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quixoticall · 1 month ago

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This Could Get Ugly Track 6: The Aftermath

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, smut, oral and fingering f receiving, p in v sex, the Harringtons make an appearance.

a/n: It has been a while my loves! I really have no excuse but I am excited to get back into the swing of things! Originally, this was meant to be one chapter but I split it in two, hopefully you don't mind! Also, I kinda rushed towards the end so it's not as neat as the rest of it--I'm sorry! I just really wanted to get this! I'm kinda itching to get to the next installment!

wc: 5.8K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

MURRAY: There were doubts about how well the tour would do, especially after all the scandals. But even despite assholes like Chris Palmer—or maybe because of them—the first tour had been way more of a success than anyone had ever imagined. Brenner and his team essentially had dollar signs for eyes by the end of it. They wanted the band to record the second album literally as soon as they got off the tour bus.

Me and Hopper tried our best to advocate for the kids getting some time off, especially since tensions during the last half of the tour had run hot according to Hopper. The best we could get them was a month.

Listen, we really, really tried our best for those kids. There were some really nasty fuckers at the label who saw them as nothing more than a product to push, a means to an end but we tried our best to keep them afloat. And sure, part of that is because they were our most lucrative artists, but we also genuinely cared for them and we wanted to help as much as we could.

Sometimes, though, they made that really hard.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

JUNE 14th, 1984—LOS ANGELES, CA

You’re the last one at Starcourt studios. Everyone’s eyes turn at the sound of you rushing through the lobby door. Everyone looks equally as weary as you feel, having only been back in LA for effectively 48 hours.

You’re sure you would all rather be anywhere but Starcourt except Murray and Hopper called an urgent meeting that apparently could not wait.

As you approach the group sitting in the lobby you look around to the tired and anxious faces of your bandmates and eventually you end up meeting Steve’s eyes.

Poor Steve, who showed up at your door the day following his drunken, lovelorn, declaration full of shame and embarrassment that only hangover of an infinite caliber could accompany. He had begged you to forget the whole conversation had ever happened and you agreed readily although the damage had already been done.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

MURRAY: I chose to never have kids because I never wanted to deal with the responsibilities. So, tell me why I was out here parenting a bunch of 20 something’s who were hellbent on ruining their own lives and mine in the process?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Here’s the deal,” Murray begins, once all the band members were settled into his office, “the label seems to want the album sooner than we thought. We can’t give you the three months off we had originally agreed on—” this announcement is met with the expected amount of jeers and complaints “—but Hopper and I fought for you all to get a month before we start recording again.” Murray pauses expectantly but is met with silence.

“Okay, well, you’re welcome for that, ungrateful little fucks. We will be back here in a month’s time to start,” his gaze focuses in on you and Eddie at this point, “except for the two of you. This dribble you decided to call lyrics is absolutely atrocious and I need new material. I’ve marked everything that is salvageable but the rest is scrap. “

Eddie immediately erupts into protests that eventually get cut off by Steve who argues for rewrites to happen together while the others take the opportunity to try to barter for more time off.

You’re far too stunned by Murray’s disparagement to weigh in. Sure, some of the pieces needed work but were they all really that bad?

“This isn’t meant to be a team effort,” Murray says to Steve, “this is meant to be a punishment for these two for not doing a good enough job.”

“Wow these songs must be terrible,” Robin cuts in, “can we see them at least?” She asks as she makes a grab for the papers which Murray barely manages to dodge. This, once again, causes the room to descend into arguments and chaos, forcing Hopper to take over.

“Enough!” He bellows, deep and authoritatively. “None of this is up for debate. We’re taking a month off and when we regroup, we’ll have an album’s worth of new material to record that hopefully isn’t terrible. Are we clear?”

There were murmurs of agreement as the hand began gathering their things before your manager cut you off, “Sit your asses down, I have something else to talk to you about.”

Hopper then spends twenty minutes reading off a list of every instance of property damage that happened over the tour and how much they cost while the rest of you squirm in your seats under his judgmental stare. Eventually, mercifully, the meeting is ended, and you dash out of your seat in hopes of making it out without any further uncomfortable conversations but of course, luck is not on your side because before you can even stand, Murray has another request.

“Minx, Munson, hang back for me while you?”

You and Eddie awkwardly watch as the resort of the band file out and stand silently waiting and their voices grow more and more distant down the corridor.

Finally, when it’s certain that it’s just the three of you, Murray speaks.

“So how long have you two been a thing?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

MURRAY: One look at the music they had sent in, and it was clear, there was something going on there. Listen, I don’t usually get involved in the personal lives of my artists but the was a unique circumstance. For one, it was very obvious what and who the lyrics were about. Songs about edgy, mysterious lovers and wanting someone you can’t have don’t necessarily scream “Happy, functioning, long term relationship”.

We couldn’t risk the press, or worse, Heart-Eyed Harrington getting wind of that. It would wreck our credibility and break the kid’s heart and that would’ve been curtains for the band.

So, I pulled the two aside and told them they would have to rewrite their lyrics to be less transparent and also less bad.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Can you believe he said that?” You ask once the two of you are in the privacy of the studio’s parking lot.

“Oh well, I dunno, we were definitely phoning it in towards the end. Plus, we could use more cohesion,” Eddie reasons, struggling to keep up with your angry strides.

“No not that! I’m talking about all the other stuff,” you wave a hand fancifully in the air, “about us having feelings for one another. That’s crazy!” You let out a sharp exhale in place of a laugh.

“Right,” Eddie trails off, “… and why would that be crazy, again?”

“Well, for one, you hate everything I stand for, remember?” You laugh as you unlock the front door of your car.

He peers at you from under his lashes, sunshine weaving through his hair, face stoic.

“You’re right,” he says finally, after consideration, “I do.”

You nod in agreement and not even a little offended.

“And that’s why it works so well,” you explain as you lower yourself into the driver's seat, “because we don’t like each other like that. That’s what Murray doesn’t understand, it’s just sex.”

“Right,” Eddie echoes, tersely, “it’s just sex.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

EDDIE: It wasn’t just sex for me.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

MURRAY: You would think that two Songwriters’ Hall of Fame recipients wouldn’t need to be babysat to, you know, write music but those two were an absolute nightmare to deal with. It was a struggle just to find them a place to get together to write. Her place was constantly getting hounded by paps and Munson refused even to tell HR where he lived.

A week in, we realized they needed to get out of town which is why I ended up sending them to a property I owned in Ranch Cucamonga just so they could get out of my hair.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

JUNE 22nd, 1984—RANCHO CUCAMONGA, CA

“What is this place?” You wonder aloud as Eddie unlocks the front door of a very average-looking split-level suburban home. The house is sparse and humble, lacking all the opulence that Murray’s LA residence had in excess.

“Probably where he meets up with his girlfriend,” Eddie shrugs.

“Murray has a wife.”

“Yeah, I know. Why do you think we’re all the way in the Inland Empire?”

You open your mouth to argue but you’re stopped by the realization that Eddie is probably right and instead you grip your bag thingy against your body and with eyes darting around to every piece of furniture in sight, you say, “we should probably disinfect all the surfaces.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

EDDIE: It was the perfect spot: quiet, secluded. Plus, we were so grossed out at the idea of hooking up in Murray’s sex pad that we kept it PG and focused.

MURRAY: It was not a sex pad.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“He has a waterbed, Nance,” you relay over the phone later that night, once you and Eddie had settled, “if that doesn’t say ‘sex pad’ I don’t know what does!”

Nancy gags in response, “Ew, that’s disgusting!”

You giggle at her exaggerated response, grateful that she answered the phone on the second ring.

“How’s everything over there?” You inquire, pointer finger coiling around the telephone cord. “How’s…everyone doing?”

“By everyone, do you mean Steve?”

You kick your feet in the air from your perch on the kitchen counter. “Steve is part of everyone, isn’t he?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t think he’s very happy that Murray sent you off with Eddie.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I can see him in the pool right now. He’s doing laps—butterfly.”

“Okay? Doesn’t he always swim though?” You were confused. Back when you were on tour, it was not uncommon to find Steve at the hotel pool in the early mornings.

“He only swims butterfly when something is bothering him,” Nancy explains like it’s obvious.

“Wow Nance, you sure remember a lot about your ex-boyfriend’s strokes,” you joke.

“And the two of you sure do care a lot about what the other is doing for being in a fake relationship,” she retorts. “It is still fake, right?”

“Yes, of course it is.”

The front door clicks unlocked—Eddie’s back from picking up takeout and you rush to change the subject, “Speaking of relationships, how’s Jonathan?”

Nancy, mercifully, doesn’t dwell on you and Steve and instead sighs at the mention of her boyfriend.

“Not great. Turns out Joyce downplayed Will’s condition while we were on tour. Jonathan’s livid, of course.”

Even through the static, you can hear the strain in Nancy’s voice as she struggles to keep it steady.

“Yesterday he got angry with me for trying to get him to talk to her. Will’s about to go to surgery and it’s not for him to see the two of them fighting.

He’s just so moody and hard to be around. I’m starting to avoid him if I’m honest. Is that bad?”

For as long as you’ve known her, Nancy had always been like a well-shot arrow: sharp, steady, and sure of where she was going. It’s strange to hear her at a loss.

“No, not at all,” you comfort, “things are tough right now and it sounds like you might need space. Maybe you can come by next week? Stay a few days and help us write. It’ll give you both some space.”

Your eyes find Eddie’s across the kitchen counter where he’s unpacking steaming containers of Chinese food. You can tell he’s been listening in on your conversation because he nods along emphatically at your suggestion.

“Are you sure?” Nancy asks.

“Yes,” you assure, “I’ve cleared it with Eddie, and he agrees.”

“I agree!” Eddie shouts in the background and that gets a giggle out of Nancy.

You bid goodbye to Nancy but not without asking her to seriously consider your offer.

“Nancy might come and visit,” you announce as you start stacking your plate with food.

“Yeah, I heard,” Eddie responds, mid-noodle slurp. “But just so we’re clear, if Wheeler does come, she’s taking the waterbed.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Maybe it’s the change of scenery, or maybe it’s the above-average Chinese food (or maybe it’s the grade-A hydroponic hash that Argyle has passed along as a parting gift) but for the first time in months, you and Eddie are back in your songwriting groove.

The two of you work into the night, sifting through your existing work, parsing out what can be saved.

You work until your eyes and fingertips burn and you have no choice but to call it a night before heading up to the guest room upstairs.

“Night, Eds,” you call out over your shoulder as you stumble up the stairs.

His response is muffled by your yawns. Exhausted, you cannot wait to get into your (non-water) bed and you flop belly-first onto the mattress, ready to succumb to the exhaustion of the day.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You can’t sleep. You’ve been tossing and turning for an hour and as hard as you will it, you can’t sleep.

There’s an unfamiliar emptiness settling into the space that you can’t seem to cope with. There are no blaring police sirens or yelling partygoers around to indicate life. As far as you know, you could be the only person on the planet. You balk at the idea and decide to go downstairs in search of life.

Eddie had decided pretty early on that he preferred sleeping on the couch than on the waterbed in Murray’s room. When he announced his decision earlier over dinner, he had paused, almost as if leaving space for you to invite him to share your bed in the guest room. There was room, after all. But you didn’t make that offer because why would you? The two of you might have been sleeping together on tour but even then, that rarely meant spending the night. Offering to share a bed with him now, with no promise of sex (which you refuse to have for a myriad of reasons including the fact that this was Murray’s sex pad), well, that would seem far too close to what Murray was accusing you of back at the studio and you would rather die than see him be right.

That’s how Eddie ended up on the couch. He’s still awake when you descend down the stairs, strewn across the sofa joint in hand and bathed in synthetic blue light from the TV. He doesn’t see you at first but when he does, he smiles, slowly and waves a hand lazily.

“Hey,” he greets as you land at the foot of the stairs.

“Hey,” you greet back, padding into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of water.

You linger in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, debating whether you should stay. Your initial plan was to just grab a drink and go back upstairs, but that was back when you thought Eddie was asleep. You chew your lip in indecision. Eddie’s pretending not to watch you.

“Can’t sleep,” you explain as you drop onto the opposite side of the couch after consideration.

“Why not?” He asks his eyes completely removed from the TV, the old episode of “Million Dollar Man” he was watching forgotten.

“Too quiet,” you explain, simply, “I’ve never slept in a place this quiet.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you grow shy under his gaze, pulling your knees to your chest and curling a throw pillow into your chest.

“Not even when you lived in your fancy mansion on the hill?” You can tell by his tone that he doesn’t mean to poke fun with the question; he’s genuinely curious.

“No. My parents were always having people over, there was always some party my mom would host or some actors staying with us while my dad filmed and even when there weren’t people over—which was rare—my parents would always be fighting. They would yell a lot.”

“What would they fight about? Who got to drive the Rolls Royce?” Eddie laughs nervously, he’s doing that thing where he makes jokes when he’s uncomfortable.

“Let’s just say that my dad was not nearly as discreet as Murray is about his extra-curricular activities,” you scoot closer to reach for the joint in his hand. You refuse to be sober while sharing childhood details.

Eddie leans closer and hands you the joint. Your fingers brush.

“I get that,” he commiserates, “my pop wasn’t around much, but when he was, he and my ma would really get into it. Yelling, throwing plates, the whole thing.”

“Shut up!” You exclaim, “my parents would throw plates too!”

You’re not sure why but throws you into a fit of giggles. Eddie watches you tilting your head back as laughter rips through you.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, half laughing himself.

“It’s just, that,” you struggle to say through the laughs, “for all the fuss you made about how opposite we are, we’re not that different after all. In the end, we’re just two kids who grew up watching their parents throw plates at one another.”

He lets out a chuckle at this now, too, as he leans forward to place the joint on the coffee table, “Yeah, I guess you’re kinda right.”

The two of you laugh a little longer, probably a result of your exhaustion and the joint you’ve now whittled to a nub and then you sink into a comfortable silence, full attention back on the television.

After a while, during a commercial break, Eddie leans over and says softly, “You know, I don’t hate you, I just hate everything you stand for.”

Your shoulders are touching as the two of you have gravitated towards the center of the and you’re so mesmerized by the way his Adam’s apple moves as he speaks that it takes you a second to register what he’s said.

“Thanks,” you respond sarcastically once his words have sunk in, “that makes me feel so good about myself.”

His cheeks darken and he ducks his head towards his chest in embarrassment.

“I meant that as a compliment, you know.”

“That’s a shit compliment, Eds,” you deadpan back.

He sighs, “Yeah, I know but I can never get my words out right when I’m talking to you. What I meant to say is that contrary to what you may think, I do like you and I think you’re very talented… and maybe… perhaps, I was wrong about you.”

You lean forward as he says this, a gloating grin rising on your face. “Why, Edward, I believe that might be the kindest thing you’ve ever said about me.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The phone is ringing.

The early morning sun is burning your closed eyelids, which is annoying but not nearly as annoying as the phone ringing. You know you should get up and answer the phone that simply won’t stop ringing but you can’t will your body to move.

You nestle further into the warm cocoon you’ve found yourself in this morning and wait for whoever is on the other line to eventually give up.

The phone does eventually stop ringing, just like you knew it would, but not even three seconds later, it picks up again.

You try to ignore it once more, but it is insistent. You realize you have no choice but to get up.

You’re far too peeved to notice at first, but the warm cocoon you’ve been so hesitant to leave isn’t a nest of blankets like you had originally thought, but a pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders and a solid chest where your head once rested: Eddie.

You blink wearily up at him. He’s completely unfazed by the ringing. Even though you know Eddie to be an annoyingly deep sleeper, you still try to gently extract yourself from his arms.

You sit up halfway and catch a glimpse of Eddie’s expressionless face, and, in its peace, you’re reminded of his kind words last night. Suddenly, you lean down quickly and peck a kiss on his cheek. You recoil quickly in surprise scrambling off the couch and quickly pad over to the still-ringing phone.

“Hello?” You snap.

“Nice of you to finally pick up,” Murray replies.

“What is it, Murray?”

“I wanted to see how it was going.”

You sigh in response, letting him know exactly how little patience you have.

“Fine. It’s going fine.”

“How’s the writing?”

“Fine.”

“And the house?”

“Fine.”

“And the waterbed?”

“Gross and untouched. Is that all?”

“You’re no help. Get me Munson.”

You’re about to tell him that Eddie was asleep when a hand snakes around the back of your head and wraps around the receiver in your hand.

A bleary-eyed Eddie gently tugs the phone from your hand and brings it to his ear.

“You’ve got Munson,” Eddie greets through a yawn.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

EDDIE: The Rancho Cucamonga house was like a bubble where the outside world didn’t exist for us. We were finally able to focus on the songwriting without having to work around a tour or press appearances or the rest of the fucking band. We were finally just able to write, and we killed that shit.

There was something else too, though. I’m not sure how it started… I guess that first night we bonded—shared trauma, you know? And the next morning when I woke up on the couch, she was in my arms. All that time we were fooling around, that had never happened. When I woke up and saw her asleep on my chest, I just closed my eyes and lay there, not wanting to get up. Corny, I know. Eventually, she woke up—Murray’s fault—and she kissed me, on my cheek. She probably thought I was still asleep.

After that, it was like all bets were off. We started being affectionate with each other all of a sudden. We didn’t have sex—somehow it felt like sex would ruin it. But it was like we had entered this alternate universe where we were just, I don’t know, two twenty-somethings that were in love and living together and making good fucking art.

She would do this thing when she wanted my attention and kiss me on the jaw. She would make me breakfast—Eggos, the woman has never been a chef—but it was the thought that counted. I would make her her tea every night, exactly how she liked it. I somehow knew how she liked her tea. I know it sounds so… mundane and small but all the little things added together is what makes something real.

We wouldn’t talk about it. It would’ve ruined it, we both knew. It was like if we didn’t acknowledge it, we were giving the other person room to back out.

If you asked her how she’d describe that week we spent in the suburbs, I’m not really sure what she’d say, but if you ask me, right now, I would still say it was one of the best weeks of my life.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Nancy!” you yell across the driveway at the brunette.

The keyboardist turns and waves emphatically before handing her cab driver a few dollar bills for the fare.

You run out towards her, throwing your arms around her neck in delight.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you breathe out, as your eyes scan over her in assessment. She looked more haggard than before, the bags under her eyes were more prominent. Despite this, her smile is genuine.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she says as you lead her up the front steps while Eddie follows with her small luggage.

You immediately launch into a tour of the house while Eddie, generously, has made himself sparse to give the two of you some privacy and goes out for a smoke.

Nancy, being the gracious guest that she was, had no qualms with taking the waterbed and while you helped get her settled into her new space, she fills you in with what’s been happening in your absence.

“Robin went back home; her younger sister is about to start at Marquette. Argyle went back to Arizona for a few days and Steve went with him.”

Hearing Steve’s name was jarring but even more so was hearing that he had traveled to a whole other state without you knowing about it. That was a silly thought, you knew, after all, you hadn’t spoken to him once since you’d traveled inland. Plus, you had been living the last week in a watercolor haze with Eddie, something that only worked when you pushed Steve to the back of your mind.

“How are things with Jonathan?” You cut in, anxious to be rid of any mention of Steve from the conversation. It’s Nancy who then falters. and grows tense.

“He was very supportive of me coming here,” she divulges, lowly. “He seemed kind of guilty when I told him how this was affecting me. That’s Jonathan for you though, constantly carrying the weight of everyone’s problems on his shoulders.”

“Gee,” you let out a mirthless laugh, “I wonder who he has that in common with?”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but her shoulders relax, a tiny bit, and slowly, the information unspools out of her. She tells you about Jonathan’s family—his worrisome mother, his absent father, and his perpetually sick younger brother who was the reason behind anything he did—and about the nights spent in hospital waiting rooms, hopeful for miracle treatments to finally deliver (they never do).

You felt the weight of burden coming

Nancy rolls her eyes, but her shoulders relax, a tiny bit and slowly, she begins to unfurl.

She tells you about Jonathan’s family—his worrisome mother and his absent father and his perpetually sick younger brother that was the reason behind anything he did—and about the nights spent in hospital waiting rooms, hopeful for miracle treatments to finally deliver (they never do).

She talks about her own family too, and the mounting pressure to be successful in the face of her parents’ disapproval after she had turned down her university full ride in favor of the band.

She also tells you about the growing tension in the band’s shared house and how she’s pretty sure everyone is sick of living with each other, but no one wants to be the first to admit it.

She’s being pulled taunt in every direction and as you listen to her unload her burdens, for the first time, you feel lucky to only have yourself to answer to.

Later, once Nancy’s heart has been borne, and you’re out on the deck with Eddie, you can’t help but share your discovery with him in between cigarette puffs.

“I dunno,” he shrugs stiffly, “I’d like to think that the right person would be worth any trouble they may bring to your life. She seems to think so too,” he motions towards the sliding glass kitchen doors towards Nancy who is currently on the phone with Jonathan, her brow once again furrowed in worry.

You tilt your head, unconvinced, “Maybe they see it that way, but for me, it just seems like a slippery slope to plate throwing.”

He laughs dryly at this, a quick exhale of smoke that frames him in a momentary halo. He’s leaning with his arms against the deck railing and the smoke mixes prettily with the spackling of stars in the night sky bringing out his fine, aristocratic features and making him look like a painting brought to life.

“Just because our folks were pieces of work that doesn’t mean you should give up on love altogether.”

The statement stuns you for a moment—you were sure that in Eddie you’d find a kindred spirit, a fellow love nihilist.

“I haven’t given up on love,” you backtrack, “ I’m just afraid, I guess.” The last part comes out small but you can’t help it.

This peaks Eddie’s interest, “Afraid? I’ve never seen you afraid of anything. What could you possibly be afraid of?”

You sigh, the conversation having veered out of your control but at this point you’re too caught up to stop it.

“I guess I’m scared that I’ll love someone so much I would lose sight of everything else I really want,” you explain. “Or worse, that I would give it all up if they asked me to,” you confide voice small, “that I would do anything they’d ask me to.”

“That’s kinda what love feels like though,” Eddie lights another cigarette, “like you’d let them do anything to you but trust them not to. Because if they really loved you, they wouldn’t make you give up something that was important to you.”

Then, before you can stop it, the question comes tumbling out, “have you ever been in love like that?”

He looks at you hard, like he’s willing you to know the answer. Finally, after what feels like an eternity he responds, “Yeah, once or twice.”

“How was that?” You croak out awkwardly. What you’re really asking is what did you let them do to you?

He laughs, a little softer this time, a little bird endeared and a little bit incredulous. “You’re asking me how it is to be in love?”

You nod, feeling a little silly.

Eddie takes another puff of his cigarette, mulling over the question carefully.

“It kinda sucks,” he eventually says, “you feel constantly exposed, like a wounded animal. And you hate everything that isn’t them. And you would do anything for them, which is terrifying. And you spend the whole time wondering how it will end—because of course, you never feel worthy of them—and then when it does, it’s like a dull knife. But that’s okay because it’s all worth it and I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

You sit with his answer, rolling it back and forth in your mind like a marble on concrete. He watches you, expectantly, once again with that willing expression on his face. You’re trying to read his mind but you’re not sure you can.

Eventually, you say aloud the only thing you can think of, “You should put that in a song.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Having Nancy around is great.

For one, she’s a great songwriting collaborator. Her skill with the piano is unmatched and she has a propensity for ballads that neither you nor Eddie seem to possess.

Also, having her around helps curb whatever was happening with you and Eddie. Things did not stop, however, they didn’t go further than where they were and you’re certain that if Nancy hadn’t With Nancy around to keep you focused, you’re churning out songs—good quality songs—faster than ever.

Murray asks to see what you have halfway through your stay and you fax him the best of what you’ve written. It’s a struggle between the three of you to get the ancient fax machine in Murray’s home office to actually work but the 30 minutes of cursing on the phone with ‘Murray’s secretary is worth it when later that evening the producers gives you a call to tell you that you’ve finally hit the mark.

“It was like pulling teeth, but you got there. Thank Wheeler for me,” he says over the line and it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a direct compliment from him. He mentions something about sharing the songs with a few others to help with the arrangements and then hangs up without saying a proper goodbye but you barely register that because you’re too relieved.

“He likes it!” you announce and the three of you whoop in celebration. Eddie picks you up and spins you around landing a kiss on your temple that you’re hoping Nancy, by some miracle, missed.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

NANCY: I saw when he kissed her that night, but that was nowhere near the first weird exchange I caught between them that week.

Nothing big, just little couple things, you know? The little minutia that two people in a relationship do like making each other coffee and gentle touches and talking soft and careful to each other.

The type of things Jonathan and I used to do before things got bad.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“What’s going on between you and Eddie?”

Nancy’s tone isn’t accusatory when she asks, just curious.

It’s the night before you are slated to go back to LA and the two of you are on a sunset walk around the neighborhood, it was all very domestic, and you had been enjoying it immensely until Nancy’s curiosity got the best of her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you respond, airily, “nothing’s going on.”

She cuts you a look that says you know better than to lie to her and you deflate and come clean.

After she bore you all her troubles on the night of her arrival, you feel like you owe her some honesty in return.

So you tell her everything from the beginning.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

NANCY: Frankly, for the entirety of our first tour, I thought something was going on between her and Steve, so when she told me that she and Eddie had been sleeping together during the tour, well that totally took me by surprise.

The craziest part was that they had never talked about it. Well, maybe it’s not that crazy, neither of them is really known for being upfront about their feelings.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“So are you two in a relationship?”

“No, I don’t think so?”

“So what, you just sleep together and are affectionate with one another and take care of each other? That’s a relationship.” Before you can argue back, Nancy jumps into the next question, “What about Steve? I honestly thought you two had something going on.”

“Steve is great. He’s kind and easy to be around, and so is Steve. But he doesn’t see me for who I am. He expects too much from me, and I know I’m going to let him down. " You feel stupid and dramatic admitting this, but you want Nancy to understand.

“Eddie knows me, he knows what to expect of me. He’s not trying to convince me to buy into this… fairytale relationship box Steve is trying to put me in. Eddie just kind of takes whatever I can spare when it comes to affection, and he doesn’t ask for more. It’s convenient with him.”

“You both deserve more than convenience and scraps of affection,” Nancy argues.

“Listen,” she pauses on the sidewalk to look at you, eyes as big as the moon under the light of the streetlamp, “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but we both know this thing is a ticking time bomb.

“You need to spend some time figuring out how you really feel and have some honest conversations with both of them before someone gets hurt.”

That’s the last thing she says before walking away.

PLAY NEXT TRACK🎤

Taglist:

@rexorangecouny , @persophonekarter @mystargirl-interlude @brinleighsstuff @thegaysaretired @nothing2-see @harrysvirgogf @Prior-antidote @stardustofyesterday @buckleyverse @leather-n-velvet @ivoryrebellionmess @Courts-x

@superas1an @promisewellbealright @primroseluna @stardustofyesterday @www-interludeshadow-com

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theapangea · 1 year ago

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Missed You Too

Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: You finally kiss Steve.

A/N: Ok this is one that I posted on AO3 after the end of the last season. Obviously I had to write something good for Steve because they do my boy so dirty!! HE IS NOT SOMEONES SECOND CHOICE!! Hope you enjoy my loves <3!!

The past week was a blur. You didn’t expect your first college spring break to end with you racing back to Hawkins to see the aftermath of what Venca…? One…? Henry…caused. You didn’t want to entirely believe that the Upside Down still existed, that the gate was still open after you all fought so hard to close it time and time again. That’s why you chose to leave Hawkins in the first place, moving across the country to get away from the horrors of that small town.

But when Jonathan, Will, and Mike show up at your door, pleading for your help to find Eleven, you couldn’t just turn your back on them, not then, not ever.

You didn’t even know that Joyce, Eleven, and the boys moved to California shortly after you did. No one bothering to stay in touch, mostly you didn’t bother to stay in touch. Almost like you intentionally separated yourself from the people you were closest to. You would never admit it, blaming the lack of communication on school.

The truth was, you didn’t want to be part of Hawkins anymore. You didn’t want to fear for your life. The scar that Hawkins left on your soul made you paranoid, made it hard for you to live a normal life. Always looking over your shoulder, always ready for a fight.

The drive back was like riding a bike, you could drive it blind folded if you had to. Everyone thought it would be best if you drove the last bit as Jonathan was barely able to stay awake at this point. The tall, full trees lined the only road in and out of Hawkins. Car after car rushing to escape the town as disaster stuck only nights before.

Passing shelters, destroyed homes, police and media, all lining the streets trying to make sense of the situation. If only they knew the truth.

The car swings around the curb, braking suddenly outside of the Wheeler house. You never thought you would be here again, at least not in this lifetime. Pausing, white knuckling the steering wheel as you hear the van door slide open. Mike, Eleven, Will, Argyle and Jonathan exiting the vehicle to be reunited with loved ones again. You take your time getting out of the pizza van, not sure if you wanted to see them, not sure if they wanted to see you .

Finding yourself staying by the van with Argyle. He was new, didn’t know about Hawkins and was thrown into this mess similar to how you all were. How could he continue to want to be part of this? Your gaze drifts down, your chest heaving rapidly. Your feet glued to the ground, unable to move from your spot.

Closing your eyes, trying to regain a sense of self. It shouldn’t matter that you left then, it should only matter that you are here now . Some relief washing over as you repeat that you are here now, you are here now, you are here now. The held breath releasing as you scan the scene in front of you, the warm breeze picking up making you draw the wild strands of hair behind your ears.

You watch as Mike hugs his mom, her eyes tender and soft, thanking the gods for him to be returned safely, stating how he is never allowed to leave home again. Her hands never leave his body, afraid that if she lets go then he will disappear without a trace again.

Jonathan approaches Nancy, both unsure of their relationship, both yearning for a solution - but still they hug, the sweet embrace almost made up for the long, angry phone calls and the absence spring break trip.

Jonathan told you all about his Nancy problems, hoping you would be able to help. He didn’t like your answer of honesty and communication, joking how you were never honest with your true feelings for a certain Hawkins boy. Quietly commenting that you should have made a move a long time ago to get him to move on from Nancy.

After all this time, you couldn’t believe he was still hung up on her. But maybe he was supposed to move on. Move on to someone who he spent all his time with, to the person he’d drop by at their house unannounced, to the girl who was so tired of the neverending nightmares that she did everything she could to move as far away as possible. Even if it meant breaking the heart of the person she was supposed to end up with.

And there he was…

Boy, was he a sight for sore eyes. The green-blue sweater with the rolled up sleeves to the washed out blue jeans hugging his hips in all the right places. The way his hair was so delicately placed, too messy to be considered neat, too neat to be considered messy. His eyes heartbroken, full of pain and anger. Full of every ounce of love that he is willing to give away in a heartbeat. Your soul aching for him.

His hand placed on the back of his neck, clearly hurt from the unfolding scene between Nancy and Jonathan. Robin’s hand pressing gently on his back, guiding him away.

You weren’t surprised that he still had feelings for her. A little annoyed, yes, but not surprised in any way. He would always talk about her, the way she laughed and talked and smiled. And it made you so angry back then. Realizing that the anger never left.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, his eyes fixated on the ground. Probably hoping to finally disappear. You feel the same. You were two passing ships in the night too afraid to let the other one know you were there, constantly turning off your lights, constantly dropping your sails.

The situation between you both was left pretty rocky. You could never decipher the tension between you both, was it love or indifference? Steve was always there for you and even supported your decision to leave Hawkins, even if that meant never seeing you ever again.

You promised to call each other once a week, which did happen until once a week turned into once a month and once a month turned into dozens of missed calls on both ends. Leaving you both hopeless and alone. Both trying to figure out adulthood without the comfort of a childhood friend.

Before pushing your body away from the car, you look over at Argyle for some sort of friendly relief. After hearing Jonathan complain about you never making a move on Steve, Argyle has been constantly encouraging you since. To not wait for any guy to make the first move, to create your own future. You were surprised at his wisdom.

His kind smile helps ease your nerves as your feet move one in front of the other, your heart beating so loud you can hear it in your ears. The drowning noise of your blood rushing through your body almost makes you want to turn around. Run away like the first time - but you were tired of running. Tired of the ‘what if situation’ that danced between you and Steve. This was your moment and there was no way you were going to turn back. Not this time.

Walking down the driveway, Mrs.Wheeler silently thanks you for helping bring Mike back home safely. Her hand lightly squeezes yours as you pass. Your lips curl, barely a smile forming as your mind is elsewhere.

Nancy watches as you walk by, her body still wrapped in Jonathan’s arms. Her mouth barely parted, maybe she wanted to say something but immediately regretted his decision to make any comment. The strong bond between you both broke when she started to date Steve…then Jonathan. You were civil with one another but you’ve barely spoken a sentence in the past three years. Neither of you wanting to resolve your years-long battle.

Robin’s and Steve’s gaze are on you. Stopping right in front of the pair, realizing you didn’t have a plan once you got to this point. Robin instantly beaming that bright smile that you missed so much. Her hug was intentional, like she was trying to squeeze all the events of this past week out of you. Cleansing you of all the horrors. Your arms wrap around his waist, pulling her deeper, knowing you needed her in that moment. Her comfort washing over you, giving you the strength you so desperately needed. She releases you, arm's length away, her smile inviting and safe.

Your eyes shifting to Steve. Swearing in that moment that he was smiling but immediately covering it with a cough and a snatch on the nose.

She squeezes your shoulders before walking away, giving you and Steve a little alone time. Even if that alone time was in front of half your friends.

“Hey.” You exhale, the tension growing between the two of you. The air suddenly still as his eyes studying your face, his fingers twitching every so slightly.

In one swift movement, grabbing your wrist, pulling you in for a hug. The instant smell of his cologne filling your head, making you dizzy with the smell of home. No words needed to be spoken between the two of you. He was just glad you were safe, finally in his arms.

You missed him.

Not just this past week, but for the past 8 months. He pulls you in closer, his body finally relaxing against yours. The breath of fresh air was everything you both needed, everything you have ever wanted, and everything you will ever need.

In this moment, you were his and he was yours. Everything was right with the world. All the trouble of this past week washes away, your minds clearing, seeing a future with only the two of you.

You both pull back, speaking in a silent conversation. Neither of you know how to respond in this situation. Both of you felt the buzz, the electricity, the love.

After all this time, it felt like you never left. The feelings for Steve came crumbling back down. You thought this was your chance, your only chance . Your body makes the decision for you, as your hand wraps around the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips.

Your breath instantly intertwines with his, every inhale pulling him closer and closer. Your other hand balling up into the soft fabric of his sweater as he deepens into you. His hand catching your cheek, his lips soft and warm, gentle yet demanding. The craving of his touch on your skin sends heat waves throughout your body.

He takes his time, wanting to remember this moment. All the uncertain feelings, all the unfinished conversations, crashing down all around you both. Kissing him was the only way you could tell him everything you had kept in for all these years.

He pulls back, resting his forehead on yours, pure eyes as he whispers, “I missed you too.”

~~~

I hope you enjoyed!! thank you for reading and supporting me

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fanfic #Stranger Things x reader #Reader insert #Stranger things #Robin Buckley #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem #Theapangea #steve harrington #mike wheeler #will byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #argyle stranger things

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munsonson · 8 months ago

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What instantly turns you off from a Stranger Things fic? For me it’s anything villainizing Nancy, particularly in Steve stories. It bugs me so much.

#stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #eddie munson #jonathan byers #billy hargrove #chrissy cunningham #mike wheeler #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #will byers #max mayfield #jane hopper #argyle #fics #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader angst #eddie x reader

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vilentia · 2 years ago

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How the Stranger Things boys would react…

...if another guy would hit on their girlfriend.

Steve Harrington

Steve would feel a mix of anger and protectiveness. He would immediately step in, confronting the guy who flirted with you, making it clear that you're taken. Steve's love for you would drive him to defend your relationship and ensure that you feel secure and respected.

Billy Hargrove

Billy would become incredibly possessive and jealous. His temper would flare up, and he would likely confront the guy who flirted with you in an aggressive manner. Billy's intense love for you would make him unwilling to tolerate any threat to your relationship, and he would make it clear that you are his and his alone.

Jonathan Byers

Jonathan would feel a surge of insecurity and sadness. He might struggle with self-doubt, wondering if he's good enough for you. Rather than lashing out, Jonathan would withdraw a bit, feeling hurt by the situation. He would need reassurance and affirmation from you to rebuild his confidence and reaffirm the love you share.

Eddie Munson

Eddie would be overwhelmed with anxiety and worry. He would likely overthink the situation and doubt his own ability to keep you happy. Eddie's love for you would manifest in his deep concern for your well-being, and he would want to talk about what happened to understand your perspective and ensure that you still choose him.

Argyle

Argyle would respond with playful humor and a touch of mischief. He would try to diffuse the tension by making light of the situation, teasing the guy who flirted with you in a good-natured way. Argyle's love for you would be expressed through his desire to make you laugh and feel at ease, reminding you that you're with someone who can handle any challenge that comes your way.

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago

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Masterlist will continue to be added to as submissions come in 🥰

I Want You To Want Me - Eddie Munson x Reader by @munson-blurbs

A Hot, Cheesy Pizza Guy - Argyle x Reader by @wheels-of-despair

Until I Found You - Billy Hargrove x Reader by @miheartsedthings

Nancy’s Mom - Karen Wheeler x Reader by @wheels-of-despair

Can You Feel It? - Billy Hargrove x Reader by @wheels-of-despair

#eddie munson x reader #argyle x reader #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove x reader #robin buckley x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #jonathan byers x reader #this is music event #fic rec

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heartbreak-sandwich · 1 year ago

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✨ Master List ✨

18+, MINORS DNI ~ Ageless or underage blogs will be blocked; this content is for adults only. Thank you for understanding 💕

{❤️‍🔥} smut {✨} fluff {🔥} angst {🕊️} contains trigger warnings {📖} series {💭} headcanons {🦄} oneshots {👽} au

🔥 REQUESTS ARE CONSIDERED 🔥 📖 Currently writing for: (Stranger Things) Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley; (Fargo) Gator Tillman *If you have any requests outside of the scope, just send me a message, and we can talk about it! ✨

*Thank you so much to those who have enjoyed my work! Feedback, comments, and reblogs are amazing forms of support and always so appreciated!*

HOHOHOE WEEK 2023 HOLIDAY MINI SERIES Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC (JJ Feron) BLUE CHRISTMAS {❤️‍🔥📖} CANDY CANE LANE {❤️‍🔥📖} WARM ME UP {❤️‍🔥📖}

YOU MADE A FOOL OF DEATH WITH YOUR BEAUTY (finished) Jennifer's Body AU Billy Hargrove x Tommy Hagan; Billy Hargrove x Jason Carver {❤️‍🔥👽🦄🕊️} [Read on Ao3]

RED LETTERS TO NOWHERE (WIP) Stepbro!Billy Hargrove x Mayfield!Reader {📖✨🔥👽❤️‍🔥} [Read on Ao3] 💕 CHAPTER ONE: Move-In Day CHAPTER TWO: Certain Type of People

SNEAK PEEK PART ONE SNEAK PEEK PART TWO

ANIMAL MAGNETISM (finished) Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader {📖🔥❤️‍🔥} [Read on Ao3] 💕 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

ECHOES OF REDEMPTION: LOVE AND SHADOWS IN HAWKINS A Tale of Growing Up, Rock 'n' Roll, and the Battle Against an Unseen World (WIP) Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader {📖👽} [Read on Ao3] 💕 CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR

HE'S THE BAD GUY (finished) Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader {❤️‍🔥✨🦄}

CUTE SECRET DATE TURNED RELATIONSHIP (requested) Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader {✨}

NSFW HEADCANONS {💭} Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

YOU JUST WANT TO FEEL FULL OF HIM {❤️‍🔥} Billy Hargrove x afab!Reader (gn pronouns)

IN THE SHOWER {❤️‍🔥} Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

ON THE HOOD OF BILLY'S CAMARO {❤️‍🔥} Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

BILLY HARGROVE IS YOUR BOYFRIEND {💭} Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

BILLY APOLOGIZES {✨} Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

JEALOUS BILLY COMFORTS YOU {✨🦄}

SIDES OF BILLY ONLY YOU SEE {💭✨}

WAKING UP NEXT TO BILLY {✨🦄}

🐊 Gator Tillman🐊

69 IN A 60 (finished) Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader {❤️‍🔥}

GOOD COP/BAD COP (finished) Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader {❤️‍🔥}

KISSING HEADCANONS {💭}

STEVE HARRINGTON IS YOUR BOYFRIEND {💭} Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

THE CUMPETITION (finished) Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler {❤️‍🔥🦄👽}

EDDIE MUNSON IS YOUR BOYFRIEND {💭} Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

FULL CIRCLE WARNINGS (finished) {🔥🦄👽}

PLEASURE DOM EDDIE BLURB Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader {❤️‍🔥}

💕 Argyle 💕

ARGYLE IS YOUR BOYFRIEND {💭} Argyle x Fem!Reader

💕 Jonathan Byers 💕

JONATHAN BYERS IS YOUR BOYFRIEND {💭} Jonathan Byers x Fem!Reader

💕 Other 💕

ST BOYS UNEXPECTED TALENTS {💭✨}

METALHAMSANDWICH DOMESTIC CUTENESS {💭✨}

MUNGROVE MEETING {✨🦄}

RONANCE BLURB - NANCY REALIZES HER FEELINGS {✨🦄}

ST GIRLS DURING BAD BREAKUPS {💭🔥}

ST BOYS AS FATHERS {💭✨}

This list is updated regularly! ✨ Please feel free to send me an ask or message with any requests or questions, and thank you so much for visiting 🥰

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 1 year ago

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Rambles - E.Munson

Summary - Eddie hosts a holiday party, Wayne not expecting 15 people to show up at their trailer. Although the trailer was filled with his friends, he spent most of the party outside with one of his closest friends, Y/N, sharing a joint.

Word Count - 737

Warnings - Female reader, Use of drugs(weed), use of Y/N

Author's Note - Welcome to day five! I'm still keeping up so hopefully I will be able to keep up for the next 20 days! We shall see!

my masterlist

25 days of fics masterlist

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

A year ago, Eddie would have thought he was crazy for spending the holidays with Steve Harrington and Y/N Y/L/N, but this year, it seemed perfectly normal. Wayne had allowed him to host a party in their trailer for his friends. The deal was just Eddie’s friends and nobody else. However, Wayne had vastly underestimated how many friends Eddie actually had. The trailer was packed with people, everyone from Hellfire, including Lucas, was there, Max, El, Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Robin, Steve, Y/N and Will. There were 16 people packed into the trailer like a bunch of sardines, when Wayne showed up, he was quite surprised with the amount of friends his nephew had accumulated over the last year.

Most of the older teens had taken over Eddie’s bedroom, the younger ones taking over the living room. Y/N and Eddie were sitting outside on the steps leading up to the front door, sharing a joint as they sat in a comfortable silence. She was the one to break it after a short while. “Wayne seemed surprised with how many people showed up,” She pointed out.

“He thought I was only inviting the Hellfire guys but I don’t think he realized how many people I’m actually friends with,” He replied, “It’s weird to think about really. I mean I had maybe 3 friends last year but this year there are 15 people at my trailer because they chose to be friends with me.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be friends with you? You are one of the best people I’ve had the joy of meeting. You’re like one of my favorite people ever, everyday with you is something new. Nothing is ever the same and I love that because it makes hanging out with you so much more fun because I never know what you’re gonna do,” She rambled, Eddie’s cheeks turning a bright pink color.

“You ramble when you smoke,” Eddie pointed out, “It’s cute.”

“Shut up.” She bumped her shoulder into his with a smile on her face. The two of them shared a laugh before talking about random things that popped into their minds. They sat out there for a few hours just talking and laughing, only going inside as the younger kids started to leave. The number of people in the house dwindling, Steve, Nancy and Robin all left, it was just Gareth, Jeff and Doug hanging out on the couch with Wayne.

Y/N was getting giggly because she had smoked a little too much. “She’s gonna crash here tonight, if that’s okay Uncle Wayne,” Eddie mentioned. Wayne gave him a noncommittal grunt. He took her hand and led her to his room, Gareth whistling at the pair and Jeff clapping which resulted in a middle finger from both of them.

This hadn’t been the first time she had stayed over with Eddie, she had stayed over so often that Wayne was just used to her staying. It’s not like Eddie brought girls over, the only girl that was ever at the trailer consistently was Y/N. As they got to his room, he handed her a pair of his boxers and a long sleeve shirt to wear for the night, taking out a pair of long flannel pajama pants. The two of them getting changed with their backs turned to each other before climbing into his bed and getting under the covers.

They laid beside each other, on their sides just looking at one another. She started to giggle again which made Eddie start chuckling. “What is so funny?” He asked between his laughter.

“I don’t know,” She giggled with glee. The two of them laughed for nearly 30 minutes before being able to calm down enough to talk. “You’re so handsome,” She said suddenly.

“You’re so beautiful,” He responded with a smile. She pressed her forehead to his as they looked into each other’s eyes. “Your eyes are so red.”

“So are yours.”

Both of them fell asleep not long after, their tiredness sneaking up on them. Wayne had checked on them before he had gone to bed, finding the two of them face to face and holding onto one another tightly. He had gently shut the door with a smile on his face, happy for his nephew even though the pair weren’t together just yet. He knew it wouldn’t be very long until the two got together.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #corroded coffin #stranger things fic #wayne munson #stranger things #eddie st4 #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #gareth emerson #hellfire club #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle

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honeysuckleharringtons · 9 months ago

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You are invited to:

Hello, lovely people of the internet! I promise I am not dead, just been going through some things lol. On a happier note though, I am so excited to share this little thing with you all!

Idk why but like a week ago I just randomly decided "hey, what better way to celebrate summer than by writing about a certain bat wielding bisexual who takes up every crevice of my mind?" and thus...

IT'S TIME FOR SUMMER CAMP!

The Main Attractions:

Happy Camper - fluff requests

Looking to cuddle with your muse by the fire? Then look no further than "Happy Camper"!

Bow and Arrow - angst requests

Maybe you're looking for something a bit more ouchie? If so, "Bow and Arrow" is right up your alley!

Dear Diary - headcanon requests

Want a quick summer read that's short, sweet, and to the point? Just ask for "Dear Diary"!

I Want S'more:

Cabin Fever - domestic!au

Wanting to spend the day at your vacation home with your muse? Then "Cabin Fever" is the way to go!

Counselors' Lounge - work!au

Do you love a good colleagues to lovers moment? You should ask for "Counselors' Lounge"!

Talent Show - celebrity!au

Have you or your muse always wanted to be a rockstar? Then look no further than "Talent Show"!

Macaroni Necklaces - royalty!au

Perhaps you've always wanted to be treated like the queen you are? Well, "Macaroni Necklaces" should be just right for you!

"Ghost Stories" - fantasy!au

Looking to add a supernatural flare to your blurb? Just ask for "Ghost Stories"!

Past Universes I'm Happy to Write for Again:

Single Dad!Steve

Brew and Me!Steve

Cat Dad!Eddie

Star Boy!Billy

Any other fics you'd like to see spin-offs of, really!

The Rules:

🎒 This event will run through until July 31st! - okay, so the flyer is a bit misleading... but i promise, August will have something just as exciting as this event!

🎒 Send asks to designated blogs! - i think it goes without saying this is a courtesy to me so i don't get posts confused. but if you have any questions about my other blogs, or really anything related to requests, be sure to check my pinned post or just ask me!

🎒 Please be respectful to the blogger and to others! - remember to use your noggin when putting in requests! treat people with kindness always!

🎒 Please be understanding when putting in requests! - i am simply one person who has ebbs and flows in life. while i try to get to everything in a timely manner, i do get overwhelmed sometimes. please be courteous and gracious when putting in requests. i promise i see all of you and try to get to everything as quickly as i can!

Thank you all so much for bearing with me these past few months! I know there are things you're all still waiting (cough cough, B&M ending) but I am thankful that you've all been very patient. I am so thankful for each and every single of you. I wish you all a very happy summer! ⛵️🧡

mutuals! feel free to spread the word if you'd like! no pressure as always! ❤️

@dungeons-are-too-cold @writer-in-theory @rupsmorge @serenity-lattes @stevesmunsons @appocalipse @reputationmunson @sadgirlml @gay-prentiss

dividers: @strangergraphics

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blakeswritingimagines · 2 years ago

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When they walk in on you changing

Eddie: If he had accidentally walked in on you and saw you getting dressed, he would most likely quickly shut the door to make sure you don't get embarrassed, although he would feel a little bad for interrupting your personal time. He would probably then ask you if you'd like any help with getting dressed.

Gareth: He would be shocked and embarrassed if he accidentally walked in on you getting dressed. He would immediately avert his eyes and look away, apologizing profusely for the intrusion. After a few seconds of awkwardly standing there, he would try to exit the room as quickly as he could, hoping that you hadn't noticed him staring.

Steve: He would enter the room and observe you getting dressed without realizing it. He would likely watch for a moment, before deciding how to react. Perhaps he would approach you, and strike up a conversation as he playfully flirts with you. Or he might simply back out of the room, and give you some privacy.

Robin: Well, she'd probably be surprised to see you in a state of undress. It might be a bit awkward, but you'd probably just laugh it off and go back to getting dressed she’d feel more calm about it all. She could try to look away, or just apologize and move on with her day or at least the best she could with a blushing face.

Nancy: If she walked in on you, getting dressed, she would quickly look away. She would be embarrassed, and she would respect your privacy. She would apologize for accidentally walking in, and she would try to give you some space, to continue getting dressed.

Jonathan: "Oh my god I'm so sorry!" Jonathan hurriedly turns away from you getting dressed, embarrassed and flustered, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to intrude on you, I was just..." He trails off, unable to think of anything to excuse himself.

Argyle: His eyes would widen and he'd quickly look away, feeling a surge of heat wash over his face. He'd offer an apology and explain that he didn't realize you were getting dressed. He'd also offer to give you some privacy if that would be more comfortable for you.

Billy: He feels that you must have heard him coming, how could you not know there was someone there? He thinks if your going to be stupid about it, then let you be embarrassed. He won't care. It's not like you'd put much of a show anyway, what is he supposed to do? Go apologize?.

Henry: He feels you'll get over it. And it was an accident, it's not like he knew you were getting changed. What else is there to say? It's over, let's move on. He’s got better things to do than listen to you whine.

#eddie munson x reader #gareth emerson x reader #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #nancy wheeler x reader #jonathan byers x reader #argyle x reader #billy hargrove x reader #henry creel x reader #stranger things headcanons #stranger things hc #stranger things

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curiositydooropened · 1 year ago

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Wildfire • Pyre

Reunions with old friends leads to more information about Vickie's death. You and Steve seem to be growing closer, falling back into old roles. But something dark lingers in the recesses of your mind.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Chapter Wordcount: 8,528

Warnings: enemies/rivals to lovers, second chance romance, slooooowburn, unrequited love, so much pining, blood, gore, character death, best friend!disabled!Eddie Munson, character injuries, trauma, PTSD, hallucinations, drowning, concussion, hurt/comfort, fire, panic attacks, insomnia

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Chapter Three: Ignite • Chapter Five: Searing

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NOW

September 1988

Everything Rightside Up existed in saturation. Blue skies were blue. The red-oranges of fallen leaves were ruddy and neon. Green leaves of canned spinach were mossy and vibrant. Even the stark whites were brighter, cornea-burningly so.

Your mouth felt dry as you approached the Med Bay, sneakers squeaking on linoleum beside the steady rhythm of Eddie’s shoes matched with the creak of his walker. His hair and eyes were painted in rich chocolates today, his skin almost as blinding as the walls that surrounded you.

“I think you’re doing a good thing,” he reassured, raising the fingers on one hand to twinkle a wave at Sandra, the beautiful girl behind the counter who buzzed you in. Disinfectant stung in your nostrils.

“I think I’m doing a neutral thing,” you argued, holding the door open for him to pass through. “He doesn’t want to see me. He probably isn’t even awake yet. Maybe he’s a vegetable.”

“Henderson said he flipped him off yesterday,” Munson grinned. “He’s fine, and he does want to see you.”

“Henderson?” You frowned, taking a step backwards from the threshold whence you came, thumbing to a different section of the building, far away from the people in lab coats and the looming threat that lay ahead. “Oh, I better go check in with him then.”

Eddie caught your wrist and propelled you back toward him. “You saved Harrington’s life. I would kill for an opportunity like that. You get to lord it over him forever now.”

You sighed, faked a smile, tried not ignore the pit in your stomach, tried to forget the sting of ash and decay as you stripped yourself of your pack and ducked beside the brick fireplace, the only part of that little house that remained standing.

You’d called out for Steve, again and again, panic stinging your lungs just as it had when you’d lost Vickie. Then the adrenaline kicked in, her voice and his, Steve’s, echoing instructions in your mind. Lift here, tug there. Your squats had come in handy. You walkied back to base, got an emergency evac vehicle.

When you found Harrington, he was unconscious, face caked in ash, blood pooling somewhere beneath him. He was lucky he’d been in the stairwell and not any higher. A millisecond sooner, and he’d have been crushed by a toilet, a vanity, a king-sized bed. You cleared the rubble, checked him for major breakages, and hoisted him onto your back. He was so heavy.

“Just go in and tell him to say ‘thank you’ or you’ll pull the plug.” Eddie was shoving you through another door, but you noticed he hadn’t hurried to follow.

“Aren’t you coming with me?” You hissed, offering a nervous smile to a nearby man in mint scrubs.

“Nope,” your best friend grinned. “Got me a receptionist to flirt with.” He tousled his curls and leaned casually against a long countertop.

Sandra appeared just over his shoulder, a sweet smile on her round face. “Two doors down,” she gestured.

With clenched fists, you inched ahead as instructed. You were sweating. You didn’t even know what you were going to say. You just wanted to see if he looked small, if his hair still coifed perfectly against cotton sheets, if his mouth would turn up at the corners when he saw you.

Your fingertips pressed to the door, and you heard laughing inside, a rasped voice. Your heart sank, stomach rolled. You glanced sideways into an open window and saw dirty blonde and freckles, and you turned heel for the start of the hallway.

Eddie stood on the other side of a closed door, waggling his fingertips, too-mischievous a smile playing across cat-like features.

Then, she said your name.

Robin Buckley stood ten feet away. She was dressed in civies, hair crimped and vest buttoned, and her sweet, freckled cheeks were pinched pink to compliment the sad sea of blue in her eyes. Her hand was raised in a greeting, the other arm wrapped around her ribcage, a shield, a nervous stance.

You swallowed, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. But some other force was pushing you forward, one step at a time to split the distance.

Her arms were around you in seconds, spindly, soft, and she smelled exactly as you always remembered: vanilla and patchouli, weed. She was warm, a bit of home you hadn’t had in months, hadn’t deserved. You didn’t deserve her.

You pulled away, swallowing the lump in your throat, blinking away any emotional that threatened. “I was just coming to visit uh…” You gestured inwards, at a boy in too big a bed, brow crinkled, hair a riot against stark white linens. His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw clenched.

“Oh yeah we were just,” she rasped, graveled voice sweet as honey. She gestured inward and paused before you watched her own eyebrow quirk. “Sleeping. He just fell asleep.”

You settled on, “oh, good.” You didn’t feel right in your body, didn’t feel present, didn’t feel necessary. You’d interrupted a moment. You were an intruder.

“Lucky for you,” Robin crossed to Steve’s bedside and grabbed her bag, tossing it over one shoulder, “I’m starving. Shall we go get some lunch?”

You blinked at the invitation, the white walls closing in. She stared expectantly, soft blues and tans. “Oh, one of us should probably stay with…” You gestured once more toward the boy. The frown hadn’t left his face, though now it felt more of a grimace. You wondered if he might be in pain.

“He’s fine,” Robin insisted, and you felt slender fingers jostle your shoulder. “Come on. Looks like you could use to get out of this Hell hole.”

You turned to look at Steve one last time, as you were herded along the corridor and back to reception, and his face had settled to one of peace.

—

She drove you miles out of town, somewhere south, where a dry dirt road met a diner with a view of the lake. Ducks gathered at the banks and a child cried in a mother’s arms, and the sweet smell of maple syrup flooded your senses with some otherworldly nostalgia that ached in your molars and ribcage.

She chatted the whole way there, as Robin was apt to do, a mess of words about life and her parents and foregoing university for community outreach, and you clutched the belt at your chest like it were a life vest.

She ordered a club sandwich with fries, and promised to share when you ordered a salad, not sure you could keep anything down. Not with the world on its axis like this, not with her cherry-stained smile as if nothing was wrong, as if this threesome wasn’t missing it’s essential party.

“Thanks so much,” she smiled at the woman setting drinks down between you. The same red plastic cups you found in the Mess Hall made you feel like you were trapped in a simulation, some sort of sick joke.

Robin stirred the ice in her soft drink with a red-and-white striped straw, and you watched the bubbles fizz through dark liquid to burst at the top. “Before I force you to tell me what the Hell is going on with you and Steve, I have to tell you something.”

You blinked back at her, the water in front of you unappetizing despite the dryness of your mouth.

There was something uncanny about the way she spoke, too chipper, too soft, but you noticed she was avoiding your gaze, staring instead at the rings she wound around her fingers. Her nails were chipped in navy blues. “And I know you’re going to argue with me, because that’s who you are, and I’m not going to engage with that because this is honestly just my truth, you know? And I’ve spent a long time thinking about this, so I know how I feel.”

“Robin,” you cut-off her anxious rambling, an auto-response you’d built over the last couple of years, muscle memory.

Her mouth closed, and you watched the tick of her jaw, sunlight pouring in to cast her in honey and warmth. She was a thing of beauty, and to watch the wobble in her bottom lip as she clamped down it drew the breath from you.

You sat in silence, wringing the paper napkin in your lap while she chipped more fervently at the blue polish, bits of it scattered across a coffee-stained tabletop.

“I’m mad at you,” she finally came out with it, and the quaver in her voice punched you right in the stomach. Her eyes shone, harsh, dark. “I’m so fucking mad at you, and it’s so frustrating because it’s not even your fault, not really.”

You swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall, the ache that clawed your inside with sharp talons and flower-faced teeth.

“It’s not your fault she was flayed. It’s not your fault she had no other choice. It’s not your fault you didn’t have a choice, but none of that is what I’m mad about anyway,” she continued to ramble, twisting the rings around her fingers. “I’m mad that you left me. You just ditched me, and I understand you’re hurting, and I’m so sorry for that, but did you think for like half-a-second that I’m hurting too? And all I needed for the past three months was my best friend? You left me alone with Steve, for Christ’s sake. Steve! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love him with all of my heart, but he’s not good with things like this. He’s getting better, but he doesn’t know her like you do, and sometimes I just need to talk about her and -”

“Robin,” you stopped her again, your breathing matching hers in speed, heart racing, lungs strained against your ribcage.

Her mouth slammed shut, and her fingers went to her ears like a petulant child. “I’m not going to hear anything you have to say unless its an apology.”

Your mouth hung open at that, processing her emotions, your own. A bell caught on the breeze, the softest of sounds, and then it felt like fingers carded through your hair, a hand to your shoulder, warmth, comfort, light. You released a sigh, “Robin, I’m so so sorry.”

The corners of her lips turned up, and she rolled her eyes, reaching for the red plastic up. “I forgive you, obviously. Idiot.” She toed at your knee with the rubber toe of her shoe while she drank, and you both laughed off the emotion prickling in your eyes.

You picked up your own water with a trembling hand and downed the ice cold liquid, letting it dampen the swell in your throat and chest.

“Now that that’s settled, please tell me what the hell is going on between you and Dingus. The boy tells me nothing.”

—

As the heat of summer fell away into fall, the sun went with it. You awoke in darkness, struggled to pull yourself out of bed after restless sleep. Daylight faded from the farmland too quickly, a mask of yellowed orange that covered naked branches that twisted up through browning leaves. It was cold and dark and reminded you of that place, an unfriendly reminder that loomed over your shoulder as you ran, lap after lap around a track.

Three days after your lunch with Robin, you’d managed to peel yourself from sweat-drenched sheets to run off the dread that settled from a nightmare. You’d run with a friendly tune in your head, tainted ominous by each thump of footfall against the track, eery by the humming under your breath against the water pressure from the shower, your own voice echoing off tile walls.

The sun was just coming up by the time you entered the dormitory corridor, dim warmth that seeped from sitting quarters and splashed across heavy steel doors.

You scrubbed excess water from your ear with the towel draped over your shoulders and rounded the last corner, halting when you saw shadow framing your door. Tall, with broad shoulders, hand-raised in a knock.

You sidestepped, tilted your head to get a better look, and nearly screeched to a halt when you reached an angle that let the light shine in.

Steve Harrington waited for you to answer your door, jaw clenched, sporting short hair. It had been buzzed around his neck and ears, but remained long on top, parted down the center in adverse to his signature coif, a mess of brown that he tousled in one hand.

You blinked back at him, taking in his stance, tight and uncomfortable, before it all sunk in.

He was awake. He was standing. He suffered no broken bones, only a concussion and several bumps and bruises, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. He was waiting at your door.

“Shit,” you snapped yourself out of it and crossed to him.

He startled and spun on his heel to face you, eyes alight with surprise. He looked good like this, more adult. Maybe that was the official nature of his stance, or the stack of documents he held under one arm. “Um… hi.” He greeted, scratching at the back of his neck. You wondered if he missed the locks back there that were so easy to sink your fingers into.

You swallowed, blinked back at him. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, extending a hand your direction, although the look on his face was less comforting than perturbed.

“Your hair,” you gestured, biting back a sarcastic smile aching at your cheeks. “Are you okay?”

That famous Harrington eye roll greeted you, and he shifted to expose the stack of manila envelopes under his arm, wrapping his knuckles against the top. “I brought you something to look at. Could we uh…?” He nodded the closed door to your room.

“Oh, shit, yeah,” you shuffled with the key in your pocket, the little brass thing tethered to a decade old friendship bracelet that had long since fallen off Vickie’s wrist.

Harrington stepped out of your way, and you fumbled with the lock until the door popped open to reveal a mess of dirty laundry and dishes strewn about. You cursed under your breath and scurried to kick things into their appropriate corners. You winced at the crash of plates in your sink, and scurried to the bed to pull the duvet up and over two scrunched pillows.

Harrington set his haul on your rickety table.

When you’d finished your tidy, you turned to face him, a bit flustered, but you hadn’t anticipated catching him in the act of sizing up his own reflection in the mirror. He frowned, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to flatten the sheer volume peaking the fringe pieces.

“It looks good,” you offered, delighted when he jumped at the sound of your voice, hand snapping back to his side.

“They um… they had to do it for the stitches.” He gestured to the back of his head.

Following the curvature of his skull on the left side were ten tiny stitches, black thread holding his flesh together where there’d been a gaping wound. You’d wrapped something around him to stop the bleeding, your shirt, maybe. You couldn’t remember much from that horrible morning, only the aches of your muscles as the exhaustion willed you to sleep on a cot in the Med Bay that first night you’d been asked to quarantine.

“How’re you feeling?” You asked.

Harrington nodded. He watched his own fingers dance along the tabletop. “Good. Nothing broken. They released me about an hour ago.” He glanced up at you, a shadow cast from the bridge of his nose as morning light began to seep in from frosted windows.

“Good,” you managed a soft smile, hoped he could feel the relief that relaxed your shoulders.

“Hey, um…” He scratched at that stubble on the base of his neck once more. “Thank you for uh… saving my ass.” His eyes found yours, humble and honest.

You took a few steps forward and hesitated to reach for his arm until he put his hand out to catch yours. You gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Guess those squats were worth it after all.”

You bit back another smile, stomach swooping as one again his eyes rolled back into his head. You released his hand and swatted at his stomach before pulling out a chair at your little rickety table to seat yourself at. “You need to lay off the brisket, big boy. I nearly threw my back out.”

“You need to quit hanging out with Munson,” Harrington slid into the seat next to you, spinning the stack of files your direction. “You’re staring to sound just like him.”

You cocked a brow. “You threw Munson’s back out?”

Watching him fight back sass tickled you more than you thought it might, the same relief you felt pulling Robin into a hug after your day out together. It felt like your axis was righting itself, like maybe your world was staring to feel a little less Upside Down.

Harrington tapped two fingers to the top of the pile in front of you. “Erica stole these for me. If anyone finds out, we’re screwed. And we owe her our dessert cards for the next two months.”

You snorted and flipped open the soft manila folder to find the face of a bright-eyed girl with red hair and freckles. Her jaw had been tightened, eyes a little wild, determined, and God, she’d been so young. Instinctively, your fingertips trailed the glossy coating of the photograph, and you wished you could feel the softness of her skin, smell her mom’s detergent on her clothes. You wished you could wrap her into your arms, like you’d done with Robin, and make her laugh, Hell, make her roll her eyes like you did with Steve.

“These are her files, anything Erica could get her hands on. I peeked through them, but I didn’t want to get too far in without you.” Steve said, voice achingly soft beside you. “They’re in chronological order. Psych eval, medical tests.”

You thumbed through the first few pages, her enlistment form. Perfectly typewritten was every historical accuracy about your best friend. Her full name, the street she grew up on, her blood type. And after a few pages, you’d come across a picture of yourself, your information labeled under PARTNER.

“If anything’s too hard to get through, let me know.” Your new partner leaned forward on his forearms, staring at your upside down photograph, his hair falling into his eyes.

You swallowed, nodded, and turned another page.

—

Hours had gone by, you weren’t sure how long, but the warm light cast upon Steve’s face suggested it was mid-afternoon, broaching evening. You’d learned much about your best friend and at the same time nothing at all. You’d choked upon all of the times she defended you, or told a higher up how wonderful you were, how worthy, how competent. Never once were you disparaged. Never once had she fought or fallen out of line.

You wondered if you should have started at the bottom of the pile, worked your way back to the moment she’d been flayed, but when you’d mentioned, Steve halted your wrist and told you he’d take the bottom half. You thought to argue, to protest, but the look in his eye was soft, not scolding, and the grip on your wrist was loose.

You caught yourself watching him work, both of your voices hoarse from passages read aloud. When he concentrated, his brow crinkled, and the tip of his tongue stuck to the corners of his lips. You’d caught him, on several occasions, harrumphing over hair fallen into his eyes that couldn’t be tossed back like it used to.

Now, as you glanced up from another mission log transcription, you saw the wave of warmth fan his features, and immediately he winced at the glare, fingers rubbing at bloodshot eyes.

“Are you okay?” You asked, alarmed at the grit of his teeth.

“Yeah, just um…” He squinted your direction. “Eye strain, I think. I should have been wearing my glasses.”

You leapt up, if for no other reason than you cover him with your shadow, the frosted glass above your bed lacking curtains. “The concussion probably doesn’t help. Let’s take a break.”

He emitted a soft groan and rubbed at his eyes again, pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefingers. “You’re probably right. Is that okay?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself and glanced down at the heft of his pile still remaining, hidden pages calling out to you. “Yeah, totally. It’s all kind of blurring together at this point anyway.”

“Yeah, right,” he inched his way up and out of his chair, retrieving a sweatshirt he’d shed toward early afternoon off the back of his chair and stuffing his head into it. He’d unintentionally crowded your space, all limbs, and he smelled clean and a little sterile.

Somewhere in his reflection, a flash of orange caught your eye. You glanced sideways at the dingy mirror, the expanse of his back, the stitched scar at the base of his skull.

“Do me a favor?” He muttered, running his fingers through his hair for the dozenth time.

You hummed and tore your gaze from the mirror image.

“Don’t look at that stuff without me.”

The piles sat between you, typewritten notes on stark white pages that beckoned. You glanced downward and caught your name, a conversation with Owens post-mission. Just a handful of pages beneath that was the log you knew you were looking for, maybe images taken post-mortem, maybe a death certificate.

“We just don’t know what it could kick up. What if it triggers something?” Harrington wrapped his knuckles against the tabletop, recapturing your attention.

You swallowed, eyes a little glassy from exhaustion, and nodded. “Sure, yeah. You want to take them with you?”

He shook his head, shrugged. “I trust you.” He turned and clicked open the door. The hallway beyond was quiet, dark save the glow of a red EXIT sign. Before he left, he turned to offer a squinted smile, the faintest upturn of his pink lips. “You going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassured. Something had shifted, crashed apart with the stairs of that house. Moments that bond often have this affect on relationships, you’d discovered that much over the past few years.

Steve nodded and left, door closing softly behind him.

As he did so, the papers on the tabletop fluttered closer to you, an unseen force shifting things back into your line of sight. A label slipped out of the bottom stack, and typed in careful letters you read the word ‘FLAYED’.

—

You left in a hurry, shoving all of your dirty clothes into a basket to haul downstairs. You took a turn on the track as your pants dried. You avoided your room like something had begun to grow in the walls, a pitch black ooze that spread with every footstep.

You couldn’t be there, couldn’t read it, and yet every inch of you itched to know the truth, to get answers.

When you’d exhausted most avenues of distraction, you finally found yourself in the corridor just south of the Caf. Moonlight pooled in through windows along the hall, casting everything in sterile whites and soft greys. Your stomach rumble was louder than each footstep. The kitchen staff had locked the pantries to maintain rations, but this wasn’t your first excursion sneaking in for a midnight snack.

Your laundry basket released from your hands and fell with a thwack to the linoleum before you elbowed through one of the swinging double doors, port hole window catching your reflection in the moonlight. The kitchen was otherwise pitch black, and you hadn’t needed a flashlight for the laundry room.

Taking careful steps in the darkness, you narrowly avoided a butcher’s block, but smacked your hip bone against a wide, metal stove. Pots and pans clattered above you, and you scrambled to keep them afloat, cursing yourself for definitely waking anyone sleeping at least five floors up.

“Hello?” The seam to the walk-in split open, and you were suddenly blinded in a thick beam of warm light.

You held your hands up to shield your eyes, and when you heard your name, you peered into the darkness to make out the broad-shouldered silhouette of your new partner. “Harrington?”

He tilted the torchlight from your vision, and you saw he had a baseball bat over his other shoulder, of which nail spikes were sparkling from the end. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” He grumbled, turning back into the refrigerator as though this was a perfectly normal occasion.

“What the Hell?” You sighed and followed him. “What’re you doing down here?”

He shrugged, spinning the flashlight in his hand to give you the handle. Then, he pulled a three gallon tub of ice cream off a nearby shelf and hoisted it under his arm. “What does it look like I’m doing down here?”

He pushed past you in a fog of steamed breath, and you followed before the door slammed shut. He dropped the tub onto a countertop with a hollow thud and the bat scraped along the ground as he propped it next.

You watched him search a couple of drawers for two spoons, illuminating his path back to you.

“I haven’t had ice cream in like three years,” he explained, taking the flashlight from you to prop on a windowsill near him. Reflected light illuminated the hollows of his cheeks, the bags under his eyes. “But I’ve had this crazy hankering since that house fell on me.”

You snorted and hoisted yourself onto the countertop beside him, ice from the tub melting against your bare leg. “Why the aversion to ice cream?”

Steve sighed, peeling the lid from the top and handing you a spoon before diving in himself. “When you spend half a summer slinging cones and banana splits, the smell of it gets a little sickening.”

You’d almost forgotten, memories of Starcourt Mall feeling like another lifetime. Vickie and you had gone every weekend after it opened, delighting in the comfortable seating at the movie theatre and spending far too many hours pouring over albums at the music store. She’d insist on scoops from Scoops just before you left, and you’d initially thought she was fawning over the sailor boy, with his voluminous, highlighted hair, his doe eyes, his glossy lips. Turns out, she wanted to gawk at her pep band compatriot, the pretty, awkward girl with band-aids on her knees.

You watched over the tub as he took his bite in shadow, eyelashes fanning his cheeks, brows furrowed against the cold. “How is it?” You smiled, reaching in near to your elbow to take a scoop for yourself. There was no way to tell what flavor it was at this point, but knowing the quality of food at the caf, you had a feeling your options were limited to chocolate or vanilla.

“It’s no SS Butterscotch,” but he went back in, spoon clanging against your own. “What’re you doing down here?”

You shrugged, spooned frigid cream into your mouth. You winced at the cold, but the sweet vanilla cream melted against your taste buds, and you sighed, leaning against the wall behind you. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Did you read any more of Vickie’s file?” He winced around the cold, brought his fist up to cover a cough.

You frowned back at him. “You told me not to.”

His eyebrows raised at that, and he shrugged, shoveling himself another spoonful. “I didn’t think you’d listen. I use that tactic with the kids.”

“Hey, fuck you,” you growled, mouthful.

In the silhouette, you swear you caught a smirk flash across boyish features. “So… I heard you talked to Robin.”

You hummed, the chill from your ice cream and the metal countertop creating a small shiver. You shifted your thighs, unsticking them from the surface, and tugged down on your shorts. “Yeah, we had a really nice lunch the other day.”

He avoided eye contact, licking his spoon clean.

Over French fries, your heartfelt apologies turned to chatter, the two of you falling back into old rhythms, humming old ear worms and gossiping. Robin vented about the try-hard team lead in her gardening society, and you, with matched eye rolls, vented about Steve’s overbearing demeanor when it came to the mats, the pool, the turf. Robin ensured you he was like that in the beginning, and that he’s just protective. You couldn’t help but feel the fizz of your stomach when she mentioned he cared about you.

You wondered how much she’d shared. “I uh… I apologized for going AWOL.” You spun your spoon between your fingers, the cool metal glinting in dim light.

“Why did you,” he asked after a long moment, voice cutting the stillness in the air, “go AWOL?”

You glanced up at him again, and this time he was watching you, eyes hooded in shadow, but the glint of them traced your features. You swallowed and looked away, stared instead at his silhouette on the adjacent wall, the curve of a strong brow and nose and jaw, the dip of his throat.

You struggled for words, feeling the heat of him staring you down, but finally you settled on an explanation that felt right. “Because I’m a coward, and because I didn’t feel I deserved her friendship, not after all of the heartache I caused. Still don’t.”

He didn’t respond, and you sat in silence for a long while until you felt brave enough to look at him again. His shoulders were slumped, and his lips were parted as if he were going to ask something else.

Terrified he might spill some truth that you weren’t ready for, you spilled out a question that had been lingering for months, a year. “What did I do to make you hate me?” The words felt sticky, your throat coated with vanilla ice cream and regret.

His jaw slammed shut, eyes tracking yours once more.

“We used to be…” Bets placed on the Scorch field, the sparring mats, shot-for-shot from the whisky glass snuck out of Hopper’s office desk drawer, truth or dare whispered while Robin and Vickie slept in an adjacent bed, the exchange of steamed breath watching the stars, nose-to-nose, the flutter of lashes. “Friends. Then we were all up for Scorch Leads, and you just… went AWOL.”

You picked at the rolled paper lip of the ice cream tub, focusing on that spot instead of the eyes watching you. “Is my competitiveness really that annoying?”

“Yes,” he said, snapping your attention back to his mouth, and the corners had curled every so slightly.

You warmed, rolled your eyes.

He scratched at the stubble on the back of his neck, rolled his shoulders. “You want to know why I was such an asshole when we were up for that promotion?”

You nodded. Another shiver wracked through you, and you realized you’d been leaning against the tub.

Steve sighed, picked the lid off the counter beside you and replaced it, the top puffing with air when it was sealed. “Remember that first mission? When they dumped us in the middle of nowhere and we had to find our way back? And you and Vickie took twice as long as everyone else?”

“It was not twice as long,” you rolled your eyes. It took you so long because you had to be thorough, you had to prove yourself, no one wanted it more than you. When you’d heard about Team Lead promotions, it was the first time in years you felt like your existence was made for something. Your expertise paid off.

Your new partner lifted the tub and carried it back across the room to the walk-in, catching the swing of the door with his shoe.

You hopped off the countertop and tossed metal spoons into a massive metal sink. They clanged near the drain.

Steve’s voice was muffled from inside the freezer. “Robin and I waited at the Gate for you. She wore a hole in the pavement pacing, and I sat with my back to a big tree and realized I’d do whatever it took to win, or at least to make sure you guys didn’t.” He returned with a banana, which he placed into your palm before going for his bat and flashlight.

“What’s this for?” You held up the fruit, cold to the touch and followed him out the swinging double doors.

“Potassium’s good for muscles, and it helps your body process calcium.” He said, like a info doc on the Public Broadcasting Station.

You sighed and tossed it to the top of your laundry pile before hoisting the basket back under your arm. “Wait, are you saying you thought Vickie and I wouldn’t make good leads?”

“No,” he swung the bat over one shoulder, beam of light illuminating your joint path upward. “I’m saying that by becoming leads, there’d be a higher chance of you being in danger. All I ever wanted was to keep you safe.”

You tried not to lose pace with him, feet fumbling, stomach swooping, and you glanced up at him through your eyelashes. You couldn’t make out his features in the dark, but you felt him watching you, felt the brush of his bicep against yours.

“Eat your banana,” he said, and you continued up the stairs in soft, surrendered silence.

—

The yard was clean, grass long-since browned, and leaves swept into a large pile. The cars in the driveway didn’t belong to her parents, no, these were new. In fact, the entire home didn’t feel like home to you anymore, not like it used to. A porch swing creaked on the wind, stark white paint cracked and cushion oozing ichor from a rainstorm long since past.

You heard a scuffle from the garage, swung right, calling out for her, searching a greyscale landscape for a shock of orange. You took a step forward, tripped over an unwound garden hose.

“She can’t come to the phone right now,” she said, only it wasn’t her, wasn’t her voice, something deeper.

You looked up, but when you tried to scream her name again, a hand was covering your mouth, a strong arm lifting you backwards, away from the scene. Your friend lay, lifeless before you, skin melting into the concrete driveway like plastic. You screamed, kicked, clawed, bit at the hand cutting off your airflow, to no relief.

Suffocating, drowning, the world around you blurring with blue lights, a face peering through the swell, that menacing grin, all teeth, no lips. You screamed, bubbles rising before your eyes. You kicked, vines tangled around your ankles, dragging you downward, darkness all-encompassing.

—

The fluorescents buzzed and the tape whirred in its recorder. That distant throb in your skull hadn’t receded in days. Your chair creaked with each bounce of your knee, an energy you’d picked up from your partner, and you rubbed at tired eyes, squinting across a large table. In a chair at the other end was the pitied frown of one Dr. Sam Owens.

“We did find a small laceration on her ankle, and her falling into this creature would account for that.” He explained. He was being gentle, as if you hadn’t snuck into the files, as if you hadn’t stared at the photographs of her lifeless corpse, as if you hadn’t seen the black liquid oozing from her skin.

You nodded, picking at a scratch in the tabletop.

“And you’re saying this virus had been gestating for a month before she showed any signs of being flayed?”

You shrugged, picked a little harder, until it bent your nail at the corner. “You’re the doctor. I’m just telling you what I remember.”

“Okay, alright, I appreciate that.” You heard the click of the tape deck, glanced up to find two fingers on the stop button. When you looked up, Owens had sat one leg on the tabletop. “How’re you doing, kid?”

A shiver wracked through you, some twisted all-knowing presence that had given you away. Maybe it was the squint of your eyes against the lights, maybe your nose had begun bleeding again, you couldn’t be sure at this point, couldn’t feel much for the buzz in your skull and fingertips.

“Do you understand why Hop and I picked you and Vickie as our team leaders?” He asked when you hadn’t responded, folding his hands over his lap. Crisp checked sleeves were rolled over the cuffs of a brown sweater. Everything about this man was soft and cleaned, so far removed from the grit and grime that surrounded your day-to-day. “It’s because you understood our mission here.”

You frowned, unsure where this unprompted speech was coming from, unsure what he was talking about, unsure how long you’d been in this room, how long you’d been awake, how long you could cling to the sliver of sanity holding you together.

“You understood that all of this,” he gestured to the room around you. Two massive windows looked out at the expanse of woods, everything tinged ruby red and honey yellow, that nightmare-fuel flash of orange. “This isn’t about redemption. It’s not about righting our wrongs, of which, we’re all guilty.”

His eyes were deep blue like the waters of a pool, but soft, careful. You thought of Vickie, of the mournful look on her face when she plead for you to snuff out her light. You thought of the lifeless corpse on a slab, photographed with naught but a sterile sheet maintaining her modesty.

“No, it’s about renewal. It’s about ridding this world of this festering sore, this virus, so it can learn and grow, so we can learn and grow and restart our lives. Not pick up where we left off, but pull ourselves up from the ashes and create something better.”

You blinked back at him, the wall in your mind, in your heart, fighting with his words. That competitive nature you’ve been biting back all week threatening to escape. Instead, you grit your teeth. “Anything else you need from me, Doc?”

Owens sighed, gave you that pitied look you’d received since Vickie died, since you killed her, since you gave up on her. He shook his head and gestured to walk you to the door. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

—

How could you build a new life without her when she was always home? How could you rise from the ashes of her funeral pyre when you lit the match?

—

The bass was low, a rattle in your bones arhythmic to your heart. You were hyper aware of your heartbeat, it having clambered against your skull for the past three days, maybe longer, you didn’t know anymore. Neon lights buzzed against newspaper clipping covered walls, all-encompassing, a tornado of information about Indiana’s State Fair and blue ribbons and reds and yellows and blues and greens.

A shove to your shoulder drew everything back into focus. Eddie’s brows were stitched together, jaw clamped shut. He was pissed. At you, specifically. He’d bullied you into joining the gang at Roadie’s tonight, blackmailed you, in fact. Now, here you stood, knocking back tequila to no lasting affect, receiving a pool stick from your teammate’s hand.

“We’re solids,” he instructed, nodding toward the felted green table.

“I got it,” you snapped.

The seven was lined up for an easy left pocket, and you sunk it before going after the three. The felt was soft under your finger tips, and the lamp heated up over your head, and something about the angle of your elbow nearly cleared someone’s beer from the lip of the table. They caught it, but your cue ball missed the three entirely, whiffing itself into a tailspin.

You cursed under your breath and stood back up into a full conversation you’d somehow missed, laughter and crinkled eyes. You frowned at Eddie, passing him back the stick.

“Argyle whistled at your ass, and you knocked his beer off the table,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re actually doing quite well for not being here.”

You glanced over his shoulder at Argyle, who held his hands, and a bottle, up in surrender, brown eyes wide. “Hey, man, please don’t kick my ass. I was just complimenting a beautiful woman.”

It took a second for his words to set in, for the blur of the roadhouse to dull, and when they finally clicked, you plastered on a smile and plucked the remainder of the boy’s beer from his hand. The liquid was room temperature at best, the glass coated in condensation.

Your group erupted in laughter.

Argyle was harmless, and only ever flattered, and you felt that if you were really present, if your laugh was genuine, things tonight might feel exactly as they had before.

“I’m getting waters,” Steve ran a hand through the new curtains of his hair and turned for the bar. Robin rubbed between his shoulder blades. Nancy knelt over the pool table, sinking thirteen, twelve, eleven. It was Jonathan’s turn to whistle, and she hip-checked him with a smug look on her face before sinking fifteen and nine.

“I’m so glad you came out,” Robin appeared at your side, warm and perfumed.

“Me too,” you smiled, avoiding the glares you were receiving from Eddie across the table. His incessant knocking pulled you out of bed, and he practically had to force you to put real clothes on.

“Quick, before Steve comes back, tell me a secret about him no one else would know.” Argyle grinned behind another bottle he’d scrounged up table side. He’d also extended a basket of fries to you.

You took one, a little soggy, and thought behind your hand as you chewed.

“Oh my God, he wears glasses at night like an old man.” Robin snickered.

Argyle gasped, the exact kind of scandal he was fishing for. “I bet he looks good in glasses.”

“He does,” Nancy confirmed from the table. Jonathan seemed less impressed at this revelation. “Eight ball middle pocket.” And with a sturdy clack, it went in.

Eddie cursed and peeled a couple of dollars from his wallet.

“We get winner!” Robin declared, nabbing the pool stick propped near Eddie’s walker.

“Aw man, I wish I had a partner,” Argyle lamented into his fries.

“No, you don’t,” Steve appeared, taking the neck of your bottle from your hand before replacing it with a plastic cup full of ice water.

You rolled your eyes, but sipped, the frigid water a nice wash against the buzzing under your skin. His warmth beside you was welcoming too, the smell of his cologne.

“Sure I do. You get to learn all kinds of things no one else would know. Come on, tell me something about her.”

Your heart sank under Steve’s gaze. You had one big secret, one looming bad guy that only Steve and Eddie knew about. None of you had told Robin. None of you could tell Robin. You tried not to focus now, tried to keep the nightmares at bay.

“She’s a terrible swimmer,” he settled on. “Like one of the worst I’ve ever taught, and I used to teach toddlers… and Robin.”

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Robin cackled, breaking the rack with an immense thwack. “You are just the world’s worst helicopter mom.”

“I’d back off if you could walk up a set of stairs without tripping,” he snapped back.

“Says the guy who had an entire staircase fall under his weight,” you commented.

Everyone laughed. You even felt the rumble of Steve’s chest against your bicep, that warmth slowly thawing the freeze.

“Jonathan, what do you guys think? Having a partner all it’s cracked up to be?” Argyle mused to his best friend.

Jonathan sunk the first ball of the game and shrugged. “It’s nice when someone has your back. Nance can get a little bossy though…”

Nancy rolled her eyes and took a long swig of her beer. She wiped the corners of her mouth as she swallowed and said, “Jonathan hums, constantly. No matter what we’re doing, he’s humming.”

Just as she said it, he stopped the tapping of his hands to his thigh, and you all pointed in glee at the discovery.

“Hey, nothing wrong with a man with rhythm,” Eddie grinned, slapping a high-five to his friend.

“God, Vickie does that too,” you chimed in, enjoying the camaraderie you’d been missing for so long. “She just gets these like ear worms and she has to sing them. Drives me up a wall.”

You hadn’t realized what you’d said until Steve stiffened beside you, until you made eye contact with a sad smile from Eddie. Your blood ran cold.

“Oh my God, I know! She was constantly getting things stuck in my head,” Robin pitched in to help you recover, but you noticed the waver in her voice, and it crushed your insides a little harder.

“My go?” Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward to take the stick from her hands. You noticed she’d been wringing it. You felt sick.

When Steve bent to strike another ball, Eddie whistled, and the tension was quickly diffused with another round of laughter. Everyone began to chatter again, but the noise had faded under the dull thrum of bass and the buzz of neon, and the ice cold terror that lingered there between your shoulder blades.

You muttered an excuse for the bathroom, but walked straight out the double doors and into the cold autumn air.

—

This time of night felt like being there, in the Ether. Sun set, everything went to grayscale save the sign attracting moths overhead. The red cast over the gravel parking lot, shimmering off chrome tailpipes and the hood of Harrington’s car. That same lingering damp clung to the air, steaming your breath, chattering your teeth, and you propped yourself against a corrugated tin wall. It smelled of iron and cigarette smoke, and your tongue tasted of tequila and regret.

Your head spun, eyes ached and dry with exhaustion. No sleep felt easier than sleep these days, but you noticed each came with a price. Your muscles twitched, like a shiver, but incessant. Either way, you couldn’t escape them.

She was always out of reach now, concerned features just past the focus of your view. She donned the same face as in the photograph: sad, frightened, determined. Her hair was crispy at the ends, a shock of orange burnt black, and soot coated the fingers of her extended hand.

He was there too, less visible, but somewhere in the recesses, always lingering behind, waiting for the opportune moment, a terrifying face above rippled water that beckoned.

You heard the crunch of boots against gravel, a noise from reality that sucked you back, wracked a shiver through you. You wiped at a running nose and plastered on a fake smile to ensure you were alright.

But Robin hadn’t come to check on you, as you assumed she might. No, in her stead was Steve, face knotted up in worry, fingers carding through short hair.

And you didn’t know what made you do it, maybe these unseen forces, maybe the embarrassment from inside, or maybe you’d just been dying to do it for well over a year now, but you swung on him. Full fist, knuckles connecting with cheekbone, and he stumbled backward in surprise before blocking your neck swing.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled, grasping your wrist in his hand.

“What’s wrong with me?” You called, tearing your arm from his grip to shove at his chest. “What’s wrong with me, Harrington? I had to murder my best friend. I had to take a torch to her living, breathing, screaming body and not let go of the trigger until she stopped. I have to relive it every single day of my life, and I’m just supposed to be strong about it and okay with it because this is the life I’ve chosen to live.”

You accentuated each thought with another shove until he was backed against a wall, his Member’s Only jacket fisted in your grasp, and then, he was wrapped around you, arms tight, the pressure of his large hand relieving the throb in your skull as your body wracked with sobs. You nearly crashed to your knees, but he stumbled and held you upright. One strong arm swung around your ribs, while the other stroked your hair.

“You were supposed to protect me. To keep me safe,” You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, gasping for air as you sunk your fingernails into his shoulders, desperate for his help.

Heat fanned your face, soft lips pressed to your temple to draw your focus, and you felt the steady inhale, exhale of his broad body against yours. He guided you to match his breath. “I know. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

You finally relaxed into him, face tucked into a warm neck, his presence all-encompassing, a splash of water on a puffy face, and when you felt grounded enough, you released his jacket, allowing your arms to drop at your sides.

His release was slower still, and large hands came to cup your face, to thumb away your tears, but you couldn’t bear to look at him, embarrassed or heart broken or angry, maybe all three.

He spoke your name, soft, tender, and you brought your hands up to pull his wrists. His hands fell away easily.

You glanced up at him, avoiding eye contact, and noticed a splash of red against his white t-shirt. “You’re bleeding,” you mumbled, fingertips trailing the small patch of blood, maroon spreading across the cotton fibers.

“No, you are,” he said.

When you met his gaze, something happened, a shift you couldn’t explain. You felt the world rumble beneath your feet, saw the gaping maws of gates flash behind your eyes. Like the drop of a bass, the dull throb in your skull shifted to searing pain. You mopped at the blood on your upper lip with trembling fingers. “Something’s wrong.”

You thought you might tumble over, equilibrium changing.

Steve caught you in his arms. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

You heard your name from somewhere close by: her voice, a warning. You glanced to your right and saw Nancy and Jonathan rushing out of the double doors.

“Steve!” Nancy called. “Massive seismic activity detected. We have to go right now.”

Argyle was rushing to start up his truck. Eddie and Robin were closed behind, hugging leather and denim jackets to their bodies.

“Take care of her,” Steve and Eddie spoke simultaneously, pointing at their perspective best friends.

Steve rounded on you. “Are you good?”

Unsure, but determined, you nodded, and he slipped his hand in yours to hoist you into the truck bed. As the five of you sped off into the night, you could just make out Robin and Eddie under the glow of the neon sign, a shock of orange lingering behind them.

---

A/N: Finally, a reunion with Robin! As I was writing her at the diner, I was like uhhhh... I think I'm in love with her. So that's fun. And the Reader and Steve are finally getting closer, finally getting over their issues... kind of? Please come yell at me about it. Thanks. Love you! Thanks, as always, for reading xo xo xo

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Chapter Three: Ignite • Chapter Five: Searing

#wildfire fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington enemies to lovers #steve harrington rivals to lovers #post season 4 #eddie munson #robin buckley #vickie #robin x vickie #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle

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harringtonstilinski · 10 months ago

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Always The Babysitter - Chapter Twenty-Six: The Hellfire Club

Author: @harringtonstilinski Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) Word Count: 3,303 Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff Smut: no | yes; A/N: Hi, friends! I can't believe we're on the last season!! Buckle up, friends, 'cause it's a lot this season!! If you like this chapter, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

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The phone ringing startled me awake as I sat up straight in the bed. Looking at the clock, I tried to count three hours backward from the time shown, slightly struggling before jumping to my feet and rushing to the phone, answering with a groggy and breathless, “Hello?”

“Can I read this to you?”

I sighed at the sound of El’s voice before answering, “Of course, sweetie.”

She always read me her letters that she wrote to Mike, asking for my advice on whether or not it sounded good enough. “Okay. Here it goes. ‘Dear Mike, today is day 185. Feels more like 10 years. Joyce says time is funny like that. Emotions can make it speed up or slow down. We are all time travelers if you think about it. For example, this week is going very fast. I think because I am so busy. I have to make something called a visual aid. I hope Mrs. Gracey will give me an A. Some exciting news; Joyce got an amazing new job. She gets to work at home. She says she loves the freedom. Will is painting a lot, but he-he won’t show me what he’s working on. M-maybe it is for a girl. I think there is someone he likes. Because he has been acting… weird. Jonathan is acting weird, also. I think he is just nervous about college. He is still waiting for his big letter. I hope he and Nancy get to go together. But I don’t know how he’ll ever get to college because his car is still broken down. His funny friend Argyle has been taking us to school. His hair is longer than mine. And he and Jonthan like to smoke smelly plants together. Jonathan says the plants are super safe because they come from the Earth, but to not tell Joyce. Me? I’m twice as happy now. You were right. It just takes time. I think I have finally adapted. At first, I missed all the spring flowers, but now I find it pretty here, too. I even like school now. I am still best at math, but my grammar is good now also. Thanks in part to Olivia back home. It helps that everyone is so nice here. I have made lots of friends. Even so, I am ready for Spring Break, mostly because I get to see you. I am so excited to see you, it is hard to breathe. Are you excited, too? I think you will love it here like me. I think we will have the best Spring Break ever. I hope my spelling was better this time. Miss you. Love, El.’”

She breathed deep on her end of the phone, silently asking me what I thought. Taking a drag from my cigarette, which I rarely ever do, I nodded my head before saying, “It’s good! But the part about friends? I’m not sure that should be in there.” El’s kept her word on telling me every detail when she calls me. This bitch Angela bullies her to no end, and it pisses me off to the point where I want to get in my car and drive to California to beat the shit out of this girl… but I can’t since she’s a minor and I’m 19 years old. “Maybe just tell him the truth?” I took another drag, holding it for a moment as I said, “The truth–” I blew the smoke from my lungs. “Is a lot better than having to cover up your lies in front of him when he’s there in a couple days.”

“Livvie! Are you smoking again?” Mom hollered.

“Shit,” I whispered, dabbing my cigarette.

“Steve will be here soon!”

Holding the mouthpiece of the phone, I hollered back, “Okay!” Sighing and shaking my head, I removed my hand, saying into the mouthpiece. “Listen, get ready for school, do the finishing touches for your visual aid that I know you’re gonna kick ass on, and have a good day at school, okay? I’m sorry this phone call is short.”

“It’s okay,” El said. “Can I call you tonight?”

“I’ll be at Steve’s, but sure,” I smiled. “You can call.”

“Okay. Argyle is here. I finished my visual aid before I called you.”

“Okay, sweetie. Have a good day at school.” “I will. Bye, Olivia.”

“Bye, El.” I hung up the phone, yawning after I did so. Going into the kitchen, I made myself a cup of coffee, adding my sugar and cream into it before taking a sip and walking back into my room.

No, Steve’s parents didn’t come home last night. Dustin needed help with something for school, so I told him I’d come for the night to help him. My plan was to go back to Steve’s, but I ended up falling asleep on Dustin’s bed, him waking me up to kick me out of his room. As I entered my own room, my phone was ringing, so I walked to it, picking up the receiver, answering with, “Can’t I just enjoy a cup of coffee this morning?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Steve said.

Sighing, I said, “Oh. Morning, baby.”

“Hey, listen. I’m gonna leave here in a few minutes to come get you and then pick up Robin, okay? So, be ready this time.”

I chuckled. Last time he had to come get me from my house I wasn’t ready for work. He and I had had… a night and I was super tired the next day, so I didn’t wake up with my alarm. We were late for work and Robin was late to school that day.

“Okay, I’ll be ready.”

“Promise?”

“Promise! I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I hung up the phone, taking another sip of my coffee while looking at my closet door. I set my mug down, walking towards the door when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. “What?”

“Liv, I need you to stall Mom,” Dustin said.

“And why, pray tell, do I need to do that?” I asked, turning to look at him with my arms crossed.

“I’m talking to Suzie and I need you to not tell her what’s going on behind my door.”

Scrunching my face in disgust, I said, “Dustin, I don’t need to hear you two have radio sex.”

“We’re not! It’s something about school,” he exclaimed.

Sighing, I said, “Fine. Whatever. But you owe me.”

“Thank you!” he said, running back across the hall to his room, sliding his door closed.

I turned back to my closet, finally able to go into it to pick my outfit for the day; a graphic tee, comfortable but tight-fitted jeans and my Converse. I’ve been working with Steve and Robin at Family Video since October and I have to say I quite enjoy it. Not the whoring out my boyfriend part, but everything else about the job, aside from Keith, is awesome!

Once I was dressed, I heard talking on Dustin’s Cerebro, that he somehow installed in the house, so I poked my head in to see what was going on.

“That’s a negative, Dusty-bun,” Suzie said.

“Son of a bitch,” Dustin said, pressing a button on his radio. “Try tigers86.”

“Tigers86, copy that.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, walking into his room, sliding his door to a crack.

“Liv, not now,” Dustin said.

I sighed, “Alright. Oh! I can’t pick you up tonight. Steve and I are going to the game and then I’m going back to his house.”

“Fine, whatever,” he said, going back to his radio.

“Jiminy Crickets, Dusty,�� Suzie said. “I’m in.”

“Holy shit,” he said.

“Wait, is she… is she hacking into the school system?” I asked.

Dustin and I jumped at the sound of hearing pounding on his door, Mom’s voice ringing on the other side, “Dusty, what’s going on in there? You’re gonna be late.”

Mom went to open the door just as Dustin shouted, “Don’t come in! I’m naked!”

She shut the door before saying, “Oh, Livvie! Steve’s here!”

I said, “Shit!” at the same time Dustin said into his radio’s mouthpiece, “Running out of time here!”

I walked out of his room as I heard Suzie tell him to hold on. Walking past Mom in the hallway, she told me to grab a slice of toast on my way out, which I told her I would, grabbing it and a banana before rushing out of the house, hearing Steve honk his horn. “Alright, Harrington! I’m coming!”

Opening the passenger side door, I tossed the banana at him, my piece of toast hanging between my teeth. As I buckled my seatbelt, he backed up out of our driveway and started towards Robin’s house before he sighed out and said, “Good morning, Henderson.” “Harrington,” I said, muffled through a bite of toast. I shook my head while taking the toast from between my teeth, saying, “Ew. No.”

He chuckled, handing the banana back to me. “You’re lucky I let you eat in my car.”

“At least I brush the crumbs off my legs when I get out of the car.” I finished my toast by the time we got to Robin’s house. Getting out of the car, I brushed the crumbs off my jeans, turning to go back in the passenger seat when Robin called out, “I need the front, Henderson!”

When I turned to face her, she shoved her shako into my hands, the yellow and white plume sticking out of the top. Yes, I know marching band lingo, shut up.

As we started driving, Steve was telling her about our date we had the other day when we had the day off. “And then we went to Enzo’s and had an amazing dinner–”

Leaning between the seats, I interrupted, “I literally thought he was going to propose, it was so freaking romantic.”

“And then we went back home and watched a movie–”

“Cuddling on the couch before I fell asleep to the movie.”

“What, no sex?” Robin asked.

Chuckling, I said, “No. Not that night. The next morning, however…”

“Gross.”

“You asked!” I exclaimed.

“Liv, I’m not fully awake yet. It is 7:00 in the morning, we have this stupid pep rally, and I woke up looking like a total corpse.” She pulled her face back after fluffing her hair a little bit.

“Oh, you’re worried about a basketball pep rally?” Steve asked. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Newsflash, Steve, you were in the pep rallies, remember?” I said, poking his cheek.

“Yeah? So?” Robin said.

“We all know what this is about,” I said, looking at her profile. “He’s not buying any bullshit. This is about Vickie.” I smiled at her as she turned her head to look at me. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes, it is, and you know what else I think?” Steve said.

“I don’t care–”

“I think you gotta stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her.”

“You just gotta be yourself, love,” I said.

“You’re both quoting me to me, you do realize that right?” Robin said.

“Well, maybe you need to listen to yourself,” Steve said. “Ever think about that, smartypants? I mean, I listened. Look at me. Boom. Back in business.”

Looking at him, I deadpanned, “You’ve been in business, Steve. For over a year!”

“It’s not the same thing,” Robin said. “And Liv’s right.”

“Plus, when you asked out girls, they all said no,” I said. “Big deal. Nothing happened, other than your ego getting bruised–”

“I ask out the wrong girl, and bam, I’m a town pariah,” Robin added.

“Yeah, I’d buy that, except Vickie is definitely not the wrong girl,” Steve said.

“We just don’t know that, do we?”

“She returned Fast Times paused at 53 minutes, 5 seconds. Do you know who pauses Fast Times at 53 minutes, 5 seconds?”

Silence.

“Oh, my god,” I breathed. “People who like boobies, Robin!”

“Ew, don’t say boobies!” she said.

“I like boobies, Steve definitely likes boobies, you like boobies! Vickie definitely likes boobies,” I said.

“Wait, you like boobs?” they both asked.

“We’re not talking about me.”

We got to the high school, Robin and I getting out before I handed her her shako hat for the pep rally. We hugged before she ran off with her friends, chatting and walking them as she met up with them.

“Were we like this?” I asked, leaning over a little bit.

“Yup,” Steve said.

I looked at him, our eyes meeting. I smiled as he leaned in closer, our lips meeting for a second before I heard kids through the opened windows saying, “Get a room, Harrington!”

We pulled apart as I groaned, resting my forehead on his shoulder. “Get me off this campus before I beat the shit out of these sophomores.”

He chuckled, driving off to our day job that helps with the bills… metaphorically speaking.

~~~

I was standing with Steve on our side of the counter when the phone rang, and because I was standing by the phone, I turned around and picked it up, answering it with “Family Video, this is Olivia speaking. How can I help you today?”

“Liv, I need you tonight for Hellfire.”

Chuckling, I said, “No way, Dustin. Not tonight.”

“What?! Come on!”

“I don’t even know how to play! Plus, I’ve got a date with Steve tonight.” I turned my head over my shoulder, watching Steve help out a female customer.

“Just move your date this one time! Come on.”

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie? I’ll pass this time.”

“What about Steve?”

“Negatory, little brother.”

“He’s just jealous because I have another older male friend.”

I heard the smug little smile on his stupid little face. “Yeah, I don’t think he feels the same. Besides, Steve and I really dig each other. I think that he could… well, I know he’s the one.” I watched as some girls walked into the store. “Oh, I got– well, Steve has customers. I’ll call you back.” I hung up the phone, faintly hearing Dustin say that he’s at school.

Turning my head over my shoulder, I whispered, “You're on, babe.”

~~~

Once we were done with our shift, Steve and I went to grab a bite to eat before heading to the basketball game. I said hey to Nancy as we walked in and gave a small wave to Lucas with a thumbs up. He slightly smiled back at me, going back to his warm ups.

After Steve and I found a spot in the bleachers, I turned into him after he put his arm around my shoulders once we sat down. I looked up at him, asking, “Baby, would it bother you if we won this game after we’ve graduated?”

“Interesting point,” he said. “Thanks for bringing that up, babe.”

I chuckled, wrapping my arms around his middle while still looking at him. He looked down at me, giving me a chaste kiss on my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said, a smile ever present on his face.

The principal came up to the microphone that was in the middle of the gym, asking, “Everyone now please rise for our national anthem.” You could hear everyone standing, collectively. “Singing for us tonight, we have a very special guest. All the way from Nashville, our very own Tammy Thompson!”

I clapped while looking confused at Steve as he looked over at Robin, a confused look on his face as well. Tammy started singing, the microphone giving feedback as she did.

“Told you,” Steve whispered. “Muppet.”

“Oh, my god,” I whispered, trying to hold back my laugh at either Steve calling her a muppet or her singing, I couldn’t decide. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Okay, she does sound like a Muppet,” Robin whispered.

“Oh, my god, totally,” I heard Vickie agree. “She sounds like Kermit.”

“I was thinking it was more like Miss Piggy.”

I snorted, turning my head into Steve’s shoulder, his hand coming up to rest on cheek from my shoulder.

When the game started, we got two baskets right off the rip. I honestly didn’t get basketball, I just knew the basics from what Steve had tried to explain to me over the years. But everytime he got to what he thinks is interesting stuff, I would always fall asleep.

I swear I was getting whiplash just watching the boys run up and down the gym, shooting baskets, colliding with one another, almost getting into fights with other team and the ref.

Seeing movement from the corner of my eye, I looked in Lucas’ direction, seeing him running onto the court. “Oh, my god. He’s putting Lucas in. He’s putting Lucas in!” I exclaimed, jumping in my seat, happy that one of my kids is actually playing.

I knew three of them were on school grounds with Hellfire, so I wasn’t worried about them. I wasn’t worried about Lucas either, moreso happy for him that he’s finally getting to play.

Steve was enthusiastic as ever, standing and shouting at our players to shoot the ball, to pass it, to not travel with the ball. I swear to god, seeing him in this element turned me on like no freaking other.

Steve and I were standing, the ball being passed and dribbled around before he said, “Shoot it!” as one of our players got the ball, making the basket.

A few more points in and Jason, the captain, called a timeout. The team huddled together as the drumline started to play a cadence. I secretly did band throughout middle school and freshman year of high school. I quit once Steve became King, not wanting him to be associated with a “nerd.”

Once the game continued, Jason got the ball, and from what I heard from Dustin, Jason’s a cocky motherfucker who thinks he's the top dog of the high school just because he’s King. No one will ever meet up to Steve as King.

Jason shot the ball, not making the basket at all. Ha ha! That’s what he gets. Lucas grabbed the ball as it bounced off the rim, breaking out of the huddle to run a few feet from the basket, turning around to make the shot as the buzzer went off.

You could hear everyone collectively stand again as the ball flew through the air. I could feel Steve behind me as we watched the ball bounce off the rim to the backboard and into the basket, giving us the Championship win!

Steve and I jumped, excited for Lucas and excited for the win. He wrapped me in his arms, giving me a kiss on the lips as the players and cheerleaders ran over to Lucas, chanting his name.

We had waited outside for the team to come out after hitting the showers, Lucas spotting us right away.

“Oh, my god,” I exclaimed, giving him a big hug. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Liv,” he said. When we pulled apart, he kept his hands on my shoulders. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course!” I said. “I wouldn’t miss my little brother playing for the world!”

He smiled before looking at Steve, giving his thanks to him as well. Jason and his small crew came out, calling Lucas over to them. He walked with them as Steve and I started our own journey to his car.

I stopped him as I watched Dustin and the rest of Hellfire walk out of the school. He spotted me, raising his hands in the air. “Liv!” Dustin shouted. “We won!”

Giving him a smile, I raised my thumbs out to him, letting him know I was proud of him.

Steve and I went home that night and celebrated with a movie and popcorn, clothing optional.

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A/N 2: hi, friends! pls be kind and reblog! it really helps us content creators out <3

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Posted on April 22, 2024

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