and it only stops for a total of five, maybe ten minutes before it starts again. An incessant RING, RING, RING.

Fucking hell

But what honestly makes him feel even worse is he knows it's probably Dustin or Robin or Eddie or one of the kids. They're probably worried. Christ, the shit they've gone through, after one missed call they probably think he's dead. But it's not like he can bring himself to get out of bed and answer the phone, so he lets it ring and after an hour, it finally, finally, stops.

Along with the slightly more quiet house comes some relief, a lessening of pain and pressure, just enough for Steve to manage sleep.

And a deep sleep at that.

So deep he doesn't hear the knock at the front door, doesn't hear the call of his name from the man he loves, doesn't hear the knock on his bedroom door by ringed fingers. He fails to sense fingers to his neck checking for a pause, the relieved sigh that's let out from the man at his bedside, the slow, careful movements of his lover slipping into bed behind him, wrapping tattooed arms around his waist and pulling him close.

He wakes a few hours later, a snore not so much startling him awake, but gently alerting him to the presence of one Eddie Munson at his back. It's a relief in itself to have Eddie there, the tension in his body seems to lessen from that alone. Not completely of course but some.

The snoring had stopped, the young man behind him alerted of his wakefulness probably by his subtle movements or change in breath.

Soon enough there's a gentle peck to the back of his neck and whispered words of, "How're you feeling Sweetheart?"

God and if Eddie's voice doesn't make him feel better. He doesn't know if it's the headache necessarily that eases up or purely the tension from his frustration, but having Eddie close and having his voice like a low, quiet melody in his ear is calming, relieving.

But all Steve can manage is a quiet, "s' hurts Eds."

Another soft kiss to his chilled, clammy, frankly probably disgusting skin, "I know Baby. When's the last time you took something?"

"6"

"Okay, I'm gonna go get you some water and painkillers. What do you need Stevie, your ice mask, a hot bath?"

"Want a bath and you to read to me."

"Okay Sweetheart," another kiss to the back of his neck, "You sleep and I'll get everything ready."

He drifts back to sleep before he can even process the movement of his mattress or the gentle kiss to his forehead.

While he's out Eddie manages to prepare a hot bath filled with Lavender oil and Epsom salts, taking the time to do dishes and any other of the household chores Steve would worry about on a daily basis. By the time the bath is ready, dishes are done, laundry is done and steam is rolling into Steve's room from his ensuite.

The lights are off in the bathroom aside from a single candle that burns just bright enough for Eddie to make out the world around him. He wakes Steve with a kiss and a hushed, "Stevie, Sweetheart, get up Baby, you need to take something for the pain."

And when Steve can manage to open his eyes, he sees the man he loves holding a glass of water and two small pills. With a little help he sits up, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Eddie's stomach for a moment before he takes the pills and finishes his glass of water.

Wordlessly he stands up, hand clasped in Eddie's as the man leads him to the dimly lit bathroom. It's a routine, unfortunately, this happens enough for Steve to no longer be embarrassed when Eddie undresses him and helps him into the bath. It's a normal thing. The touches that are chaste and gentle and loving, every care in the world as fabric drops to the floor and he sinks into the water.

He sighs with relief, eyes fluttering shut while he listens to Eddie undress, the careful drop of fabric, the hardly audible trickle of metal rings being set on the counter top, then there's a hand on his cheek and lips on his. A soft gentle kiss, then Eddie's moving into the tub to settle behind him. Steve relaxes further, feeling Eddie's body behind his own. Feeling the rise and fall of his lover's chest against his back or the weight of an arm settling around his waist while pale thighs move to settle at his sides. He feels enveloped. Held.

Then there's a kiss on his shoulder and Eddie begins to read. Soft, quiet, low, a whisper in the room, gentle words in the steamy air. Steve slumps further into the bath, eyes closed, head resting against Eddie's shoulder as their fingers intertwined under the water, resting against his stomach.

It's everything and the tension melts away, the pressure in his head fading with each passing second, each passing whispered word.

Cool water, a relaxed mind and an hour later he's drifting to the land of slumber once again. Faintly he hears the fold of paper and the gentle thump of Eddie's book hitting the floor. A hand settles in his hair, gently combing through strands, then a kiss is placed on his temple, soft, gentle and with the whispered words of, " I love you Sweetheart."

[pizzaqueen]

This was meant to be a few sentences… It is now more than that haha

1.1k of fluff and silliness

Eddie gets drunker than he usually gets one night, when he’s home alone. He’s feeling sorry for himself, which is also unusual for him, but he’d hung out with Steve earlier and Steve had looked even prettier than normal. Fuck. He is so so pretty.

Eddie’s never felt like this before. It’s driving him crazy. He can’t stand being some kind of lovestruck idiot, even if Steve is beautiful and funny and brave and kind and being around him feels like heavy metal and D&D all in one.

Jesus Christ. This is ridiculous. He just needs to get it out of his system somehow.

And, in his drunk mind, the best way to do this is write Steve a letter. Lay it all out. Each and every feeling, no matter how embarrassing. No holds barred.

He finds a pad of paper and a pen and writes furiously. When he’s done, he shoves it in an envelope, writes Steve’s address on it and—

Shit. No stamps. It’s fine. He’ll have to mail it in the morning. And then he collapses on the couch and passes out, the letter clutched in his hand.

Eddie wakes up with a blanket draped over him, a pounding headache, and the feeling he’s done something spectacularly stupid. He manages to get himself off the couch, takes the aspirin left on the coffee table with the glass of water by them, and makes himself some coffee.

As the caffeine kicks in, last night comes back to him. Pining over Steve. Writing the letter—

The letter! Shit. He’s so glad they didn’t have stamps. He’s going to tear that stupid thing up and never think about it again. Except… It’s not by the paper and pen he’d used to write it.

Eddie searches everywhere for the letter, starting to wonder if maybe it was a beer-fueled nightmare after all, when he spots a note on the coffee table. It’s by the empty glass and he doesn’t know how he missed it earlier, but, as he reads it, his heart sinks. It’s from Wayne. And he’s gone to the post office.

Eddie dresses quickly, hangover forgotten, and races to the post office. He tells them he sent a letter by mistake, can he get it back but, no dice. They won’t give him the letter back no matter how much he pleads. (He actually gets down on his knees but they only kick him out.)

He considers breaking into the post office—he’s pretty sure Gareth would help—but dealing to people looking for a good time is one thing. Breaking into a government building is another. And, okay, Eddie would totally do it because these are extreme circumstances—and it’s his damn letter anyway—but he doesn’t want to let Wayne down.

So, he’ll just have to intercept it after it’s been delivered but before Steve gets it. Shouldn’t be too hard so long as Steve is at work or somewhere else (like on a date, which Eddie doesn’t want to think about) and his mom’s not there. And Steve’s dad is guaranteed to be at work.

He stakes out the Harrington house and, after the mailman delivers the day’s mail, he scurries over and is about to open the mailbox, take back his letter, when a car pulls up.

“Eddie?”

Eddie looks over to see Steve’s mom getting out of the car, one hand on her hip, looking at him oddly. “Mrs. Harrington. How are you on this fine day?”

“Fine, thanks.” Her eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh…” Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “I was just passing and… Need me to bring your mail in?”

“I can manage it, thanks.” She raises a brow, shakes her head. “But you can help me with the groceries.”

“Yes! I would love to help you with the groceries.”

She shakes her head again and goes around to open the trunk. Together, they haul the groceries in, Eddie keeping one eye on the mail the whole time. There’s a moment, in the kitchen, when Mrs. Harrington is putting eggs in the fridge that Eddie tries to slip the letter out of the pile but Mrs. Harrington turns back around too soon.

“Steven will be home soon,” she says, “if you want to stay for dinner.”

“Uh, can’t… I have to…” He looks at the letters. This is never going to work. Fuck. “I have to go now Bye.” And he turns tail and runs.

New plan: he’s going to move to Canada, change his name to Freddie Bunson, maybe cut his hair… No, too dramatic. Canada and the name change is enough.

In the end, he doesn’t go to Canada, but he does hide. It’s just… He really didn’t hold anything back in the letter and now Steve will know exactly how he feels and Eddie is pretty sure Steve won’t hold it against him but, even if it somehow doesn’t ruin their friendship, nothing’s ever going to be the same again.

But the thing about small towns is you can’t hide forever. That and Steve knows where he lives. It’s the next night and Eddie’s waiting for Gareth when there’s a knock at the door, so he opens it without thinking (not that smart of him, but Gareth’s bringing pizza and Eddie’s hungry.)

But it’s not Gareth with pizza. It’s Steve. And he’s holding the letter.

Eddie slams the door shut.

There’s another knock and Steve calls out, “Hey, man, open up.”

Shit shit shit. Eddie runs a hand over his face and opens the door. He leans on the frame, aiming for nonchalant. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I got your letter.”

“Letter?”

Steve holds the letter up.

“Oh, that letter.”

“I thought we should talk about it.”

And Eddie breaks: “Look, man, I was drunk and I just… I shouldn’t have written it, okay? Can we pretend that I didn’t?”

“Uh, yeah, if you want, but…”

“But what?”

“I kind of liked it.”

Eddie blinks. “You… What?”

“I liked it. A lot, actually. I wanted to write one back, which is why I didn’t come as soon as I read it but I’m not good at writing shit down.” Steve shrugs. “So, I thought I could tell you, instead.”

“Tell me?”

“Yeah.” Steve swallows. “Can I come in?”

Eddie nods numbly, standing aside to let Steve in, heart beating hard.

And Eddie’s right. The letter does change everything. But it’s a good change. A really good change. He’s so damn glad Wayne mailed the letter.

(Steve keeps the letter tucked away safely and, years later, when he and Eddie move in together, he gets it framed and it hangs in their living room, and happily tells anyone who asks the whole story, including the parts he didn’t know at the time, but Eddie filled him in on later. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but Eddie doesn’t care. Because Steve is always so happy when he tells it and it’s the best time Eddie’s made a fool of himself.)

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 15

AO3 Part 1 Part 14

Steve woke up Friday morning feeling fully recovered. He had spent the last few days with aching muscles so it was a huge relief to get out of bed without pain. He was glad because they were having a barbecue tonight to send off Johnathan, Argyle and Nancy who were heading back to the city tomorrow. Nancy was out of school for the summer but Johnathan needed to get back to his business and Argyle only had so much time off from his job.

He and Johnathan hadn’t got too close while he was home. Steve was hesitant to reach out and the feeling seemed mutual. They talked a bit about his photography business and Steve told him about Family Video. Mostly they talked about how much customer service sucked and how crazy people’s demands were. Steve didn’t mind that they hadn’t managed to bridge the distance between them. He was still overwhelmed with the kids, Robin, Eddie, Hopper and Joyce. Him and Nancy were… okay – parting on good terms at the very least. They would have time to get to know each other better.  

Inhaling deep, he let the breath out slowly.

He had time.  

Joyce was already busy in the kitchen when Steve walked downstairs. Johnathan and Argyle were probably still sleeping and he figured Hopper had already left for work. Will and Eleven were eating cereal like little zombies at the table. They both looked up, cheeks full, and smiled as he sat down. He had been really excited to tell everyone about Stephanie and the parallel universe he had learned about but had promised Robin he wouldn’t say anything without her, so he had been waiting. Patiently. Very patiently waiting. He couldn’t wait to see Dustin and Eddie’s faces.

“Morning, Steve,” Joyce said as she turned around, wiping her hands on a towel. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good actually. All better.”

She came over and settled a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad! But take it easy still, hmm?”

Steve nodded and looked away from her kind eyes, reaching for the cereal box. She patted his shoulder and moved back to the kitchen counter where various vegetables were waiting to be chopped.

“What’re you two up to today?” Steve asked the kids.

“Shopping with Max. I want a new dress for the party tonight.”

“I’m helping Dustin with Cerebro.”

“Sounds fun,” he said and smiled at them.

They both nodded and went back to shoveling cereal into their faces as fast possible.

“Bye!” Eleven shouted as soon as she finished drinking the sweetened milk from her bowl.

“See ya later!” Will said as he scraped his chair back from the table and ran out.

Then it was just him and Joyce. He looked over at her furiously chopping vegetables and could tell that she was stressed. There was going to be a lot of people coming over and she probably had a lot she needed to get done before they arrived.

“I’m gunna shower and then I’ll help you get ready.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Oh, I’m fine! You should rest.”

“I’ve rested enough. Let me help, Joyce. Please.”

She set her knife down and turned fully towards him. Her hair was a little wild and her eyes were tired. She worked too hard. He didn’t know what she saw on his face that made her relent but she softened and said, “that would be great. Thank you.”  

He nodded and noticed a small smile on her face as she turned back to her vegetables.  

On his way to the bathroom, he grabbed a towel out of the linen closet. He hung it up and turned on the water before he looked at himself in the mirror, his good mood disappearing in a flash. He hated his reflection. It was difficult to meet his eyes, but he forced himself, bringing his face closer and closer to the glass until he could see every detail. He never knew how much people saw Steve or saw him. He hated it.

“Fuck you, Steve.”

Stepping back, he removed his clothes and took in the ruin of his chest next. His wounds had healed but it still hurt to look at them. He ran his fingers lightly over the raised and jagged marks on his side. Most of them looked better, whatever the doctors had done to clean them up had worked but… Not these. There had been nothing they could do for these. Too much had been bitten away… and too much time had passed.

A reminder that not everything could be made better or wiped clean. That some things just stayed…jagged. Broken. Ugly.

Turning away from the mirror, he quickly stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water would soothe away the awful pit in his stomach.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon were spent cooking with Joyce. He was quiet at first, still stewing in ugly thoughts, but she was slowly able to coax him out of it. She was just so damn happy, despite everything they had to get done and he found it hard to maintain his brooding in the face of her joy.

The kitchen was warm from the oven’s heat so they opened the windows to let in a lovely cross breeze. They talked a lot and laughed a little and moved around each other with a comfort that Steve had never experienced before. He and Max used to cook together sometimes, but her energy had been chaotic in the kitchen. She didn’t like to listen to instructions and Steve always had to clean up her messes, not that he had minded…much. He had missed cooking with someone else. He had missed cooking.

Johnathan and Argyle came down and had breakfast before they left as well, off to enjoy their last day in Hawkins.  

When they were finished making all the food that Joyce had planned Steve asked if it would be alright if he made chocolate chip cookies. He had perfected his recipe over the years and they were his favourite thing to bake.  

“Of course!” Joyce replied enthusiastically. “How did you learn to cook like this?”

As he gathered the necessary ingredients Steve explained, “my parents were gone a lot so I learned how when I was pretty young. Simple things at first, but I got better over the years.”

“What did you make?”

“So much pasta! Boil noodles and heat up some sauce? It was the easiest thing I could think of. It was a real game changer when I figured out the barbecue in high school.” Steve chuckled a little to himself. “I think I made burgers or hot dogs every meal for two weeks.”

Joyce didn’t laugh. “You were alone that much?” she asked instead.

He shrugged. “My dad was always gone on business trips and my mom went with him. I was fine, they always left plenty of money.”

As he started to whisk the dry ingredients together, he felt Joyce’s gentle touch on his shoulder.

“They shouldn’t have done that, Steve. I’m sorry you were alone.”

He blinked down at his bowl. It felt like such a long time ago now, living in that big empty house. He remembered the first time his parents left for a week at a time. He was thirteen and scared, but just like anything else – it got easier with time. And he wasn’t always alone. Freshman year, he met Nancy, Johnathan and Barb. Then the kids and Eddie and Wayne and Steve spent less and less time in that big empty house.

But… even with how full his life became with the family he chose there was still a hole in his heart from his parents. He didn’t think they were malicious or bad people… they just didn’t care. Too busy living their own lives to worry about his.

“No,” Steve agreed. “They shouldn’t have.”

Joyce gripped his shoulder tighter and he reached up to pat her hand.

After a moment, she slipped away and started tidying up the kitchen as Steve made his cookies, feeling that hole fill up a tiny bit more.

---

Max and Eleven came back first, but they disappeared upstairs with their bags after both exclaiming how delicious the house smelled. He and Joyce smiled at each other, nibbling on still warm cookies. Johnathan and Argyle arrived next, Nancy in tow. Joyce quickly put them to work setting up the tables and chairs outside. Hopper walked in the door with a loud exclamation of how long and tiring his day had been, leaving to shower just as Will called to say he was getting a ride with Dustin in a bit.

All of the cooking was done so Steve went back to his room to change. Opening the middle drawer on his dresser, he stared at the options. Joyce had taken him shopping the first week he moved in, getting him everything he could possibly need. Most days he didn’t give a shit about what he looked like… but today felt different. He wanted to look good.

He grabbed out a pair of jeans and the collared button up shirt that Joyce had insisted she get for him. It was dark blue and made of a light material that felt amazing on his skin when he slipped it on over his head. He tucked it into his jeans and cinched his belt as he moved into the bathroom. His hair looked good and healthy but he hadn’t tried to style it since –

Well, since everything.

He grabbed the hairspray Dustin gave him and got to work, trying to remember just how he used to make it look so effortless. It took longer than he would like to admit and it wasn’t exactly how it used to be, but it was close enough. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back and couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

He looked like –

Himself.

His skin was tanned from spending more time outside. The shirt showed off his arms, and the jeans hugged him in all the right places, and his hair fell perfectly, curling just a little onto his forehead. He looked…good. For a brief moment he considered ruining it – messing up his hair and taking off the nice clothes.

“Hello, Steve,” he said instead.

Joyce was back in the kitchen, wearing a red sundress, when he went downstairs. She was mixing cut up fruit and sprite into a large pitcher.

“Would you get the ice trays out of the freezer?” she asked as she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened when she saw him and she froze.

Steve clenched his jaw as she walked over to him, emotion filling her eyes as she racked her gaze over every inch of him. Her hands patted his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh, Steve,” she said with a watery smile. “You look great.”

The doorbell ringing saved him from having to respond, and he ducked out from beneath her hands and went to answer it.

Standing on the stoop was Robin and Eddie. He must have caught them having some kind of argument because Robin had her arm around Eddie’s neck and was in the process of hitting him in the stomach. They both froze as Steve opened the door and he fought back a sigh, taking in the two of them. Robin was wearing jean shorts, a nice summer blouse with a vest over top of it covered in buttons and a weird hat that was tilted sideways on her head. Eddie was decked in his usual attire of black jeans and a faded band t-shirt. Judas Priest, Steve could barely make out. They looked back at him, eyes wide and he hoped with his entire being that they wouldn’t comment on his appearance. He didn’t think he would survive the day if everyone looked at him like they had seen a ghost.

“Your hat looks funny.”

“It’s a beret, Steve.”

He blinked at her. “Your beret looks funny, Robs.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and released Eddie from her headlock.

“No Wayne?” Steve asked as they moved inside.

“He’ll be by in a bit. Wanted to drive himself so he didn’t have to wait for me and Robin.”

Steve nodded and they walked through the house to the back door. Johnathan, Nancy and Argyle had done a good job getting everything set up outside. Tables were lined up against the house, covered in the food that he and Joyce had spent the day cooking. A few umbrellas were scattered around with lawn chairs under them, offering a place to sit and hide from the sun and a stereo played music at a reasonable level.

Eleven came out of the back door in a light blue dress that ended just above her knees and had a white bow around the waist. It wasn’t what she usually wore, going for comfort and utility most days to keep up with the boys. Her hair was still short but she had curled it so it framed her face nicely and Steve could see a hint of makeup on her cheeks and lips. She was holding the pitcher of fruit punch, with Max just behind her holding the cups. She was wearing baggy shorts with a striped tank top. Her hair was long and wavy down her back and she had the same hint of makeup on as Eleven.

Everyone trickled in slowly over the next hour and the yard filled with the people who had been brought together by The Upside Down. There were a few awkward moments when he said hello and they took in his appearance for the first time, but they moved on quickly, probably noticing his discomfort. The gremlins fell on the food like ravenous little beasts, and conversations broke out in small groups. Hopper and Wayne were busy at the barbeque, talking about sports. Murray was with Joyce and Nancy, discussing his latest conspiracy theory. Eddie was trying (and failing) to convince Johnathan to change the music station. He was sitting with Robin under one of the umbrellas when Argyle came over.

“How are your feet, my dude?” he asked.

Robin quirked an eyebrow as a smile took over Steve’s face at the secret question.

“Still uncomfortable, but a little better every day.”

Argyle nodded and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Better every day is the best we could hope for.”

“You should get new shoes if they bother you that much,” Robin said looking at his very normal sneakers.

He and Argyle traded a glance before they burst out laughing.  

“You’re right, Robs,” Steve said, still smiling. “But they’re really not that bad.”

She pursed her lips at him but her eyes were soft. A large gust of wind blew through the backyard, causing laughter as paper plates were torn from unsuspecting hands, hair was whipped into faces and mouths, and hats were tossed off heads. Steve smiled, watching the pure chaos as everyone ran around trying to catch everything and put it back where it belonged.  

“That came out of nowhere! There hasn’t been any wind all day,” Robin said with a bit of laughter in her voice as she went to find her hat.

Sorry. Her beret.

Every time she got close, the wind would pick it up again and move it just beyond her reach. Steve watched her struggle for a moment before he went to help. The wind was still tossing things around and it proved especially difficult to pin down. After a few minutes, they were breathless and laughing as it continued to escape them. Robin had her hands on her knees, taking a rest as Steve ran half bent over so he could scoop it off the ground.

It came to a rest at Eddie’s feet and Steve skidded to a halt, falling back on his ass in an attempt not to tackle the other man. He looked up from his position on the ground to see Eddie haloed in sunlight and beaming a dimpled smile down at him, holding out a hand to help him up.

Pretty, Steve thought and felt his cheeks warm. He shook his head quickly and grabbed Eddie’s hand, letting him haul him back to his feet. Once he was up, Eddie bent back down to grab Robin’s beret and Steve rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. Hoping Eddie didn’t notice the redness in his cheeks.

“I can understand Robin having a hard time catching this, but not you,” Eddie said to him with a smirk. “That was painful to watch.”

“I heard that!” Robin said as she came up on Steve’s side, reaching out to grab her beret out of Eddie’s hand and angrily positioning it back on her head.

“That was crazy, it felt like the wind was out to get us.”  

Eddie snorted and a targeted gust whipped his hair wildly into his face and he spluttered as a bunch of it went into his eyes and mouth. Steve and Robin laughed maniacally as he attempted to get it under control again.

“Told you!” Steve said, still chuckling.

Eddie squinted at them, holding all his hair in his hands. As suddenly as it came, the wind disappeared, creating a moment of stillness and silence. Johnathan, Nancy, and Argyle came over to chat about their trip back to the city and Steve settled back a little to listen. He could tell that they were all going to miss each other and that it had been a long time since they had all got together like this. Like a family.

He couldn’t help but wonder about the parallel universes out there – If they were all having a backyard good-bye party too – and if they were… how different it felt because he wasn’t there. Which brought his thoughts to the Eleven’s he had met and if they were just then telling everyone about him – passing on his message.

He couldn’t wait anymore. Robin was beside him and he gave her a little nudge and raised his eyebrow in question when she turned to look at him. She caught on to what he was asking and nodded excitedly.

“I had another Eleven visit,” he began, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Who told me about a very different universe from ours.” Conversations drifted off as they all came closer to listen.

“Most of the Eleven’s I’ve met have all been pretty similar, but this one – ” he trailed off, letting the suspense build.  “Well, he showed up at Family Video when me and Robin were working.”

“He?” Hopper asked with surprise.

Steve and Robin nodded and everyone’s eyes widened.

“And he wasn’t the only one who was different. Their Robin is a boy named Rob and their Steve was a girl named Stephanie.”

“Wait… so, we were all – ?” Dustin started and then coughed. “Opposite genders?”

“Yup!” Robin replied with a pop.

Their minds were as blown as Steve was expecting. They all started talking at once, asking about their alternate selves and their names. He and Robin made them guess, just like Eleven had. Most were easy – Max, Mike and Erica figured theirs out right away. Some took longer than others and by the end there were only three names they couldn’t figure out – Dustin, Wayne, and Eddie, as predicted.

“There is no female equivalent to Dustin! It has to be an entirely different name,” Dustin reasoned.

“Almost every name we’ve figured out has followed the same pattern. There must be a girl’s name starting with a D that we haven’t tried yet,” Will replied firmly.

“Argyle was Gayle though,” Nancy said. “Maybe there isn’t a pattern.”

“Daisy!” Joyce suddenly guessed.

“My alternate mom, or dad I guess, better not have named me Daisy…” Dustin muttered.

“Winnie!” Murray suddenly called out from the side, pointing at Wayne.

“Correct!” Robin yelled like they were playing a game show.

“Oh, Aunt Winnie!” Eddie said and draped himself across Wayne in a dramatic fall as his uncle rolled his eyes.

They all continued to guess girls’ names that started with D and E, but they were quickly running out of ideas.

“Dus-tin, Dus-tin,” Erica was quietly repeating to herself. “Tin. Tina. Tina?”

“Yes!” Steve exclaimed with a smile, only a little surprised that she had managed to figure it out.

“Tina!?” Dustin spluttered.

Lucas nudged him in the shoulder playfully and Mike bellowed out a laugh.

“Shut it, Michelle.”

“You shut it, Tina!”

Steve immediately regretted giving the kids this ammunition to use against each other. He knew that Michelle, Tina, Willa, and Laura were going to be hurled around as insults for the foreseeable future. They all quickly turned back to trying to guess Eddie’s name, going through all the same options as Steve and Robin had tried a week ago.

Robin looked over at him and he nodded, they weren’t going to get it. Even though Gayle and Tina didn’t follow the letter pattern, those names still had some connection to the originals. Lucy Munson just had to be different, just like Eddie Munson, Steve thought.

“It’s Lucy!” Robin exclaimed.

“Lucy!?” Dustin repeated. “That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“That’s what we said,” Robin and Steve said at the same time.

Eddie had gone eerily quiet beside them. Steve hoped he wasn’t self-conscious about the name, Steve thought it was pretty.

“Who doesn’t love Lucy?” Eddie said with a sudden grin.

“Better than Tina,” Dustin muttered and everyone laughed.

---

The whole day had been so good.

The sun had shone brightly and there was delicious food and laughter and Steve joined in like he would have before and it was… good. Easy. He felt like himself again. When he finally went to bed that night, it was with a lingering smile on his face.

But –

He really should have known better.

Part 16

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries @espressopatronum454 @r0binscript @seths-rogens @fruity-nerd @sani-86 @n0-1-important @swimmingbirdrunningrock @ellietheasexylibrarian @manda-panda-monium @paintsplatteredandimperfect @viridianphtalo @goodolefashionedloverboi @13catastrophic-blues @newtstabber @queenie-ofthe-void @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36 @whole-moods

- So sorry for the delay on this one! -Bit of cliffhanger here, I hope the next chapter wont take me as long - I do have a good portion of it written up already and HOOO BOY. -As always, please tell me your thoughts and feelings! I love hearing from you all!

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Cut Above The Rest

Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Hairdresser!Reader

The Daily Grind (Part 4)

Summary:After a heavy night of drinking, Robin assures you that she knows the perfect cure for a hangover. Things also start looking up for you as a new client comes your way. (sorry I suck at summaries!)

Word Count:1,216 (sorry it's a short one this time.)

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Masterlist Series Masterlist

You wake up on Saturday morning with your head a little worse for wear as you stumble into the living room where Robin is already dropping two Alka-Seltzers into a tall glass of water and sliding it towards you.

"Remind me again why I let you talk me into doing shots?" You cringe, sipping on the fizzy water.

"I told you that you needed to let loose." She smiled, finishing off her own glass of water. "Come on! Drink up and get dressed. I know the actual cure for a hangover, and it's a piping hot coffee and pastry from Steamy Beans.

You down the last of your water, and make your way to your room to get changed, whilst  Robin patiently waits for you in the living room.

You make your way out of your room, deciding on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater to avoid the chill of the late September air.

Grabbing your purse you both begin making your way out of the apartment towards the café. 

Sure enough there it is, the café’s logo painted on the front window, and a red neon welcome sign hangs above the door.

Walking in you’re immediately hit with the inviting aromatic scent of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet sugary pastries.

“Morning Stevie!” Robin shouts brightly to the man behind the counter, causing the few people who were already here, assumedly trying to enjoy their morning coffee in peace, to turn their heads her way.  

“Good morning to you too, Robin.” the man sighs with a smile. 

Steve, or Stevie, which you’re assuming is Robin’s affectionate pet name for him as your eyes catch his name printed on the little pin-badge that’s pinned to his light brown apron, smiles your way as he introduces himself. He runs a large hand through his mousey brown hair, brushing back the strands that seem to flop in front of his face with a quiet huff.

You introduce yourself to him, smiling as you give him a 'good morning' of your own.

“We used to work together back in the day.” Robin smiles with a playful nudge of her elbow in your arm.

“Yeah, nothing bonds two people more than scooping ice-cream all summer.” Steve laughs sarcastically. “So what’ll it be for you ladies this morning?”

“I’ll take my usual cappuccino and a cinnamon roll when you're ready, Steve." Robin says handing him the money.

Your eyes pour over the sweet treats on display for a moment before you make your decision.

"And I think I'll have a latte and a blueberry muffin please!" You smile handing him over  your money too.

"Okay! Coming right up! Take a seat and I'll bring it right over to you in a moment."

You and Robin take a seat by the window, watching as the daily comings and goings of Hawkins push through their morning.

"Have you had any luck with the job advertisement?" Robin asks.

"No, not yet." You slouch in your seat. It seemed as though no one in Hawkins needed their hair cut, or styled for that matter. "..But I'm trying to remain hopeful." 

"There you go, one cappuccino and a cinnamon roll for you.." Steve says, unloading his tray and placing Robin's order down on the table in front of her. '..and one latte and blueberry muffin for you." he says, placing your order down in front of you. “Enjoy!” He flashes you a friendly smile before he turns around to get back to work.

Robin quickly snaps her neck around before Steve can leave. Her eyes widen and her eyebrows raise up, you were already well aware of the look that was currently gracing your best friend’s face. She’d had an idea.

“Hey! Dingus! Come back here for a minute!” Robin shouts out to Steve.

“What’s up, Rob?” Steve nods for Robin to continue.

“Weren’t you telling me how you were in a desperate need of a haircut?” 

“Yeah..” he drags out, not following where she was going with her line of questioning.

“Well, look no further, Stevie!” Robin exclaimed, as she gestured towards you. “What? You said you were taking on new clients? What better head of hair to get back to work with than this glorious mane right here!”

"Wait, you do haircuts? Like professionally?"

“Yup!” you say, popping the p as you nod. "Have done for a few years but I moved back here and all my clients are back in Chicago, so I'm looking to build up a new client base."

“Please I’m actually desperate at this point.” he pleads.

“Well I can come by your place on Monday if you like?” you offer.

“Thank you so much! You’re an absolute life-saver! The woman at the salon who I usually trust to do my hair moved away a few months back, and I tried going to the barbers on 7th Street but then I backed out when they came at me with the clippers. Never again.” he explained as he recounted his memory with a shudder, seemingly it had been quite the traumatic experience for him.

“Steve’s very protective over his hair. I mean so much so that it became part of his nickname.” Robin explains with a laugh at her friend’s expense. “Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington.” Robin snorts with laughter with her fingers sarcastically doing air-quotes.

“IT’S MY BEST FEATURE, ROBIN.” Steve defends vehemently.

“Well I promise you’re in safe hands with me, Steve. No clippers will be coming your way I can assure you."

"Thanks again! I should be going, I've got customers to serve!" and with that Steve dashes off back to work.

"Well there's your first client to get the ball rolling!" Robin said, mumbling as she took a bite of her cinnamon roll. “Now what’s happening with you and Eddie tomorrow, huh? Isn’t he supposed to be taking you on some big fancy date?”

“It’s just two people hanging out, casually, having some fun together. Nothing serious.” you explained. You downplayed it, but you were actually really excited. Getting to hang-out with Eddie like this was something that you were looking forward to, and you could only hope that he was as excited about it as you were.

“Sounds a lot like a date if you ask me” Robin scoffs as she rolls her eyes, sipping her coffee. “Remind me where he’s taking you?”

“He texted me again last night saying he was going to pick me up from your place tomorrow at five. Said he’s taking me to a fall festival.” you say, picking a few bites from your muffin

“That’s cute! What are you going to wear?” 

“I hadn’t thought about that, probably something really casual. It’s not like we’re going to a fancy restaurant or anything” You truly hadn’t given much thought to what you were going to wear. What was the appropriate thing to even wear to a fall festival you muse as you drink the final few sips of your coffee.

Robin finishes up her drink and gathers her things before she starts to leave.

“Wait! Where are you off too?” you ask, twisting around in your seat to look at your friend.

“We are going shopping to find you an outfit, because you, my dear friend, have a date tomorrow.”

@sunflowerdaydreamer @xxhellfiregirlxx @penguinsandpotterheads @munsonology @seatnights @avalon-wolf @jesssssmaybankk @ali-r3n

[harringtonswriting]

Bestie. Bestie you know I have to. Obsessed with:

“this sounds like you’re flirting with me.” “...i have been trying to do that for three years now.”

Steve or Eddie, whoever your heart desires 💓

bestie i looooooove this!!! thank u thank u for sending it in!! i picked eddie hehehe i hope you don't mind!! 💕

...

“You sure this is enough food, Eddie?”

You’re teasing him, and you know he knows that, which is why he rolls his eyes with a smile on his face as he opens a bag of chips to pour into a bowl.

“You laugh now, but when you see how much food those little shits can put away, you’ll understand,” he tells you. He scrunches the empty bag in his hands before he throws it in the garbage bin under the kitchen sink. The kitchen counter, as well as the table, are all covered in various kinds of snacks, from chips to cookies to candy. Eddie’s also got beers in the fridge for him (and maybe Steve, but if Steve’s driving he probably won’t have any, which you know Eddie is counting on so he can have more for himself), along with juice and pop. A feast fit for a king, he’d told you when he called you earlier that morning and asked you to pick up a few things on your way over to his place.

Today is the day that Eddie is going to be teaching you, Robin, and Steve how to play Dungeons and Dragons.

He’s so proud of himself for finally being able to talk the three of you into it. This is what he told you would be a one-shot; a one-off adventure that’s only supposed to take a few hours, something that’ll let you get your feet wet and understand how things work before you join a campaign. Eddie had tasked you with creating your own characters, giving you a list of options and some basic ideas for backstory. He’d also invited some of the kids to join in too—you knew Dustin and Erica would be coming for sure, and you’d bet that Lucas, Mike, and Will would probably tag along too.

Since there were going to be that many people joining in, Eddie had asked you to come by early to help him set up. Wayne is out of town on a fishing trip, so you’ve all got the trailer to yourselves. It didn’t take long for you to help Eddie with some spot cleaning in the living room when you’d gotten there, last minute snacks and drinks in hand, and then you’d set up the new coffee table so that everyone could sit around it and play. While Eddie was bringing out his maps and books and gaming screen and shooing Ozzy away from knocking over his miniature figures, you were placing cushions and blankets on the floor to make it as cozy as possible.

Once you’d finished that the two of you had gotten all the snacks ready. And now that was done, the two of you could relax and spend some time together until the others got there. Which may be part of the reason you agreed to come over early; you enjoyed spending time with Eddie, especially when it was just the two of you, and you figured this would be no exception.

Your crush on Eddie was kind of an open secret, though neither of you had ever done anything about it. You’d always been kind of unsure as to whether he felt the same way; sometimes he’d flirt back, sometimes he’d ignore it altogether. But he never complained and never once told you he was uncomfortable, though you’d never really talked about it in detail. You hoped that one day you might cross the line you’d been toeing at for the last few years, but given how open you’ve been, you wanted to let Eddie take that leap, let him decide when he’s ready. If he ever is. You hope he will be.

But for now, you grab a glass of water for yourself and Eddie cracks open a beer.

“Hey, lemme see your character information before everyone else gets here,” he says, taking a long drink before putting his beer down, and making a grabby hands gesture towards you.

“I thought you wanted everyone to wait to introduce their characters when we start.” That was what he’d told you before, and Steve and Robin had confirmed he’d told them the same thing when the three of you had gotten together to try and come up with characters so that you didn’t accidentally all choose the same thing. Not that you’d told Eddie you did that, though Steve probably ended up telling Dustin.

“Yeah, but you’re different,” he insists, and you feel your cheeks get warm as you smile and roll your eyes. You go and grab your bag to fish out the notebook you’d done all your writing and planning in; once you’ve got it, you put your bag back and hand it to Eddie. He starts thumbing through the pages, scanning over what you’d written while he hums to himself. He doesn’t make any comments out loud, though, and the longer he goes without saying anything the more self-conscious you start to feel. Does he love it? Hate it? You can’t tell based on his expression, though you see the way that one of his legs is bouncing, which means he’s thinking.

“What, never seen a character that good before?” you ask, your tone teasing as you break the silence between you. Eddie’s leg stops bouncing and he shakes his head.

“Oh, yes, this is a masterpiece. Shut up and let me read,” he says, no real heat in his voice as he rolls his eyes. You raise your eyebrows and lift the corners of your lips up into a smirk.

“Maybe you should make me,” you tell him, the words rolling off your tongue as you lean against the counter. You’re absolutely aware of how it sounds, and by the way that Eddie’s cheeks start turning a bright pink you know he is, too. You can’t help yourself, though, because you do love flirting with him. Even if it goes nowhere. His leg stops bouncing, and you see him grip your notebook just a little bit tighter in his hands. He doesn’t look up, though. It’s silent for a moment until he clears his throat.

“You know, that sounds like you’re flirting with me,” Eddie says. He seems to be maybe a little confused, or maybe he’s teasing you. Does he not know that you really were flirting with him? You wish he’d look up so you could see his eyes; they’re always so expressive, showing off what he tries to hide, but you can’t see them now. And so now you’ve got a choice: you can deny it, or you can admit it. And you aren’t quite sure how he’d react to either option.

Well… this could be the opportunity you’ve been waiting for, so you say, “...I’ve been trying to do that for three years now.”

This time, Eddie drops your notebook. It hits the ground and a few loose pages flit out to land by your feet. He looks up at you, brown eyes impossibly wide as his mouth hangs open just a bit. You straighten up from where you’re leaning on the counter, feeling nerves start to creep in. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting.

“Wait, I’m sorry, how long?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for you to answer before he continues with, “Three years?” He seems to be in complete shock, and while you’re feeling nervous, you’re also a tiny bit offended.

“Did you really not know?” Was your flirting really that bad? You didn’t think so, at least not until now. Robin and Steve could tell you were flirting with Eddie, with how much they’d teased you about it once they’d figured it out, and you were pretty sure some of the others you both hung around with knew too. How did Eddie not pick up on it? Steve said the guy was dense, sure, but you’d always thought it was an exaggeration.

“I thought you did that with everyone!” Eddie’s throwing his hands in the air, the apples of his cheeks going from pink to red and the blush starts creeping down his neck. It’s cute, but it’s probably not the time to tell him that.

“No, just you!” Which is the truth; you didn’t flirt with anyone else the way you did with Eddie, at least not on purpose. But apparently he hadn’t picked up on that.

“Oh my god,” he says, and his hands come down to tangle in his thick, black curls. He starts muttering it to himself, and the lack of a positive reaction is starting to eat at you. Your stomach twists because maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe you’ve overstepped, here, and Eddie doesn’t feel the same way as you. Which would explain why you’ve spent the last three years, since the day he’d walked into your shared English class with a well-worn copy of The Hobbit and did his book report on how Tolkien had shaped modern fantasy. His passion, his eagerness, and the way he talked with his hands completely endeared him to you, and you’d asked him to explain the difference between hobbits and dwarves to you after class. That’s when it all started. But here, in his kitchen, seeing how Eddie is reacting, you wonder if maybe this wasn’t all some big mistake.

“Eddie, it’s fine that you don’t feel the same way, and I promise I’ll stop now that I know it makes you uncomfortable,” you tell him, bending down to gather up your loose papers and shove them back into your notebook. You swallow past the large lump forming in your throat, a little embarrassed by it all as you stand back up. “I’m sorry. I… I should probably go before the others get here.” There’s no way you’re sticking around after this; you don’t know if you can spend the next few hours thinking about this with everyone else around.

“Wait!” Eddie’s exclamation takes you by surprise, and his hand reaches out to wrap around your wrist. His hand is warm, a reassuring weight that brings you out of your thoughts. You look at him, and while his cheeks are still red, he’s got a serious look on his face that you rarely get to see. “Sweetheart, I promise it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, I just can’t believe I didn’t notice before now. Please don’t leave.” Which loosens the lump, just a bit, and he tilts his head a little as he smiles at you. It’s a little bashful, his head ducking slightly. “Also, I never said I don’t feel the same way. Just so you know.”

“Sweetheart?” you ask, picking up on the new moniker he’s using. It’s cute, and it’s got your chest swelling with hope because maybe he does feel the way you do. He opens his mouth to reply when there’s a loud bang on the front door.

“Hey, Eddie, open up!” It’s Dustin Henderson, no doubt with the others behind him, and Eddie jumps just a bit.

“Shit! I hate Henderson’s timing,” he curses, and you can’t help the laugh that comes out at how Eddie’s face falls into a pout. Not that he’d ever admit to pouting, of course. “Look, we definitely need to talk about this, I want to talk about this, but if I don’t let them in, Henderson's gonna keep doing that til he breaks the door down.” Which wouldn’t surprise you. You nod, smiling at Eddie.

“Eddie! Open the damn door!” Dustin continues, banging louder this time.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Eddie lets go of your wrist, sighing. He raises his voice, yelling out, “Dustin Henderson, I will not hesitate to give you disadvantage on all your saves if you don’t give me a damn minute!”

Dustin immediately ceases his banging on the door, and instead lets out a frustrated yell before he falls silent.

“We’ll talk after the game, okay, sweetheart? I promise on my honour as Eddie the Banished, Master of Dungeons, that we’ll talk and you can flirt as much as you want, as long as I can flirt back.”

“If you know how to flirt back,” you tell him, and he lets out the sweetest laugh you’ve ever heard as he walks over to the door to let in an angry Dustin, a grinning Robin, and the other exasperated members of the party.

[mirkwoodmunson]

So I don’t know if you write for steve or not but if you do, could you do a steve x sick reader please? I have the flu and I’m dying

i’ve never written for anyone but eddie so i hope i do steve justice!!! thank you for the request, anon, i hope you feel better soon!!

“anything funny, just… the dumbest comedies you can find…”

“…’dumbest comedies?’”

“don’t question my needs, harrington, i just gotta numb my brain out… oh, speaking of, can you pick up some tylenol on your way?”

“that i can do. might have to ask robin about the comedies… what exactly counts as, ‘dumb comedy?’”

“i dunno, like… howard the duck, toxic avenger…”

“…those are comedies??”

“steve!”

“okay okay okay! i got this, i got this. hang tight, i’ll be there in a bit, okay?”

you hang up the phone and cover your face with the crook of your arm, spread out in your bed. despite your discomfort, you couldn’t help the grin — steve always had that effect on you. he’d called to check in on you, see if he could bring you anything after his shift at family video, and aside from your other requests, really all you needed was him to rub your back. maybe pet your hair a little.

the thought of it was enough to lull you to sleep, as the next thing you knew it felt like you were waking into a heavy dream, that familiar weight at your back scritching comfortable spirals against your spine to get you to wake up.

“steeeeve,” you whine, and his response is a soft breath of laughter.

“got that right,” he murmurs, and then you hear the sound of a plastic bag rustling, rattling of tapes in their cases, followed by soft footsteps padding around your carpet as steve heads to your little vcr tv.

in no time at all he’s got airplane! playing on the screen, before heading out of your room for a few minutes and returning with a large glass of water and meds cupped in the other hand. he sets it all down on your bedside, and then coming to your side he kisses your forehead, tucking hair over your ear.

“think you can sit up for me?”

your response is a tired whine, to which steve just chuckles before kissing you again. he aids your slow movements in shifting up and leaning back against the headboard, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and pulling another over your legs. rather than watch the movie, you just smile softly and watch him.

his face is set with determination, a light pucker of focus at his lips as he ensures your comfort before picking the water and medicine back up, handing you the meds first and then the glass of water once they’re in your mouth. he grins when you wash it all down and take some extra sips.

“there ya go! robin said this was the good shit, so. get ready to feel… y’know. not sick. hopefully.”

“can’t wait,” you murmur weakly with a thumbs up. steve breathes a chuckles and strokes your hair before turning and picking his things up as though he’s getting ready to leave. you pout.

“steve,” you mewl with nasally insistence. he turns with a raised brow. you pout harder, holding your blankets open in silent invitation. at the sight he grins and shakes his head a little, like he can’t believe how cute and sweet you are. he comes to you with another kiss to your cheek.

“thought i was just gonna leave you like this? no way. i’m making you soup and crackers, and we’re watching dumb comedies all day. i’ll be right back. promise.”

he picks his things up again, procures a can of your favorite soup from the bag, and then heads out of your room for a short while.

and he keeps his promise, of course. he nestles into your blanket cocoon beside you, holding you into his side as you slurp your hot soup and watch the small screen with heavy eyes. he has to act fast at one point to catch the empty bowl as it begins to slide from your fingers, setting it aside before leaning forward a bit to check your face.

you’re passed out against his chest with the most serene expression, snoring gently with your lips cracked open, cheek pressed into him. steve slides down a bit to lay you back, holding you against him all the while and tucking his warm smile into your hair, slowly dozing off with you.

[klausinamarink]

Prompt: “favourite pet name” (discord drabble from STWG)

Gifting this specifically to Liam (@withacapitalp) because he’s sick so currently wishing and manifesting him the best hot bowl of soup

-

Steve feels like shit.

Actually, that’s probably an understatement. He feels like he’s been run over fifteen times by a truck and its driver had thrown him into a ditch, except it turned out to be a cave so now he’s stuck and can’t breathe out his mouth and nose.

..Maybe that is also an understatement.

Steve coughs wetly, forcing himself to hack up the gross balls of mucus that’s stuck in his throat. He spits it into the garbage can at his feet and winces. Now his throat is dry and he’s thirsty but his arms are too sore to move.

“How you’re doing right now, Stevie?” Eddie’s pops up behind him, his hands on Steve’s shoulders and slowly massaging them. Steve shudders out a weak sigh and sinks further into his multiple blankets.

“Shit.” He rasps, “Can you bring me water?”

“Fresh glass coming right up!” Eddie says cheerfully. He leans over to grab the pitcher on the table, somehow pouring it in a clean glass without spilling. Eddie brings the glass to Steve’s lips, holding it steady as Steve gulps it down greedily.

“Soup’s coming, darling.” Eddie smacks a kiss on his cheek, even if Steve’s skin feels gross and sweaty.

“You should be calling me.” Steve barely gets through his sentence without another cough interrupting himself.

“Uh?” Eddie looks at him, confused. When Steve just stares at him with pouted lips, he watches as it dawns onto Eddie, his face splitting into a shit-eating, lovey-dovey grin. “Ohhhhh, of course!”

He disappears into the kitchen and reappears a few minutes later, a large bowl of steaming soup in his hands. “The Munson Family Special Soup is ready,” he pauses with clear delight in his eyes, “Stevie.”

Steve snorts, laying back into the pillows. “Is that your best one?”

“Of course not, darling. Unless you’re open to more choices, sweetheart.”

“I know you can do better than that.” Steve closes his eyes, unable to fight the smile off his face.

“Sunshine. Batty Killer. Princess. Polo Punk. Hairy My Merry. My literal saviour.”

Steve opens his eyes, now seeing Eddie smiling fondly down at him. He leans down and pecks Steve’s nose with another kiss, which makes it scrunch. “Big boy.”

That one makes him shiver. Or at least, Steve thinks it does until his body fully trembles just before he releases a violent sneeze. He hears Eddie laugh before his hand softly runs over his forehead. “C’mon, soup time, big boy.”

[dastardlyjr]

Steddie. Eddie gives Steve "sleeping" pills to help him sleep. Takes advantage. 18+.

TW: Date rape. Obsessive behavior. Non con Somnophilia.

(Btw this is my first time posting something like this, if I didn't Trigger Warn correctly please let me know.)

The lock clicks and the patio door slides open with practiced ease. Afterall, it’s not his first time breaking and entering the Harrington household. The sterile and impersonal environment still doesn’t fail to make him shudder. Ugh, a few sports trophies or family photos wouldn’t kill them, would it? He wondered, time and again, how no one at any of the famous King Steve parties noticed how absent the boys parents actually were. Brown eyes flicked over the room void of emotion as he strained his ears for any unexpected noises upstairs. Eddie hated this house. If Steve was his he would never be able to climb down from his pedestal.

Wasn’t that a thought? Steve being his.

His. Outside of Eddies imagination.

And they were getting closer to that too. Now with Nancy out of the picture and King Steve being pushed off his throne by that dickhead, Hargrove.

Really, he should thank them for this. If he wasn’t so pissed at them for hurting his boy, he might have.

It was only the heart break of unrequited love (Eddie seethes) and being knocked down a few pegs from popular culture that had Steve coming to him in the first place. Eddie imagined him and Steve speaking a million times. Some of them at the picnic table, even. Though admittedly with less money for drugs and more intimate deals taking place instead.

Too bad daddys money came into play.

A few bucks in his own wallet and a handful of cute little pills in Steves. The king has not been sleeping well, it turns out. Sleeping aids, Eddie told him. The little king should have looked the devil in the eyes before trusting him. He’s sure Steve would have noticed the manic gleam in them. The desperation.

Now he could wonder up the stairs into the room which was always off limits the guests during parties. Not that it ever stopped Eddie before. How he would bury his face in the pillow and inhale. Would dig through the laundry to nab whatever looked well worn before making a hasty retreat.

The doorway was cracked open and for a moment he was concerned about the light coming from the room before remembering the adorable little nightlight by the bed. He almost wept them he first saw it. Wanting to crush the fragile plastic with his fist offer his own solace. Who needed a light to keep the monsters at bay when Eddie was there to protect him?

The door creaked as it opened and the metalhead winced, eyes flicking to Steve to watch for any reaction. None. A half empty glass of water sat on the nightstand. Tonight must be a “sleepaid” night. So Eddie saunters in, running the tips of his fingers along the edge of the bed as he moves to stand before Steve. His expression is lax and lips parted as he breathes slowly through them. Taking a risk, Eddie snaps his fingers by his ear and waits. Other than a quiet snuffling sound, which almost brings Eddie to his knees, he remains dead to the world.

“Hi, baby.” Fuck, was that his voice? Eddie sounded wrecked. He didn’t even notice his hands were shaking.

“You cool with me just-“ he grabs the covers and slowly tugs them down, drinking in every inch exposed as the blanket is pushed down to the foot of the bed. “Yea, you are.” Steve is laying on his stomach and Eddie touches his bare thigh with trembling fingers. The red shorts he’s wearing have ridden up to reveal a sliver of his ass. The globe barely contained in them. Fuck, if he ever wore these in public Eddie would be in jail for aggravated sexual assault. “You wear these for me, sweetheart?” His fingers trace around the hem, pushing the shorts further up.

Too tempted, he pinches a cheek and squeezes until Steve huffs and shifts away. Eddie leans forward to eye at the boys face suspiciously. Is he waking up, or? After a moment of Steve settling he decides to hurry this up to avoid any more scares. Throwing a leg over tan thighs, Eddie sits down heavily and tilts forward to press his clothes crotch between those round globes. He rocks a few times, breathe stuttering as he stared unblinking where they grind together.

Each of his hands grabs a cheek, pulling them apart and pressing them back together to watch how those red shorts would stretch and scrunch into his crack. Another rough squeeze and he slipped his long fingers into the waist band and pulled down unceremoniously. Eddie almost choked on air when the abrupt pull had Steves cheeks bouncing lightly.

“Christ, Stevie.”

He pulled them apart again and watched in rapture as the pink hole hidden there twitched from the cold air. His thumb pressed against it, pushing down until he felt the pucker give a little. Steves knee suddenly hiked up and Eddie almost threw himself onto the floor, lifting up to his knees and hovering over the sleeping figure like a taut string ready to snap. He waited longer this time before moving again.

“Telling me to hurry up, huh?” he asked, still paranoid but working on getting back into it. Really should have brought his handcuffs and a blindfold. Then he could really lose himself in this.

Instead, he unbuttoned and zipped down, pulling out his aching dick. Eddies head fell back at the feeling of pure relief to be freed. Pre was dripping down the length of him and he eagerly, lovingly, pushed his tip to Steves hole and rubbed his cum there until the pucker was slick and shiny looking. Fuck the handcuffs, Eddie should have brought his camera. Probably for the best he didn’t. No telling what would happen if that particular polaroid fell out of his wallet.

No, this will be his dirty little secret.

Eddie scoots up toned thighs until his cock is comfortably settled between Steves cheeks. He holds each one firmly against his palms, admiring how well Steves ass fit in his hands. With one more shivering breath, Eddie begins to rock into him. His cock slides slowly up and down with pre slicking the way somewhat.

It isn’t long before he loses himself to the feeling. He heaves and drops forward, pushing his forehead roughly between Steves shoulder blades and humping down against him with abandon. “Fuck- Baby-“ He babbles out pet names and praise. Everything he wishes he could say away from sleep aids.

Begging to be seen in broken sentences.

Asking to be known. To be requitted. Loved.

Little sounds meet his ears. Tiny huffs of breathes as Steves brows furrow and drool drips from his parted lips. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and pushes down harder, pushing his cock down with the heel of one hand to keep himself in place. He strained to listen to those sounds, pretending Steve is awake and making them willingly.

The thought of flushed cheeks, teary eyes and broken gasps directed at him is what pushes Eddie over the edge. He groans long and low, his hips stuttering as ropes of cum are squeezed out of him.

He pushes and pushes until overstimulation hurts and he has to stop. Eddie sits back and stares at the mess he’s made. Steves ass has red handprints and both cheeks and he hopes dearly that they bruise like that. His cum settles into the dimples of his back and paints up his spine. Eddie, feeling a little feral afterwards, ducks down to clean his mess. The taste of himself is sharp and salty and he moans at the taste mixed with Steves sweaty skin. He laps himself up and plants open mouth kisses as he goes.

“Let me worship you,” he begs with a shaky breath. “Let me, baby let me, let me…”

Eddie remains after until his own breathing evens out and his climax high settles. Giving Steves ass one last look, he pulls those red shorts up as well as the blanket. He hovers by the side of the bed, tracing Steves soft facial features with the tips of his fingers. His brows, the ridge of his nose, cheek bones, and plush lips. He dips his index finger in enough to wet the tip against tongue. Pulling back, Eddies rubs the wet of his finger against his own lips.

Indirect kiss settled, he gives one last lingering glance before leaving everything as he found it and making his way home.

[xirayn]

Fear isn't natural for a top predator, but it rushes through him as he thrashes in the nets. The rope cuts into the soft skin of his torso. His claws leave trails in the fiberglass as he is hauled onto the boat. A powerful stroke of his tail catches one of his captors in the leg, sending the human to the deck with his kneecap out of place. The loop of a catch pole catches him around his neck. Nonsensical, guttural voices surround him in a terrifying cacophony as he was dragged into a container half filled with water.

The lid is shut quickly after the catch releases him. He slams into the sides, continues to fight and snarl and yell. It isn't until he gets tired that the container is opened again, a splinter of sunlight the last natural thing he sees before a biting pain brings irresistible sleep.

Consciousness returns. Quiet nothing becomes an incessant hum followed by a dull burn that he eventually realizes is chemical laden water flowing over his gills. Everything is tinged bluish-green in a mockery of the color of the lake on a clear day. Only one way appears to be an escape, but his attempt to flee through it is brought to a painful stop when he rams into the glass.

Fear becomes terror.

Humans watch him from the other side of the glass. A few eventually enter his prison only for one to find their death at the bottom of the tank. They bring weapons after that to keep him at bay or turn him docile with drugs.

Time passes. He can't tell how much since the only way to mark its passing is his torment. He stops eating; listlessly circles a tank barely four times his size. All the while, he sends out the same pleas.

-Hurts-

-Help-

-Please-

The man who brings the dead fish he doesn't eat begins to speak to him. His tone is kind and his drawl soothing. Whole, glassy-eyed fish are replaced by boneless slices garnished with color. For the first time since he was dragged from the lake, he feels something other than fear as curiosity leads him to taking a bite. The burst of flavor is nearly enough to make him cry for the flicker of happiness it gifts him.

Visits from the kind man - uncle, he decides, because it is nice to think someone cares for him - become something to look forward to. The other humans still bring weapons and drugs to keep him at bay, but his uncle never wields them, and he decides that has to count for something. Not all humans could be bad.

Movement draws his attention. Three humans search the lab beyond the glass. Their flashlights signal they are not meant to be there. His circles drift to a stop as he watches them. When they see him, their jaws go slack. He moves closer. The smallest one steps forward and presses his hand against the glass.

"Holy shit," Dustin breaths in wonder. A webbed hand is placed opposite his.

"What is that?" Steve takes a clipboard down from the wall by the glass. He squints his eyes as he reads by flashlight. "Eddie?"

"Those are zeroes," Robin corrects from over his shoulder. She takes the clipboard from him. "You really need your eyes checked."

"Whatever." Steve crosses his arms over his chest and turns his attention to the tank. Large, dark eyes turn to him, searching for reassurance. A question brushes his mind, along with the frailest bit of hope. Steve gives a curt nod in answer. They aren't leaving here without him.

"E-zero-zero-one-e," Robin specifies as she scans the chart. "It's a serial number. All the animals have one. The rest of this looks like it's just a record of care: feeding, sample collection, medication -"

"What are they medicating him for?" Dustin asks. He comes over, unable to resist looking at the data himself. "Ketamine? What are they giving him special k for?"

"Immobilization,” Robin explains. She lets him take the clipboard and starts to search for more information around the lab. "And possibly to increase captivity tolerance."

As they talk, Steve goes up the stairs to the second floor that looks out over the laboratory. Most of the area is taken up by the filtration system, but there is also a food prep station and lockers for equipment. Steve uses the stolen badge to open the door to the enclosure. It shuts behind him and all he can hear is the hum of the equipment.

He steps towards the water. The dark silhouette of the creature - no, Eddie; Steve is sticking with Eddie because 'the creature' sounds demeaning - slides beneath the surface. A glimpse of fin breaks the still water. The primal part of Steve's brain that is wary of the dark tells him to back away. He ignores it.

The water sloshes as Eddie surges out onto the tile. His hair and tail shimmer in the artificial light. Bruises mottle his skin. Steve's heart aches at the sight of them as large, brown eyes regard him warily.

"Hey," he says, raising his hand to wiggle his fingers in greeting. "My name is Steve."

He's barely finished speaking before he is slammed back against the teal tile with almost impossible speed. His hands come up to defend himself as fingers and webbing press against his throat. A mouth seals over his. Inexplicably, he can feel the shape of words form on his lips and tongue despite being unable to speak.

Air rushes back into Steve's lungs when he is finally released. He sinks down the wall and rubs his throat to assure himself he's unharmed. Happiness and excitement bubble against Steve's thoughts in contrast to the adrenaline still pulsing through his veins.

"You came for me," Eddie says, beaming at Steve with a grin wide enough to show his dimples. "You really came."

@xirayn suggested that mer!Eddie learns to speak English the way Starfire did in the Teen Titans universe. It’s THIS scene, if you don’t know what I’m talking about.

They also promised to write a blurb about it if I draw it, so here we are. Mer!Eddie kissing staff member Steve to obtain some language skills, because mermaid magic.

[r0b1ns]

STRANGER THINGS X MALE READER

OLDER TEENS

YOUR FIRST TIME TOGETHER

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Argyle

CW: SMUT, N/SFW, AMAB male reader, p in a, p in v, unprotected (argyle), a few swear words, let me know if I missed something

WORD COUNT: 930+

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

STEVE HARRINGTON

-first of you're probably his first time with a guy

-so he'll be nervous

-like REALLY nervous

-before you try anything he'll have a million questions

-that is if you're experienced

-if not you'll both try to find some info on that

-given it's the 80s there's not much

-anyway

-he'll ask Robin for advice

-even tho she has no clue

-he'll buy everything you both need and prepare the bed just because

-lube, condoms, other things

-you'll start slowly, starting with just making out

BOTTOM READER

-he'll be very careful not to hurt you

-he'll probably squeeze out too much lube

-his hands shaking

-but eventually he'll calm down

-he'll be gentle with you

-leaving kisses on your stomach and thighs

-taking his time with preparing you

-he'll slide in slowly, picking up the speed bit by bit

-will ask if you're okay every five minutes

-will try very hard to last longer

TOP READER

-he'll be nervous as HELL

-you'll have to reassure him it'll be fine

-you'll have to stay on each finger preparing him for some time

-when you slide in he sees stars

-tries to be quiet but fails

-hold your shoulder tight leaving marks

-he'll want to go again but would be too tired

EDDIE MUNSON

-he's a VIRGIN

-never felt a touch of a man in his life

-but it's ok

-he's down to try anything

-he's into S&M obviously but not the first time

-he'll be too excited to remember anything

-in the middle of you making out he'll start searching for condoms

-he already has lube on his nightstand

-he uses it a lot yk

BOTTOM READER

-you'll have to remind him to go easy

-he has a hard time controlling himself

-but he'll try for your sake

-cause he does not want to hurt you in a bad way

-he'll grip your thighs

-and'll press his nose to your shoulder supporting himself with one hand on the mattress

-he'll grunt a lot

-heavy breathing

-will finish still inside you

-a little too early than he wanted

-but it's only his first time

-so it's ok

TOP READER

-he'll tell you you can go without preparing him

-don't listen to him

-he'll be very impatient

-saying "I'm ready" after every finger

-when you actually go in he's on cloud 9

-after a short time will depend from you to go faster and harder

-his moans are so loud he'll have to bite you on the shoulder not not wake up Wayne

-scratches your beck

-moves his ass in sync with your thrusts

-comes before you but tells you to keep going

-this boy will still have energy left for round 2 and maybe 3

NANCY WHEELER

-she's not a virgin we know it

-so she knows how it goes

-if you're experienced it'll go smoothly

-if not she'll guide you and show you what she likes

-you'll be careful

-not going in too deep at first

-she'll tell you "you can go faster, I'm not made of glass"

-she'll grip your shoulders

-and breath on your neck

-she won't be very loud

-but she'll gasp almost soundlessly

-a few minutes after you finish you'll go down on her

-to please her 100% precent

JONATHAN BYERS

-i think he did it with a guy before

-so he won't be completely lost

-tho not so knowledged either

-he'll make sure you have everything you need

-even brings a glass of water for afterwards

-he'll have to really trust you to sleep with you

-so you're already further into your relationship

BOTTOM READER

-he'll know to prepare you before going in

-will take his time but not too long

-you'll have to be quiet cause his siblings are probably home

-and his mon too

-asks if you're ready

-after you say yes he goes in slowly

-starting with a slow steady pace

-going faster every few thrusts

-he'll clean himself and you immediately after you both finish

-will give you the water he prepared before

TOP READER

-you'll kiss him before to easy him up

-when you're preparing him he'll gently grab you hand if he wants you to slow down

-he'll mostly be quiet

-when you go in he'll hold your around your neck

-he'll want to be close to you

-he prefers a slow pace

-you last longer like that

-he'll try to give you the water but you'll force him to drink it himself

-he needs it more than you

ARGYLE

-it will probably won't be intentional

-you're just hanging out, making out

-and you just go further

-imma be honest you probably won't use a condom

-or lube

-you'll have to use spit instead

-he'll kiss you all over your body

-makimg the foreplay last longer

-only completely taking off your pants

BOTTOM READER

-he's sloppy

-but he's also responsible and cares a lot about you

-so he'll prepare you until he knows for sure you're ready

-he'll be LOUD

-Doesn't care if somebody hears you

-he'll start slow but hard

-upping the pace every now and than

-he'll talk a lot

-but only things like "yeah" and "oh fuck"

-will flop on top of you after you both finish

TOP READER

-argyle won't need a lot of preparation

-he'll get used to it very quickly

-will hold on into something like his bed, or van door

-will also be very loud

-a lot of "oh jesus christ" and "yes fuck me"

-you'll leave marks on his thighs

-he'll have energy for one more round

-after you finish you'll both just lay there catching your breaths

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

!gifs are not mine!

[chaseadrian]

graze, blaze, haze

—day 4. shotgunning // [kinktober masterlist] Argyle doesn't care that you don't know how to use a bong, and he definitely doesn't care when his lips touch yours. Except, he really does, and so do you.

pairing. argyle/f!reader wc. 2.2k tags. 18+ ONLY, facesitting, making out, first kiss, marijuana use, friends to lovers, nipple play, blowjobs, premature ejaculation

“It just seems overly complicated to me. Can’t you make like, brownies or something? I’d rather eat my drugs.”  

Argyle sits between your legs on the floor, a green pipe with scattered burn marks on the glass in his lap, “No can do, my friend, not unless I want the Byers’ kitchen to smell rank for a week.” 

You tug a little too hard on the brush in your hand, catching a knot at the back of his head, but he doesn’t give sign of irritation or even acknowledgement. You comb your fingers through the strands where the knot was, a little pang of guilt in your chest. If he felt the pull, he would’ve ignored it anyway.

Argyle was the first guy in your life to even let you touch his hair, much less take a pair of scissors to it. Steve would run screaming, Eddie wanted his wild and unkempt, nothing but soap and water allowed, and you wouldn’t dare try to undermine Joyce’s home haircuts, no matter how dated they were becoming. 

No, he was the first, and it’d become so commonplace that he felt comfortable enough spinning out of his mind on his west coast weed while you held sharp scissors to his hair. 

You’re spinning out on your own right now, butterflies thumping in your stomach as he sits against you, an arm thrown over your knee. That was another thing about him, the touch. The puritanical culture of Hawkins—with hands by your side and prayers to stave off temptation—was antithetical to Argyle’s whole deal. He didn’t think twice about wrapping an arm around your shoulder, or pressing his palms into your cheeks during an anxious tirade. It was hard not to take it for something more than what it was, your heart in your throat every time he made contact. 

“I’m telling you I literally can’t do it, then.” You say, smoothing your hand over his hair, trailing the brush as it breaks through what few knots he has, “I always forget to move my finger or hold my breath too long or inhale an ember and have a full breakdown because I think there’s a hole burned in my throat. I just like, can’t use a fucking bong or pipe or anything.” 

You set the brush down, letting out a frustrated sigh, and he pats the side of your knee, “Hey, no worries, I got you.” 

He leans down and takes a long pull from the pipe, twisting around to face you, his hand coming to the back of your head, bringing you close. Without conscious effort, your jaw drops and he leans in just enough to blow the smoke into your mouth, his bottom lip grazing yours as he turns away. As if that’s the most normal thing in the world. As if you can’t feel the heat from his mouth still on your lips. As if you aren’t frozen in place while your nerves shake more from the intoxication of Argyle’s lips than the effects of the smoke. 

Several minutes pass in silence, his head resting on your inner thigh, thumb scraping at the loose threads of torn denim on your knee. You grab the brush and start combing his hair out again, shaking off the moment, reorienting yourself in friendship. You can deal with the longing and the butterflies, maybe, probably. 

At the very least, you can survive as long as things stay at the same level as they've been. Your hands on his hair, him comfortable between your legs.

“You want more?” He asks after several more minutes of calm silence, and you consider saying no, but there’s a light buzz under your skin that makes you say, “Yeah, uh, yeah, totally.” 

You brace yourself this time, squeezing the brush handle tight in your fingers, mouth open a little wider, hopefully a failsafe against his lips touching yours. 

When he brings you down this time, though, you don’t keep them open. You close them for a kiss. 

It’s a small peck, barely there, but he stares at you with surprise, and the smoke escapes when his lips fall open, a quiet ‘woah’ in the air between you. You watch his eyes flick up, can almost actually see the gears turning in his brain, and just as you’re leaning back away from him, he starts to smile. 

It turns into a full grin, his eyes glassy and shining, staring blatantly at your lips. 

You both slip into the next moments with ease, leaning down to kiss him again, mouth warm and bitter and soft. He kicks over the bong as you slide into his lap, murky water and gray ashes spilling onto your carpet. 

“Shit, sorry, dude,” He tries to break from you to clean it up, but you pull a dirty shirt from behind you on the floor and throw it over the mess. 

“Literally don’t care.” You speak against his mouth, leaving space between kisses for him to relax back into it. 

“You sure?” He asks, his eyes still fixed on the lump under the shirt. 

“Mhm.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, his cheek, the soft curve of his jaw, and finally you feel him melt into you. 

His hand rests over your thigh, fingers pressing into the jeans, and he slides down to the crook of your knee, pulling you closer in his lap. He isn’t firm with his touch, more a guiding hand than a driving force, but you curl entirely into him, your arms slung around his neck. 

It’s quickly apparent that he’s content to follow your lead, his tongue only slipping into your mouth after you’ve pushed yours into his, his hand only running over your breast once you’ve put it there. 

You pull back, “Argyle.” 

His lips are plump and red, and he’s surprised to break away from the kiss, his voice full of air, “Huh, yeah, what?” 

“You sure you’re in the right headspace for this?” You ask, running your hand down his arm. 

“Y—yeah, no, I’m—I’m—” He starts nodding, his eyes wide, hands pressing firmer against you. There’s nothing to read off him but enthusiasm, and he welcomes you back to his mouth with a full, open mouthed kiss. It’s sloppy and wet, and you want more. You both fall into a sloven, messy rhythm, your mouths too busy to care what your hands are doing until the clothes on your body become restrictive. 

Your shirt is the first to go, breasts dropping from under the oversized tee, and Argyle’s hands come quickly over them. He palms them like dough, runs his knuckles over your nipples until they’re taut, the focus that was on your mouth centers instead on your breasts. You don’t know that anyone has marveled at you like this before. 

“Unreal,” He whispers, interrupted by a giggle as you slip your hands under his shirt. 

You smile at him as you take the layers off, “Ticklish?” 

He holds back a laugh, pursing his lips and tilting his head up at you, “I may very well be.” He says, fingertips make their way over your skin until it’s you that can’t help giggling.

“Oh, ticklish?” He mocks, and you wrap your arms around his bare chest, bringing him back for another kiss. 

The heat of his chest on yours is unbearable, and it’s not long before you’re both down to your underwear. 

You straddle him on the floor, one hand grabbing at the warm flesh of his biceps as his arms lay flat beside his head. You lean over him on one elbow, fingers knotted at the top of his hair, sucking hickeys into his neck. His moans are loud sighs rather than palpable noises, breath shaking and uneven. The firm print of his dick under his boxers grows against your pelvis, and you press down into him, backing away to watch how his features shift. The slow grind of your hips has him grabbing at your breasts again, and he pulls you up to his mouth, sucking kisses around the flesh before his lips close over your nipple. 

He swirls his tongue over the pebbled skin, flicking back and forth, a quiet hum vibrating over your skin from the back of his throat. His hands come down to your ass, and he pulls back from you, licking his bottom lip, and almost lifting you up to his face. 

“Ope, wait, shit,” You topple over as he tries to bring you closer, catching yourself with a hand on his shoulder. He offers a lopsided smile, and an earnest, “Woah, my bad,” his fingers tapping along your inner thigh. 

You stand up beside him and slide the panties off, swallowing hard before you kneel back down over him. This isn’t something you know about from anything other than the jeering ‘hey, sit on my face, sweetheart!’ comments you’d gotten from boys growing up. They felt more like a mockery than a genuine proposition, but Argyle’s hands rest delicate atop the front of your thighs, and he encourages you to settle down against his mouth. 

His tongue slips between your lips, flat over the wet stripe of skin, just nicking the top of your clit. Almost immediately, the pressure is insurmountable, and you let your weight drop a little more. He starts slow, with lazy licks up and down, side to side, just slicking you up with spit. 

You lean back and rest your hands on either side of his stomach, fingers firm in the plush skin, letting your head fall as he works you. He tilts his head forward, prodding the tip of his tongue against your clit, quick circles around the bundle of nerves, a kiss here and there. His touch is intentional, if a bit hesitant, but you can feel his confidence grow as you push harder into him, almost forgetting to care if you’re suffocating him. 

Sharp spikes flock up your body as the pressure mounts, and you lean forward to grind on his face, firm tongue laid flat over your cunt. Again, he’s ready to let you take the lead, but a few well placed licks send you careening into your orgasm, hips sputtering on top of him. He nuzzles his face deeper between your legs as you ride through it, shaking his head back and forth, and you squirm over him trying to get away. 

It’s now that he holds you, arms wrapping around your thighs, not letting up until he can hear you trying to catch your breath. 

You fall backwards, your head at his waist, hands rubbing over your face with exasperated groans. 

“You good?” He asks, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice. Any nerves he’d had coming into this were well on their way out. 

“Yeah, fuck, good.” Lifting your hand in the air, you shoot him a thumbs up before rolling off onto the floor, the carpet colder than your bare stomach. You fold your arms in front of you and tilt your head to look at him, catching sight of the wet patch on his underwear. 

“I—uh, well,” He clears his throat and watches you push up onto your knees. 

“Are you all good?” You ask, slipping two fingers under the waistband of his boxers and sliding them down to release his softening erection. 

“Totally, super good,” His voice catches in his throat when you drag your tongue over his dick. It twitches while you continue to lap up the sticky, salty cum that’s dribbled down the tip, and Argyle lets his head fall back with a thud! before combing a hand through his hair.

You take him entirely in your mouth, surprised at his length, but willing to choke on it for whatever residual bit of pleasure you’re giving him. His fingers play at the back of your head, wanting but not willing to push you down. He threads them instead between strands of hair, quiet, airy moans and involuntary spasms spurring you on. 

More than content on your knees, content with the feeling of his hand grazing down your skull, you decide to yourself that the only stopping point here is when his dick starts to soften. You squeeze at his inner thighs with one hand, breaking your lips away to kiss marks that’ll be visible when he wears shorts. You don’t feel entitled to claim him as yours, there’s weed and adrenaline running through you both, but it doesn’t feel like a one-off. Wrapping your lips around him again, you press your tongue to his underside as you bob up and down, moist suction sending tangible shivers through his body. 

He taps at your shoulder, and you look up to see him staring slack jawed at the ceiling. 

“Yeah?” You mutter, wiping your mouth. 

“Maybe I’m not in the right headspace anymore,” His voice is flat, eyes wide, breathing heavy, “Think I’m like, way far out beyond any headspace.” 

You laugh, and drag a blanket from your bed, throwing it over your bare bodies. 

He slides a hand under you, still staring blankly at the ceiling as you curl up to him. 

“Argyle?” You tilt your head to look at him, and he hums. 

“That was like…okay, right?” 

The question breaks him from his stupor, and he looks at you with gaping awe, blinking a few times before he speaks, “That was so far past okay, I don’t know how I lived without it, know what I mean.” 

You press a kiss to his jaw, and settle into him, “Yeah, absolutely I do.” 

[pizzaqueen]

Steddie 12 and/or 23! :3

Yay, thank you! I went for 23 (covering them with a blanket when they’ve fallen asleep on the couch) because two other people sent 12!

Anyway, this is incredibly sappy! I’m not sure if I should say sorry for that or not XD But thank you so much for sending this prompt!

Future fic; established relationship; G; 774 words

Eddie kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket. There’s a crack in his jaw as he yawns and his eyes water. He wipes his eyes and hangs the jacket on one of the hooks Steve put up behind the door the week they moved in. He rolls his neck this way, then that, relishing the stretch, then pads down the hall.

The glow of the television edges around the corner at the far end and he calls out, “Told you not to wait up,” then detours to the kitchen for a beer, not waiting for a response. The cold air from the fridge doesn’t do anything to wake him up and he winces against the light; he grabs two beers, then heads to the living room.

He stops in the doorway, a small smile tilting his lips. “Guess you didn’t wait up.”

Soft snores fill the room, coming from Steve where he’s sprawled on the couch, a copy of Automobile magazine spread over his stomach and his glasses knocked askew. His mouth is open and one leg is bent at an awkward angle, half off the couch. It doesn’t look comfortable but Steve can sleep anywhere. Pippin is purring softly on his chest, looking more like a ball of black fuzz than a cat.

Eddie sets the beers down on the coffee table and shakes his head, still smiling gently. It’s crazy how happy he can feel just looking at Steve asleep, curled up with their cat, even after all this time. It doesn’t stop the urge to ball up a piece of paper, or something, and stick it in Steve’s mouth from rising up, though. It’s easy enough to resist, just a passing thought, and, instead, he takes Steve’s glasses off, folding the arms, and putting them on the end table that’s propped up with a phone book.

The television is all snow, so Eddie picks up the remote and turns it off, leaving only the dim light from the streetlights outside their apartment window. He should probably wake Steve up—sleeping on the couch is hell for his back, and, more selfishly, Eddie doesn’t want to sleep alone—but Steve’s had a few restless nights lately, and Eddie can’t bring himself to disturb his first peaceful sleep in a while.

Steve twitches, shifting a little and the magazine slides to the floor. Eddie nudges it under the couch and grabs the blanket on the arm—it’s this wonky crocheted monstrosity in the ugliest colors Eddie’s ever seen, made as a housewarming present by Robin before she decided handicrafts weren’t her thing—and spreads it over Steve.

Pippin lazily opens one yellow eye, peering up at Eddie, before closing it again. Eddie runs a hand down her back then leans over and presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead. He pushes Steve’s hair out of his face and straightens up. The thought of getting into a cold, empty, Steve-less bed isn’t appealing, but there’s not enough room on the couch for two grown men and a cat.

Sighing, he turns away, but stops when warm fingers curl around his wrist and a soft voice croaks, “Stay.”

Eddie turns back to see Steve squinting up at him. “Thought you were asleep.”

“Ngh.”

“That so, huh?”

Steve rubs a hand over his face. “Stay with me.”

“There isn’t room for three of us.”

“Three?” Steve looks down to where Pippin is lying on his chest; as he moves, he disturbs her and she gives him an indignant look then scampers off. “Only two now,” he says, looking back at Eddie.

“Okay, there still isn’t room for two of us. And now you’re awake, we can go to bed.”

“Just a few minutes.” Steve tugs on Eddie’s wrist and sticks his bottom lip out.

Eddie rolls his eyes but he lets himself be pulled down into Steve’s arms. “Just a few minutes,” he repeats.

“Mm.” They shift around until they’re spooning, Eddie’s back pressed tight to Steve’s chest. Steve noses at Eddie’s neck, sighing sleepily and happily, warm breath tickling Eddie’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

Moments later, Steve starts snoring softly. So much for just a few minutes.

Eddie tugs the blanket free from where it’s trapped beneath him, pulling it over himself and Steve, covering their shoulders.

A gentle weight settles at his feet and Eddie cranes his neck to see Pippin curled up, already purring sleepily. Looks like they’re all here for the night. Whatever. They can deal with any aches and pains in the morning. And falling asleep on the couch with Steve is one of his favorite things, anyway.

[eddie-van-munson]

Hear me out, Eddie with a werewolf s/o or like demodog shifter or something. Like maybe she was yk experimented on like eleven and she can shift into a werewolf demodog kinda thing? Idk I think he would have an interesting reaction

(Warnings: Series Typical Violence, Refrences to Hawkins Lab Emperimentation, Cursing, Mentions of Blood)

I gave Steve his bat back bc how else is he gonna fight Demodogs!!!

-So I think they would find you in the Upside Down

-Maybe it's Steve, Nancy ,Robbin, and Eddie and they've just fought off four or five Demodogs.

-There's one left and Steve hits it one last time with his bat really hard in its hind leg.

-It runs off into the woods, injured, taking a few nails with it.

-They don't think much of it.

-Later on they're trying to get to Nancy's house (still in the upside down) when they see another swarm of bats coming, and they sprint into the woods to hide at skull rock.

-They are more than a little surprised to find someone there.

-"Holy shit...Who is that?" Steve curses as they run towards limp form.

-You're laying beneath skull rock, absolutely motionless and naked, curled in on yourself.

-Eddie puts a hand on your back and he can feel that you're still breathing, but you're trembling like crazy.

-Your hip is like, fucked.

-He pulls off his thicker leather jacket, pulling it on you carefully to keep you warm. Nancy drapes the denim one over your middle, trying to protect your modesty, but leaves your hip exposed.

-You're covered all over in dirt and blood. It's streaked through your hair. Nancy sweetly tries to rub some dirt from your cheeks.

-Eddie studies your hip, "We've got to get her out of here. She's lost a ton of blood."

-Robbin reaches over to your wrist, "Her pulse is really faint. We don't have a lot of time."

-"Oh my god." Steve whispers.

-"What?"

-"Oh my god..."

-"What is it!?" Eddie nearly yells.

-"Her hip..."

-"Yeah. I know. It's fucking gonna fall off or some shit if we don't get her to-"

-Steve reaches over, picking up something that's laying on the rock beside you, covered in blood.

-A nail.

-"This is...This is from my bat."

-There's a silence. Eddie takes a closer look at your hip.

-"Holy shit" Looking now, it's very obvious that the gashes littered over you are from Steve's bat.

-"Is she a-?"

-"I mean, she has to be."

-"But how?"

-Nancy lifts your wrist, running her thumb over a little black tattoo. 003.

-"I-It's like El's."

-"Oh my god."

-Nancy tears a strip of fabric from the leg of her pants and ties it tightly around your hip, keeping you from losing any more blood as they bring you back.

-Eddie and Steve take turns carrying you bridal style through the woods until they get you to the trailer and through the portal.

- When you wake up, you're in a bed, surrounded by pink and white striped walls. Everything hurts.

-You realize...you're clean. Oh my god. Your hair is clean. Someone has washed off your skin and bandaged you where your hurt and given you a pair of pajamas.

-You reach over weakly for the glass of water sitting on the bedside table and drink the whole thing.

-You study your hip as best you can through the wrappings.

-The bedroom door opens, and you startle a little when a tall boy with long dark curls wanders in.

-His eyes go big when he sees you're awake

-"Hi! Oh!! Hello! Good morning!"

-He sees you're a little nervous so he pulls up a chair and sits beside you, trying to explain what's happened.

-"-so basically...we think someone experimented on you and turned you into one of those ugly motherfuckers who tried to eat us. Not that you're ugly!! Not at all! I just meant...Well, you were kind of green? And? Toothy?"

-"My theory is that when Steve hit you, you lost a lot of blood, and your body became too week to hold its "Demodog" form, you know?"

-You frown, "D-Demodog?"

-Needless to say they've got a lot of explaining to do.

***********