#nancy is shocked that steve and robin’s plan works | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

headkiss · 2 years ago

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do you think i have forgotten?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you loved steve harrington years ago, and he loved you. now, coming back to hawkins, you find that things may not be so different.

word count: 14.1k

warnings: fluff, smut, a little angst, exes to lovers, very much idiots in love!

a/n: here it is!!! i hope u guys like it!!! it took a while but hopefully it was worth it <3

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A ‘welcome home’ banner hangs lopsided on the wall.

The party is smaller than the ones you’d become accustomed to at school. That didn’t matter. What did was that your favorite people were around for this one.

It was meant to be a surprise, but Nancy gave you a heads up. She knows you hate surprises, you just don’t have the heart to tell Robin, who absolutely loves surprise parties. Planning them, to be exact. So, you acted shocked, put on your biggest smile.

It was worth it for the beaming grin on your friend’s face, the tight hug as a hello.

You didn’t realize how much you missed home until now. Until you came back.

Small talk isn’t so tiring when it’s with people you really care about. Eddie and Jonathan, Nancy and Robin, even the kids are there to give you the warmest welcome you could ever have. Hugs from some of them, teasing from all of them.

It’s perfect, but there’s an obvious absence. One you’ve tried and tried not to think about. But here, in this room, with these people, you can tell that without him, there’s a space waiting to be filled.

That space has been left open in your life for years. A gaping hole. Then, when the night’s half over and you’re convinced you won’t see him, you hear one word that has memories rushing back to you. Like a flood.

“Ace.”

There’s only one person in the entire world who calls you that. Steve Harrington.

The nickname isn’t the only thing that gives him away. His voice is engraved in your head, the tone, the way it hits your ears. It’s been years since you last heard it, and still, it feels so, so familiar.

You met in high school. Gym class, actually, and you’d been deemed Ace ever since. By him.

It started with friendship, reluctant at first and then impossibly close. It grew into the kind of undeniable thing that pushed you together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. In love.

He was really, really good to you. So good that you didn’t care about who his friends were or what his reputation was. You didn’t care when things changed and he went from King Steve to the best babysitter around. Over a year, you were together.

Then, he was gone.

When you told him you’d be going away for school, he was supportive, happy for you, even. Then, the day before you were set to move he sat you down and broke your heart. I can't be with you anymore, he said.

Not I don’t want to, or I won’t. Can’t. Like he had no other choice.

To this day, you’re not sure why he did it. You called over and over for weeks when you first got to school. He never picked up. You were only able to check on him through your mutual friends. Robin, Nancy, Eddie, all of them.

One day, he was the greatest thing in your life, the next, he’d completely disappeared from it. Like a ghost.

You pushed yourself through school, tried to let go of him. It got easier, but the pinch in your chest when you thought about him never quite went away. You tried being with other guys again, but nothing stuck. It felt like you were cheating, like you could never fully commit to someone else. Your mind, body, and soul still belonged to him.

It got easier eventually. You can’t remember when it did, but over time, thinking of Steve became less like a stab to the chest, and more of a pinch.

When you spoke to your friends, they’d mention him briefly. In passing, like they didn’t want to hurt you with something as simple as a name. You knew he was working at Family Video with Robin, you knew his parents were around even less than they used to be, and you knew he went on dates. Often.

Steve spent every year of you being away trying to convince himself that he did the right thing.

He missed you constantly, but he felt like he’d be holding you back if he stayed with you. A distraction from your college experience, a boyfriend who couldn’t even make it to college himself. Not enough for you.

Now, seeing you at the welcome home party Robin put together, he feels like the biggest idiot in the world. Universe, even. Because how could he have let go of someone that lights up the room like a ray of fucking sunshine.

It’s pathetic that all he could say to you after all the years was his nickname for you.

You turn around after hearing it, the sight of Steve a punch in the gut. He’s just as pretty, if not more, and though he mostly looks the same, he’s grown in ways you weren’t there to see. He’s almost a stranger now.

“Steve,” you manage. “You’re here.”

“Hi.”

It took a lot of convincing from the gang for him to come. Not because he didn’t want to (he wanted to see you more than anything), but because he didn’t want to do anything to make you upset.

Your haircut is different than before, and you hold yourself in a new way, too. But, as soon as he finds your eyes he feels like he’s in high school again, laying in his bed facing you or laughing at the back of the movie theater.

He thinks of the last time he saw you, the tears leaving trails down your cheeks, the way you didn’t let yourself sob until he walked out. His stomach is in knots.

“Hi,” you hold yourself back from reaching out and poking him to make sure he’s real. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Well, surprise,” he sings the second word and throws up some awkward jazz hands. A glimpse of the dork you remember.

Surprise indeed.

“I can leave,” he offers in your silence. He even turns to do so before you stop him.

“No! No, it’s just- it’s been a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. It’s too late for that, and as much as you want to know what happened, why he ended things and just… vanished, you aren’t so stuck on that anymore. Four years is a long time.

You aren’t mad about it, it just never fully left your head.

“How was school?” He asks. Safe, easy.

“Well, I graduated. So, that’s something.”

A wink of a smile has the corners of his mouth twitching up. You’re different, but you’re also the same girl he knew. It’s nice to see again, to have hope that he didn’t destroy you.

“I knew you would,” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to feeling so awkward around you. “You can write your own essays, after all.”

That one makes you huff a laugh, makes you think back to late nights spent helping him fix up his writing. Red pen doodles and way too many distractions.

“One of my many talents,” you say.

There’s another pause, a stillness that feels so wrong for the both of you. He put the distance there, and he hates himself for it. “I’ll be seeing you around then?”

“Yeah, Steve. I’m home.”

Yes, he thinks. You are home. Hawkins was missing something without you in it. Or maybe that was just him. Missing something without you.

Just as you’re pulled away into a conversation with Robin and Max, Steve grasps your wrist gently. Your skin burns with the familiarity of his touch. Aches with the memory.

“It’s good to see you, Ace.”

Then, in a blink, he lets you go.

When you turn away, Eddie comes up beside Steve, claps a hand on his back. “Nice, man. Not weird at all.”

“Shut it, Munson.”

Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off of you. He searches for you when he hears you laugh, can feel his pulse jump when you throw your head back the way you always have. He lets his eyes linger when he knows he shouldn’t.

You catch him once. You can feel his stare on you like a breeze, tickling the back of your neck. When you turn towards him your eyes lock, just for a moment.

Hawkins is mostly the same. The stores on Main Street still have worn awnings, letters faded and colors dimmed. The arcade sign still flickers, Enzo’s is still the best restaurant. The movies where Steve used to take you on dates, his house with his BMW in the driveway.

It’s hard to be back and not let Steve bleed into everything.

At school, it was easy not to think about him. You’d bury yourself in studying and projects. Here, he’s everywhere you look. The town is painted with memories of you and him. He’s written all over the place.

You thought you were over what happened, that you could come home and not let it phase you. You had no idea it’d be like this.

Despite it all, you’re glad to be home. You like waking up to the peacefulness of light wind and leaves rustling. It’s a lot nicer than a dorm building full of students and the constant noise of the city.

You’re tremendously happy to be so close to your friends again, too. There’s no more worrying about whether or not you’ll see them anytime soon, no more sporadic phone calls that just make you miss them more.

But still, there’s that empty space. Steve-shaped.

The next time you see him you’d decided to visit Robin at work. It took you about a week of being home to get yourself to go into Family Video, knowing Steve works there. You have to get used to him again.

Sure enough, when you walked in, there he stood. Green vest and all.

When the bell above the door jingles to signal your entrance, Steve turns to look at you. He sets down the box of stock he’d been holding, and your eyes follow the way his arms flex before you can tell them not to.

“Ace, hi.”

“Hey,” you send a short wave his way, rocking on your feet. “I’m just meeting Robin for lunch.”

He probably knows that, but you say it anyway, trying to fill the void of silence that hums between you.

“Yeah. She’s in the back already,” he says. “I can show you.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He almost places a hand at the small of your back to guide you, just like he used to. It’d be so natural, so simple. Instead, he clenches his fist by his side and shuffles in front of you, nodding his head for you to

follow.

“So, um,” he stops in front of the door to the back, turning to face you. “We still do movie nights. All of

us, like we used to. You should come.”

“Are you sure?”

Movie nights are always at Steve’s, and you don’t want to be there if it’ll cause any problems, as much as you’ve missed the sense of tradition. Routine.

“There’s an open spot on the couch for you anyway. Always has been.”

When you were away, you worried your friends would replace you. Forget about you, even. That clearly wasn’t the case.

“I’d love to go. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“As long as you still don’t mind Eddie talking through the important parts.”

You shake your head, a small, close-mouthed smile on your face.

“Wouldn’t be a movie night without it.”

The bell above the door rings again, and Steve turns to see the customer. “I should get back.”

You nod. You watch him go, watch him greet the woman who walked in with his classic smile.

You just have to get used to him again, that’s all.

Walking the steps up to the Harrington’s front door is something you’ve done time and time again. So, it shouldn’t feel so odd, really.

It used to be an almost daily occurrence. Now, it takes you some mental preparation before you can bring yourself to knock on the door. This time, it isn’t Steve who answers, it’s Robin. You’re grateful for it, because stepping into his house again is already a bunch to take in.

“You came!” She says, grinning.

“Of course I did. I missed movie nights a bunch.”

You really, really did.

While you had a couple of friends in Indianapolis, the connections were shallow. Especially compared to what you have here. There, they were friendships formed from convenience. Roommates or project partners. It was a lot lonelier than you let on.

“We missed you, too.” Robin walks you into the living room, where cheers of your name ensue.

“Look who it is,” Eddie speaks from where he sits on the ground in front of the TV, setting things up.

There’s a shift from the loud, giddy greetings when Steve walks into the room, bowl of popcorn in hand. It’s like everyone’s waiting for one of you to burst.

“Hey. You made it,” Steve says. No bursting, just some sort of tension that hasn’t gone away since you saw him at your party.

“Yeah. Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Surprised one of them didn’t beat me to it,” he nods at your friends that are scattered across the couches. Your friends whose eyes are ping-ponging between you both.

It’s almost like you can feel everyone take a breath of relief when you plant yourself by the armrest of the sofa. When you shoot Steve a small, barely-there smile. A peace offering.

Halfway through the movie—broken up by constant Eddie commentary, and various ways of someone telling him to stuff it—Steve notices the way you’re curled up, cardigan pulled tight over your body.

He reaches across Robin to hand you a blanket wordlessly. She nudges his shoulder when you aren’t looking, gives him a look that tells him she knows something, even if he doesn’t.

He’s always been attentive, but you’re surprised when the soft fabric is passed over. You wonder if he realizes it’s the blanket you’d always reach for when you were over. If he realizes he handed you the one you’d cuddled him under countless times.

He doesn’t, you’re sure. Why on earth would he remember those things? Or even care?

After that night, the group slowly becomes whole again. The others stop planning separate things with you or Steve. It’s like they waited for you to get acclimated to being around each other again, tested the waters.

It’s as sweet as it is sad. You never wanted to mess anything up, make anything harder.

Though you see Steve a lot more often, your interactions with him remain short and distant. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to feeling so far away from him.

While you were away, over time, the memories became less vivid, as did the pictures that still sit in your bedroom at home. Sun damaged and faded. Your feelings, though, they never really dimmed, only pushed to the back of your mind and shoved into a box labeled Steve.

That box has been bursting at the seams.

Still, you try to keep it shut, to push it all aside and be friends with him again. Or, friendly, at the very least.

Steve keeps a framed picture of you in a drawer in his bedside table. Maybe that’s weird. It used to sit atop of the table, but he moved it when it got too hard to look at your face without thinking of how it looked when you cried.

Having you around again is hard, but it’s more so a relief. He’s missed you so, so much, and even though things aren’t the same and they might never be again, he’ll take you in his life any way he can have you. And this is a start.

The hardest part, he thinks, is burying all the things he never got to say. I’m sorry, I just wanted what was best for you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s no use now, he knows that, so he swallows the words down. They make his stomach ache.

He needs to distract himself from it all, because it’s too much. Seeing your face almost every day again, not being able to reach out and hold it like he used to.

It’s way too much.

You got a job at Enzo’s to keep yourself busy.

While you’d love to stay buried in your bed all day, or walk around aimlessly until you end up at Lover’s Lake, sitting by the water and listening to it move, your parents decided it’d be better for you to do something valuable with your time.

Besides, waitressing isn’t so bad. You mostly work nights, allowing you the sleep-ins you love so much, there’s not so much pressure when you already know most of the people you serve, and the tips are always nice.

It’s mostly a breeze—besides a spill incident—until Steve shows up there on a date. Seated in your section.

Your coworker had warned you, “new table for you. Looks like a date.” And there he was. His hair done like always (does he still use Farrah Fawcett spray?) and his dress shirt a little wrinkled.

When it’s time to head over, you shut your eyes and take a grounding breath, slap on your customer service smile. You introduce yourself like you always do, the ‘I’ll be your waitress for this evening’ spiel.

Steve looks up from the menu as soon as he hears your voice. He’s stunned, eyes wide and mouth ever-so-slightly agape while he looks at you. He tries to recover quickly. If he’d known you were working tonight he never would have brought his date here, never would have subjected you to that on purpose. He feels like shit.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” You say. Waitress persona engaged, praying your face doesn’t look forced.

She orders first. Her voice is sweet, and she’s pretty. Why'd she have to be so pretty?

“Just water for me. Thanks, Ace,” Steve says, letting the nickname slip. It’s like he can’t hold it in around you.

“‘Course.” You turn quickly to get their drinks.

“Ace?” Steve’s date, Becky, asks.

“We’re friends. From school. Just a nickname.”

He simplifies it. There’s no point in telling the whole story. It’s over—he’s had to remind himself of that constantly—and it’s his fault. Not the type of thing he needs to share on a first date, that’s for sure.

“Oh, okay. So, what are you getting?” Somehow, she accepts the answer easily.

You shouldn’t feel so shaken by this. Really, you shouldn’t. You were with Steve ages ago, and it’s been over. You don’t have any sort of claim over him anymore. None.

So why is your stomach twisting every time you catch him smiling at something she says?

All you know is that it won’t do you any good to think about that too much. You busy yourself with getting their drinks instead. You approach the table carefully, not wanting to spill anything.

“For you,” you set her drink down. She thanks you. She’s nice, too. “And, water for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You guys ready to order, or do you need a couple more minutes?”

It’s like you’re on autopilot, repeating the same phrases you do to every single table, hoping that it comes out sounding natural.

“I think we’re good,” Steve says, gesturing for his date to go first.

He almost feels like he should apologize to you. Then again, maybe he’s reading into things too far. As much as he feels like he can tell when you’re uncomfortable, when your smile is forced, he has no idea if your habits are the same as they used to be.

You’re cautious not to let your hands touch when you collect the menu from Steve.

The rest of their dinner is much the same, and you’re grateful any time you can distract yourself with a different table. Your actions are stiff, your words practically robotic.

Still, before he leaves, Steve leaves you a tip and a scrawled note on a crumpled receipt: ‘Thank you. Sorry for the ambush. -Steve.’

You still have notes from him, in that same, charmingly messy handwriting, buried in a shoebox in your closet. Notes you didn’t have time to get rid of in your rush to move. Notes you should probably get rid of.

Not only did he leave you a note, he was outside waiting for you when your shift was over.

He wasn’t going to wait. He was going to leave it at the note and hope that you weren’t bothered as much as he thought you might be. Maybe it was stupid to think you’d be affected by him being with someone else in front of you after all this time, but he couldn’t ignore the instinct he got when he saw the look on your face. The guilt he felt.

He catches you as you walk out the door, startling you a bit, “Ace, wait up.”

“God, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry,” he says, falling into step beside you as you walk to your car. He’d parked two spots over. “Actually, I just wanted to say that. Sorry, I mean.”

“You already said that,” he tilts his head, a question. “On your note.”

“I didn’t want you to think I did that on purpose. I didn’t know you worked at Enzo’s until tonight, actually.”

“I haven’t been for long,” you amend. “I’m not upset with you, Steve.”

The words hold a lot more meaning than you expected. You really aren’t upset with him, not over tonight, and not over what happened years ago. You’re more upset with yourself for letting it get to you even now.

“Good. That’s- I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words are heavy, too. You’re too tired to hold the weight.

“What about your date?” You stop next to your car. He stops, too.

“I drove her home already. Came back after.”

Really, he was halfway home after dropping off Becky, but he couldn’t shake his worry that he’d caused even more strain on your relationship. He turned around without a second thought.

“She seems nice,” you say.

“Yeah,” he looks around the parking lot, stares at the streetlight for a second. “So, we’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” you confirm.

You can’t help but hope that saying it out loud will make things feel better with him. That maybe, you could be some sort of friends again.

He nods, “okay. Sorry again,” he searches for his keys in his pocket, “have a good night, Ace.”

He walks the short distance to his car while you fumble to unlock yours. Climbing in and shutting the door, you let your head fall against the steering wheel, forehead pressed to it.

What a night.

Steve’s seen Becky a few times since the date at Enzo’s.

She is nice, and he does like her, but he hasn’t been able to let her kiss him anywhere other than the cheek. So far, she hasn’t said anything, but he knows that he won’t be able to dodge her without question for much longer.

When you were gone, though it took time, he was able to be with other people. It never lasted long, and he rarely went through with things without thinking of you at least once. He can’t even give someone a peck on the mouth.

It’s like as soon as he thinks he can lean in and do it, his mind is all Ace Ace Ace, and he finds he can’t.

He’s trying his best to ignore it, to hope that in getting used to you being back, he’ll get used to not being with you, too. So far, it hasn’t been working very well. He dreams more often than not, and even in sleep, he can’t seem to escape your face.

Instead of digging into whatever mess he’s sure that’ll cause, he’s been seeing Becky.

It’s unfair, he knows it is. To her and to you, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He isn’t thinking straight because you’ve rushed back into his life so quickly he can’t catch up. He’s trying to bury the feelings he has for you by focusing on someone else.

Though, maybe focusing isn’t the right word, because his mind still wanders to you. A bunch.

He’s confused and he’s scared and he misses you. He doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s pushing to the surface once again now that you’re home, and he doesn’t want to because he’s afraid of what it’s sure to become. What might’ve never even left.

He misses you but he can’t do anything about that. So, Becky it is.

The breeze tickles your cheeks as you make your way through the trailer park in search of any of your friends.

Somehow, Eddie and his band managed to make their own gig out by the picnic tables, and, of course, he’d invited the group to come watch. When you first became friends with Eddie, he was reluctant to let you all in on his music. Now, though, he lets everyone know there’s a spot for them saved at every performance.

You follow the noise, finding where a small crowd of people has formed by the tables that have been pushed together to serve as a stage. Probably an unsafe one, at that, but it’s Eddie. He cheers when he spots you from where he stands on the middle table.

“She’s here!”

“Can't miss the first show I’m back for, can I?”

“The rockstar would not have that,” Robin says, giving you a quick side hug.

“Thank you for calling me a rockstar,” Eddie replies.

You say your hellos to the others, Nancy, sitting on the bench attached to the table Eddie’s stood on, Jonathan, fiddling with his camera.

“Is Steve not coming?” You ask. Hopefully in a casual way.

“No, he is,” Nancy says.

“Likes to be fashionably late,” is what Robin has to say.

You nod, turning your attention to Eddie, “so, how many of these songs are new?”

“To these fools, none,” he points lazily around the group. “To you, all of them.” He smiles, and it makes you smile, too. You’ve missed being able to support him in person.

“Can’t wait to hear them, then.”

“Dingus!” Robin yells happily.

You know she’s talking about Steve. You turn around to find him. Probably too quickly.

“Hey guys,” he waves. It’s then you notice that he’s not alone. His date that he took to Enzo’s is with him. She waves, too, her arm curled around Steve’s. “This is Becky.”

She’s met with polite greetings. Your mouth, for some reason, stays shut.

Robin comes to stand beside you. She looks at your expression, the shock that you shake your head to clear, the tiniest bit of hurt that lingers in your eyes. You look at her, and she raises her eyebrows at you, are you okay? It’s silent, but you know it’s what she’s asking.

Isn’t that a question. You don’t know why your stomach sinks when you see her with him. Again. Well, maybe you do know, you just don’t want to accept it. The feelings you’d had for Steve were meant to be long, long gone.

Only, since being home, you’ve realized they aren’t.

Even though things with Steve have been far from the same as before, even as when you were friends, he’s still Steve. He’s the kind boy you knew, only older. He still cares about the kids the way an older sibling would, he still puts his friends before anything, and he’s still the greatest person you know.

You simply shrug at Robin.

Then, Becky’s in front of you, “we already met, right?”

“Yeah, um, hi.”

“Hi. It’s nice to at least have a familiar face here.”

God, you want to dislike her so bad, but you really can’t. She’s kind, and she’s clearly making an effort to make a good impression. It’s annoying.

Steve knows he probably shouldn’t have brought her with him, but she’s been asking to meet his friends so frequently and he figured that Eddie’s gig would be as good a time as ever. At least here, there’s a crowd to hide in.

He really does like Becky, just not in the way he’s supposed to. He thinks he might’ve spent all of those feelings on you, and there’s no way he’s getting them back.

Eddie jumps down from the table and pulls Steve aside, “what are you doing?”

“Dunno what you mean.” He does, actually. Only, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Come on, man. You can't tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you,” Eddie’s not talking about Becky. He’s talking about you.

“She doesn’t look at me. Not like that.”

“Sometimes you really are an idiot, you know? She looks at you like you put the fucking moon in the sky, all melty and shit.”

“She used to look at me like that. I fucked it up. That’s gone, okay?”

“Is it gone for you?” Eddie says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says. When he looks at you, however, it feels like it matters. A lot.

“Just saying. Think you might’ve brought the wrong lady.”

Steve already feels bad about what he’s trying to do with Becky. Seeing her to distract himself from you. He hates that even his friends are seeing through it. Is it really that obvious?

Eddie turns away to finish setting up with the band. Steve sees Becky talking to you of all people and he almost smacks himself right there. He’s so, so stupid. He walks over, into the mess he’s created.

“Hey, Ace,” he nods at you quickly, then turns to Becky. “Why don’t we go find a spot to sit?”

“We aren’t watching here?”

Steve looks between you and her quickly. Really, he’s just trying to save you from having to talk to her. He can still tell when you’re itching to get out of a conversation.

“Think the speakers might be too loud for you, babe.”

You miss whatever reply she gives him, stuck on his use of the word babe. The last time you heard it come from his mouth, he was saying it to you. It stings even though it shouldn’t.

It’s over. It’s been over. So why is it so hard to forget about it?

You never really got used to seeing Steve with Becky.

He didn’t bring her around often—maybe for your sake—but when he did, you’d find yourself keeping your distance. At least one person between you and them, like a buffer.

It felt like the progress you’d made with Steve, with not feeling so far away around him, was disappearing every time you saw her standing with him. You hated it, how you let things affect you.

A couple of weeks went on that way. Then, you got a phone call.

You’d been sitting on your bed, back against the headboard, doing absolutely nothing. The shrill ringing came from your bedside table, and you leaned over to pick it up mindlessly.

“Hello?”

“Ace.”

It’s Steve. He hasn’t called you since you’ve been back. His utterance of your nickname sounds like a breath of relief.

“Steve? What’s going on?”

“Can I come see you?”

“What?” You’re convinced you misheard him, or that something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, promise,” he pauses. “Well, I broke up with Becky. But I’m good, okay?”

He broke up with Becky? He broke up with Becky and decided to call you. You’re not quite sure what to do with that.

“You- did something happen?”

“No, no. Just- I’ll explain everything. Let me see you.”

It's hard to say no to him, and you can’t help but be worried. You say yes, a quiet word whispered into the phone.

“Thank you,” he says. “See you soon, Ace.”

“Bye.”

You barely get the word out before the sound of his phone being hung up echoes in your ear. It’s only then, in the silence of your room, that you notice your heart pounding, a heavy thump in your chest.

Steve knows it’s selfish to want to see you now, after he’s just broken up with someone. It’s the first actual breakup he’s had since being with you, and yet, he’s not even upset. He just wants to see you.

Sure, he liked Becky, but she could never really erase his thoughts of you. He felt awful about staying with her for the reasons he did. So, he broke it off.

Now, he's knocking on your window.

The tapping wouldn’t be so noticeable if you hadn’t been waiting for it. He never did like using the front door.

You open the window for him, move backwards a couple of steps to give him enough room to stumble inside, hair a little messy, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, devastatingly pretty.

It brings you back to high school. Steve, sneaking through your window at night just to fall asleep with you, his arms a safety net, his steady breathing a lullaby. Steve, peering at you through the glass with that grin of his. Steve.

“You know you can use the door, right?” You say.

“Not my style,” he takes a second to look at you. “Hi, Ace.”

You shift on your feet.

“Hi.”

“I know this is…” He trails off. There’s not really a single word for it. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You mean it. Even after everything, he’s Steve over it all. Your Steve, who was the greatest friend you ever had and, somehow, an even better boyfriend. He’s never been horrible to you; not even close.

Sure, he broke your heart and fell away from your life right after that, but you know him. You know there’s something he hasn’t told you about that, and if letting him in through your window again is a step closer to hearing it, you’re willing to take it.

“Even after what I did?”

“I don’t think you could ever really lose me, Steve.”

That hits him in the gut, a painful twist. Because he thought he did. Yes, he broke up with you (he regretted it very quickly), but he’d fought the urge to pick up the phone and call you at school more times than he can count.

“You’re a good person, Ace.”

He’s tiptoeing around whatever he wants to say to you. You talk softly, “why’d you want to see me?”

“I just needed to make sure you knew something.”

“What is it?”

“Just- I never kissed Becky. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.”

It’s the first time either of you have said it so plainly. There’s a wince on his face when he does. Small, but you catch it all the same.

“Robin said you were dating people, though.”

“Yeah, but I never kissed them. Ever. I couldn't.”

He slept with people—which was still hard—but to him, nothing feels as intimate as a kiss. He could never bring himself to cross that line with someone else. Not after how you would kiss him. The way everything else would melt away.

“I need you to know that. And I broke up with Becky because I couldn’t be with her without thinking of-” he stops, shakes his head, like he can’t get the words out. His eyes are holding onto yours when he says, “-someone else.”

“You climbed through my window just to tell me that?”

“I guess I did.”

He hadn’t thought about what comes next, what to do or say. Hell, he could barely even say what he meant in the first place. He wanted to say he’d been thinking of you, but the word got stuck in his throat. He hopes you can still read him enough to know what he meant.

“So, you were with Becky… why, exactly?”

“I thought- I don’t know. I thought I’d be able to push, um, someone else out of my mind if I was with her. I wasn’t, obviously.”

You’re practically speechless. Never would you have imagined that Steve was still thinking of you in any way, let alone so much so that he couldn’t fully give himself to anyone else.

Then again, you were never able to do that, either.

“I don’t know what to say,” you shrug, shoulder to your cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything, really,” he says, though there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You hate to be the one putting it there. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Steve. We aren’t together, I know that.”

He hasn’t been able to forget about that for a day. It’s like his life without you in it was a permanent winter. The snow never melting, the cold sinking into his bones. He hadn’t even realized it until you came back.

The wind picked up, frostbite ate away at him. Then, just like that, the sun was shining again. He hopes the snow will thaw soon.

He feels like an idiot right now. An idiot who can't spit out the right words and who can't leave you alone even when he knows he should.

“I should go.”

“Steve-”

“No, I’ll go. I’m sorry for dropping all of that on you.”

He’s turning his back to you, opening the window, worrying you all over again.

“You can stay.” Please, stay.

“I’m really sorry, Ace.”

Sorry for letting you go, sorry for disappearing, sorry for being a coward, sorry for fucking things up even now.

By the time you gather your wits enough to walk to the window, he’s crossing your lawn quickly. You watch him go until his figure fades into the night, the wind a low whisper in the air.

You do a lot of thinking that night, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. After what might be twenty minutes or two hours, you find you aren’t upset with Steve in the slightest. If anything, you’re worried.

And maybe, selfishly, a little hopeful, too.

It’s not even the breakup itself. It’s the way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered and his frustration seemed to soften just a little when he looked at you. It’s the way he had to make sure you knew he hasn’t kissed anyone since you, that he called and came over just to tell you that.

Maybe you should be angry, but all you feel when you think about Steve is something you’d convinced yourself was long gone. A feeling with wings, fluttering.

You decide that you need to talk to him again.

That decision has you walking through the door of Family Video early the next day, when you’re sure it won’t be busy. You had to double check with Robin that Steve was the one opening (you could practically see her knowing smirk through the phone), and sure enough, he stands behind the counter.

The bell above the door jingles, cutting through the silence of the store. Steve glances up to find you, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure you’re really there.

“Am I dreaming?” He says.

Steve was convinced you’d never want to see his face again after the shit he pulled last night. After dumping information on you that you hadn’t asked for, then leaving as soon as he got scared.

“If you are, so am I.”

“Robin’s not here.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to after…” he trails off, like he’s embarrassed to have to bring it up.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I feel like I should be asking you.”

“Steve.”

His name still sounds the best in your voice, he thinks.

“I’m okay, promise. Last night, I guess I just- I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. While I was gone.” Every single day since I left, I missed you.

You’ve both felt it for a long time, but now’s the first time someone’s been brave enough to say it. The words settle in the air for a moment, hanging between you.

“I’m sorry, Ace. For everything.”

You want to fall into his arms as easily as you used to, to squeeze him and tell him it’s okay, it can be okay, if you try hard enough. The counter standing between you stops you from it, maybe for the better.

“Do you think- do you think maybe we can be friends again?”

I don’t know if I can just be your friend, he thinks. Not after knowing what it’s like to kiss you and wake up beside you, to touch you and love you. If it’s the only way to keep you around, though, he’ll give it all he has.

“I’d like that.”

Your smile is almost shy, but it’s there.

“We used to be better at this. Talking, I mean,” you say, trying to be light.

“We’ll get better again.”

It’s quiet again, save for the murmur of whatever movie Steve chose for the morning playing on the TV.

“I hope you know I haven’t been, like, holding a grudge, or anything. I forgave you a long time ago.”

You had to, even when it still hurt, even when you still wonder why things changed so quickly. He’s a human as much as you are, and letting things fester for years wouldn't do either of you any good.

Still, like any wound, it still bleeds from time to time.

“Doesn’t change that I’m sorry, Ace.”

You shy away from the sincerity in his stare, from the brown in his eyes that could so easily draw you back into him completely.

He bends to catch your eye, though, making sure you know he means it.

Letting yourself get close to Steve again is easy, it’s the friendship that’s hard.

He’s a good friend, you see it in his interactions with everyone around you. He’s a good friend and still, you can’t stop thinking about the kind of boyfriend he is. Caring and loving, full of touches to give, a hand on you whenever it could be. You miss the warmth of that hand.

You keep that to yourself , though, because things are better. So much better.

You and Steve don’t avoid each other anymore, the smiles aren’t so forced or small, the words not so careful. The only subject you stay away from is the breakup, and even then, you don’t think about it so much now that he’s around again. You think about everything before that. The good and the in love, sticky and sweet.

Tonight, he’s convinced you to come along and chauffeur the kids to the arcade. In turn, you’ve convinced him to go inside with you.

The various neon lights bathe your skin, blues and oranges, pinks and greens. You can't help but think they glow a little nicer on Steve’s face.

“What’s the first game gonna be?” You turn to look at him over your shoulder as you walk between the rows of games.

“Your choice, Ace. This was your idea.”

“Fine by me,” you shrug a shoulder, grinning.

Falling into conversation with Steve proves to still feel natural. You’ve gotten the chance to spend time with him more since you talked that morning at Family Video, and it’s paid off. Light teasing and check-ins are what they used to be before.

The part that still makes your heart beat faster, almost like it’s trying to find his, is what hangs in the silence. There's knowledge there; the silence used to be comfortable, and now, it’s full of questions and tension. What’s too much? What crosses the line of friendship you’ve had to draw?

If you’re being honest, being Steve’s friend almost makes you miss him more. You had to do it this way, though, if only to protect yourself from losing him ever again.

You’ve been pushing away any thoughts of Steve as a boyfriend as far away as you can.

“Okay,” you stop in front of Pac-Man.

“A classic,” he nods, putting change into the slot. “Ladies first.”

“Scared, Harrington?”

“Of you?” He shakes his head. “Never.”

Of what he feels for you, maybe.

You play well, and Steve watches your hands move as you do. He watches your eyes as they flit about the screen, your tongue poking between your lips in concentration. Watches, still, when you throw your head back and groan when you lose.

“My turn,” he says, bumping you over with his hips.

Despite his confidence, Steve loses really, really fast.

“It’s broken,” he declares.

“It’s not,” you say. “Try again.”

“You just like to see me lose.”

You wiggle your way in front of him so that his arms cage you in, one on either side of you, leaning on the game. “I’ll show you.”

He hopes he isn’t breathing as hard as he thinks he is. He can feel the ghost of your back against his chest, so, so close. He slips another coin into the slot and lets you guide his hands to the controls.

His hands are just as warm as you remember. Solid and softer than they look. You refrain from interlocking your fingers with his and focus on guiding him through the game. It’d be so easy to hold his hand, though. Muscle memory.

This time around, even when the screen tells him ‘game over,’ Steve feels like he’s won something at the slightest bit of contact you’d initiated.

Dustin finds the two of you, still playing Pac-Man, and taps his wrist. Duty calls.

After dropping the kids off, the car much quieter, you let yourself look at Steve as he drives. His side profile, the slope of his nose and line of his jaw, the way he squints at road signs.

“You should be wearing your glasses,” you say. You’re not even sure if he still has them.

“You know I hate those things.”

It’s true, you do know that. He barely even wore them around you when you’d been dating. They made him shy, even though you told him he looks pretty either way, any way.

You find that you still know a lot of things.

You still know him. You know that he owns a pair of reading glasses. You know that he scratches the back of his neck when he’s nervous. You know that he knuckles at his eyes when he doesn’t get enough sleep. You know that he sunburns easiest on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders. You know him. All the small things, some he may not even know himself.

You might’ve missed some stuff, but really, you still know him. You still love him, too.

That realization hits you, a gust of wind strong enough to knock you off-balance if you weren’t sitting. You’ve been trying and trying to keep it all away. Yet, here you are, looking at the strand of hair that falls over Steve's forehead, realizing you love him all over again in the passenger seat of his BMW.

Maybe you never really stopped.

“Ace, did you hear me?”

“Hm?” You blink and suddenly he’s looking at you, too. And the car’s not moving. When did that happen?

“You zoned out on me, I think,” he runs a hand through his hair, pushing that strand you'd been focused on back into place. “We’re here.”

Your house, he means.

“Sorry. Thank you for driving,” you say, reaching for the handle and popping the door open. You bonk your head in your haste to get out.

“Shit! You okay?” He says, his hand reaching for you even though you’re too far to touch.

“Yup! Never better.”

Terrified by the four letter word that hasn’t left your head since it came back in, you can’t help but try to get away from Steve, from the boy who’s drawn the feeling from you in the first place without even trying. You hurry to the door with a rushed ‘bye!’

Steve stares at your front door even after you’ve closed it, eyebrows scrunched and mouth in a confused pout. He wonders what you were thinking about as he tried to grab your attention the whole way home.

Steve’s made a habit of visiting you at work.

If you’re working during the day, he’ll drive over on his lunch breaks and be sure to be seated in your section. If you’re working evenings, he’ll make some excuse about not wanting to cook dinner and still, he requests your section.

He‘s been coming so often that the hostesses don’t even wait for him to ask, they just nod and seat him at one of your tables.

You’ve had a lot of time to let your rediscovered love for Steve simmer, but it’s always there, making you smile like an idiot when you see him, making you stop yourself from reaching for his hand whenever it’s close enough.

It was naive of you to think you could limit yourself to friendly feelings for him. You know that now.

Walking out of the back, you find him sitting at what has become his usual table. A small round one, usually for two. The chair across from him empty. You like that better than when Becky was the one sitting in it.

“I’m starting to think you have no kitchen at all,” you say, standing behind the empty seat, leaning a hand on top of it.

“You caught me.”

“Seriously, you know you don’t have to come here to see me.”

“I want to come here to see you.”

Really, at this point, Steve thinks he’d be happy to visit you anywhere. Because of that, he’s definitely spending way too much money at Enzo’s.

“Okay then,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, then grab your notepad to write down his order. “What’ll it be this time?”

As much as Steve wishes you could sit down with him, he knows you have a job to do, so he gives you his order and takes any minute of conversation you can give him.

He watches you tend to the other tables you have, your smile and the way you talk, your mannerisms and the pattern of your steps. Often, he wonders if he’d still be sitting here, watching you with something in his eyes that can only be described as longing, if he never broke up with you that day. He likes to think he would be, only he’d be allowed to kiss you goodbye the way he so often wants to.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking to believe he could get to do that again, one day.

Since he felt your hands over his those weeks ago at the arcade, he’s decided he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back. He’ll wait as long as he needs to, and do his best to prove that he won’t hurt you again.

Steve’s never stopped loving you, not for a second, and seeing your face again only reminded him of that. Being your friend again only amplified it.

Even worse, all of your friends are well aware of this. They never let him hear the end of it.

“Here you go,” you say, putting his food in front of him.

He shoots you a quick smile, “thank you.”

“‘Course. And don’t bother paying this time, it’s on me.”

“Don’t do that, I’m paying.”

“I already did it, okay? Just shut up and let me.”

When you walk away, he shakes his head and smiles at your retreating figure. Classic Ace, he thinks, so insistent on doing nice things. Yeah, he’ll wait years if he has to.

You chat with him when you can, telling him about a customer who’d yelled at you earlier in your shift over something so small, you can’t even remember why they were angry in the first place. He laughed through your story and offered to find the person and beat them up for you.

You reminded him that he usually loses fights.

A stern talking to, then, he’d said.

You giggled. Laughs like that came easy with Steve.

You were busy when he left, but when you went over to clean his table you’d found enough money left behind to pay for his food and give you a tip. You rolled your eyes at that. That’s Steve, always being the one to take care of everyone else. He can’t even let you pay for one damm meal.

He’d also left a note scrawled on a Family Video sticky note.

Thanks for letting me bug you again. Hope you’re not sick of me! -Steve x (and keep your money, please).

You folded it into a neat square and put it in your back pocket. This was a habit of his, too; leaving notes behind after he’d leave. So far, you’ve kept them all, in that same shoebox in your closet from high school.

You’re absolutely hopeless.

Steve didn’t have an excuse to call you, he just really wanted to see you. Or, hear your voice, at least.

“Hello?” You picked up after a couple rings.

“Ace. You busy today?”

“Mmm apart from laying down all day, no.”

“You wanna come lay down all day here?”

If he couldn’t hear you then, you would drop your face into your pillow and squeal. Instead, you press your free hand to your cheek and try to suppress your stupid grin.

“I guess I can shuffle some things around.”

“You’re awful,” he says. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep.”

A click and it’s quiet again.

It’s not even half an hour later that you’re knocking on the Harrington’s door. Steve opens up quickly (he’d been standing near the door waiting for you) and moves aside to let you in.

Steve scans your outfit as you walk ahead of him. You’re clad in slouchy sweats. He thinks you look beautiful. He thinks it all of the time, but there’s something about you being comfortable enough with him not to dress up that warms him from the inside out.

It reminds him of how you used to walk around his house, whenever his parents weren’t there, in your underwear and his softest t-shirt.

Baby steps, he thinks.

“Are you hungry?” He asks as you plop down onto his couch.

“I'm okay. A little tired.”

“I did ruin your plans of laying around, didn't I?”

“Ruin’s not the right word,” you say. You’d much rather be in his company than buried in your bed, anyway.

He sits next to you after turning on the TV, letting whatever’s playing stay on. There’s a respectable distance between you, your thighs close, but not touching.

“Are you happy you came back here?” Steve turns his head toward you. Here, as in Hawkins. Here, as in with him.

Your head pivots toward him, cheek on your shoulder. Your eyes find his. “Yes. Really happy.”

“Me too.”

There are a million things you could say, but then, in that moment, it feels like you don’t have to. Something silent is being shared. You look back at the TV and sink into the cushions.

As time goes on, your eyes grow heavier, blinking slowly trying to stay awake. Steve notices when your head falls forward a little and you force it back up.

“You’re tired.”

“Worked the closing shift last night.”

“You can lay down. I meant it when I said you

could do that here.”

“I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s kinda the point.”

You frown at him. “But then you’ll be all alone.”

“Just lay down, Ace.”

You roll your eyes but do it anyway. You’d actually been ready to nap when Steve called, but figured sleep could wait.

He tries not to overthink it when he gently places a hand on the side of your head, urging you to use his lap as your pillow. You go easily and blame it on your sleepy mind.

Instinctively, once you’re settled with your cheek on his thigh, Steve pets your hair from your face. He pulls his hand back, afraid of overstepping, but you miss his touch.

“No, don’t. Feels nice.”

“Okay,” he almost whispers.

Steve’s hand goes back to your hair, pushing it from your face, letting his fingers get tangled in it before pulling them back and doing it again. You fall asleep quickly, surrounded by Steve’s scent.

You nap for about forty minutes. Steve’s hand doesn’t stop at all, afraid that you’d wake up. He hasn’t paid much attention to the TV. Instead, he’s been tracing the details of your face over and over with his eyes.

Your eyelashes kissing the skin of your under eyes, the slope of your nose, the way your lips are slightly parted and pouting. He’s known it for years now, but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

All soft and, by his standard, absolutely perfect.

Self-indulgently, he lets his hand wander from your hair, the back of his index finger tracing a delicate line from your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheek. You stir and he feels guilty.

“Did I wake you?”

You blink your eyes open and squint, turning so you lay on your back rather than your side, looking up at him. “Nuh-uh,” you say, even though he did.

If you were woken up like that every day, well, you’d become a morning person.

“Liar.”

“Am not.” He shakes his head, you yawn. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not long. You feel better?”

“Much,” you nod, even though there’s a kink in your neck from the way you had it perched on his lap. You don’t care, it was the best sleep you’d had for a while.

You sit up and stretch until something cracks.

“Thanks for being my pillow.”

“Steve Harrington, human pillow, at your service.”

You push his shoulder lightly, “dork.”

You both laugh lightly. The sound fades when you realize how close your faces are. You reach up and brush the skin under his eye with your thumb.

“Eyelash,” you explain.

“Make a wish.”

When you were young, you wished on every birthday cake candle, every shooting star, that you’d find your person. Then, in your time with Steve, you wished to keep it. Now, as you blow the lash off your finger, you wish to have it back.

“Done.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“If it ever comes true, I’ll tell you.”

He nods, the tips of your noses brush. You can't stop your eyes from flicking to his mouth with him this close, you can feel his breaths, warm puffs of air against your skin.

Steve’s hand creeps up to cradle the back of your neck so gently you could cry. He uses it to guide you forward until your forehead is pushed against his.

“Steve.”

The whisper of his name is what snaps the rubber band. Steve tips your head up and kisses you.

It’s everything you remembered, and everything you’d forgotten, too. His lips are still soft, they still fit with yours the way puzzle pieces click together. Over time, you forgot how his feelings poured out of him when he’d kiss you. Now, he’s shy with it, slow-moving.

He pulls away, just for a second, to look at you, to check that you’re okay. You chase his mouth and he’s a goner, diving back in and inhaling deep at the feeling.

You can feel yourself melting into him, getting lost in the press of his lips against yours.

It hits you that Steve hasn’t kissed anyone since he was with you. That it’s been years since he’s last done this. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.

This is a big thing. Kissing Steve again is a big and scary thing. His free hand laying itself on your thigh jolts you out of it. You pull away, breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, pulling his hands away. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s just- I shouldn’t have done that.”

You’re supposed to be pushing your feelings aside. You’re supposed to be friends, that’s it. You’re not supposed to let it get to this point again, because you know how it feels when it ends. That can’t happen again.

“No, Ace. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be sorry, okay?” You stand up, almost dizzy. “I’m just gonna go, I think.”

“Hey, come on. Stay. It won’t happen again.”

“I just need to, um, clear my head.”

You hurry to the door, trying to slip your shoes on as fast as possible. Steve catches your wrist loosely as you reach for the door.

“You can talk to me. You don’t have to leave.”

“I need to think, Steve,” you open the door. This time, he lets you. Before you close it you turn to him, “I’m not mad, I promise.”

All he can do is nod slowly and stare at the door long after you’ve closed it.

You meant it: you’re not mad. Well, not at Steve. You’re mad at yourself, really, for letting yourself fall for him again, for making yourself remember exactly how it feels to kiss him.

You’re not mad at Steve and yet, you haven’t been alone with him since that day. It’s for your own good, you hope. You don’t want to let yourself be with him again because you know what it feels like to lose him. It hurts and it sucks and you’d rather love him quietly than feel that ever again.

It’s game night at the Wheeler’s now, and so far, you’ve lost pretty much every game. You find it doesn’t bother you all that much when you’re around such good people.

As Nancy shuffles Uno cards, you stand, “skip me this round. I gotta pee.”

“Thank you for announcing that,” Dustin says.

“You’re welcome, Dusty,” you ruffle his hair on your way to the bathroom.

Once you’re washing your hands, you inspect yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s frizzier than you’d like and your mascara’s smudged under your eyes. You use your pinky, wet with tap water, to wipe it away.

You unlock and open the door and find Steve leaning against the wall in the hallway. Not expecting anyone to be there, you jump.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, laughing lightly.

“Why’re you standing there?”

“Waiting for the bathroom.”

You don’t point out that there are more than one bathrooms in the Wheeler’s house. Instead, you move out of the doorway and let him go in. Only, he doesn’t move.

“Okay, I lied,” he confesses. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh. Well, here I am.”

“Yeah,” he looks you over, like he can’t help it. “Will you come home with me? So we can talk about…”

As much as you wish you could just forget about that kiss, you can’t. It hasn’t left your mind for more than five minutes at a time. Often, you find yourself pressing your fingers to your mouth, searching for the ghost of his. Besides, how can you say no to Steve saying the words ‘will you come home with me’?

“Okay,” you say quietly, then, more sure, “okay, sure.”

You walked there, and though you’d usually much prefer the comfort of the BMW, you can’t help but worry about what he wants to say the rest of the night.

Once you’ve said your goodbyes and walk towards Steve’s car, you can almost feel Robin’s knowing smile as she watches you climb into the passenger seat.

The drive feels like a dream in the sense that you blinked and it ended. You suppose time can fly when you’re lost in thought, in what-ifs.

You only realize you’ve made it to Steve’s house when you hear the click of the gearshift and the quiet of the engine shutting off that follows. You follow him inside, watching the way he fiddles with his keys, his hand flicking on the lights inside.

He leads you to his bedroom. He knows he could’ve stopped in the kitchen or the living room, but he’s most comfortable in the only room that feels completely his in the house. He needs to be comfortable for this.

You sit on the edge of his bed, and he leans on the dresser across from you.

There’s an anticipation almost humming in the air. Who will speak first, what will they say.

“So-”

“Listen-”

You speak at the same time.

“You first,” Steve offers.

“I’m sorry for running out like that. I was just overwhelmed, I guess. Had to think.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. I feel like I should be apologizing to you.”

For so much more than just that kiss. Then again, he’s not really sorry for kissing you, he’s only sorry for possibly hurting you with it.

“We were doing so good.” He furrows his brows at you in question. “At just being friends.”

“I don’t think I could ever look at you as just a friend, Ace. Not after knowing what it’s like to have you.”

You want to tell him you feel the same, you want to tell him so bad. The words are stuck in your throat. You’re so afraid, so nervous, for what could happen if you try this again.

“Do you regret kissing me?” You ask instead.

“I know I should, but I can’t regret anything with you.”

“I don’t regret it, either.”

The room seems to shrink, the air thicken. Steve’s hands clench on the edge of the dresser, holding himself back, almost.

You don’t think you want him to hold back. You want to slap yourself for it, but you’ve missed the way his kiss melted you every day since you felt it. Maybe, if you can’t tell him, you can show him how you feel.

“Kiss me again,” you say.

“What?”

He must have heard you wrong. Only, when you repeat yourself, he knows he didn’t.

“You’re sure?” He checks.

All you can do is nod, almost eagerly. He pushes off from the dresser and stands in front of you. Your knees brush against the fabric of his jeans as he moves closer. His hands gently cup your face, tilt it up so you’re looking at him.

His eyes flick between yours, and when you nudge your cheek into his hand, like an encouragement, he bends down to place his lips over yours.

It starts gently, like the last one. Steve’s lips glide over yours slowly, making sure you don’t want to pull away. It feels like high school and sneaking through windows, like popcorn kisses at the movies and the feeling of Skull Rock behind your back. It feels like the past and yet, there’s an emotion there that wasn’t before.

Longing, knowing what it feels like to lose this.

It’s gentle until your hands snake their way under Steve’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the sunshine pouring out of him. That’s when his hold on your face becomes a bit more firm, one of his thumbs pushing on your chin to get you to open it for him.

That’s when the dam seems to break.

Steve kisses you deeper and deeper, pushing himself closer and closer until you’re being laid down on the bed. He pulls away from you, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, to give you space to push yourself up to his pillows.

He tugs his shirt off before climbing over you, his hands digging into the mattress on either side of your head, his brown eyes darkened.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yes,” you nod, “I missed you.”

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him back to you, his mouth finding yours easily. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this with Steve, but the rhythm of it all comes easily. It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve spent so long learning what they like.

He kisses you enough to feel dazed, your head a jumble of SteveSteveSteve and your hips canting towards his unconsciously. He’d been holding his weight off of you before that, but feeling you brush against him had him pushing his hips against yours, pinning you to the bed.

You broke the kiss only to catch your breath, and Steve took the time to push wet kisses down your jawline, to your neck, breathing heavy in between them.

Selfishly, possessively, he tugs the neckline of your shirt down and sucks a hickey into your collarbone, licking over it when he’s done. Your hands have buried themselves in his hair at some point, and you feel his groan against your skin when you tug.

He moves down still, pushing your shirt up to bunch underneath your bra and peck his way across your stomach.

“Steve,” you almost whine.

He peeks up at you, “yeah, baby?”

Baby. He hasn’t called you that in years. The sound of the pet name in his voice is enough to have the dampness in your panties grow.

“You’re teasing me.”

“You used to like that,” he pouts.

“It’s been too long. Please.”

He’s trying to act composed on the outside when really, the word ‘please’ leaving your mouth is enough to have him push his crotch into the mattress.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. His hand pauses on the waistband of your pants, “can I?”

“Yes.”

He unbuttons them and tugs down the zipper, sits up on his knees to pull them down and off your legs, your socks and underwear follow.

Steve can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe you’re there, on his bed, looking so pretty for him. He resists the urge to pinch himself.

You grow shy under his stare, his eyes focused where you’re embarrassingly wet all because of him. You try to shut your legs, but he stops you with a hand on your knee, “you’re beautiful, Ace. You don’t need to hide. It’s just me.”

You’re not sure how to tell him the reason you care so much is because it’s him of all people. Steve who you’ve known for so long, Steve who you used to have, like this. Steve, who you love.

He lays down between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs, thumbs running back and forth soothingly across your skin. He kisses up your thighs and pauses when his breath hits your cunt. He glances up at you for permission.

You nod, a hand finding one of his on your leg and weaving your fingers together.

You try to keep your head up to be able to see him, but as soon as he runs his tongue up your slit it falls back into the pillow, a gasp escaping you. You squeeze his hand in yours.

Steve works you quickly, so much so that it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten a single thing about you.

His tongue runs over you again and again, your slick surely all over his mouth. When it hits the bead of your clit, your free hand is in his hair again. He grunts into you at the pull, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of it all.

When your hand squeezes his even tighter, Steve moves his free hand to your entrance, his mouth hit around your clit. He works a finger in, then a second. He curves them and searches until he finds the spot that makes you whimper out a noise he wants to hear again.

“Steve,” his name a breathy moan.

“Go on, baby. I can feel it. You wanna come?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“I've got you.”

He works his fingers quicker, puts his mouth back on you and flicks his tongue and just like that you’re being pushed over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands holding him even tighter.

He watches as you come down, his cheek against your thigh, “so pretty.”

You manage a lazy smile, taking your hand out of his hair, “sorry. Did that hurt?”

“I liked it. You know that.”

He moves back up until his face is above yours, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him.

Your hands trail down his back, his muscles shifting as he holds himself up. They land on the waistband of his jeans, tracing it around to his stomach, letting your fingers go further, feeling the skin just above his underwear.

You pull back from his mouth to glance down to where your fingers run back and forth over his skin, pausing to undo the button of his jeans.

“Who’s teasing now?” He says, voice low in your ear.

A shrug is your reply, followed by his zipper being pulled down slowly. His head bends to watch your hands work his pants and boxers down enough to free him, his cock hard and pink at the tip, pretty as ever.

You wrap a hand around him, “better?”

“Much.”

You work him slowly, like you’re trying to remember the feeling of him, your hand pausing at the tip to let your thumb run over it.

Steve tried to remember the way your hand felt against him when he was desperate and alone. Now, having you again, he knows his imagination could never do you justice. You’re soft in a way he never could be.

When you squeeze him a bit tighter, moving a bit quicker, he drops his head onto your shoulder, groaning.

“Ace.”

“Uh-huh?”

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come,” he picks his head up, sets his eyes on yours, “I don’t wanna come like this.”

“Feels nice in my hand, though.”

“I can make it feel a whole lot better, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you, Ace.”

“I want you, too.”

He pecks your lips quickly before standing to take his pants off fully. You take your shirt and bra off at the same time. It makes you nervous to be naked in front of him again, and the way he looks at you doesn’t help. It’s a searing gaze, almost burning your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost like he was saying it to himself.

He climbs over you once more when you make hands at him. His skin is warm, mirroring the way you feel all over. Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, trails his hand down your neck, to your chest. He cups you in his palm, squeezing lightly then letting a thumb run over your nipple.

You bite back a whimper.

His mouth gives the tit that isn’t in his hand attention, pecking and sucking and licking.

“Steve,” you push your hips up.

“Sorry, baby. Missed these girls, too.”

You roll your eyes.

He kisses your cheek and takes the hand off your chest to hold himself, running his head up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. When he pauses at your entrance, he looks at you.

“You’re still okay? Still want this?”

You nod, hands running in circles on the back of his shoulders, “yes. I’m ready.”

He’s big, and the stretch of him pushing into you is sharper now that you’re not used to it. He soothes you with sweet words and soft kisses to your neck.

Halfway, he checks in, “good?”

You wrap your legs around his thighs and pull him in the rest of the way, whining when his pelvis is against yours.

“Fuck,” he says into the skin of your neck, just below your ear. “You’re heaven, Ace.”

“Move, Steve,” your hands tighten on his shoulders. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling back slowly only to push in again. You can feel everything, you think. Maybe because it’s been so long or because sex with someone you love is better than any other sex. Maybe it’s just Steve.

He’s all over you. His hair tickling your chin, his mouth open against your neck, breaths hot against your skin. He’s in your mind and in your heart and in you, deeper than anyone else. You feel so full. Of him, of emotion, of memories of nights you used to have just like this one.

Full of him in every way.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says. “There’s nobody like you. No one, Ace.”

“I-” love you, you almost say. “Steve.”

The pitch of your voice tells him to go faster, and he lifts his head to see your face. Mouth agape, soft moans and breaths spilling out, eyebrows scrunched, eyes falling shut when he finds your spot.

“Open your eyes,” he says, softly. “Come on, baby.”

You do, blinking them open and looking up at him. His hair is a mess around his head, sweaty strands falling over his forehead, his cheeks are flushed pink and you’re sure they’d be warm to the touch.

He drops his forehead against yours, your sounds and breaths mingling between your mouths, your noses nudging against each other with every push of his hips.

Your arms go around his neck, one hand tangling itself in the hair at the nape of his neck. You’re getting closer and closer and by the way his movements grow just a bit faster, a bit sloppier, he is, too.

“Ace. Baby, you’re there, yeah? I can feel you squeezing me,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

“So close, Steve.”

He’s holding himself up on one elbow, trailing his free hand down to rub circles over your clit. “Come on.”

You finish with a cry of his name, your eyes squeezing shut. It’s overwhelming, the feelings that blind you. The pleasure and the affection, the heat and the love you really don’t think you could imagine. So much so that tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

He’s not far behind, “shit. Where do you want me?”

In your haze, you can barely manage a reply, “tummy.”

He pulls out and jerks himself until you can feel him coming on your skin. He moans and it’s a beautiful sound. You run your hands over his skin through it all, grounding him and yourself.

Your foreheads are still together, slick with sweat.

“Fuck,” he pecks you once, twice, three times. “You okay?”

“Really good.”

“Will you stay?”

You hadn’t even thought of leaving. You wouldn’t dream of it. Not now, at least, in your post-orgasm daze where fears and worries don’t reach you.

“Mhm,” you hum your agreement.

Steve’s grin splits his cheeks, wide and toothy and infectious enough to make you smile, too.

“I’ll be right back,” he rolls away from you, standing beside the bed. Before walking away, he bends to peck you again. He heads to the bathroom after that.

You note the freckles that dot his back and shoulders as he goes. A constellation you never forgot; burned in your memory. One you used to play connect the dots with in the mornings.

He comes back with a wet cloth, wiping his come from your stomach and then cleaning you up as gently as possible, giving a soft apology when you whimper in sensitivity.

He tosses the cloth aside when he’s done and searches his drawers for a clean pair of boxers. He tugs them on then finds a baggy sleep shirt for you. You watch him the whole time, the way he moves and the way the streetlights seeping in through the window light his skin.

Coming back to you, he tells you to sit up and puts the shirt over your head. He didn’t even have to ask, he knows what you like to sleep in. When you look at the shirt he picked, you find it’s one that used to be your favorite.

You bring the fabric to your nose and hide your grin in it.

Steve pulls the blankets over you, then himself when he lays down beside you. He doesn’t even hesitate before tugging you closer with an arm around your waist.

“I really missed you, Ace.”

“Missed you, Steve,” you reply sleepily.

He kisses your forehead.

You fall asleep easily, Steve’s fingers running back and forth over your skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

Steve wakes up before you do.

You’ve both moved in your sleep. Now, you lay on your stomach, face turned towards him and cheek squished into the pillow. He lays on his side, propped up by his elbow, looking at you.

He looks at you, asleep and pretty, and wonders how he could ever give you up.

His free hand tucks your hair behind your ear, away from your face, brushes his knuckles across your cheeks as lightly as possible. He moves to your arm and traces the words ‘I love you’ into your skin.

He draws the words over and over, only pulling his hand away when you rouse.

You breathe in deep before opening your eyes, moving your head on the pillow to look over at Steve properly. His eyes are already set on you, puffy with sleep and full of something you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

“Hi,” his voice is different in the morning, lower.

“Hi.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you stretch your legs and turn onto your side. “You?”

“Better than I have in a while, actually.”

You can tell that there’s something he wants to say, that he’s thinking of the words. It makes you nervous, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. Maybe he regrets it. Almost worse, maybe he doesn’t.

“Can I say something?”

“Steve-”

“No, let me say it. If you hate it, we can forget about it, okay?”

His eyes are soft, pleading. You can tell that whatever it is, it really matters to him and there’s no way you can ignore that.

“Okay.”

“I still love you.”

His words hang in the air, your chests both rise and fall a bit quicker, hearts beating faster in tandem.

You’ve been dreaming of him saying it to you, and yet, hearing it out loud, you can’t help but be terrified. You love him, you know you do, and it scares you. It’ll hurt worse the second time around if you lose him.

“I still love you,” he continues in your silence. “I miss you so much, Ace. I want to do it again. I want to be with you and do it right.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You didn’t. You won’t. I’ve thought of you every day since you left,” his hand finds yours atop the sheets, fingers linking. “I didn’t want to break up with you, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Why did you?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. Squeezes your hand, too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. You were going off to school and I’d be here and I didn’t want to hold you back. I wanted you to go and to do it fully.”

Your heart pinches in your chest. Steve really believed he’d been doing you a favor by letting you go.

“It hurt for a long time, Steve. I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you again, Ace,” he swipes away the tear that falls from your cheek. “Just answer one thing for me?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

It’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Of course I love you, Steve. I would’ve stayed if you asked me to.”

“That’s why I did it,” his thumb runs over your cheek gently. “I couldn't let you give it all up for me. But you’re back now, and I love you and you love me. Let me try again.”

You want to say yes. So badly, you want to be with him. So why can't you just say it? It’s like glue’s been dropped down your throat, sticking all the right words in it so that nothing useful comes out. You try anyway.

“I’m just scared.”

You shut your eyes.

“Will you look at me?” You do, and right then it’s hard to feel scared anymore. He’s looking at you like he’s never been more sure of anything. “You’re my forever. I know you are. Let me show you.”

You focus on his hand in yours, his touch on your face. You focus on the fact that this is Steve. Steve who you love, who you know you want to be with past all the fear and worry.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay? Like, you’ll be my girl again?”

“Yes, yeah.”

His grin spreads wide enough to have his eyes crinkling at the corners. He rushes forward to kiss you, three quick pecks broken by your smiles.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask him, suddenly brave, like his kiss fixed everything.

“Anything.”

“I wished for you. On that eyelash. The day we kissed.”

He kisses you again for that.

༄

thank u for reading! if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought it would mean a bunch <3

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sheisjoeschateau · 10 months ago

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART III

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: mega plot-driven smut ahead in this part of the story. you've been warned. MINORS, DNI. 18+

***

Despite everything, you and Steve both get through battling Vecna. You both grin and bear it. You both set aside your differences when the moment calls for it.

Just like you have before. Many times.

And in the midst of it all, you can't help but wonder about your uncle. How he's doing. If he's somewhere in his bunker still, hopefully drinking less (ideally, not at all) and keeping up his phone calls with Joyce. You'd told her to keep tabs on him, and you also told your uncle to keep tabs on her. They needed each other. You had the kids and the teens, but they needed each other. And sure, your uncle has you. Always. But you have to work, and babysit, and hang around a guy who hates your guts because the circumstances won't permit otherwise.

Eddie and Robin really stick up for you. They do. They really like you. Steve can’t stand it.

Even Nancy doesn’t mind you. Honestly, she’s scared of you more than anything. Steve doesn’t care.

The kids love you. Steve won’t make them hate you. He never would. But he won’t endorse their kind sentiments about you either.

More groups are formed, along with more plans. Scary, life-threatening plans.

You stay behind with Dustin and Eddie, knowing that Steve is quietly a basket case over the concept leaving Dustin alone without having him there to protect him from all this shit, the way he has before. With the demodogs, the Russians, and everything up to this point. That kid is his brother. His son.

It’s the only time that Steve tells you thank you.

And he sincerely means it.

By the grace of some unspeakable force, you manage to not only keep Dustin alive...but also Eddie. The bats have done their damage, and you've got some damage yourself. Though not nearly as bad as Eddie. You can withstand yours with adrenaline and the sheer need to protect one of your kids and get this metalhead back to the real world so that he can get proper medical attention.

When Steve and the girls all get back to the three of you there, after all the shit hits the fan - you, Steve, Nancy, Robin and Dustin all manage to get Eddie back across the gate and get him majorly patched up. Thanks to Dr. Owens.

You keep Eddie hidden at Murray's bunker. You're shocked to find it empty, your worry growing more every single minute. But Steve tries to assure you that your uncle is likely fine, probably just out to eat or something. However... even he knows that is not true. Murray does not go anywhere.

"Bauman," he's saying to you, softly. So softly. Softer than he's ever spoken to you once. "He's gonna be okay. I promise. We're here, alright?"

Two days later, Jonathan and his Cali crew all show up. Nancy and him are reunited.

And you watch Steve break.

He doesn’t let it show, not really. But you see it. Both you and Robin do. You let her comfort him. He needs his best friend, much more than he needs you. Especially in this situation. You are undoubtedly the last source of comfort for him in this specific instance.

You reunite with your Uncle Murray, who has returned with Joyce and — to your surprise — a very much alive Hopper. It’s a beautiful reunion, as you all hug tightly.

You all fucking lived, bitch.

Given the new flurry of debris-snow-shit in the air, you all end up having to take shelter.

Steve volunteers his house, given that his parents fled to their vacation home and he told them he wasn’t going. They ditch him, so he has the house all to himself. This time, he doesn’t have to be alone though. He has his real family.

You all move into the Harrington House. Lord knows it’s big enough. But it’s also really tight, for two people who can’t stand each other unless there’s a really ugly monster guy waltzing around that needs to be killed along with his multi-species army of little uglies.

Given the close quarters, on top of the fact that you all can’t leave the house much unless it’s for supplies, you and Steve have no choice but to coexist.

He still resents you, especially seeing Nancy and Jonathan are now getting along again and seem to be doing better. But it's much more subdued now, and you both find a way to talk. Which happens mainly because of you, initiating.

You learn more about Steve's home life, given the pictures everywhere throughout the house. They're all pretty stiff, lacking warmth. You figured that Steve was a pretty lonely trust fund baby, and being that you're a lonely child you can relate to the loneliness that comes with that. Not the trust fund part. Just the only-child-syndrome part, which you know perfectly well forces you to either become very well acquainted with yourself...or hate yourself even more. Steve clearing did not lean into becoming his own source of reliability and companionship, the way that you did. And it made you understand him better. It made you understand why he needed to be around the likes of Carol and Tommy H. He did not know how to be alone with himself.

"I think my dad and I don't even like the same beer," Steve scoffs, allowing himself a humorless chuckle. You don't laugh with him, instead giving him a soft look. An apology with your eyes.

"And my mom, she just...I dunno. Sometimes, I wonder why she never left him."

You let Steve reveal as little or as much as he wants to. It just depends on the day.

The two of you watch out for the kids. You both go with them to visit Max in the hospital. You even initiate finding a way to get her to stay there while in a coma, thanks to enlisting the help of your uncle to help enlist the help of Dr. Owens. The kids love you for that.

Steve doesn’t love you… But he appreciates you.

A lot. He's beginning to find appreciation for you, for a lot of things.

Your uncle clocks the very niche tension between the two of you, now that you’re all under the same roof and he’s given no choice but to.

And damn, it makes him curious. He is, after all, the witch doctor of love…

Nevertheless, Murray takes his time choosing when to strike.

As you and Steve both help nurse Eddie back to health, and read to Max in her coma (which leads to both of you just simply talking), and make the kids laugh together, and even make conversation with Nancy and Jonathan (…it’s very double date ish) Murray watches his niece — and mannnnnn, is he amuuuuuused.

One night, you and Steve stay up to share some drinks with the adults. It’s the first time that the two of you actually make each other really laugh, heartily. The drinks help.

That’s sort of Murray’s plan. Vodka is, after all, the holy grail.

Even Eddie joins, along with Robin. But Steve sits next to you. Not his best friend, or the new friend he’s made in the metalhead. Nope, he sits his perfect, hunky ass that makes all the ladies drool right next to little ole you.

And damn, do you both laugh.

Murray’s never seen you laugh that hard with anyone in his life. He wonders if you’ve ever laughed that way at all.

And the way that Harrington looks at you? Especially when you’re not looking… Holy shit.

And the way you look at him the same way... makes Murray grin ear to ear like a mischievous kid with the plan to wreak havoc.

Hopper and Joyce are so settled into their relationship, and Jonathan seems to be winning back the love of Nancy. Eddie and Robin are so single it hurts, but it's legendary too. And you? Steve? Well, you guys are mortal enemies. And yet somehow, sitting here in the Harrington's living room with glasses of chilled vodka, belly-laughing over anything -- you and Steve exude more chemistry than all of them combined.

So when everyone goes to bed, and Murray catches you alone, he grills you. Not like the others. Nah, you’re family. He’ll cut you some slack.

…not much, though.

It sobers you right up.

"Do not tell me for one second that you don't think he's gorgeous," your uncle is saying in a low voice. You're both standing in his bedroom, having fetched him a tall glass of water which turned out just be a way to fucking lure you into his witchdoctor trap.

"I love you Uncle Murray. I really do. But this theory? -- is not one of your other bullseye's."

"Face it, kiddo," your uncle is smirking. "Your uncle's never wrong. You're just never the one on the other end of his lectures when he's making astute observations. You're always contributing to it. But this time? You're the leading lady, darling."

"False."

"You like Steve."

"Murray...!"

"You like Steve..."

You try to tell your uncle that everything he is saying is nonsense. Steve hates you. He absolutely hates you. Loathes and despises you, and plans to do so until you’re all particles of dust.

“Plus, he is so fucking annoying and whiny and entitled and has zero self respect unless it’s up against someone who calls him out for his shit,” you tell your uncle, gesturing to yourself on the last part. “Steve Harrington is a cocky guy who would just rather suffer in his own misery than ever see or lean into being this...this incredible man that he's...capable of being, the role model he has become to those kids, who love him, they love the human most deserving of being put first —”

.................

…oh fuck.

The silence is deafening. Murray’s smirk and all-knowing glare only adds to your being aware of what you just said to him, and admitted to yourself, out loud.

“Oh…oh so we do love Steve.”

Your uncle’s words are the cherry on top of the cake you just baked, and didn’t know you had the ingredients to make.

You don’t sleep that night.

***

The next morning, you and Steve both sit with Max.

"Wondering what she wrote in yours?"

Steve is nodding at the stack of letters on the bedside table. You all left them there, promising yourselves not to open them. Because she will wake up.

Lucas took it hard, Max dying. You'd been there to hold him, comfort him, along with Steve. You both watched him burst into tears numerous times, sometimes sobbing uncontrollably, despite the fact that she was somehow still here. It broke both your hearts, but you both got through it with him. Together.

And while the other kids were taking it hard too...so fucking hard...it was Steve who carried the most guilt. Remorse, anguish and guilt.

"I failed my kid," Steve had told you at the hospital once. You looked at him with a furrowed brow and concerned eyes.

"Steve, no you didn't."

His voice shook, eyes drowning in nightmarish thoughts. "I wasn't there for her. I wasn't -- wasn't..."

"You could never fail those kids. Not even if you tried."

He didn't believe you. But he wanted to. You had squeezed his hand that day, sitting in the waiting room. And to your surprise, not only did he let you...but he squeezed it back, letting your hands rest that way for an hour as you fell asleep in the seats before being woken up.

And now, sitting in one of his guest rooms while Max lay asleep in the coma still, you can see that guilt in him is spreading.

Steve is holding the letter that she gave to him, and you ask him if he’s wanting to read it.

Steve snorts. "God, you kidding? She'll wake up just to kill me before going right back to sleep."

You smirk, biting back a real laugh. “True.”

But Steve looks conflicted. He fiddles with the letter in his hands, wanting to tear it open. You know that he does.

“…want me to read it out loud to you instead? She can kill me in your place.”

Steve chuckles at that.

...but he doesn’t say no.

In fact, after biting his lip for a minute and thinking, he finds himself nodding. Yes. Please, read it to me, he’s thinking.

So you do.

You take the letter and read it to him. You read him the words that only a little sister could write to a big brother who she loves and wishes she will grow up to be like. You read him words that make him light up like a Christmas tree, yet cause him a painful ache deep within his bones. You read him a letter of love that no one ever took the time to write, let alone express, to him his entire life.

Steve fights tears. He bites them back, successfully. You’re the last person he ever wants to see him vulnerable. Hell, he can’t even see himself like that without judging his own self harshly. He can only imagine that you will, too.

He doesn’t know, though, that not only would you never judge him for that. But selfishly, you wish he would feel safe with you. Or God, someone at least. Just not Nancy. Someone who deserves him wholeheartedly.

"Steve," you speak softly.

He's staring into space, zoned out. But then, he finally looks over at you. He sees the kindness in him, and it almost takes his breath away. The way that you look at him...he just never thought you could...that you could --

"You're all of these things. Everything she wrote in this? You're all of it. And then some. You're the hero all those kids dream of being when they grow up. You're their favorite person. The one they trust, go to for everything. Even if you don't think that they do, they do."

He listens, unable to move. Speak. Breathe.

"You are...a great person, Steve Harrington."

***

That night, there’s a knock on your door. You’ve been given the guest room upstairs with no bunk mate. Unlike most of the people in the house. But given that Joyce and Hopper are together now, and El sleeps in Max’s room to keep watch, the four younger boys share a room with Eddie, Nancy is with Jonathan, Erica sleeps at her own house and Robin shares Steve’s room since she splits her time here and at home — you and Murray got the solo rooms.

Steve is now grateful for those sleeping arrangements tonight.

Because when you open the door, he’s on the other side. He looks sad, conflicted and lost. Like his mind is racing at a million miles an hour, yet can’t think of anything to say. He’s tongue tied, just staring at you expectantly…

What is he expecting?

“What’s wrong?” you ask. “Is it Max?”

Something about your question makes Steve brows pinch together. Like it’s suddenly confusing him even more. But he doesn’t speak.

You wait patiently. But truth be told, you are anxious as fuck. Because damn, he’s pretty. He is so stupid pretty. And fuck it’s annoying. His lips are just the right shape in a pout, and it’s really fucking annoy —

His lips are crashing into yours before you can even finish dissecting them.

Steve is kissing you like life depends on it. Gentle at first, but eager. Determined.

And when you both pulls back -- you don’t hesitate for more than a solid 2-3 seconds, your eyes shocked while his eyes silently ask, is this okay?

Your lips crashing back against his answers — yes.

Steve is a hurricane of both madness and all things serene in the ways that he touches your body. He explores your skin with his lips and hands, as if he has all the time in the world. The curve of your jaw and neck. The jut of your collarbones. The feel of your clavicle, which leads him to the shape of your tits and nipples. He cherishes your body, hungrily exploring it. It’s heated, hot and heavy. He licks a stripe down your abdomen to the waistband of your sweatpants. The way his brown irises look up at you, all round and doe eyed, makes the back of your throat groan with need. It’s not loud or brash, nor is it strained and quiet. It’s soft but certain. Steve melts at it, his fingers curling one by one around the band of your sweatpants, his eyes still asking — please?

You’re nodding without even having to hear a word out of him. And Steve pulls.

Euphoria is the feeling of Steve’s tongue exploring your folds. It’s the sound of him sighing into your portal in pure pleasure, and the way he sucks your clit with fervency yet flicks it with supple patience. His hands knead into your thighs, one of them reaching to squeeze your hips so that he can pull himself up to you and let you taste yourself on his tongue. He wraps an arm underneath your waist, hooking you to him, asking in the breathiest of whimpers, “Please let me, angel.”

He’s getting a fistful of your hair into one of his big hands, adoring the way that you squeak a yelp. You suck on his tongue, hard, and it’s enough to drive him mad. He pins himself against you, grinding. But you sit up, keeping your bodies glued together and now using your teeth to tug on his lip and paralyze him in pure ecstasy. You take the opportunity to slide your teeth and tongue down his jaw and neck, trailing pecks and kisses along the way, and the throaty whimper he lets out makes you see stars behind your hooded eyes as you drag your tongue down his chest. The wet stripe you’re leaving glides down to his toned abdomen’s bunny trail, and as you curl your fingers around his sweatpants, you pause… letting your lips press the most fluttery of kisses to each of his scars.

Steve can’t help the shudders, sighs and whimpers that escape his lips, along with your name. It’s raw, uncensored. He clutches your hand, which you extend up to him in a greedy grab as you slowly work his pants down with your other hand. You hook your fingers onto his chin, forcing him to let go of your hand in his and look down at you. He does, and it’s game over. You watch him and never break eye contact as you use both hands to push down his briefs…

…and thank God for that — because otherwise, you would see just what you’re up against as far as pleasuring him goes.

You feel the tip of his hard length tap your chin, and you scoot farther down into the mattress — on your knees like a perfect angel. Your tongue plays with its head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum, and Steve is shaking so hard he can’t stand it. He clenches his jaw, gritting out blissful curses through his teeth. “Fuck, baby, fuck.”

You take in the intense length of him, pleasuring him until he is touching the back of your throat and nearly gagging you senseless, and the mess he is up above you — it sends your mind into a tailspin. He has never looked so pretty, eyes squeezed shut except when he’s glancing back down at you with more fondness and adoration than you ever thought possible from not only a man who hates you…but any man at all.

And when Steve is just about to cum, he begins to beg. “P-please. Wait, please.”

His hands urgently cup your jaw, forcing you to look back up at him and cease your sickeningly perfect work. He pulls, and you follow. He drinks you in with his gaze, staring into your soul, as if he’s trying to figure you out. He stares and stares, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, his brown eyes searching yours like you are the most beautiful mystery he has ever needed to solve. He looks as though he might ask you something. Say something...

But he dives in to kiss you again before he lets himself.

His hand wraps around the bend of one of your knees, tugging it up so that he can hook your leg around his waist. Then he does it to the other. And before you know it, you’re straddling him.

“Fuck, Bauman, please,” Steve Harrington groans into your mouth. Then softer, murmuring against your lips as he kisses them endlessly, “please let me, please.”

And you know what he is asking. You know what he wants. You don’t have to even think twice. Lifting yourself up, lining him with your entrance, he stretches you out and the euphoric sting of it sucks the air right out of you. And Steve.

Steve is winded by the feeling of how tight your walls are, and by just how right it feels to be inside of you. You both fit. Like a perfect match.

At this point, you’re both a frenzy of fucking. You ride him – slow, hard, fast, all of it. Steve keens into your mouth, then your neck as he buries his face there — completely overwhelmed. You hold his head there, comfortingly and securely, and so fucking perfectly as your fingers tug at the ends of his perfect hair.

“I’ve got you, baby,” your voice shakes in a breathy whisper, just for him. “Let it all go.”

And Steve does. His fingers dig into the curve of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him as he presses the loud growl of his climax into your bare shoulder. He releases himself into you, hot and loaded, and you drip just as much onto him as he just shot into you.

As if that wasn’t enough to send you reeling — enough to make you see angels and devils and god — it’s the way that Steve shudders against you, catching his breath…and then pulls back to look at you…that renders you speechless.

His hairline leaks sweat, his face beaded with it. His eyelids are hooded, the dark brown irises dazed and daring to meet your gaze. His lips are parted perfectly — and the way he looks up at you with his tousled hair, somehow still perfect after it’s been pulled and messed with, is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Steve Harrington is so fucking beautiful. He’s an all-American boy, yet a Greek god.

The way that Steve gently brings your forehead to his, breathing against you, closing his eyes at the contact — you find yourself timidly nuzzling the tip of your nose to his. And you feel him smile against you, opening your eyes just enough to steal a peek — and that’s when you feel a deep ache in your heart and soul that might as well kill you.

Because now you realize. That is love.

Steve is love.

But you let it die inside of you tonight, not wanting to make this moment end any sooner than it has to. Instead, you let Steve entangle his limbs with yours, not daring to ask if he wants to stay. Because if you do, he’ll likely leave. He’ll realize that being in bed with you is the last place that he wants to be, and that he’s made a mistake. He’ll go back to hating you, more than he already does, and it will be the death of you. So instead, you just let it ride out however it’s supposed to.

You try not to count the minutes as Steve absentmindedly traces circles with his fingertips on your skin. Your hip bones, your shoulder blades, your spine. You tell yourself to forget that time and its limits exist as you stroke the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, your temple against his forearm, his outer arm draped over you. You tell yourself that this is it. This is heaven. This is eternity. You tell yourself even if you wake up and it’s just a dream, you’ll remember it for as long as you live. Because on the other side of death is this, and it will never end.

You let that ease your mind as he presses his lips to your forehead and you no longer fight sleep.

So when you do wake up…and find that Steve is still there…you’re shocked. But you stay that way until he wakes. He looks at you in awestruck wonder. Not confusion or regret. Just…wonder.

He props himself up on an elbow, still looking at you, deep in thought. All you can do is stare back, wishing you knew what the hell he was thinking but not daring to ask. It wasn’t worth risking this. You stay that way for a little while.

He finally breathes a sigh, whispering, “Kids will be up soon.”

You give him a soft smile and gentle nod. You can already see Dustin waking up to go knock down Steve’s door, and that’s…not gonna end well if he finds out that Steve is walking out of your room instead.

Steve contemplates god-knows-what for another long moment before pressing a quick kiss into your hairline as he rises.

You watch him stand and dress himself, your heart throbbing at the way he looks in the early morning light streaming through the windows. His body is god-like. Tall, lean and athletic. His skin has the most beautiful constellation of moles that put the entire galaxy of stars to shame. And you ache at the thought of never being able to touch them again.

He gives you a soft grin after he throws his t-shirt back on, and before you know it he’s gone.

You lay there staring at nothing, feeling yourself leak a couple of silent tears and wondering why. You find yourself afraid to get up and face whatever new reality lies ahead of you on the other side of that door.

***

thanks for reading :) comment to be added to my tag list for this series.

tags: @erastourvip @xprloki @get0ut0fmyr00m @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #dustin henderson #murray bauman #enemies to lovers trope #they're in love your honor #Murray is a schemer #sorry stancy

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eskawrites · 1 year ago

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It’s 1979, and every day, Barb wears a dark purple bracelet around her wrist. It’s pretty, although a bit more basic than what Nancy would normally wear—just a simple band of woven fabric, and a little star charm dangling from the middle.

“Where’d you get it?” Nancy asks her one day out of the blue. She does that sometimes—asks people things without any lead up. Her mom tells her she’s inquisitive. Her dad just says she asks too many questions.

Barb never seems to mind. Over the last few weeks of getting to know each other, there’s never been a question that Barb isn’t happy to answer.

This one seems to make her sad, though. She holds her arm up and twists her wrist a little, watching the charm catch the light.

“It’s a friendship bracelet,” she says. Nancy is old enough to recognize the twinge of jealousy for what it is, but she isn’t quite old enough to understand why it’s there.

“With who?” she asks anyway.

This time Barb does hesitate. She looks around the middle school cafeteria, but they’re the only ones sitting at this end of the table, and the buzz of students is loud enough no one can really hear them even if they decide to pay them any mind. Not that they ever would. Nancy and Barb tend to fly under the radar.

“You know Robin Buckley?” Barb says, lowering her voice.

Nancy shrugs. She’s heard the name. It’s a small school, after all.

“She has the other one,” says Barb. “My parents took us to Indianapolis a few summers back. A lady at the mall was making them. I got purple for her favorite color. She has pink for mine.”

“And the star?” Nancy asks. She reaches out without really thinking about it, holding the little charm in her fingertips.

Barb smiles. “We used to stay out in the park for hours after dark, watching the stars. She knows all the constellations, and a bunch of old stories about them. She knows a ton of stuff like that. She’s pretty cool.”

“You guys don’t hang out anymore,” Nancy feels the need to point out. But Barb just shrugs.

“Yeah. We had all different classes last year, and I guess we just drifted apart. I say hi when I see her in the halls sometimes, but we just…don’t really talk anymore.”

“Oh.” Nancy lets the charm go. Barb lowers her arm and picks up her fork again. “We could get friendship bracelets.”

Barb’s eyes light up. “I saw some charms and stuff at Melvald’s the other day. We could make some!”

“Let’s do it,” Nancy decides. “When you spend the night Friday, we’ll ask Mom to take us to Melvald’s.”

“Deal.”

It’s 1983, and Nancy has a pink bracelet—with a pen charm, not a star—that she keeps in a shoebox of all of Barb’s things.

She only pulls it out and looks at it when she knows it’s a bad idea; when she’s already one bad thought away from breaking, and she holes herself up in her room so she can push herself recklessly over the edge.

She takes the bracelet in her hands and runs her fingers over the soft, time-worn threads. Pink for Barb’s favorite color. Barb had a soft, sky blue for hers. She thinks about that bracelet, dangling around Barb’s wrist while she drove them to Steve’s house, tied to her still, soaked in blood and rot as she decays in the Upside Down.

Nancy tucks the bracelet into her pocket. If Barb’s association with Nancy led her to her death, then Nancy’s association with Barb can mark her until the day she dies.

It’s 1985, and when a new girl walks up with Steve, Dustin, and Erica, looking terrified and in shock, the first thing Nancy sees is a pink bracelet around her wrist.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy asks.

“I’m Robin, I work with Steve.”

But that’s not the answer. She’s not Robin who works with Steve. She’s Robin who carries stories of the constellations in her head and memories of Barb on her wrist. Robin, with a pink bracelet and a star charm that, quite frankly, looks ridiculous among the leather bands and thick rings she wears.

The group sits down once they’re finally all together. They exchange stories and make a plan, and all the while, Robin sits off to the side, on her own.

Nancy thinks about Barb sitting on her own by Steve’s pool, her gaze turned down and her shoulders stiff around her ears. She watches Robin curl up and hug her knees to her chest, and that damn pink bracelet is all she can see.

It’s 1986, and Robin complains every step of the way as Nancy wrangles her into a blouse and skirt.

“You should lose the rings,” Nancy tells her. “They’re unprofessional.”

“Gee, thanks,” Robin mutters.

“You can borrow some of mine if you still want to wear them.”

“No, it’s fine.” She pulls the rings off one by one, dropping them onto Nancy’s desk with small, satisfying clunks. She shakes out her hands when she’s done, and Nancy watches that star charm bounce back and forth along its soft pink band.

Robin notices her looking. She covers the bracelet with her hand and scowls.

“The bracelet stays. I’m not taking it off.”

“That—that’s fine.” Nancy thinks she should say something else—she’s not sure how they’ve gone this far without talking about it—but she can’t stop staring at it.

Robin’s shoulders slump. Her grip on the bracelet shifts and she runs her fingers over the charm, her expression turning sad.

“Sorry,” she says softly. “I just—I got this because of—”

“Barb.”

Robin meets her eyes.

“She told me,” Nancy says. “She—she still wore yours.”

And for the first time, it occurs to her that Barb was wearing a purple bracelet that night, too. That there has always been a part of Robin Buckley rotting in the Upside Down along with her, along with Nancy.

Maybe they were all doomed, intertwined, forsaken from the start.

“A purple bracelet,” Nancy says. “And a star charm. Because you liked watching the stars together. She said you knew all the constellations. She said—”

Robin’s arms are around her the second her voice breaks. She hugs her close, and Nancy swears she can feel that star charm pressing through her shirt.

It’s 1989, and Robin is moving box after box from her house with Steve into Nancy’s apartment.

It takes all day to get her clothes in the closet and her desk into the second bedroom they’ll use as an office and her frankly excessive collection of tapes onto the bookshelf in the living room. By the time dinner rolls around, they’ve both decided everything else is a job for tomorrow, or the day after, or next week.

But before they go to bed that night, Robin digs through a box of photo albums and picture frames to pull out a small, black shadowbox. She holds it carefully in her hands and walks over to where Nancy stands by the bookshelf. Nancy takes it from her with a soft, sad smile and reaches up to place it on the shelf. She feels Robin’s hand on her waist, and she steps back to tuck herself into her side.

They both look up at two pink bracelets, a pen charm and a star charm, hanging safely side by side.

#something-something childhood friendship bracelets and the way you never really know how to let them go #ronance #and barb!#ronance fic #(???? it's at least 1k words we'll it that)#ronance drabbles #that's the one!

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luvrxbunny · 1 year ago

Text

fries

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Prompt: Semi-Public Sex

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, handjob, teeny bit of praise (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.6k

A/N: couldn’t figure out how to end this *crying in the distance*

You’ve all been drinking and smoking- more drinking than smoking. You all smoked on the way over here, hot-boxing Eddie’s van and stressing Steve- the driver- out. You made up to him by promising to be the designated driver tonight, but plans fell through when Eddie coaxed you into drinking with him.

Luckily, Nancy was much more responsible than the rest of you, she didn’t even come out tonight, saying she had work or assignments to do- who knows. She offered to pick you all up whenever you were ready to go home, preferring to get you all at 2 AM than let any of you drive drunk. So you were uninhibited, taking multiple breaks to smoke in Eddie’s van before coming back into the bar for more drinks.

You’re all sitting in a half-moon booth, you’ve ordered fries for yourself, getting extreme munchies from whatever strain Eddie currently has. Robin, Eddie, and Steve are all talking about something else, some band that Eddie doesn’t think deserves to make music..? Or something like that? All you’re focused on is how criminally unseasoned these fries are.

You look around the table for salt but get distracted by Steve. He looks amazing tonight, he looks amazing every night, if we’re being honest. His hair is its usual, incredible, caramel brown color and his eyes are shining with the passion of his conversation. His hands are veiny, his thick fingers pointing accusingly at Eddie as he shouts about whatever band. His biceps are bulging with how hard he’s pointing, making the sleeves of his collared shirt pulled tight over his skin. You’re counting the moles up his neck when he turns to you, his thick eyebrows un-tensing when he notices your staring. His chocolate brown eyes soften when he takes in the small smile resting on your lips.

You try to calm down and play it off like you aren’t madly in love with him but it doesn't quite work, it just manifests itself differently. “Can you pass me the salt, loverboy?”

His eyes go wide.

You try not to act too embarrassed at the words that have left your mouth. You’ve never called him that before, you’re worried that you feel much more for him than he feels for you so you try to limit yourself to ‘babe’ and ‘baby’.

You know how Steve used to be, you know he used to date around, that he was one of the most sought-after guys in high school, which is why it was a bit shocking when he confessed to you. You were never really popular, you’d see Steve around school but never really got involved, and you only showed up in your junior year. You cruised by unnoticed by almost the entire student body, except for the Hellfire club… and Steve apparently. He’d fallen for you in your limited time at Hawkins, he’d spoken to you here and there, simple interactions to you but for Steve, they meant a lot. You didn’t even realize he was pursuing you until graduation when he confessed.

It’s been a year now and he’s just staring at you silently. You looked away from him in embarrassment but you’re forced to look back due to his silence. Eddie and Robin are still arguing, moving on without Steve and you’re looking at him again, trying not to pass out at his cuteness as you watch a blush spread over his face.

He stays silent as he reaches across the table blindly, still staring at you as he grips what he rightly assumes is the salt and hands it to you. “Thank you, baby.” His brows furrow for a moment as he seems to blink back to life.

“Loverboy?” He questions softly. You already turned your attention back to your fries when he speaks. He looks a bit sad, almost scared. “Sorry, what?” You say with a light giggle, hoping to bring his mood up from whatever brought it down.

He scoots toward you in a way that’s just too adorable, the way he looks down at the bench to ensure there’s room for him before smiling up at you timidly and pulling himself closer. “I’m… I’m loverboy?” His tone brings a smile to your face as you turn back to your fries.

“Yeah. You’re my loverboy! And- and I’m your lovergirl! If you want I mean. I don’t know it’s- It’s so dumb.” You laugh nervously at his continued silence. “I think I heard it somewhere? It’s a thing I think. I don’t really know, it just came into my head I guess.” His hand comes to your thigh with a tight grip to stop your rambling. You take a bite of your fry before turning to him.

His face is red. You’ve actually never seen him so red. He’s panting a bit as he lowers to you. You stare at him wide-eyed as you eat your fries, his eyes are flicking from your lips to your eyes and back down as you chew. His lips are on yours the second you finish chewing, he’s whining and moaning into your mouth a bit louder than he should and you can’t help but smile against his lips.

“W-what’s this f-” He cuts you off with another kiss, pushing your head into his mouth with a groan and you melt into him. His lips are a bit frantic against yours, they taste like weed, beer, and butter from the popcorn this bar has been serving. His tongue is soft and smooth as it slides into your mouth, pressing itself to the roof and gliding over yours with a moan before he pulls away. You’re delirious from the kiss, slow to open your eyes, and smiling the moment you do. His face has somehow turned an even deeper crimson color and his hands are rubbing the sides of your face, caressing you as he leans down to bury his face in your neck. You giggle at the action and he groans.

“I love it.” His voice is breathy and muffled but you can hear him perfectly. It takes you a second to realize what he means but the moment you do, you feel a heat spread throughout your body. You’re always sensitive for him, even more so when you’re high and extra needy when you’re drunk. Steve is the same way.

He’s already scooting even closer to you, now pressing his boner into your thigh. “Call me it again? Say it again, baby. Lovergirl, fuck. Say it again.” He’s starting to slowly grind himself into your thigh and you look over to where Robin and Eddie were sitting. You notice they’ve ditched you both for a game of darts, very engrossed in it, giving you the perfect opportunity.

You reach for Steve’s buckle immediately and earn a gasp from him. He leans back, giving you more access to his pants but holds a shocked look on his face. “What’re you doing, honey? Shit. Here?” You smile at him eagerly as you stick your hand into his pants, gripping his cock where it rests in his briefs. His hips twitch up into your hand, and his hand slides from the side of your face to behind your head as he pulls your lips to his, moaning into your mouth as you play with his slit, bringing more pre-cum to spill from him.

He has to pull away to whimper your name as you begin to pump him. “What is it, loverboy?” He moans at the nickname, thrusting his dick further into your hand and begging you to go faster. “You’re so cute, Steve, such a sweet guy.” He whines your name on repeat like a prayer before pulling his head out, letting you see his face, how pink it is, and how desperate he looks. “Love y’so much, feels so good. You’re so dirty, baby. T-touching me in front of- holy shit.” He moans and kisses you briefly before pressing his forehead against yours, his hair tickling the apple of your cheeks. “In front of our friends like this. So good.”

His eyelids are fluttering as he tries to open them, to look at you as you pleasure him. You can tell his words are affecting him more than you, his hips starting to grind up into your hand, his hands trying to pull you closer to his face as he begins to whine for you. “I’m gonna cum, lovergirl.”

A smirk grows over his face as the pet name rolls off his tongue, pulling a whine from you as you force his lips against yours. You moan into his mouth, groaning as you rub your tongue over his. His hips begin to stutter in their rhythm and you pull back. “Cum for me, loverboy.”

Steve lets out a last choked moan and starts cumming. You can feel his cock, tense, and pulse in your hand as he cums. His stomach tensing in time with his muffled moans, getting stuck in his mouth, behind his bitten lip. He’s forcing his eyes open now, willing them to keep your contact as he covers your fist in his cum. He curls in on himself with a groan as his cock spits out the last thick rope from his sensitive tip.

He’s shaking as he huffs out slow breaths, trying to calm himself as you stroke his hair softly. He rests his head on your shoulder, panting your name with a light chuckle when you start pressing kisses to his head until he comes up. You start kissing all over his face then, ignoring his little giggles for you to stop, only listening when he grips the sides of your head with a beaming smile and kisses you.

“Guys! Robin keeps cheating!” Eddie calls for you both in a teasing sing-song voice, jogging toward the booth.

“You can’t cheat at darts.” Robin shouts back, laughing at him as she joins his journey over here. They’re arguing again by the time they reach the table, not noticing your struggle to pull your hand from Steve’s pants without getting cum on his shirt.

“Guys, stop arguing. I’m calling Nancy.” Steve states with a hilariously stern tone. You laugh at the three of them as the duo begs Steve not to call her.

Thank you so mcuh for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things smut #kinktober #luvrxkinktober #kinktober smut

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smeddiemunson · 2 years ago

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(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

The Harrington house is big and it’s nice to look at, or it would be if Gareth was into the boring minimalist style, but there’s no warmth to it.

That’s all he could notice while he was pulling off his jeans and neatly folding them up to place on the top of a chest of draws in a guest bedroom. The walls are white and the accents a single shade of brown. Even Gareth’s oppressively suburban home had more character than this.

And it just didn’t seem to fit with Steve. Steve, in Gareth’s admittedly limited understanding of him, was more suited to a smaller but still nice house, with appliances that made funny noises if they weren’t used the right way, and was always full of people. A house that had character built into its very foundations.

He met Jeff and Grant back in the kitchen, trying his hardest not to stare too long at the single family portrait hung at the end of the hallway. Jeff was wearing red shorts and Grant was wearing blue ones. It seemed that only Gareth got the memo about wearing black and committing to the Not-Cult Cult aesthetic.

“What’s the plan then, Gare-Bear?” Jeff asked as Gareth sidled up next to them.

Gareth grabbed a can off the side, it was fresh out of the fridge and had condensation trickling down the sides. He assumed it was alright to take it. “I’m gonna talk to Buckley, feel out how to go about this.”

“And what should we do?” Grant asked.

“Make sure Eddie doesn’t do anything stupid?”

Grant scoffed. “Dude, you’ve met him, be serious.”

“I am!” Gareth replied. “I want this to work out for them and that means keeping Eddie’s foot out of his mouth.”

They all paused to remember the many, many times that Eddie’s inability to shut up had gotten them in trouble. He was great at talking himself out of trouble as well, but it was always preferable to not be in trouble in the first place.

“So make sure Eddie doesn’t say something stupid before he can confess his love and get a pass for all the stupid shit he says?”

Gareth allowed himself to chuckle. “Yeah, something like that.”

He led them all back out to the garden, cracking open the can as he went. The cold liquid felt good sliding down his throat; it wasn’t quite the peak of the summer and it was only going to get hotter, but Gareth didn’t think there was much point in not enjoying the smaller things in life.

Eddie was perched on the edge of the pool, kicking his feet gently where they were submerged in the water, as he spoke to Steve. Steve who was in the pool but had pulled himself out enough to rest his crossed arms on the poolside and use them as a pillow for his head. They looked like they belonged in a movie; so caught up in one another that they didn’t react to the screaming from the others playing chicken (Nancy on Jonathan’s shoulders and Robin on Argyle’s).

Gareth was shocked to see the way Steve was looking at him. He knew Steve was into Eddie, that much was obvious, but until that moment he had just thought it was a little crush.

This put a bit of a spanner in the works of his original plan of getting everyone to play enough party games until they could get Steve and Eddie together in seven minutes in heaven.

“Eddie!” Jeff shouted, “Did you smoke all the weed while we were getting changed?”

Eddie gasped dramatically, clutching at his heart. “Would I ever do that to you Jeffy?”

“Yes,” Jeff deadpanned.

Steve laughed delightedly, bumping Eddie in the knee with his elbow.

“Fine, fine,” Eddie threw his hands up in surrender. “Stevie said we aren’t allowed to smoke and swim so we didn’t light it.”

“I don’t want you to drown,” Steve said quietly, a haunted look crossing over his face that left as quickly as it came.

Eddie reached out to squeeze his shoulder, something unsaid passing between them. “I’m still here.”

Steve nodded, then shook his head with a small smile, as if he knew he was being silly.

Gareth shared a glance with his band mates, Eddie pointedly avoiding it. Another thing that would never be explained to them.

Luckily the game of chicken came to an end with Robin crashing down into the water, her legs pulling Argyle with her, to the tune of Nancy and Jonathan yelling in triumph to break Steve out of whatever spiral he’d fallen into.

Steve turned towards them with a smile. He patted Eddie’s hand where it was still on his shoulder then pushed off from the wall to join his friends, calling for his turn.

Eddie’s hand hovered in the air for a second before falling back down to his side.

Robin broke off from the group, stating her intention to grab another drink as she furiously tried to push her now wet hair out of her eyes. Argyle eagerly called for Steve to go against Nancy this time.

Gareth nodded to Jeff and Grant. “Go cheer him up. I hate it when he looks like a kicked puppy.”

“Guy doesn’t know what he has with those eyes, I swear,” Jeff mumbled as he and Grant moved to sit either side of Eddie, both bumping shoulders with him.

Gareth waited until Robin was digging through the cooler and muttering to herself to join her.

She jumped slightly as she turned away from the cooler and realised that Gareth was there, evidently having not heard him approach.

“Buckley,” He greeted.

“Emerson.”

Gareth winced. This wasn’t supposed to be some sort of Mexican standoff. So he changed angles.

“Eddie says you know about him.”

Robin’s features softened. “Yeah and I know you’re protecting your friend, but I promise I will never ever do anything to hurt him. None of us will.|”

Gareth smiled. “I wasn’t worried about that.”

“So what can I help you with?”

Gareth rubbed his hands over his face. He was suddenly faced with no idea how to word his questions.

“Have you noticed that Eddie has a crush?”

Robin laughed loudly, waving away the bemused glances thrown her way from the pool. “Yeah, I have. I’ve noticed Steve’s too because I know that’s going to be your next question. They’re kinda unbearable to be around sometimes.”

“Oh,” Gareth chuckled, a weight lifted off his shoulders. “Good.”

“Why? Are you planning something?” She sat forward, a manic smile on her face and clutching her can so hard there were small dents in the aluminium from her fingers.

“I was thinking seven minutes in heaven but...” he sighed. “They’re too into each other to have their moment be during a stupid game.”

“You really care about Eddie, don’t you?” Robin asked gently.

Gareth narrowed his eyes on her. “Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

Robin held her hands up in surrender. “I’m not judging you. I feel the same way about Steve.”

“Good. That’s good”

They both fell quiet as they watched their friends. Steve, on Argyle’s shoulders, laughing at Nancy and Jonathan arguing as they strategised. Eddie was squashed between Jeff and Grant, batting on their chests to release him. If it weren’t for his hair not being tied back, Gareth knew he would have thrown himself into the pool to escape. He knew Jeff and Grant knew that as well.

“So what are we going to do?” Gareth asked.

“I don’t know,” Robin said. “But we’ll figure something out.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the pool. Gareth and Eddie made a great team for the chicken tournament, but Argyle won the biggest splash competition they got going. It was funny to just act like teenagers, no school to worry about or crazy religious types out on witch hunts.

Steve handed them all towels as the sun began to go down. Their fingertips wrinkled and dry as Eddie finally got to light the joints to pass around. They laughed and shared stories; Gareth even got to share his favourite about Eddie calling him from a phone booth in the middle of the night so Gareth could steal his mom’s car to go get him since his plan to hitchhike his way home failed.

At some point, pizza was ordered while they lazed around. The joints had long since been smoked down to their cherry and discarded on the floor to clean up later when they were less drunk or high. Steve had told them not to worry about it.

Gareth spent his time watching Steve and Eddie pass tapes back and forth, heads leant close as they discussed the music on them, occasionally stopping the tape playing so they could switch it out for whatever song they were agreeing or disagreeing about. He made eye contact with Robin who just smiled gently, so fond of her friends. If he was able to see himself, her look was probably reflected on his own face.

The doorbell rang, heard out in the yard only because Steve’s parents had a device installed that rang a bell outside in case they weren’t inside to be able to hear the actual doorbell.

Steve jumped up to get it.

“Eddie go help him,” Robin said, pushing her toes into Eddie’s arm in a half hearted shove.

“Stevie’s got it,” Eddie moaned, clearly not wanting to move from his spot.

Robin shared a conspiratorial grin with Nancy, then both chorused, “Don’t ya, big boy.”

Jonathan and Argyle looked just as confused as Gareth felt. He never got the full story from Eddie about what happened over spring break, Eddie was alive and that was enough for him, but sometimes he wished he could know just so he understood what the fuck was going on.

Eddie flushed bright red all over his body. “Shut up,” he hissed. But it was evidently enough to get him to jump and follow Steve into the house.

Before Gareth could even attempt to ask about it, Nancy swung her legs around off the sun lounger and clasped her hands together.

“So,” She said as she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. “We all saw that right?”

“Saw what?” Robin squeaked.

Gareth didn’t bury his face in his hands at her lack of subtlety.

“Steve and Eddie are very obviously flirting with each other,” Nancy said slowly, deliberately.

Jonathan hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it’s not the first time either.”

Robin opened and closed her mouth like a fish as she tried to come up with something to say. Obviously she couldn’t say anything that would out her best friend, but if she denied being able to see it then she ran the risk of being committed to a mental institution. She looked scared.

“And is that a problem, Wheeler?”

Gareth couldn’t be sure where the venom in his voice came from, he was sure that Nancy Wheeler was a nicer girl than her pinched features sometimes made her appear, but seeing Robin flounder and the thought of Eddie facing even more bullshit than he already had made something protective flare to life inside of him.

Nancy sniffed disdainfully. “Obviously not. I would die for those two, I just want them to be happy.”

A tense silence fell over them.

“They don’t know that we know,” Robin said quietly.

“So we can’t be obvious,” Jonathan replied. “Doesn’t mean we can’t encourage them in the right direction.”

Argyle, his eyes trained on the stereo still playing a Queen song, a thoughtful look on his face that looked completely alien. He turned to where Gareth, Jeff and Grant were all sitting together on the same sun lounger. “You’re in a band right?”

Shit. Argyle was right. Gareth mentally cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. Eddie had learnt Steve’s favourite song, they were going to play Steve’s favourite song as soon as they got it down; the drunks that usually watch them would probably appreciate something more country-rock than metal.

“Argyle, you’re a genius.”

(Part 5 (final))

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth emerson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #my fic #the queen song is you're my best friend; it's not important but it's also very important because #you're my sunshine and i want you to know that my feelings are true i really love you #you know?#corroded coffin

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fandoms-in-law · 26 days ago

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Cousin of a Cousin

Author's note: I'm still loving the Addams Family but since I've got Ophelia's son ongoing I can't fit Abigail in how I want to over there. This is my attempt to get some of that gone

Summary: Morticia and Gomez have callers come, who say they're looking for some decent relatives for one of them.

/\/\

Morticia wasn’t quite sure what to make of the pair that had come to call, but they’d gratefully accepted the henbane tea when it was offered and were very curious over the stories behind their decorations.

Gomez was quite enjoying entertaining the pair, having already asked Steve if he was interested in zen yogi and started showing him a few easy poses to relax in. He was loathe to disrupt such a peaceful afternoon but had to ask eventually, “So what brings you to call upon us, delighted though we are to meet you?”

“We’re trying to find out if Steve has any relatives that are decent people. It’s been quite difficult, but Nancy found out you’re the cousins of one of his cousins. I’m not sure if there’s any blood relation between you but good company for Steve was difficult to find for many years.” Eddie explained easily, head twisting as he spoke since both Gomez and Steve were in headstands at that moment. He’d fallen multiple times before giving up the attempt.

“Oh? Who were the cousins we share?” Morticia asked genially.

Steve’s face twisted, “I don’t think you get along with them. It was an Abigail Adams Nancy mentioned first. Very focused on appearances without much kindness or decency beyond that.”

“We know the woman. She’s forbidden from this house after trying to claim Gomez’s due.” Her voice had darkened with a condemning ring to it.

Eddie laughed, “We’d do the same, but I think Nance has some plans of some sort. She’s good at tripping people into their own downfall now.”

“We never do that, but you’re welcome to try given how much she’s plotted ours.” Gomez agreed cheerfully.

“Oh, guests? What don’t we do?” Fester came into the room, looking at Steve and Eddie curious.

Gomez flipped over, a hand coming to rest on Eddie’s shoulder while Steve also righted himself. “This is Eddie Munson and Cousin Steve who just located us through an unfortunate shared cousin of Abigail Adams. Apparently their friend Nancy is plotting Abigail’s downfall.”

“She’s gonna shoot her in the back? But I wanted to do that?” Fester huffed, going to pick the shotgun up as if Abigail was with them.

Steve shook his head. “Probably not, though she is a very good shot. Nancy currently prefers attacking through journalism. If the press are sharks, then she’s a great white.”

“She sounds wonderful.” Morticia proclaimed. “Next time you call she must come with you. Do you have many friends like her?”

Eddie immediately nodded, “All of them.”

“Most of us only through necessity.” Steve chided, “Have you heard of Hawkins before?”

“Heard of it? Why I’m working on building my investments in the town so I can visit for any more freak disasters.” Gomez declared, “It’s had an exciting time of it and we want to be there the next time something happens. Murderers and Shock Earthquakes and Mysterious chemical spills from labs. Oh it must be a splendid place to live, but there’s no decent architecture there for us to make a home of.”

Morticia clapped her hands smiling, “Is that where you live?”

Eddie and Steve were sharing bewildered looks but nodded slowly, “Yes, in fact we were involved with a lot of those events, at the mall burning down, if you didn’t hear about that.” Steve replied, pausing at their delighted gasps.

“I was even accused of the murders. Steve and his friends found me and sorted that out.” Eddie added, grinning in shock when the couple seemed delighted. “Though we were wondering about moving away from Hawkins now. Most of the group have done for schooling and Steve’s been pouting since Robin left.”

“No sir, a treasure like property in Hawkins must be cannot be abandoned merely for loneliness. I’ll see if some of our other cousins might join you to keep company.” Gomez insisted.

Morticia however was looking intently at Steve now, “And who is Robin? A fiance, perhaps?”

“No, no, we’re platonic soulmates but have both decided that we’ll avoid marriage until the law permits us to marry who we wish.” Steve shook his head, wondering if he’d said too much, even as Eddie reached out to hold the hand nearest him.

“Who you wish?” She repeated, watching, “And might that be Eddie? There is an energy between you, a je ne sais quoi that shows you’re closer than most friends.”

“Tish, that’s French!” Gomez exclaimed, grabbing her arm to kiss along it.

Steve bit his lip to avoid snorting at the display since it reminded him of how enthused Eddie could get if he mentioned anything about DnD correctly. “Yes, we are together. Would you prefer us to leave you for a while?”

“Much obliged. Come for bridge or tea or something later.” Gomez agreed, barely glancing up from ravishing Morticia’s arms.

Morticia reached out to ring the bell. “Lurch, please show Eddie and Steve out and let them know the time to come back for bridge.”

Eddie startled to see the towering butler behind them, “Nice meeting you, Morticia and Gomez. See you later.” He called, hurrying back.

Steve laughed after him but also led the way out when Lurch gestured for him to.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #the addams family #morticia addams #gomez addams #1960s Addams Family

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artiststarme · 2 years ago

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From Alibi to Reality

A little something different, I hope you guys like it! Title brought to you by @nburkhardt. Please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve knew he was going to act as Eddie’s beard for the cops and the town. That was a no-brainer, it was the only way to clear Eddie’s name. He discussed it with Hopper, the kids, and Robin. Everyone determined that the shock factor of Steve “The Hair” Harrington dating the town freak was the only thing that was going to change Powell’s mind and make him drop the charges. The thing no one could agree on was how to broach the subject.

Dustin thought that telling the police directly would be the best way, Robin thought they should build up to the declaration, and Nancy thought it was a stupid idea because no one would believe that lady-killer Steve Harrington was into a guy (little did she know). Regardless, all of his friends thought talking was the best course to take.

But Steve was a man of action, not words. All of the Party’s plans involved discussing their “relationship” like civilized adults. The problem was though, they weren’t talking to civilized adults. They were talking to his brother, a known dumbass, and the new Chief of Police that wanted to hunt down a bunch of kids because Jason fucking Carver told him to.

So he was going to handle this the way he handled every shitty situation thrown his way. He was going to wing it. It had worked for him thus far and it hadn’t failed him yet. So, for the rest of the Party’s meeting, Steve zoned out. He thought about how fucked he was going to be when his parents found out about this, how much shit he’d have to take from the rest of the town, and how ostracised he’d be. But it was the only way to clear Eddie’s name.

Eddie had jumped into the lake after him and saved his life before protecting Dustin from demobats. He was a part of the Party now and Steve would do anything to protect the Party. So, he was fine with ruining his reputation and probably being disowned by his parents for tainting the Harrington name. As long as Eddie was okay in the end, nothing else mattered.

~*~*~*~

They neglected to tell Eddie the plan. He hadn’t seen any of the Party members since the police realized he was being treated at the hospital and barred anyone from seeing him until they questioned him. He was just minding his own business, ignoring the two doofus cops trying to question him, and looking forward to whatever the Party came up with to clear his name. Eddie wasn’t sure if whatever their plan was was going to work or even if they meant what they’d said. However, he had hope. Mostly because the only other option would be joining his dad in a cell for murders he didn’t even commit.

That’s when it happened. Steve stormed into his hospital room with a flourish, slamming the door against the wall and scaring the two cops.

Eddie watched as the tall one’s eyes narrowed, “Steve, you better have a good explanation for this one-“

He didn’t pay attention to what else was said. One minute, he was looking at an angry Harrington walking into his room and the next, said Harrington was kissing him. On the lips!

Mother of fuck, Eddie had died and gone to heaven because all of his dreams were coming true. He didn’t know what Steve was playing at but Eddie wasn’t complaining. He just slipped his eyes closed and kissed him back with equal fervor.

He was pulled from their passionate kissing by a loud, “Son of a bitch, Steve! The murderer?! What the fuck? I thought your taste was bad when you were dating the priss but now this? Jesus Fuck, bro!”

“Officer Callahan, please maintain your composure.”

“My composure?!” His voice was shrill as he shrieked in his own defense. “Powell, my brother is macking on fucking Munson! What the fuck? How am I supposed to maintain my composure?!”

Eddie pulled away from Steve, “your brother is Officer Callahan?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that not come up when you were defiling my baby brother?!” Callahan yelled at him, waving his hands in the air maniacally.

“No, actually. It didn’t,” Eddie told him.

Callahan let out a sound of frustration before pointing at Steve, letting out another frustrated noise, and stalking out. Steve and Eddie turned to Powell who just looked tired.

“I assume this is why you wouldn’t tell us your alibi for the night of the murder, Munson?” He sighed.

“That’s right, there was no way in hell I was going to out my boyfriend. Apparently he does it himself though,” Eddie gave Steve the side eye. Why had he chosen to do this? He’d known the guy for like two weeks and he was just throwing his life away to protect Eddie. What the hell?

Powell turned to Steve, “is that true? Mr. Munson was with you the night that Chrissy Cunningham was murdered?”

“That’s right. We were watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Alien before going to bed. He stayed the whole night laying in bed next to me, there’s no way he could’ve murdered anybody,” Steve nodded.

Powell just shook his head at them, “fine, Munson. I’m clearing you but don’t leave town.”

“I won’t sir, thank you for doing your due diligence. It was at my expense but still, thanks,” Eddie said sarcastically.

He shot them one last disbelieving look before following his partner. Then all that was left was Eddie and Steve.

Eddie whipped his head around to Steve. “Now what the hell was that?!”

“Hey! Don’t talk to your boyfriend that way!”

“Seriously Steve-”

“Eddie, I swear to god if you don’t kiss me again in the next twenty seconds, I’ll go get Powell and tell him I changed my mind,” Steve threatened him with narrowed eyes.

How was Eddie supposed to refuse him after that?

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#when the kids see them curled up in bed together later that day they just think Steve is a really good actor #it only dawns on them that maybe Steve actually likes Eddie when they each in on them smooching a few days ever #Callahan gets over his shock pretty quickly (it'd be hypothetical of him not to) but he's still not a fan of that Munson kid #they become best friends despite Phil's efforts not to #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #chief hopper #Phil Callahan is Steve's brother #officer callahan #officer powell

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bleedingoptimism · 2 years ago

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part four: Jeff

It’s been two weeks since their gig, two weeks since they last saw Steve.

Frank had been right in assuming Steve wouldn’t show up to hang out with them at rehearsals but Steve hadn't shown up at all, not at rehearsals, not at get-togethers or Hellfire meetings, they hadn’t even seen him at his work, although Jeff suspects that was because Robin was hiding him from them in the back.

He’s frankly a little offended Robin is being mean to them when they didn’t do anything wrong but he knows he would’ve probably reacted the same if someone had broken the heart of one of his friends.

And speaking of his friends, Eddie is been insufferable the last two weeks, he goes from quiet and twitchy to whining loudly about being stupid and blind and a mess. Gareth just agrees with him which isn’t helpful at all, Frank keeps telling him that it’s fine, he made a mistake, and he can still fix it, and Jeff keeps telling Eddie to shut up, man up, and go talk to him already.

But Eddie freaks out every time, says Steve is avoiding him, and that he wouldn't even know what to say if he saw him.

Safe to say, it’s been a rough couple of weeks, and the worst part for them to admit is that they kind of, sort of, maybe? Miss Steve. This is why Jeff can’t help but get excited when they see him again.

The band is hanging out at Gareth's place, minus Eddie, who is studying at Nancy’s house just like every Wednesday since he came back to school. Something Steve knows, which is probably why he chose that moment to show up.

They are sitting in the living room chatting about their latest campaign, DMed by no other than their newest addition to the club, Will Byers, when there’s a knock on the door.

Gareth opens the door and Jeff and Frank lean over the couch to see who it is, surprised to see Steve there.

He’s holding the shirt Gareth lend him, washed and folded neatly, and on top of it is a box, a rich smell coming from it.

“Hey!” Steve says, “Sorry it took me so long to return this Gar. I brought you cookies! As a thank you”

And then Gareth does something that surprises all of them, probably himself too, he takes the offered items and puts them on the table beside the door and then hugs Steve.

Steve looks at them shocked over Gareth's shoulders and barely has time to return the hug before Gareth lets him go and pulls him inside by the wrists.

“Dude! We missed you! Why did you have to disappear like that?”

“You know why” Steve smiles sadly at him.

“Are you mad at Eddie?” Jeff asks him as they make room for him on the couch, immediately digging into the box of cookies when Gareth brings it to the coffee table. But Steve just stands in the middle of the living room, probably not planning on staying long.

“No! Of course not!” he assures and runs a hand through his hair, “He didn't do anything wrong. I’m the one who fucked up. I should’ve never assumed tha-” he interrupts himself and shakes his head, grins at them “I shouldn’t have disappeared like that on you guys, I’m so sorry. After you practiced so much. Wished I stayed long enough to congratulate you as least. You were amazing!”

They smile at him, murmur some thanks, and then Steve claps loudly once, “Well! I should get going,”

“See you,” Frank says but it sounds more like a question and Steve picks up on that,

“I- look: the thing is, I really like you guys and I want us to be friends but I- I got everything mixed up in my head and I need some space to… deal with it. I need time,” Steve tells them and turns towards the door,

“What if you didn't get it wrong?” Jeff blurts suddenly.

“Jeff!” Gareth exclaims shaking his head.

But Jeff is determined, “Steve, what if you were right, what if Eddie likes you back?” he says, ignoring Gareth.

“Well that kind of makes it worse doesn't it?” he chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose,

“No, but! See… Eddie didn’t know you like him too, and if you would just let him talk to you…”

And Steve laughs again but cruelly this time and he looks sad when he says, “Jeff that’s the thing, I haven’t been avoiding him. Yes, I didn’t show up when you hung out but It’s not like I’ve refused to talk to him. I’ve actually been waiting for him to talk to me. Does he even wonder what’s wrong? Because even if he didn’t like me back… I was hoping he would care enough about our friendship but it seems I was wrong about that too. I was wrong about… everything”

“Jesus Christ this guy is undefendable!” Jeff groans and Steve laughs again but this time is more sincere.

“You don’t need to defend him, I told you, I'm not mad”

“It’s worse that you are sad, you know that right? I kinda wished you were mad at him” Frank says and Steve snorts, his eyes getting some of their usual shine back.

“I’m gonna go but, I’ll be fine guys. We’ll be fine, I promise” He smiles genuinely and turns to leave again and Jeff stands up and walks him to the door,

“Steve wait, I know it's not fair for me to ask you this but, you know Eddie makes assumptions about people and it’s really hard to get him to change his mind about them, and he’s always thought of you as unobtainable”

Steve's eyes go wide and his eyebrows raise before they drop in a frown, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about that”

“Nothing! Just I know Eddie will get his head out of his ass eventually, you just have to… just don't give up on him yet, please?”

Steve huffs and shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, okay”

part one

part two

part three

part four (you are here!)

part five

☕🥐💕 cafecito?

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #corroded coffin #i wrote something #jeff is a real sweetheart #excited for the last part #guess whose pov ??#teehee

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aloneinthehellfire · 6 months ago

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Chapter Seven: We Are The Pariahs

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: vecna's curse, mentions of death, mentions of homophobia, bad father-daughter relationship (story of my life)

[A/N: omg she made it out of her writers block era!!!! I am so so sorry for the long wait on this chapter, I had planned to write it ages ago but felt myself losing part of my creativity (it's a very long story about the trials and tribulations of an arts uni student) but I am trying to make it up to you all by bringing you the most packed chapter yet! And totally not because I was rushing to get to write my favourite part of the series, okay bye]

We Are The Pariahs

You never thought you’d see this room again.

Soft pink walls, almost entirely covered in movie posters and band memorabilia, a fluffy carpet that felt like home beneath your feet. But it wasn’t the room that made your heart beat faster. It was the girl sat on the bed, mascara tears coating her cheeks.

“Heather?” Your voice was small, scared to spook her.

“Y/n? Is that you?”

Her broken voice almost made you run to her, swoop her in your arms, tell her everything was fine.

No, she isn’t real. Y/n… none of this is real.

You were supposed to be stood in the Upside Down, searching for a way out. You had been calling out for Dustin, you saw… you saw something. What did you see?

“Why weren’t you there?”

Heather’s eyes turn dark, her voice dropping to an abnormal pitch. A jolt of fear from your chest settles into a pit of despair in your stomach.

Vecna. You had seen Vecna.

“You… you could have saved me…” Heather’s cheeks were wet with tears, her mascara slithering down her face likes vines. “You weren’t there.”

No mater how hard you tried, no words escaped the lump in your throat. After all, was anything you could say going to stop Vecna?

“I will always hate you for what you did.”

A sob breaks free from your lips, and a smirk etches onto her face, a face slowly peeling away until all that was left was a red and raw face of horror.

“You never let yourself trust your own gut,” Vecna stands from Heather’s bed, creeping closer as you press yourself further into the wall, “Y/n… always the follower…”

“What do you want?” You manage to whisper, turning your face away as his claws begin to rise above you.

“I am giving you one last chance to finally save someone,” He spits, milky white eyes examining yours, “I want you to warn them all, show them…”

His rotten breath fans against your face and you cry, feeling your head tilt back under his control. He leans impossibly closer, seething venomous words into your ear.

“Tell Eleven… or your soul will be next.”

A silent scream leaves you paralysed, eyes wide as something hot pierces your mind.

Flashing images, displays of terror and destruction. You saw your friends, your family, all burning. Hawkins was crumbling, a giant monster with a gaping mouth breaching through the gates. Chaos flew in wisps of ash and fire until there was nothing but total and complete darkness.

“Tell them…”

“Where is it?!”

Robin could hear Steve and Nancy upstairs rummaging through her bedroom drawers for a hope of a Walkman or even that stupid music box, anything. The longer they took, the paler Robin felt. She was stood in front of you, yelling into your ears, trying to shake you awake from your deathly still posture.

“It’s not gonna work!” Eddie stresses behind her for the millionth time, a higher level of panic detected in his voice with each announcement. “Chrissy didn’t- oh my god, she’s gonna end up like Chrissy. My best friend is gonna-”

“Eddie!” Robin snaps at him, his eyes widening in shock. “We are all fucking terrified right now but I need you to get a grip! STEVE! WHERE’S THE MUSIC?!”

“WE’RE WORKING ON IT!” He yells back, matching her own panicked tone, and Robin could almost throw up.

She knew exactly what was going to happen the moment she saw your face drop, the strike of fear on your features as you stared into your reflection. She already anticipated your shoulders to drop and your eyes to roll back. She just didn’t make it to you in time.

“Please, please, please.” Robin begs you, her throat tightening with every flutter of your eyelids.

A choked gasp shouldn’t have been the sweetest sound Robin thinks she’ll ever hear, but once it escaped your lips, relief washes over her like the tide.

You stumble forward and she only just manages to catch you, Eddie already lunging across the room to help. They both lower you to the floor, allow you to sit as you try and catch your breath.

“You’re okay. You’re okay, we got you.” Eddie kept saying, your wild eyes darting around the room like you were afraid of the shadows, clinging onto his arm.

And Robin just sat there, staring at you, trapped in her own fear of the torment she shouldn’t have been feeling. It felt even worse knowing she had anticipated it all.

“What happened?” She finally asks when your breathing is steadier, watching as a pained expression is woven into your features before disappearing in a flash, shaking your head.

“He… he was warning me. Us. Told us to stop.” You nod feverishly, enough to spark curiosity.

But before Robin could question any further, two sets of footsteps come barrelling down the staircase.

“We got it! We got it- it’s right here!” Steve stumbles over his own words, panting for breath as he holds a Walkman in his hand, presenting it to the ceiling like a trophy. Robin blinks.

“You’re only like 5 minutes late.” She rolls her eyes and Steve looks exasperated, a sigh of relief exhaling from his lungs when he notices you sat there.

“Oh, thank god.” He runs a hand through his hair, laughing nervously. “We couldn’t find any music.”

“You couldn’t-” Robin frowns, shaking her head at him. “Then what the hell were we meant to do with that thing?”

“Improvise?” Steve offers and Nancy clears her throat.

“Sorry.” She surrenders, looking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, attempting a smile but it didn’t settle right on your lips. “Just… just another threat.”

And with yet another lie, they all seemed satisfied enough to continue their mission; contact Dustin. To which they were successful, using light as communication that you usually would find yourself fascinated with. But the entire time you sat there as the others smiled, you couldn’t block out his voice.

“Tell Eleven… or your soul will be next.”

“You and Wayne really aren’t keeping up on the housecleaning.” You comment, and Robin lets out a snort behind you.

Eddie’s trailer was much like the rest of the eerily familiar homes in the Upside Down; dark and filthy. Vines were pretty much scattered across the furniture, almost swallowing the trailer itself whole. But that wasn’t the concerning part.

If you had to pick just one thing to be scared of, it would be the gaping hole in the ceiling.

“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie says, gulping as you all stared at the thrumming crimson light. “Like, right where she died.”

And just like that, you were now even more terrified.

“Could this day get worse?” You mutter, and you wish you had kept your mouth shut.

“I think there’s something in there.” Robin announces and you all squint upwards, taken aback by a shadow moving against the membrane.

A few slow seconds ticked by, and you wondered if it was just a trick of the light.

Something suddenly pierces through, pieces of the small gate splattering to the ground and you all leap backwards, heart hammering in your ears.

Steve moves first, cautiously peering up before a smile starts to stretch his cheeks. Curious, everyone else follows suit, and you’ve never felt so relieved in your life.

“Hi there.” Dustin laughs in glee as Max, Lucas, and Erica, all wave up to you.

The first face you see as you grin is Robin’s, meeting her hopeful eyes and happy smile with those of your own. In the moment, you reach out your hand as squeeze hers without thinking. You didn’t even notice her grip your hand tighter. You also didn’t remember letting go. Because you never did.

“Holy shit, this is trippy.” Robin laughs, and you can only nod in agreement, looking through the gate as if you truly were Upside Down.

“Bada-bada-boom!” Dustin yells, and you all instinctively laugh.

In a hushed mutter of agreements, the kids start to build the exit plan, dispersing across the trailer. Robin gently tugs on your hand and you look at her inquisitively, her head motioning for you both to step to the side.

“What’s up?” You whisper, unsure of why she wanted to talk in private. If anything, you could only hope why she wanted to talk privately, but that was wishful thinking considering you both barely knew eachother and it probably wouldn’t work because who knows if she’s-

“Did you… did you see something?” She asks and you frown. “Earlier. When Vecna… is there something you’re not telling us?”

“No.” Your response was too quick and her face drops into a serious tone, her hand slipping away from yours and you’ve never thought your hand could feel heavier without the weight. “Robin-”

“You can’t keep secrets, Y/n.” She says and you shut your mouth. “There’s already been so much-”

She takes a breath, eyeing the others as they all appear to be fixated on the events above them.

“You went to the Creel House and never told us about it.” She reminds you, a soft frown marking two small lines between her brows. “You heard Vecna, and you didn’t think that would be important to know. And now you’re having these visions and you’re not telling us the whole story with that, either. Why?”

“It’s…” You begin, but your shoulders slump with exhaustion. She was right. Why are you trying everything to hide it? “He showed me something. Something horrible. About our future, Hawkins. He threatened me, but I- I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think terrifying everyone else was going to get us anywhere.”

“What did you see?”

“Monsters. Gates.” You gulp, the next word barely audible. “Death.”

“Shit.” Robin blinks, tightening her lips. “Yeah, that’s… that’s pretty terrifying.”

“We need to focus on Max.” You say, glancing over your shoulder to where they were testing out a rope. “We can’t… we can’t help her, or anyone else for that matter, if we’re too focused on the bad ending. And from what I saw…”

“What?” Robin frowns when you don’t speak.

“I don’t think it’s something we can fight.” You admit just as Steve yells out for you both.

“Come on, operation get the hell out of here is commencing. Move it.”

Steve guides Robin by her shoulder, making her frown in confusion. He points to the rope.

“What do you want me to do with that?”

“Climb it.” Steve says, like it was obvious.

“Seriously?” She cranes her neck to look up at it, an encouraging thumbs up from Dustin on the other side. She looks around to see no-one else is volunteering. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

She manages to catch your eye before reaching for the rope, unspoken words floating between you both as she focuses on her climb, ignoring the burn on her palms as she mustered up enough strength to reach the top.

The strangest feeling washes over her as her head passes through the gate, blood rushing to her face. She was upside down now, holding onto the rope.

And then she was falling, landing on a mattress with a soft thump, staring up at the ceiling of familiar faces.

“That was fun.” She announces as she accepts Dustin’s hand, pulling herself to her feet.

“Who’s next?” Nancy asks, and after that, everyone started to make their way to the other side.

Eddie landed first, grinning at everyone with a casual “That was fun.”

You passed through the gate next, smiling at Robin as she offers her hand and ignoring the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you stared back up at the gate, waiting.

Nancy readies herself on the rope, obviously affected by Steve’s nature to always be the last.

She didn’t climb.

“Nancy?” You’re the first to speak, stepping on top of the mattress to get a better look.

And then Steve was trying to shake her awake while the others searched in panic for music she would listen to. But you didn’t move.

You refused Vecna’s threat, and all of a sudden Nancy was now cursed? It didn’t feel like a coincidence.

It felt like your fault.

Nancy had snapped awake after a painfully chaotic chorus of panic, her wide eyes of horror speaking more to you than it would anyone else. You were relieved to know she wasn’t cursed, just another messenger for the dark wizard. You were in fear of knowing Vecna didn’t tolerate insubordination.

The things she had told everyone made Robin feel too sober, her back resting against a cabinet on the floor while they had all sat in silence, Nancy’s voice thick with tears.

Vecna wanted revenge, and that meant Hawkins was on his kill-list.

Robin couldn’t help glancing your way when Nancy started describing the details of your own vision, but your eyes were fixated on the carpet. She hadn’t known you for long, but she didn’t think you were ever this quiet.

“Four chimes.” Max suddenly says, cutting through the tense air. “Vecna’s clock. It always chimes four times. Four exactly.”

“I heard them too.” Nancy agrees shakily.

“He’s been telling us his plan this whole time.” Max realises, and Robin feels very sick.

“Four kills.” Lucas understands. “Four gates... End of the world.”

“If that’s true…” Dustin speaks, looking at Max, “He’s only one kill away.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Eddie mutters, rubbing his face, “Jesus Christ.”

“Try ‘em again.” Steve orders to no one in particular, pointing to the phone, “Try them again.”

Max nods and grabs the receiver to dial the number they had been trying for the past few minutes. You had hoped the Byers would be able to help, that El would come back and help you win this. But no one ever answered.

“What do we do now?”

Your voice was a surprise to everyone having been the only person unable to share your own input to Nancy’s visions. Your throat felt hoarse, and there was a pounding headache forming behind your eyes. It was all starting to feel hopeless.

“We’re going back to the Upside Down and we’re killing Vecna.” Nancy announces and Robin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Hold on, wait, let’s think this through.” Steve objects, standing from the couch.

“What is there to think through?” She countered, crossing her arms.

“We barely made it out of there in one piece!” Steve stresses and you watch as they argue, unsure of who’s side to take.

“Because we weren’t prepared!” Nancy replies. “But this time, we will be. We’ll get weapons and protection. We’ll go through the gate, we’ll find his lair, and we’ll kill him.”

“Or he’ll kill us.” Steve says and across the room, Robin raises her eyebrows at you. “The only reason you survived is because he wanted you to. He’s not scared of us.”

“And for good reason.” Robin interrupts, standing up and clearing her throat, “We were wrong about Vecna. Henry. One. Sorry, what are we calling him now?”

“One.”

“Vecna.”

“Henry.”

“Right.” Robin breathes out, continuing. “We’ve learned something new about Vecna/Henry/One. He’s a number like Eleven, only a sick, evil, male, child-murdering version of her with really bad skin.”

“Ew.” Erica turns up her nose.

“But, my-my… my point is, he’s super powerful. He could turn us inside out with a snap of his fingers. It’s not a fair fight.”

“Then why fight fair?” Dustin intercepts and you turn around to look at him. “You’re right. He’s like Eleven. But that gives us an upper hand. We know Eleven’s strengths. And weaknesses.”

“What weaknesses?” You question with little effort, and Robin can’t help but feel a little upset at how hopeless you sound.

“When El remote-travels, she goes into this sort of trance-like state. I bet the same is true of Vecna.” Dustin explains.

“That would explain what he was doing in that attic.” Lucas comments.

“Exactly.” Dustin nods. “When he attacks his next victim, I’ll bet you he’s back in that attic, physical body defenceless.”

“Defenceless?” Steve raises his brows, gesturing to his bruised neck. “What about the army of bats?”

“True. We’ll have to find a way past them.” Dustin accepts, “Distract them somehow.”

“And, uh,” Eddie leans forward, “How do we do that exactly?”

“No idea. But once they’re gone, he doesn’t stand a chance.” He smiles, “It’ll be like slaying sleeping Dracula in his coffin.”

“That all sound good in theory, but there is no pattern to Vecna’s killings. I mean, at least not one that I can decipher.” Robin says, “We don’t know when he’s going to attack next. We don’t even know who he’s going to attack.”

“Yeah, we do.” Max speaks up and your stomach drops. “I can still feel him. I’m still marked. Cursed. I ditch Kate Bush, I draw his focus back to me.”

“What?” Your head whips up, frowning.

“Max. You can’t. He’ll kill you.” Lucas whispers out and she shrugs.

“I survived before.” She reminds him and Lucas frowns. “I can survive again.”

“How?” Robin observes the way you stare up at Max with a look of remorse. You really cared about these kids, about her. It’s why you were here in the first place. You could have flown back to Stanford, but you chose to stay.

Which is why the thought of Max sacrificing herself after all of this felt so absurd.

“I just need to keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic.” She says, slowly nodding. “Then you can chop his head off. Stab him in the heart. Or blow him up with some explosive Dustin cooks up, I honestly- I don’t care how you put this asshole in his grave, just… whatever it is… whatever you do… try not to miss.”

It sounded like her closing statement, an invisible signed document of her stubbornness. Nothing you could say would change her mind, and you knew she was right. This was the only way.

“Now all we need is a shit ton of weapons.” You sigh, spreading your hands in exasperation.

“Where the hell are we gonna get that?” Steve frowns, exchanging a look with Robin. “Doubt Officer Friendly is gonna let us raid the station.”

“No need.” Eddie suddenly stands, stretching his arms. “I know exactly where we can find them.”

Everyone frowns, some in confusion, some in concern. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t say War Zo-” You start, but Eddie doesn’t let you finish.

“War Zone!”

War Zone was pretty much how you assumed a store named that would look. It was a giant warehouse filled with aisles and aisles of anything you could possibly get your hands on. Guns, ammo, grenades, knives. All you could ever need for battle.

It was just a shame the only two excited for this trip had to be hidden from the public. You thought it was ironic that you were trying to avoid suspicion just after stealing a whole Winnebago.

“Hey!” Dustin protests as Steve sits him back down at the table, shaking his head.

“Sorry, man. It’s too risky.” He explains, but the curly-haired boy just pouts.

“Hellfire stays inside.” Nancy announces and despite Eddie’s look of disappointment, he didn’t kick up a fuss. He could look at guns another day, when there was no longer a price on his head.

“Okay, time for some… shopping.” Robin shrugs as Max jumps out of the RV behind you, slamming the door shut. “Are we, uh, looking for anything in particular?”

“Anything that looks like it’s gonna hurt.” You say, surprising the others. None of them object.

Swarms of mostly bulky men were walking down the aisles when you all entered, seemingly curious yet unbothered by your little group. You all definitely looked out of place.

“Uh… we should also probably look out for clothes.” You suggest, gesturing to Steve’s stark outfit. Your own was covered in black slime and dirt, much like Nancy and Robin’s.

“Good idea.” Steve says as he makes a beeline for the clothing department.

“I’m gonna head over to the guns. I’ve got an idea of what I want.” Nancy nods and Max takes Erica with her to the smaller section of knives and bug repellent.

“What do we think?” Robin asks with a lighter tone, posing with a beret on her head.

“You know what, it actually suits you.” You laugh and she flashes you a smile, throwing it into the shopping cart.

She begins to peruse the jewellery section next, making you chuckle in amusement as you spot Steve trying on a jacket further down.

It had been a while since either of you talked. After your vision in the Upside Down, you could tell he was walking on eggshells around you, much unlike your usual banter. Now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time you had an honest conversation with you.

“So, weird question, but, um… how are we meant to be paying for this?” You question as you walk over to him, a surprised look on his face as he glances over at Robin. She seemed to be preoccupied by the studded belt in her hands.

“I’ve still got my whole compensation fund from Starcourt we could-”

He stops once he says it. Starcourt. He saw how your face drops without permission, giving him a small glimpse of the sadness that wore away inside you.

“I, uh… we could use my savings money.” You offer, trying anything to pretend like your momentary lapse of weakness didn’t happen. “I mean, it was meant for books and stuff back at Stanford but I feel like this is a much more important use for it considering the whole end of the world scenario we’ve found ourselves in.”

You attempt a laugh, but it came out with too little volume, and all too much air. You try to redirect your attention to the vest in front of you. It looked like tough leather, hopefully thick enough to add some protection to your frame.

“Sorry I’ve been such an asshole.”

The battle vest almost slipped from your hands as you turn to catch Steve’s eye. His expression was serious, an apologetic look pointed at you.

“Huh?” You frown, unsure when this sudden turn of conversation started.

“I haven’t really been grateful. To have you here with us, I mean. You literally dropped your life just to help us, and I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you. High school was years ago.”

“If it helps, I have also been an asshole, so…” You laugh and you manage to spark a smile on his face. “And of course I’m here. You are, too. I’m not the only one risking everything.”

You didn’t expect a genuine smile from Steve Harrington to ever be sent your way, but you found yourself smiling back. In so few words, it was like a war had been resolved between you. A long time coming, at that.

You watch as his gaze drifts to behind you, his brows furrowing.

“Uh… I’ll be right back.”

You turn to see him jog over to Robin, placing a hand on her back. From this distance, you could just see her standing there with a fallen expression, staring at something further down the aisle. You take two steps back, curiously searching for the source of her uncharacteristic torment, but you can’t see past the couple laughing together.

The guy was quite tall, someone you think you recognise from school. Dan, was it? He was smiling down at a girl not much younger than you, wearing a grin and ginger hair.

It took a second for the realisation to hit, and by then Steve and Robin had wondered back over to you, quickly explaining you all needed to leave before you were suddenly rushing back to the Winnebago, left to sit for a little while longer with your thoughts.

Why was Robin so upset about a random couple in the middle of War Zone?

Robin hadn’t expected to see Vickie anywhere, let alone a stupid illegal gun shop on the outskirts of Hawkins. It definitely caught her off-guard, and since she watched what little hope she maybe had left of dating suddenly kiss a man, it also felt right. After all, she was a pariah. That was all she was going to be.

“I don’t care.” She interrupts Steve’s attempt to rationalise the prior events, rambling about the impossibility of Vickie not liking women too.“And I don’t understand why you do either with everything that’s going on. Honestly, this feels like a perfect time for that little pull of the rug because… in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”

A sigh leaves her lips just in time for her to catch a glance of you across the field. You were sat cross-legged on the grass, laughing as Eddie and Dustin play-fought with their new and improved battle shields. As she sat just outside the Winnebago, holding a funnel for the molotov cocktails they had ordered, she feels a smile tugging at her lips when she sees your grin, and then she shakes it away as fast as she can. Not fast enough for it to go unnoticed.

“Aren’t you always telling me about all the fish in the sea?” He smirks, waggling his eyebrows and she grimaces. She knows he’s only joking, trying to tease her a little bit. But he doesn’t realise it wasn’t a game to her.

“Ew, no, don’t be gross.”

“I just think you’d be perfect together-”

“Okay.” She quickly stands up, almost spilling the bottles. “I think we’re running out of alcohol. I’m gonna go find some more.”

“Why are you being weird?” He frowns as she starts walking away. “But- we have enough bottles here!”

You heard Steve’s shout across the field as Dustin starts making a joke about bats, turning your head to see Robin was quickly walking away from him and disappearing inside the Winnebago. You were twisting grass between your fingers, staring longingly at the trailer home door. You wanted to talk to her. You needed to.

Your legs moved before your brain could comprehend it, marching you across that field with determination. There was no more putting it off. You couldn’t spend your last moments before what could be the end of the world sat on the grass wondering what would have happened if you’d just had the courage to open up.

Robin managed to compose herself for a bit, running her hands down her face and catching a glimpse of herself on a small mirror. Her mascara had rubbed off a little around her eyes, her hair now dirty and wild from the whirlwind of their adventures. With a sigh, she grabs another box of bottles. She so badly wanted a shower. Or at least to just curl up in her bed and pretend like the world was going to be just fine if she fell asleep.

She knew any minute now Steve would come looking for her, demanding answers. He was right. She was acting weird. But how else were you meant to act when you were slowly coming to the realisation that you’d be alone forever? How could she pretend to be normal when she had to sit and watch everyone else fall in love when she couldn’t, or reconnect with their high school sweethearts while she mourned the feeling of never experiencing teenage love?

She wasn’t normal. Nothing in her life felt more real than that.

“Hey.” You suddenly announce yourself and Robin drops the box she was holding, cursing under her breath as she scrambles to collect it before she lost all composure. You wince. “Sorry.”

“No, you- it just-” Robin presses her lips together, sighing. “I didn’t expect to see anyone in here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” You grimace even harder, motioning to the door. “This was weird, I can go-”

“No!” She drops the box again, on the small table this time. “Uh… I mean, no. You don’t need to…”

There’s a moment of silence you really wished was comfortable, but even you couldn’t pretend it was anything other than awkward.

“Are you doing okay?” Robin blurts, unable to resist talking if it meant she didn’t have to stand there with her own thoughts for much longer. “With the whole, you know, being a Vecna prophet?”

“A prophet, huh?” You smirk, raising your eyebrow. “No, I’m, uh… I’m okay? I think. Just… god.”

You flop yourself down on the cushioned seats of the Winnebago, biting your lip.

“I should have done what he asked.” You admit, meeting her eyes as she slowly lowers herself to sit beside you. “Nancy is probably, I don’t know, traumatised now because I keep thinking making everything a secret is gonna solve everything. Like it ever has.”

“You were doing what you thought would protect us. That’s not a bad thing.” She shrugs, staring down at her hands. “You shouldn’t even have to be dealing with all of this in the first place.”

“No one would have guessed an evil mind wizard who lives in an alternate dimension would somehow use me to spread his villainous plans.” You chuckle, trying to find the humour in what had to be the scariest experience of your entire life.

“No.” She breathes an airy laugh, biting her lip. “But I made you come here.”

“What?” You looked taken-aback, blinking at her. “No, Robin… I’m here because I want to be.”

“But you hate Hawkins.” She says, twisting in the seat to face you so she could express herself with her hands more. “And I- I don’t blame you. You lost your father… you left for all good reasons. I shouldn’t have shown up at your door demanding help, it… I didn’t realise how badly it would affect you, or-”

“Robin.” You place a hand over hers and she stills, words cut from her mouth by a single touch. “I want to be here. What happened a year ago doesn’t define my actions now. It never did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t leave because my dad died.” Your voice had gotten quieter, and Robin watched as your eyes started to glisten. “I… I left because Heather did.”

Robin frowns. Heather? Nancy mentioned a Heather back in the library after your first encounter, stating the two of you had known eachother since sophmore year. It had only been a passing comment. Robin only remembered the Heather with a plaque at the school, a soul lost to ‘the fire’. Flayed, Robin realises.

“Heather… Heather Holloway?” Robin asks and you nod, wiping away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “Nancy told me you guys were friends.”

“Right. Friends.” You say almost bitterly, avoiding her eyes. Robin sends a quick glance to the door, making sure it was shut. She had a feeling this conversation wasn’t one you were going to be comfortable sharing with anyone else.

“Was Heather… was she more… more than a friend?” Robin’s mouth felt dry as she struggled with her words, hoping you didn’t return them with a laugh or disgust. And you didn’t. You only nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Back in the hospital, Starcourt… I had gone with Nancy and Jonathan to try and figure out what the hell was happening to Hawkins. Nancy told us it was related to Driscoll, that we had to hurry. I remember she wouldn’t tell me why she was so scared. But Jonathan let slip that they had been at Heather’s house…”

You take a deep breath, trying to relax your now tensing shoulders. “I kept asking them where Heather was, if they had seen her, if she was okay. I… I knew something was wrong. I hadn’t heard from her for a whole day, I even begged for their help when she went missing but they told me I was paranoid. But I was right in the end.”

“You were too late.” Robin whispers in realisation, and your glossy eyes find hers, nodding.

“Heather’s dad was at the hospital. So was mine.” You recall, twisting the corner of the cushion. “They were flayed, attacked us when we least expected it. My dad was telling me how Heather died, what they did. Right before he drove a knife into my shoulder.”

You gently push down the shoulder of your jumper to reveal a red scar, and Robin’s breath hitches.

“I don’t really remember much after that. Jonathan managed to get him off me. I think Nancy dragged me somewhere safe before a nurse found me.” You sigh, rolling your shoulder. “When I had woken up, my gran was the one to tell me about Starcourt, how my dad had died in the fire. And that Heather and her family had apparently burned in there too.”

“I’m so sorry.” Robin squeezes your hand, wiping away her own tears. She had wondered why Nancy and Steve seemed so hesitant about your story. Only now did she know it was because they couldn’t feel anything but guilt about how they treated you.

“Heather was my best friend, and more.” You smile before it broke, biting your lip, “I hated the thought of staying here. I was just so… angry. At the others. At myself. I had to leave.”

“I would have done the same.” Robin admits quietly. “To be honest… I don’t think I would have come back.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” You shrug, “But I needed to be here for my gran.”

“Does she…”

“Yeah. She knows about Heather and me.” You say, nodding. “I came out to my dad when I realised I liked Heather. He… he wasn’t happy about it. We fought a lot after that until my gran decided to take me in. She’s pretty great.”

“She sounds it.” Robin smiles.

“Being a girl into girls in a town like this…” You laugh, glancing out the window. “When I turned Steve down in sophmore year, I just remember the relentless torment from everyone around me. I didn’t even know I liked girls then, but I knew I was never going to say anything because if I refused a date with a guy and they all hated me for it, what would happen if I ended up dating a girl?”

“It was all so natural with Heather. She didn’t make me feel like a freak, or make me some kind of pariah. Because she understood me. And about a year after we became friends, after the whole Steve incident, we started dating.” You lean back into the seat, pouring your heart and soul to a girl you hoped you had met years ago. “Our dads worked together at the Post, and we had to keep it a secret. That’s why… that’s why everyone out there thought we were just friends. Because that’s what I told them.”

“No one out there would have judged you like that. Especially not Steve.” Robin insists and your face twists with uncertainty.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s my best friend.”

You knew that. You saw it anytime they bickered or teased one another. You saw it when Steve went rushing over to her the second he sensed her posture drop in War Zone, whispering reassuring words to her on the field after.

Part of you had assumed when you first saw them together that there was no way they couldn’t be dating. So many factors could be against why they weren’t. There was only one you were nervously hoping for.

“That girl… the one at War Zone. You looked really upset…” You bite your lip, heart beating harder. “Is that because…”

“I know exactly how you feel.” She meets your eyes and you almost melt, suppressing a smile.

“Is that why you started acting weird when you found out Eddie was my ex?” You ask and she frowns, obviously curious about that. “I dated him because I thought he was cool, and nice. We broke up because I realised I was gay.”

“Oh.” She laughs, feeling incredibly stupid. “God, I was so sure- I literally hate myself right now.”

“So… does that mean… if you liked that girl…” You struggle to find the words, scrambling your mind with endless possibilities to just ask the question.

“I like you.” Robin finally says in a whisper and you smile.

“I like you, too.”

Her eyes flicker to your lips for just a moment, until she catches something, a red trail starting to stain your upper lip.

It all came crashing down after that.

“Y/n?!”

Steve must have heard her screaming because when he comes rushing in, your eyes are already rolled back, Robin’s hands holding onto your shoulders.

You weren’t a prophet after all.

You were a warning.

Chapter Eight: Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls ->

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elvenisms · 2 years ago

Text

on my doorstep —; e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader [5.6k]

summary: An unexpected gift exchange between you and Eddie leads to an eventful Valentine's Day. 18+ MDNI

cw: smut, fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, first i love yous (':, sub!eddie if you squint, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (as always, don't do this), lovesick idiots and emotional sex.

author's note: getting this up literally ten minutes before valentine's day ends! woohoo! got carried away (as i often do), hope u like it. <3

masterlist

February 10th, 1986

It was a somewhat chilly day in Hawkins, the wind whipping around dead leaves that hadn’t yet been raked, the trees prickly and barren. Forest Hills looked its best like this, you thought; you were never one for hot summer days, or freezing winter nights.

Inside your trailer, Nancy was pouring a cup of coffee, wearing a matching set of pajamas that was oh-so her. That alone made her look more put together than you or Robin, clad in baggy, mismatched sweats.

“What time do you work, Robs?” You asked mid-yawn, blankets pooling around where you sat on the couch.

She frowned beside you, squeezed her eyes shut, and threw her head back dramatically. “Don’t remind me.”

“Can’t Steve cover for you?” Nancy rounded the corner with two steaming cups, handing them off to the two of you. “He kinda owes you. You covered for him for that date last week.”

“That is a great observation.” Robin pointed a finger at the girl, as if she’d forgotten. “I’ll call him.”

Knock, knock, knock. All three of your heads flew to the door, then back at each other, brows furrowed.

“Expecting someone?” Nancy asked, and you shook your head in response.

Curious, you threw the blankets off of you, cradling your cup of coffee as you approached the door. Maybe the kids skipped school, had some adventure planned? Maybe Eddie was bored?

You unlocked it, then swung it open—no one was there.

You looked down, confused, and were met with a sea of red; a bouquet of roses, neatly organized inside a vase, sat on your porch. On top, a small note with your name written on it.

Your jaw dropped slightly in shock. You’d almost forgotten that Valentine’s Day was fast approaching, and certainly didn’t anticipate getting any gifts. You’d been single for almost a year, and not exactly searching.

No reason, really. It just never felt right.

You picked up the bouquet, wide eyes scanning the park for any sign of who dropped it off, but you didn’t see a thing.

When you turned around, Robin almost spat out her coffee. Nancy had a huge grin on her face.

“Do you have a secret admirer?” She teased, but it was full of love.

“Not that I know of,” You sat the vase down on the table between the three of you. It really was beautiful. “But this definitely has my name on it.”

“Five bucks says I know who that’s from.” Robin raised her eyebrows, staring sheepishly over her mug.

“I don’t think I’ll take that bet,” Nancy was still grinning her face off. “I think I know, too.”

You were even more confused now. You looked between them, expectant.

“ItsobviouslyEddie,” Robin spat out, then threw a hand against her mouth. Nancy rolled her eyes.

“You could’ve given her, like, more than half a second to figure it ou—”

“What?” You interrupted, incredulous. “Why would… Eddie’s my best friend, you guys. It’s not—it’s not like that.”

It wasn’t like that; you just spent a lot of time together. Sometimes you watched movies, and fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms. Sometimes you’d go to his shows, watch him play guitar, and bite your lip so hard it bled. Sometimes you had… questionable dreams about him.

Okay, maybe it was like that. But not for him.

The two girls were looking at you like you just failed a polygraph test.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You grumbled, setting your coffee down on the table. “He doesn’t feel that way about me, okay? That’s not even his handwriting. It’s way too nice.”

Robin rose from the couch. “Whatever you say, chica,” She headed for the phone, eyeing you as she went. “I’m gonna call Steve.”

You looked to Nancy, who simply shrugged with a knowing smile, then back to the flowers. It wasn’t Eddie. It couldn’t be.

But what if it was?

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 11th, 1986

“I think I blew it.”

Eddie’s elbows rested on Steve’s kitchen counter, face buried in his hands. The house was empty, per usual, which Eddie always thought was insane—he wondered what it was like to have money for a place like this, let alone have it and never be in it.

“Oh please,” Steve had a mouth full of cereal, sitting a few feet away at the dining table. “What the hell are you talking about? You got her flowers. Girls love flowers.”

“She’s not just a girl.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, man. She’s a goddess, she hung the moon, she changed your life.” He gestured with his hand, rattling off the painstakingly cheesy things Eddie had said before. “Whatever, she loves flowers. Stop stressing.”

To anyone else, Steve might’ve looked like an asshole for dealing with Eddie’s anguish so casually. In reality, he quite appreciated it. Someone had to keep him grounded.

“Do you think she knows it’s me?” Eddie’s face finally left his hands, looking at his friend with a concerned expression.

“Doesn’t matter if she knows it’s you.” Steve pointed his spoon at him. “She hopes it’s you.”

“And how do we know that?”

“You know nothing, clearly.” Steve got up, carrying his empty bowl to the sink. Eddie rolled his eyes theatrically. “I, however, see how she looks at you when you’re together.”

Eddie’s heart did a little flip inside his chest. He wanted to believe that, he really did—but he doubted the words. “How… how does she look at me, then?”

Steve shrugged. “Sometimes like she wants to kiss you,” He spun on his heel, landing right across from where Eddie sat. “Sometimes like she wants to eat you.”

He swallowed harshly.

In the year that Eddie had known you, he’d been gone on you. Like, the whole time. It only got worse as you became better friends.

You’d help him study, insistent that he finally graduated, but his mind went fuzzy at your bare thighs, your floral perfume, the heat of your skin hovering just beside his. When he knew you were coming to his shows, he’d get indescribably nervous, petrified of embarrassing himself, despite knowing you probably couldn’t care less.

He thanked God he’d never seen or heard about you with another guy; at the same time, it was a little unbelievable. Hence, Steve had finally convinced him to do something—anything—remotely indicative of his feelings.

Flowers. A good way to test the waters, Eddie thought, without giving himself away.

After another thirty minutes of crisis-control, Steve drove him home. The boy gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, Ed, seriously.”

He appreciated it, though it did nothing to quell his anxiety. With a nod and a weak smile, he opened the passenger-side door, making toward his trailer.

He glanced at your place as he passed it. Just two days ago, it would’ve been so easy to knock on your door, ask to hang out. It suddenly felt impossible—perhaps because he was no longer shoving his feelings for you to the wayside. He’d made a move. Maybe he’d ruined everything between the two of you.

Mind racing, he treaded up his steps, nearly crushing what laid in front of his door.

A box of chocolates.

His whole body froze, staring at them wide-eyed. Slowly, he bent down, noticing a note stuck between the ribbon. Eds.

Not Eddie, not Ed… Eds.

The nickname he’d heard fall from your sweet lips a thousand times, and hoped he’d hear a thousand more. His heart thumped wildly.

He snatched the box, free hand digging through his pocket for his key, desperate to get inside before he passed away on the spot. He rushed to the couch, studying the note with gentle hands.

All it said was his name. But right now, it felt worthy of a golden frame, a tourist attraction—as if it were the eighth wonder of the world.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 12th, 1986

Despite the fact that you still questioned whether or not the roses were from Eddie, today was the fourth day in a row you hadn’t heard from him. No calls, no drop in visits—it was highly unusual.

It was also a very good sign that it was, in fact, him.

You hadn’t been able to focus on anything, especially since you dropped the chocolates off at his door. If he wasn’t your so-called ‘secret admirer’, you would have to explain all of this somehow. Well, I thought it was you, because I kinda hoped it was you, and…

The thought made you shudder.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, shoving a pair of sunglasses on her head.

You snapped out of your trance, looking between her and El. “I—yeah, I’m good. Are you guys ready to go?”

The two girls had showed up on your doorstep this afternoon, all giggles and playful shoves, begging to be taken to Starcourt. They took advantage of the soft spot you had for them often.

Soon enough, your run-down car was pulling into the mall parking lot.

“Alright, two hours tops, okay? I’m on night shift tonight, I need enough time to go home and change clothes.” You put on your best parental voice, the three of you making your way toward the entrance.

The girls nodded happily, just excited to have hitched a ride at all. “You sound like Steve.” El quipped, earning a laugh from the redhead.

It would be nice to do some window-shopping, you thought, to take your mind off of things, if that was at all possible. You just wanted an answer—you wanted to be certain it was him, stop the spiral into thinking you might lose your best friend over some candy.

Something came over you just inside the mall, right as El and Max were about to split off.

“Max,” You blurted, and she looked at you questioningly. “Weird… Um, weird question. Have you seen Eddie lately? Like, in our neighborhood?”

“No, don’t think so.” She shook her head, then narrowed her eyes at you. “Why?”

“No reason.”

You really were a terrible liar. “Is he ignoring you?”

“No! I mean… yes, but—no, I don’t think so?” You bit your lip. Jesus Christ, way to keep it cool.

A maniacal grin spread across Max’s face, gesturing for El, who was preoccupied by a display, to come over. “We’re hitting Orange Julius first, and you—” She jabbed a finger into your chest. “—are telling us everything.”

For fuck’s sake.

Within ten minutes, the three of you were sitting at a table, sucking down your frozen drinks. You quietly hoped the brain freeze would give you a stroke.

“Spill.” Max commanded, both girls clearly excited for some gossip.

Before saying a word, you sat down your cup, extending both pinkies. “First of all, this stays between us, alright?”

They each hooked a pinky with their own, and you nodded, satisfied. So much for keeping your mind off of it.

“Two days ago, someone left flowers on my doorstep. And I… I hope it was Eddie, because I might’ve left chocolates on his doorstep yesterday.”

Both girls squealed, clutching each other in excitement. “But, like, I don’t know if it was him, guys.” You were quick to subdue it, putting a hand out in front of you.

“It totally was!” El chirped, and Max nodded, joining in. “You guys are, like, idiots in love.”

“We are not!” The blush on your cheeks told a much different story. “Okay, whatever. Four people have now told me it’s definitely him, so guess I have my answer.”

“You already knew the answer.” Max rolled her eyes, rising from her seat with El. “Now, go get him something nice, and we’ll meet you back here in an hour and a half.”

The two girls skipped away. You took a dramatic slurp of your Orange Julius.

Fine, you decided, less stressing, more shopping. You couldn’t take back the chocolates, so there was no point in worrying about it—que sera, sera, or however that goes.

You roamed the mall for about forty-five minutes, making pit stops at your favorite places; you bumped into the girls at Afterthoughts, where they were taking a decision on friendship bracelets very seriously. You stopped into Spencer’s, a favorite of yours for band tees and silly knick knacks—you almost got something for Eddie there, but lava lamps and mugs didn’t seem meaningful enough.

Deciding you’d figure it out later, you began making your way back to the meeting point. A display, from out of the corner of your eye, stopped you in your tracks.

You stared at it, eyes slightly glazed over. It felt insane that you were even considering it.

It felt even more insane when your feet developed a mind of your own, carrying you into the store, and back out with a small bag—which you promptly shoved in your purse.

“Do my eyes deceive me? You guys are here early?” You teased, approaching Max and El at the table from earlier. They were each carrying a few bags.

“We work fast,” El smiled, scanning you. “Did you get something for Eddie?”

“No, but I will, don’t worry.” You lied, knowing if you didn’t, they’d pester you until you showed them. “Ready to head out?”

The three of you made your way back to the car. After dropping El off at Hop’s, you headed back to Forest Hills with Max. She rested her feet on the dash.

The ride was quiet—probably due to the fact that your mind was anything but. The gift you’d picked up for Eddie was… ballsy, to say the least. You blamed your friends for these bouts of fleeting confidence, which ultimately ended in wanting to bang your head against a wall.

You parked at your place. Max hopped out, bags in tow, and made off toward her trailer.

“Thanks again,” She shouted, then gave a little nod towards your front door. “Looks like you got another delivery.”

Your head whipped toward the doorstep, approaching it with an embarrassing amount of haste. There was another delivery.

A copy of Flashdance. Your knees wavered.

Now you were certain it was Eddie; the first time you’d watched it together, you made him swear he wouldn’t tell anyone how much you loved it. Cheesy, romantic, dance films didn’t exactly fit your tough-girl image.

As giddy and lightheaded as you felt right now, maybe they were starting to.

Of course, there was a note attached. You grabbed it, eyes widening when it didn’t just say your name.

Will I be seeing you on the 14th?

No name, no signature. What a little shithead, you thought, cheeks sore from smiling so hard. You pressed both the tape and note into your chest, exhaling a shaky breath.

It was real now. Whatever part of you that still doubted Eddie’s feelings had vanished—and it left behind a mess of excitement, nerves, and anticipation.

You glanced down at your purse, having almost forgotten about what you bought. Your stomach flipped in anxiety.

One more gift.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 13th, 1986

Eddie missed you. Like, missed the hell out of you—which was embarrassing, considering it had been less than a week since you last hung out.

Despite being adamant he couldn’t give out anymore free rentals, Steve had scored him the copy of Flashdance. He was really just proud that Eddie hadn’t completely chickened out yet. Quite frankly, so was Eddie.

Though, that note he’d left at your door got him pretty close to it.

What if you said no? Even worse, what if you said yes, somehow under the impression that this was some lighthearted, best friend thing? Eddie didn’t think you were that oblivious, but the worst case scenario was kind of his forté.

Dustin thumped him on the back of the head. “Stop thinking about it.”

“But I’m—”

“No, nope, zip.” The smaller boy closed his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “You can think about it tomorrow, when she professes her undying love for you.”

Eddie glared at him. The audacity was outrageous. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

Dustin glanced around the trailer. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

“Um,” He scratched the back of his neck. “We can talk about Hellfire?”

Eddie groaned, leaning back into the couch. “Henderson, I love you, I really do—but for the first time in my life, I have more pressing things to think about than Dungeons and Dragons.”

Dustin didn’t take it personally. In fact, he understood. He’d been sent here by Steve to keep Eddie’s mind off of it, which was proving useless, so he caved.

“Alright, fine.” He sighed, taking a seat beside the long-haired boy. A loaded silence ensued.

Eventually, he looked at Eddie in earnest, the corners of his lips turning up. “You think she’s the one?”

Eddie studied him for a moment. He noted the sincerity in his expression. “Yeah.” He breathed, nodding softly. “I mean, shit, yeah, I really do.”

“I think she is too, man.” Dustin grinned, in the comforting way that was uniquely his. “I mean, your one, not my one.”

Eddie chuckled at that. He might’ve been the luckiest guy in Hawkins to have such great friends—even if some of them were fifteen years old. If he had you, too, he’d be some sort of walking miracle.

“Let’s just hope—”

Knock, knock, knock. Eddie’s sentence stopped in its tracks. The two of them locked wide eyes, and Dustin broke out beaming like a schoolboy.

“Holy shit,” He giggled, watching as Eddie approached the front door slowly. “She has, like, superhuman instincts or something.”

“Shush.”

Eddie’s hand gripped the handle, overcome by a wave of anticipation. Just beyond the worn wood, he’d find the answer to his question—a question which meant so much more than its face value.

Will I be seeing you on the 14th? Am I crazy for thinking I might? Do you want me how I’ve always wanted you?

He pulled the door open, eyes already trained to the ground. There laid a small piece of paper, liable to be blown away at any moment—he picked it up, hand shaking, heartbeat in his ears.

My place, tomorrow, 8pm. Last gift is here.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 14th, 1986

It was 7:45pm. You sat on your couch, leg bouncing, the faint sound of crickets penetrating your walls.

It was silly, really, to be so nervous—it was Eddie. You knew Eddie like the back of your hand.

His favorite songs, the way he’d fidget with his rings when he was nervous, the little noises he made in his sleep. You could almost smell his signature cologne, musky and warm, like a campfire at midnight.

There were things you didn’t know.

You didn’t know the way his lips felt against yours. You’d long wondered whether he was a gentle or fiery lover; as much as you knew him, you still couldn’t tell.

Eddie, who’d once tended to a wound on your knee with delicate hands, wincing in sympathy whenever you did. Eddie, who was a passionate performer, owning every square inch of the stage with confidence.

A knock at the door took the wind out of you.

You stood up abruptly, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in your sweater, your skirt. You cursed yourself for not putting on some music, now acutely aware of the silence.

It was too late now. Fuck.

It was so much easier when it was flowers, movies, or flirty little notes on the other side of the door. You wondered if Eddie felt the same—terrified to knock and stay put, not scurry off and hide.

You clutched the doorknob, opening it slowly. Your eyes found each others’ in an instant.

He had on his leather jacket, typically reserved for shows, and a Judas Priest t-shirt. Like always, his knees showed through the holes in his jeans—a chain clipped to the belt loops.

He was perfect. And even so, he looked nervous.

“Hey.” You said softly, like a deer in headlights.

He twisted one of his rings, eyes glued to yours. “Hi.”

It was so strange, you thought, how effortless it was before; a few innocent gifts had so drastically changed the air around you both. Some scrawled out notes brought a sea of unspoken feelings to the surface.

Instinctively, your arms reached out, pulling him into your home with a lingering hug. Despite being the root of your current anxiety, you craved his comfort.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He breathed, like feeling you in his arms was a relief. Your face was buried in his shirt, taking in the scent. Like a campfire at midnight.

After a long moment, you leaned back to look at him, his hand cradling the back of your head. You could feel his breath ghosting against your lips, chests rising and falling together.

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie whispered, heartbeat drumming against you.

Your limbs were numb. “Please.”

So, he did.

Every insecurity you had became ridiculously insignificant. The lack of music, the wrinkles in your clothes, the smudge in your eyeliner—they were like specks of dust on the Mona Lisa, because Eddie was fucking kissing you, and it felt like clicking the last piece into a ten-thousand piece puzzle.

He held you as if you were made of glass, gentle enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You finally parted, breathless, foreheads resting together. “Eds,” You murmured, hands beginning to wander, skimming over his shoulders, his chest. “I… I want to…”

“Me too.” He replied with a shaky breath, not needing you to finish the thought. “Promise me you’re sure. I’ll… shit, I’ll never forgive myself if I fuck this up.”

You won’t. You can’t. You never could.

“I’m sure.” You croaked, hands finally finding themselves in his curls. “I’ve been sure, Eds, for a year, since the moment I met y—”

He pressed his lips to yours, a different sort of passion within it. It was feverish, needy, tongues and teeth bumping into each other messily; his hands traveled down to your thighs, lifting you, and you wrapped your legs around him.

You hardly felt yourself move before you were being laid down on the soft surface of your bed. Your fingers stripped him of his jacket, tossing it off to the side, then moved to the hem of his shirt, embarrassingly eager to feel his skin against yours.

Eddie held himself up with a forearm beside your head, his other hand clutching at the sweater over your waist, finally finding the courage to lift it off of you. Underneath it, intricate black lace—a sheer one-piece that left nothing to the imagination.

He stopped kissing you. Not on purpose, but out of pure astonishment, eyes trailing your torso.

“Is this…”

“Your last gift?” Your chest was heaving now, Eddie’s eyes warming your skin, but you managed a shy smile. “Yeah, it is.”

He sat up, bringing both large hands to delicately span your ribcage. Jesus Christ, the way he was looking at you was the best kind of absurd—like you were expensive, unattainable.

You felt the cold metal of his rings through the thin fabric, and it made you keen inadvertently. His eyes immediately flicked up to your face.

“You’re gonna kill me.” He shook his head lightly, utterly awestruck. “Like, really, I might not make it out of here alive.”

You giggled, and the smile rubbed off on him. “I might not either,” You reached out, hands slipping beneath his shirt, traversing the bare skin underneath. He shivered at the feeling. “So, let’s die happy.”

That must’ve ignited something in him, because he squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of it, wasting no time in pulling his shirt over his head. You hardly had time to appreciate the sight before he was on you again.

He nipped at your jaw, your hands making quick work of the button on his jeans; at the same time, his fingers tucked themselves in the edge of your skirt, gliding it off of you.

You tangled your fingers in his curls, as if it was the only thing keeping you from floating away. Only a few thin layers were left separating you.

“So perfect,” Eddie’s hands came to your shoulders, oh-so softly hooking the straps of the lingerie, sliding them down your arms. His breath warmed your neck. “This is beautiful, but you…”

Your mouth opened and closed again, too overwhelmed by the praise to speak. You felt him drag the fabric down, an agonizing pace, until you were entirely exposed.

“You are everything to me.” He whispered, and there was a vulnerability behind it that made your heart swell.

Your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, and he gently clutched your wrist, stopping you. You made a small noise of protest.

“Wait,” He murmured, pressing his lips to your neck, then your collarbone. His ringed fingers came up to cup one of your breasts, and your breath hitched when he kissed there, too.

He continued downward, lips trailing your navel, pausing just above where you wanted him most. His dark eyes met yours, and Christ, he looked like an angel.

“Wanna take care of you.” He gripped your hips—not forcefully, but hard enough. “Can I?”

“Please.” You didn’t even know how he meant it. You didn’t care.

His hands found their way to the backs of your thighs, giving them a gentle push, putting your center on full display for him.

It had been so long since anyone had seen you like this, and now it was Eddie; as many times as you’d imagined this scenario, you never considered it could be a reality. You felt suddenly insecure.

His face couldn’t have told a more different story.

It was as if you’d bestowed God’s greatest gift upon him with your permission—you almost couldn’t be insecure. He was doe-eyed, slack jawed, a few stray curls hanging down in his face. Clearly the least of his concerns.

As you reached to brush them away, he leaned forward, softly swiping his tongue between your folds. It caught you off guard, back arching slightly. “Shit, Eds, yes.”

Your response was all he needed to continue, attaching his mouth to you again. You half expected it to be sloppy, fast, and eager; instead, he was methodical. His tongue circled your bud slowly, dipping down to your entrance every so often, wanting to taste everything you had to offer.

He was savoring every moment. And, fuck, you thought your soul might leave your body.

“G-God, shit,” You whined, no longer in control of what left your mouth. His hair was threaded in your knuckles, which you hadn’t even noticed until a particular swirl over your clit made you tug roughly on the strands—Eddie groaned against you, movements nearly faltering.

The vibrations were almost too much, let alone the fact that he liked his hair being pulled. You felt a finger tease your entrance, eliciting a gasp among your many moans, and it didn’t take long for him to sink it into you.

“Eddie,” It came out like a weak warning. The coldness of the ring on his knuckle met your most sensitive area, and you were gone. “Oh, fuck, Eddie, m’gonna—”

He curled it inside you and whimpered, sending your body alight.

You came as if you never had before. The combination of his mouth, his finger, the sounds he was making, his goddamn ring—it was euphoric, unlike anything you’d ever experienced, rendering you a babbling mess.

He slowed down as you did, reading your body as if it were his favorite book. You thought he must’ve somehow read it a dozen times already.

Appearing at your level again, Eddie caught his breath alongside you, his voice as soft as silk. “Was that… good?”

And for fuck’s sake, he was asking in earnest, like he really didn’t know whether he’d done well.

You huffed out an incredulous laugh, and it brought a smile to his face. Your hands came up to cradle his cheeks. “The best I’ve ever had, Eds.”

That did something to him—his eyelids fluttered shut, brow furrowing. It turned him on to hear he’d satisfied you. Which, in turn, made the ache between your legs apparent again.

When you began to tug on the waistband of his boxers for a second time, he made no effort to stop you.

“Need you inside me,” It was more of a beg than a demand, barely audible, against his lips.

Finally, every piece of clothing had been discarded. Feeling him rest against your core, heavy and throbbing, made you tremble. He was already on the brink of losing his composure.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He brushed the hair from your eyes, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Always. Gonna go slow, okay?”

Your heart turned inside your chest. Eddie knew it had been a while since you’d done this. You knew it has been awhile since he’d done this, too—and yet he pushed the nervousness aside, determined to be a rock for your comfort.

You nodded, nosing against his cheek, feeling safer than you ever had before.

He lined himself up with you, pushing forward gently, tip breaching your wetness. It made your jaw fall open; the stretch was good, not painful, but you still needed the time to adjust.

He reacted similarly, his mouth open slightly, the muscles in his abdomen tensing. At the same time, his eyes scanned your face for any sign of discomfort.

When he was fully seated within you, you were already panting into each other's mouths. It felt like you were complete, not only physically, but emotionally—and you knew he felt it, too, though it remained unspoken.

“Okay?” He whispered, dark orbs boring into your own.

Your body was covered in goosebumps. “Yes.”

He started to move, languidly pulling his hips back, pressing them into your own. You were desperate for each other, to feel each other; your passion didn’t choose to manifest in a rough, frenzied manner. Both of you needed to relish in every movement, every touch, every sound.

It was overwhelmingly intimate.

His left hand found your own, lacing your fingers together, pressing it into the mattress beside your head. The other cupped your face, thumb resting on your bottom lip.

You breathed out each other’s names, eyes locked. He was reaching the depths of you, brushing your sweet spot with every slow thrust, and it made a knot begin to form in your stomach.

Your free hand found his hair, gripping it again, and he shuddered out a beautiful noise. “Baby,” He keened, and his hand left your face to hold your hip, pulling out farther, rolling in deeper.

“Me too.” You croaked. It was like you shared one mind, one body, no longer needing to say what it was you felt. You just knew.

The air thickened around you, breaths becoming shorter, grips becoming tighter. A sheen of sweat covered both of your skin, fast approaching your climaxes.

“Eddie, I—” You were swept away, mind trying to force the words out, pleasure making it difficult. “I… I—”

“Tell me, baby.” He rasped, full of longing, like he hoped he already knew.

“—I love you,” It came out like a soft sob, every muscle in your body contracting.

He lost himself at that. A symphony of noises filled the small room, and you clung to him with everything you had, mind buzzing, body writhing instinctually. It was a feeling that deserved to be bottled, placed in a museum—complete and utter fulfillment, in every possible way.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you laid there, heartbeats drumming against each other, trying to come back to earth. It could’ve been a minute, an hour.

Eventually, and probably for the best, your minds wandered back to you. Eddie gently backed away, just enough to pull out of you, and quickly enveloped you in his arms again.

His chin rested on your shoulder, chest pressed to your back, both of you blissed out and fuzzy.

“By the way,” He spoke softly, arms tightening around your waist. “I love you, too. I should’ve said it earlier, but I was a little busy losing my absolute shit.”

You broke out into a laugh, the contradiction between his words and the current situation tickling you. He grinned widely into the skin of your neck.

“Who wrote that note?” You turned towards him, mind running over the events of the last few days. “The first one, with my name. I didn’t believe Rob and Nance when they said it was you—the handwriting was too nice.”

His hand came up, stroking your hair lovingly. “Steve has girly handwriting. Usually I make fun of him for it, but it got me here, so maybe I’ll stop.”

You giggled at that, and jeez, you were sure the two of you looked like idiots in love right now—faces inches apart, delicate touches wherever you could reach, absolutely beaming.

“For the record, I didn’t believe them either.” Eddie’s eyes explored your face. “Harrington, Henderson. I thought they were batshit, saying you were in love with me.”

You inched even closer to him. “Maybe we should start listening to our friends.”

“Let’s not be rash.” He joked, and you playfully pushed his chest. “But, yeah. They were right this time.”

There were a few moments of silence, the two of you taking each other in, biting back smiles.

“I love you.” You said quickly, giddily.

Eddie’s finger brushed your nose. “I love more.”

“See, that would be the case,” You began, faux seriousness painting your expression. “If I didn’t love you most.”

He wagged a finger in your face, leaning in to pepper you with kisses, and continue waging a war that would never end.

At the end of the day, three things were certain.

Firstly, you loved Eddie.

Secondly, Eddie loved you.

Thirdly, your friends were definitely going to regret encouraging you to tell each other those two things.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things smut #happy vday whores #mine

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bvtbxtch · 1 year ago

Text

Children of the Corn | Eddie Munson

Day Twelve of Kinktober

Summary: A group date in the new Hawkins corn maze sounded amazing to you: Hanging out with Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan sounded like just your night, until your worst enemy is included in the plans.

Content Warnings: this is lowkey some porn with a plot so 18+!!! MDNI. But we have some fluff, angst, enemies to lovers trope, fingering, oral (m receiving), withholding orgasm, overstimulation, public sex

wc: ~ 4.2k (this is my formal apology for being gone)

A lovely thank you to all of you for helping me out for the past month in supporting me on my health journey and a special thank you to @darknesseddiem for collaborating with me for this kinktober (even though I'm late IM SORRY)

Eddie Munson picked the exact date and time where he decided that you weren’t a friend, but an enemy. It was Jason Carver’s stupid fucking party that he wasn’t technically invited to, just asked to deal at. You had asked him to take you out, but you being you, and the pressure from half of the party staring and snickering at the two of you, Eddie put his walls up, and humiliated you in front of everyone - definitely more of a fall from grace for you than him. You told him to fuck himself and that you would never talk to him again. As much as it sent pangs of cold to Eddie’s heart, he knew the chances of you running into each other again were slim. You were in two totally different circles; or so he thought. You began working at the old record shop in the same strip mall as Family Video… Hawkins’ entertainment district was pretty measly. You met Robin while the two of you took breaks at the same time every shift, and Steve not long after. You became fast friends and blended in with them beautifully. Why wouldn’t you? Eddie thought, everyone likes you… his admiration turned into rage in self defense. He saw the look of shock and disappointment on your face when you saw him at the first group hangout. You tried your best to stay away from him, but 6 became a crowd: Nancy and Jonathan always off together, Robin and Steve continuing whatever quarrel they had started at Family Video, and you and Eddie. When it was the two of you, you were reasonably quiet. But Eddie was ruthless in a group - no comment you made to anyone went without a snide remark or scoff from the metalhead. The tension was palpable between the two of you: he thought you had come onto him as a joke, and you thought he was being cruel because he truly hated you.

Your birthday had finally come, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic. Nancy and Robin had planned your perfect autumn day. You had told them how badly you had wanted to go to the Hawkins corn maze, so they made arrangements. You were going to pick up hot chocolate, walk the maze, buy pumpkins and carve them at the Harrington house while you watched scary movies. You barely slept last night, you were so excited. You had given up complete control but there was one thing you had asked your friends: please don’t bring Eddie to this outing, not if they could help it. Robin regretfully inclined, saying she would let him know he was sitting this one out. You breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe you could finally fully enjoy your birthday.

You heard honking from outside and you dashed to your front door. You turned and ran down the front steps of your porch, a smile still stupidly plastered on your face. You halted and your grin dropped when you looked to see what vehicle was waiting to pick you up. A rusted burgundy van rumbled on the asphalt and a shit eating grin was plastered on the driver. Robin sat in the front seat with a guilty look on her face. She mouthed sorry to you as she hopped out of the van.

“No, no. You stay in the front. There’s no way in hell I’m sitting up there.” You accepted your defeat and brushed past the strawberry blonde, opening the sliding door to get in the back.

“Happy birthday, princess” Eddie sneered. He was over the moon with himself. “Hope you like your surprise” You normally let his comments slide off your back but you decided enough was enough. He was not going to walk all over you, not today.

“Well my eyes do deceive me then because this seems more like a punishment than a gift.” you mumbled. You turned your eyes to Steve, Nancy and Jonathan in the back with you.

“Nice to see you guys” you beamed at them. If Eddie thinks he can ruin your day, he is sorely mistaken. With a scowl, Eddie pulls the van into drive and screeches off the pavement.

“So, we thought we would draw names to see who goes in with who, make it a little competition?” Nancy wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“Yeah, we have prizes for the winners!” Robin chirped. You sighed and nodded your head in agreement. Hoping the worst wouldn’t happen - hoping that someone would be on your side today. If only…

Nancy pulled out a small notepad and a pen and wrote six names on them for three partners. Three pairings, you were hoping, that would be different from the usual. The names were pulled with stone cold faces: Robin and Jonathan, Nancy and Steve, You and Eddie.

“We can repull,” Nancy laughed off, already crumpling papers back into the small container she used to shake them up.

“Why, is the princess scared of me?” Eddie’s eyes pierced yours through the rearview mirror.

“No, Nance. Don’t worry about it.” You grabbed at the girl’s manicured hand and squeezed it. “It’s all good.” You smiled and nodded at her in refusal. You weren’t going to let Eddie ruin your day, but some time alone with him might bring you both some closure. But you couldn’t help but make your own jabs. “Eddie’s just upset that he’s gonna get carried through this maze. I heard he failed geometry a record 6 times?” Robin snorted and Eddie’s eyes fixed on the road, jaw hardened.

The six of you trudged to the start of the maze, making your plan to meet in the middle from three different entrances.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go kick some ass.” Eddie’s voice was so saccharine sweet you felt a headache coming on. You flashed him a cold smile and you turned away from your friends to be stuck in a cornfield with the person you hated the most for the next hour.

You kept your distance from the mop headed boy. You walked side by side, but with more than enough room. He didn’t dare look at you, eyes trained to the floor (much like the night he ruined you) and his bottom lip fastened between his teeth. You glanced over at him periodically, hoping your eyes would meet his and the tension would fizzle, but you weren’t lucky. You came to a dead end with paths going to the left and the right.

“We should go this way,” the boy mumbled. Without waiting for you to agree, he pivoted on his heels and walked to the left. You let out an annoyed sigh.

“Eddie, that path looks like it’s just going to loop around to where we came from.” you argued. You wanted to keep your voice calm, you didn’t want to start a fight, and you definitely didn’t want Eddie fucking Munson to see you cry in a cornfield. He ignored you. He had shrugged off your counter and continued on his own way. He felt a tug on the arm of his jacket and he whipped around at you, his face mere inches from yours.

“What is your fucking problem?” he spat. Your face was etched with bewilderment and rage.

“What the hell are you talking about, Munson? You seemingly have a problem with me!” You yelped back. “You are so hellbent on making my life fucking difficult when I did nothing to you.”

“Holy fuck,” Eddie sneered. “You really are fucking that dense, aren’t you.” He pushed past you and back towards where you wanted to go in the first place. You bit your lip and exhaled slowly before turning and pacing after him. You refused to let the tears burning your waterline escape. Fuck. Eddie. Munson.

It was pure silence as you and Eddie trudged through the maze. You regretted this whole day, you regretted becoming friends with this whole group of people, and most of all, you regretted ever being nice to Eddie Munson. The twists and turns that you let Eddie lead you on began to all look the same, but you were too frustrated and tired to say anything to him. It had been half an hour of wandering and you could feel the heat growing behind your eyes. You were angry, you were tired, and you just wanted this day to be over.

“Eddie. We’re lost.” You peeped. He gave you no reaction, continuing to walk a few steps ahead of you. You sighed and reluctantly followed until your forehead bounced off of Eddie’s denim-clad back with an oof. “What are-”

“Why did you do that… at Carver’s party? Why?” Eddie’s voice was quiet and shaky. It scared you. He didn’t turn to look at you, too afraid that your face was going to contort into the answer he was dreading to know. You reach your hand to touch his shoulder and he flinches. Your confusion and anger were transforming in front of you into melancholy sympathy.

“Eddie I-” He turned to you and his face took the words from your mouth. The close to setting sun reflected all of the lights in his chocolate brown eyes. His lip trembled softly and his nose scrunched slightly. He was on the defensive, but he was really hurt. You had never seen this side of Eddie Munson and you were unsure if anyone had.

“Eddie, I was just joking.” Eddie mocked you. “Oh, Eddie, I just thought that it would be funny if me, the most perfect girl in fucking Hawkins would ask you, the freak, out on a date… Is that it, princess? Did I damage your reputation by rejecting you in front of everyone? How’d the joke turn out? Huh?” Eddie’s words cut through you and those pesky tears finally spilled. You kept your disappointed scowl.

“Don’t fucking cry at me. You’re just a mean fucking girl who was fucking popular. Now you’re a nobody. You hang out with fucking losers. But at least we’re fucking honest.” You felt everything spinning as Eddie’s words drowned you.

“I was being fucking honest!” You shove the boy by his broad shoulders and your words and strength throw him off balance. "God! Why is that so fucking hard to believe? Why would I do that to you? Why wouldn’t you just fucking trust me?!”

Eddie lunged at you, his hands flying to your cheeks and tears spilling from his own lashes. Your world stopped. His lips were rough against yours, a warm welcome. You didn’t know how much your body hid its want for him through your anger. But still, you pulled away and Eddie’s pale cheeks were brandished with a welt from your hand. Both of your chests heaved, the air feeling thick around you. Eddie could see the anger in your eyes, but he could feel the want you were emanating to him as well. He lunged at your hips, pushing you into the forest of corn behind you. Before you could mutter his name in protest, his lips were back on yours.

Eddie wanted to devour you whole, his lips greedy against yours - greedy to explore every part of your mouth, to feel your tongue in his. You obliged him happily, your heart backflipping with sudden satisfaction. Your body had forgotten how long you yearned for Eddie’s touch. It had been six months since you asked Eddie out, and six months of hating him because you thought he hated you. It was years of stealing looks at the brunette while he wasn’t looking - years of giggling under your hand at one of his cafeteria rants, all in secret because you weren’t supposed to like him. All of the butterflies in your stomachs, the curt smiles, the wanting - all leading up to this moment. Your skin felt like it was going to explode, hot under his touch. His grip on your hip and lower back was bruising. You took a moment to catch your breath as the metalhead’s plush lips trailed from the corners of your mouth down to your neck. You gasped as he sucked an unforgiving bruise onto your neck. Eddie shushed you with a soothing lick to his art on your skin.

“Eddie…” you wanted to carry your authority, but your warning came out as a plea. Eddie raised his head so he could meet your gaze.

“Gotta keep quiet, sweetheart. You don’t want anyone to hear us now, do you?” Eddie chided, your eyes rolled in annoyance but you were frozen. If Eddie wasn’t making all of the thoughts leave your head, you would be even more annoyed; whatever kind of dominance you tried to assert over him, he could make it all disappear with one touch - one smirk. The boy’s nimble fingers unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans without his eyes leaving yours. You mustered up all of the strength you could so you didn’t melt into him.

“I’m still fucking…mad at you, Eddie.” You panted. Eddie let out a soft moan of praise when his name left your mouth. The heat that pooled in your cheeks drained into your core. Eddie’s palm pressed against your abdomen as he sank his hand under your panties. His index finger swiped through your folds and you moaned. His free hand flew up to your mouth and he shot you a pointed look.

“It doesn’t feel like you’re very mad at me, doll” he sneered. “Unless that’s the kind of thing that gets you off…” He stuck his ring finger into your already soaked hole and your eyes fluttered. Eddie’s eyes bore into your fluttering orbs. “Show me how mad you are.”

If it was a challenge Eddie wanted, you were eager to accept. Your hands quickly mirrored his, fumbling with the elaborate buckle at his lithe hips. When you found purchase at the band of his boxers, his hand flew from your mouth to your lower back, already desperate to ground himself. The girl that he had been in love with for a year, the girl he never thought would like him back, the girl he hated so much because he loved her, was here with you now - albeit in the middle of a corn maze was not ideal - and he was rapidly losing his cool (as you could feel). You run your palm over his hardening cock. Eddie’s fingers stilled inside you as it was his turn to screw his eyes shut and try not to make any noise. You had to admit that his length was impressive. Even not fully erect yet, you could tell that he would be a mouthful. You could feel the saliva drooling in your mouth. You were growing desperate to taste him, but even more desperate to have the curly haired boy writhe underneath you.

You grabbed at Eddie’s wrist inside your pants and pulled him off of you. His face contorted in confusion then nervous anticipation as you lowered yourself to your knees and traced your hands down the tops of his toned thighs. A huff of anxious breath and your hands pulling down his boxers later and Eddie was fully exposed to you.

“You sure you want me to show you, Eds?” Your doe eyes challenged him from under him and you felt his knees buckle. You couldn’t suppress your giggle. You gave Eddie one last look as you kitten licked the tip of his reddening cock. He let out a hiss and threw his head back. You looked up at his bobbing Adam's apple and couldn’t help but think how beautiful his neck would look decorated with hickeys similar to the one you have. You Wrapped your mouth around his tip and sucked hard, continuing to bob up and down on his length until your eyes watered and a gag was threatening the back of your throat. There was no way you could fit all of him in your mouth, but you would be damned if you didn’t try. Eddie bit his lip so hard you would be tasting blood the next time he kissed you. You pushed yourself to Eddie’s base and smirked as you could hear the boy above you cursing and muttering. Eddie didn’t know what to do with himself, where to put his hands. He was full of helium; so light that he was going to drift away. He planted his hands within your hair, gripping your locks and pulling. When Eddie pulled your hair, you moaned into him, which sent him barreling too close to his impending orgasm.

“Y/N, please” Eddie whimpered. His desperate voice was pathetic, it made your pussy flutter. You pulled your mouth off of him and looked at him quizzically. “You gotta stop. I’m gonna -” You cut him off by shoving him all the way back into your mouth. You pushed farther than you had before, his manicured hairs meeting your face. The drool leaked out the sides of your mouth and onto his balls and you could feel Eddie’s painfully hard cock twitch at the back of your throat. You gagged and pulled yourself back off of the desperate boy. He couldn’t help but moan loudly and tighten his grip in your hair.

“But, you can’t come yet…. I’m not done with you.” Your eyes darkened and Eddie knew that he was to obey. You went back to work on his leaking tip. You flattened your tongue on him, tasting his salty precum and you moaned with satisfaction. Your nails dragged across his denim clad thighs. You were desperate for him to unravel, just for you. His babble of praises and curses under his breath spurred you on harder. You snake your hand down to cup his balls. Your name was sung from Eddie’s mouth like a prayer. You hummed into his twitching cock, a final encouragement for Eddie to cum. Ropes of Eddie’s orgasm hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him. You continued to bob your head, working Eddie through the waves of his finish. He pulled you off of him with a whimper and a puff of his chest.

You rise back from your knees, thumbing a rogue drop of cum that escaped from the side of your mouth. Eddie’s golden brown eyes were black, his pale skin flushed a beautiful pink. You knew it already, but right now solidified it for you - Eddie Munson was a fallen angel. His porcelain complexion seemed to glow in the setting sun. His eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks when he closed his eyes. His brows furrowed perfectly across his forehead. His ringlet curls framed his face like one of the most beautiful paintings you had ever seen. You thought Eddie would be angry, or so turned on that he would take his frustration out on you, but your hopes dissolved when the darkness in Eddie’s eyes didn’t reflect the lust you anticipated, but a melancholy guilt. You looked to him, scared that you had made a mistake - that he was then going to turn around and say that he wanted to go back to being strangers… something that you couldn’t imagine doing, now that this line had been crossed.

You hated to admit it, as much as you assumed he did too, but you were an idiot. You let appearances and pride get in the way. You reached out to touch him but he recoiled from your touch, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Eddie-”

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you at Carver’s party.” His words were low, barely above a whisper. You caught your breath as your pesky tears bullied their way to your waterline. The only thing the two of you could hear was the distant laughter of other maze-goers and the soft rustling of leaves. Eddie took a step towards you, his eyes daring to look into yours for a split second.

“I-I never thought you would ever like someone like me…” Eddie’s hand found your cheek and rubbed small circles into your skin. “I thought if I couldn’t love you like I wanted to, it would be easiest to drive you away. I thought it was just a joke, you know, someone like you wanting to go out with someone like me…” Eddie’s voice cracked. His eyes grew glassy.

“Eddie…” You peeped. “I would never do anything like that to anyone, especially you. I really liked you.. Fuck I do really like you. That’s why it hurt so much when you shut me down. I… I couldn’t fucking take it.” You peel your eyes away from him, you wouldn’t dare look at him after your confession. The walls you had built were slowly coming down, but you were terrified of letting him in fully, with what he had put you through before. You were scared of Eddie Munson, you were scared of him because you love him.

“Fuck, Y/N I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His toned arms wrapped around your hips and he pulled you into his chest. You could hear how hard the boy’s heart was beating. Yours felt like it was slowly being put back together with every beat you felt. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I really want to start over and try again… If you’ll let me. He pulls away from you enough to study your face. You hold his stare, desperately searching for any uncertainty in Eddie’s eyes. He looks at you fully with sorrow and adoration. You nod slowly, still scared but hopeful.

Eddie’s lips meet yours again, but his approach was soft, giving you ample time to pull away from him, but to his surprise (and delight), you didn’t. His lips brushed yours like you were made of rose petals, he was desperate to appreciate you, but didn’t want you to fall apart in his grasp. His lips moved against yours, both of you trying to pour your feelings and unsaid words into your kiss. Eddie’s tongue swiped against your bottom lip in a silent ask to kiss you deeper. You open for him and let your tongue glide into his mouth as well. You mewl into him as your arms reach around his neck. You pull away and Eddie rests his forehead on yours.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Eddie offers. “As much as I like this, I think you deserve to be taken out on an actual date, or at least to my place where we can actually talk” You giggled and a smile spread across Eddie’s face. He had no idea how much he needed to make you laugh. If there was anything that he wanted to achieve in his life from this point on, it was to be the reason you laughed. You twirled a piece of his locks in your finger and peered up at him.

“I would really like that, Eddie.” He smiled at you and pulled himself away to do up your jeans. He reached for your hand and pulled you back towards the opening the two of you had made. He dropped your hand when you had returned to the dirt path of the maze. You walked mostly in silence, but let your shoulders knock. Eddie’s eyes migrated to your hands when his mind drifted.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Can… Can I hold your hand?” You didn’t let Eddie respond before grabbing his calloused hands. Both of you couldn’t hold back the smiles that split across your faces. You took your time walking through the maze, cherishing the dwindling time the two of you had together.

It had been close to half an hour since Robin and Jonathan had met up with Nancy and Steve.

“Maybe we should send in a recon team to recover Eddie’s corpse… god knows Y/N has killed him by now.” Robin sneered.

“Oh come off it, Robin… if they aren’t here within the next 10 minutes, Jonathan and I will go get them” Steve offered, hands resting firmly on his hips.

Your figures emerge from the mouth of the maze, illuminated by the bright moon in the darkening sky. Your hands had dropped when you came into view of your exit, but your bodies remained closer than when you entered.

“Rough night?” Robin prodded. You laughed and rolled your eyes while Nancy elbowed the blonde in her ribs.

“Yeah you could say that,” you giggled. You flashed Eddie a knowing smile and his hand went to his head as he looked to the ground.

“I thought we weren’t gonna fucking make it.” He jested.

“Yeah right, you were the one that kept making wrong turns.” Your banter was back, but the rest of the group noticed the light-heartedness of your tone. Steve smiled in a small approval. He was worried he was going to have to kick Eddie’s ass tonight, but he was hopeful that things had gone well.

“Let’s get out of here, I have had enough of this maze and our movies aren’t going to watch themselves.” You send a small elbow to Eddie’s arm as the six of you head for Eddie’s van. Nancy wraps her arm in yours as you push to the front of the group.

“So… how did it go?” Nancy asked, your face couldn’t help the rouge that grew on your cheeks.

“It actually went pretty well.” you bit down on your lip to hide the smile creeping on your face.

“Girl, what is that on your neck?”

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