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rebelfell · 27 days

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Can I interest anyone in a wee bit of frenemy(?)eddie and some soft confessions while under the influence?

18+, MDNI 2.2k

cw: drug use (edible)

“Oh, wow. She’s really out.”

Nancy wasn’t wrong, but Eddie didn’t need to be told. He had noted your rapid descent into sleep when it started halfway through the movie. Your eyelids fluttering like they had weights attached to them and your body curling into itself as you sank into the cushions of the Wheeler’s sofa.

You were crumpled in a ball at the end of it now, hugging the arm like you thought you were going to roll off the edge of a cliff if you let go. Your half-drunk beer still sat on the end table, abandoned once the edible you split with Argyle took effect.

Eddie had foolishly tried to warn you off it, saying you should start with half of your half and go from there. But of course that only set the two of you off like a pair of dueling firecrackers.

He didn’t know how he kept ending up in these spats with you. He never intended to insult you, it just seemed he had a real knack for it. You always accused him of babying you and he’d accuse you of being too stubborn for your own good.

Had anyone besides Eddie suggested you take it easy, you probably would have listened and might still be conscious right now.

Nancy jostled you gently, trying to rouse you while Eddie peered over her shoulder. He didn’t care for the lifeless way your limbs hung, for the way your head lolled forward on your shoulders like you couldn’t hold it up yourself.

It made his fingers drum nervously on the outside edge of his thigh and the wallet chain that hung there clinked with each and every irregular tap.

Of course he knew there was logically no way you could OD on a pot brownie—but that didn’t mean he delighted in seeing you so incapacitated.

Eyes shut tight, you started babbling softly in response to Nancy’s voice as she tried to draw you back to the world of the waking. With a soft oof, she got you to put one arm around her neck and attempted to lift you off the couch. But even with the deceptive strength of her slight frame, she wasn’t getting you anywhere by herself.

So, she glanced around the room at the rest of their friends in their various states of intoxication.

Steve and Robin were long gone, Robin being the winner of their coin toss for who got to drink that night while the other stayed sober. She’d skipped on the edible and mainlined strawberry daiquiris instead, leading to her calling out forlornly as Steve helped drag her out the door,

“What if I puke pink? Please, please, please, don’t let me puke pink—”

Argyle and Jonathan were passed out, entwined on the pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor, Jonathan likely not realizing the warm chest he was burying his face in wasn’t his girlfriend’s.

Finally, her determined gaze fell to Eddie, and she tilted her head at him in that Nancy way of her’s that gave out marching orders without her so much as speaking a word. With another glance at your sleeping form, Eddie released a resigned sigh and nodded his head.

As they helped you climb the stairs, one arm slung over each of their shoulders, you started to rouse again and slowly registered what was happening through the fog of your high.

“Aww, shit…m’fucked up, huh?” you chuckled, letting out a heavy sigh. Head lifted the couple of inches you could manage, “M’so sorry, Nance, I shouldn’t have…he was right…again…”

The bitter edge in your voice as the last word left your lips made Eddie’s brow jump with interest. You lifted your head the full two inches you could manage and peered at Nancy through half-lidded eyes. Your head then swiveled to the other side and Eddie braced himself for more vitriol.

But none came.

Your face didn’t even change and Eddie realized your current state made he and Nancy’s mops of messy brown curls somewhat indistinguishable. You just continued on like you were still talking to your best friend, not the guy you couldn’t stand.

“Wheeler, you’re a fucking beast, you know that? You’re so strong…”

The loopy giggle you let out brought a smile to Eddie’s lips in spite of himself. He felt your hand start to curl around his shoulder and it made him tense, worrying you’d recognize the rough denim of his vest. But your fingers simply held it, rubbed the frayed hem of his cut-off sleeve between the pads, your sleepy smile re-forming.

“God, Nance, you smell so good…”

Your head suddenly drooped, landing partially on Eddie’s shoulder and making his breath catch.

You took a deep inhale of his scent, your chest expanding with it and making Eddie’s eyes bulge and then avert quickly when he caught himself ogling the deep scoop of your neckline. He had already committed most of the night to avoiding just that, his eyes just…slipped for a second.

Over your head, he caught Nancy’s gaze and the cloudy blue color might as well have been a bright red laser for how clearly she saw through him.

Thankfully, they got to the guest room before she could make any damning remarks. She pushed open the door and flicked on the bedside lamp, illuminating a bed piled obscenely high with pillows and a down comforter seemingly thicker than some mattresses Eddie had slept on.

“Can you hold her?” Nancy asked, looking from the bed back to him.

His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow and he nodded, only half-sure of his answer. Nancy lifted your other arm from her shoulder and turned you into his body. Your other arm wrapped around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder.

His hands wrapped hesitantly around your back, holding you against him almost like you were slow dancing. He had to resist the urge to sway.

Heart thundering so loud he feared it might wake you, Eddie watched while Nancy pushed all of the decorative pillows to the floor and turned down the comforter, motioning Eddie forward.

He walked you backwards a few steps and sat you down on the edge of the bed while Nancy knelt to take off your shoes. Thankfully, the dress code on movie night was always supremely casual and the track pants and tank top you’d worn would be fine to sleep in.

You babbled a bit more as they got you ready for bed, seemingly oblivious to Eddie’s presence—even mentioning him briefly as they helped you lay flat and Nancy lifted your legs onto the bed.

“He’s just so annoying, you know?” you muttered bitterly. “Like, whatever, you’re hot and you play guitar and you’ve banged like half the town. That doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Eddie tried not to let the words sting. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t said before to his face, but there was something about you still saying it, even when he “wasn’t there” to hear it.

“I’m gonna get water,” Nancy whispered, already out the door. “Just keep an eye on her, please?”

Eddie frowned and grumbled in response, but he didn’t move from his spot beside you. He did start to turn away, but stopped when you shifted in the bed. You reached out a limp hand and caught just the tips of Eddie’s fingers, tugging lightly on them like you wanted to tell him something.

He sank slowly to his knees, trying to hear you as your lips moved almost mutely.

“Should’ve listened,” you muttered. “Shouldn’t’ve been such a dick…”

You seemed perfectly content continuing your conversation even without “Nancy” responding, and Eddie wondered if he should just go? He was positive you’d be mortified if you ever found out he had overheard any of this. But even as he was screaming at his feet to move, for his knees to rise, they remained planted on the Wheeler’s plush carpeting at your next words.

“Nance…why doesn’t he like me?”

It took what felt like a year for Eddie to unfreeze. He looked towards the door for a sign of Nancy’s shadow in the hallway, the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. But there was none.

Your head lolled on the pillow, eyes still shut but the lids twitching subtly like you were trying to open them. If you did, you’d be staring straight into Eddie’s own rapt gaze. You still held your pitifully weak grasp on his fingers, and he easily could have pulled away. But he didn’t.

Eddie just watched, torn between his standards of decency and being desperate to find out what you were talking about. He didn’t even know you were into anyone—let alone that you liked them enough to groan about them to Nancy. What kind of idiot wouldn’t like you back?

Some sadistic part of him wanted to find out.

“I mean, I know I’m not—m’not like…Chrissy—but I’m alright, aren’t I? An’ I wore thisstupid booby shirt hoping he’d notice and he just…”

Your voice took on a wounded waver and you stopped, inhaling deeply as if to steady yourself. The beginnings of tears started to shimmer along your lash line and you shut your eyes tighter, but it only squeezed one of them out and made it trickle down your temple in a wet trail.

Okay…Eddie was really confused now.

He didn’t even know you knew his ex-girlfriend’s name until it came tumbling past your lips. And he sure as shit had so noticed your booby shirt—he’d barely been able to keep his eyes off you, had to actively force himself not to stare.

Had you actually…did you really wear it for him?

All of a sudden, you rolled onto your side and your eyes cracked open the widest he had seen them all night. You looked almost lucid and you were staring directly into Eddie’s face.

He flinched slightly, worried you might scream when you saw him. But you just sighed, scanning his features all glassy and moon-eyed as you stared at him plainly. Unabashedly.

Like he’s an oil painting that couldn’t look back.

“He’s just so…pretty.”

The words are whispered, like a secret. And it takes everything in him to remain totally still and not to let his eyes bug completely out of his skull. Wait, did you…Did you not think he was there?

“I like’im so much…what’m I gonna do?”

There it was again. That plaintive whine, that broken lilt of your voice that tugged mercilessly at something deep inside of him. Heartstrings he didn’t know were there until you plucked them.

You looked at him with those shiny eyes. Literal tears were filling them now, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You were crying. Over him? What kind of world was he living in?

And nearly too late, Eddie realized your eyes were fluttering closed again. Not from exhaustion, but to lean in and kiss him.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. You stretched your neck forward, hand coming up to cup his jaw—god, your palms were so soft, not rough and hard like his—and Eddie felt himself melt briefly into your touch, just for a moment before he realized what you were doing.

Eyes closing, chest heaving, lips parting as you leaned into what you thought was a dream.

No, no, no, he thought frantically. Not like this—

Eddie wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently pulled away from you. It made you push a little harder, trying to fight your way out of his grasp, but you were weak and looked more like a kitten trying to box. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want you to get upset, he just—

“Hey,” he soothed, gently brushing the backs of his fingertips along your jaw. “Just go to sleep, okay? We can talk about this in the morning.”

You blinked, seemingly in realization, like you were surprised to hear him speak. And it made him wonder how many of your other dreams he’d starred in where he didn’t say a word.

But his voice seemed to soothe you somewhat, your fists unclenching and dropping to lay on the softness of the sheets. You nodded your head as your face sunk back into the pillow, your cheek rubbing the dainty floral bouquets on the case.

Eddie let out the breath he didn’t remember he was holding, his shoulders slumping with it as his mind raced. Carefully, with nimble fingers curled around the edge of the comforter, he tugged it up further over your shoulders, almost to your chin. You snuggled a little deeper into your sleep and Eddie tucked the blanket in a little tighter, his heart pounding with every second.

And before he could talk himself out of it, he dropped a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

Once in a while we have to do the pining, I guess 🙄

Very veeeeeeeeeery loosely inspired by that scene in New Girl where Jess is on painkillers. Ty for reading - love you, mean it!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things

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stevebabey · 1 year

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part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

#at this point call this the 'can i' series #sweet boys asking each other for things they most certainly would be given <3 #but don't think they will <3 #tried to flip it and make it so even tho eddie is used to touch. the romantic touch? he's got none! that's where he's touch-starved #ALSO EVERYONE'S TAGS WERE SO NICE ON THE LAST ONE #trust i am. not feelin so bad nowadays (me saying this like 4 days later lmao)#but <3 thank u all #gay ppl in my phone.... you know what to do #ruby writes steddie #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #touch-starved steve harrington #not rlly anymore hehe #does anyone notice that it ends with yet another 'can i?" question? HEHE #yet again stib gets kisses where ruby doesn't but alas <3 dis is way fluffier this time #nearly went the angst route! and went hmmmm naur #ok ok i'll be quiet now

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louloulemons-posts · 1 year

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Cuddle Bug

Eddie Munson X reader

Summary : Eddie isn’t very well and the only person who can make him feel better is reader.

Word Count : 1.6k

Warnings : not proofread, fluff, poorly eddie, eddie takes medication, touch starved eddie, eddie just loves reader so much.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You and Eddie had been dating for 3 months now and it had been great, you’d been friends for a while and then it somehow became more. It was so natural, easy, the pair of you had never felt this way.

However, Eddie wasn’t one to be overly affection, well physically that is. The boy was touch starved, and although Wayne loved his nephew, he was brought up seeing very little affection himself. So when Eddie ended up with him, he didn’t really know how to parent.

It was pats on the shoulder, ruffles of hair, awkward, but loving smiles. That showed in Eddie, when you first held his hand and kissed his cheek he freaked, he didn’t know if it was normal or not.

He ended up speaking to Nancy Wheeler about it, Steve would make fun, Robin didn’t date, Wheeler was different. She had told Eddie it was okay, telling him that Mike had trouble being physically affectionate due to seeing their fathers blatant lack of interest towards their mother and his own children.

It gave Eddie some comfort, making him relax when you showed gentle touches, when he also showed you. He loved touching you, even if it was the brushing of fingers as you walked side by side, Eddie loved it.

However, he didn’t expect to wake up one day and be craving your touch to the point he could cry. He had been quiet all morning, Wayne asking if he was alright, to which the boy had only grunted.

He was even more miserable going to school, knowing you wouldn’t be there until lunch, having to go for an appointment. He actually considered skipping, but Wayne shoved him out the door.

Eddie felt awful, sluggish, grouchy, he was just in an awful mood. “What’s that face?” Gareth asked, as the boy walked over, dropping his cigarette butt on the floor.

“What?”

“You look like your worlds ending.”

“I’m fine,” he said, snapping slightly. Sighing he spoke again, “Sorry, let’s just go to class.”

“Sure,” the younger boy nodded, worrying for his friend.

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet in class, not making any jokes, not tapping on the desk, he was resting his head on his arms. The lights were too bright, noise was amplified, his body ached, he needed you.

“You okay?” Gareth asked quietly.

“Hm?” The curly haired boy friend his face to his friend. “Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” he joked, head banging when he chuckled, making him wince.

“Maybe you should see the nurse.”

“I’m good man, don’t worry.” He knew that his friend thought he was lying, and he wasn’t wrong to think that. He felt horrible.

“Mr Munson, last time I checked my class was English, not nap time, focus please,” the teacher scolded. Eddie lifted his head, holding it in his hand, worried he couldn’t keep it up without.

This was gonna be a long day.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was indeed the longest day of Eddie Munson life, he had to drag himself to lunch. Barely able to sit in the cafeteria with all of the chatter, all of the Hellfire boys were concerned for their DM.

Sat massaging his temples he sighed, what was wrong with him? “Hey Eddie,” Dustin spoke. “What?” he said, voice quiet.

“Look,” the young boy spoke, motioning to the door.

There you were, making your way through the crowd of people, he could have burst in to tears then and there. Pushing up carefully he made his way over to you.

Engulfed by a hug, your eyes went wide, “Eddie?” you spoke softly, arms coming to wrap around him. “Missed you,” he said, nuzzling into your neck.

You were taken aback, Eddie wasn’t this affectionate in private, let alone public. “Are you alright?” you asked.

“Mm, just missed you. How was the appointment?” he pulled away, hands on your waist.

“It was fine,” you said simply, hand coming to touch his face, “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine.”

“Baby you’re sick.”

“No-“

“Eddie, don’t argue with me. We’re going home.”

“What? No, you only just got here, you’re gonna make me be all alone?” he whined.

“I said we, come on,” linking your fingers you went to the Hellfire lunch table, saying hi to the boys and picking up Eddies stuff.

“He’s not well, so I’m taking him home,” you explained. “I’m fine!” Shooting him a glare the boy quietened. “You’ve been ill all day man,” Gareth said.

“Why didn’t you go home?” you asked.

“I-I,” the boy stuttered, unable to give an answer, he knew what it was, but didn’t want to say in front of the guys.

“Come on let’s go.” You carried both yours and Eddies things, holding his hand also and led him out of the school. “Keys please,” you said.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re not driving like this, I’ll drive.”

“What about your car?”

“Dad dropped me off.” Eddie sighed, but complied, taking his keys out of his pocked and dropping them into your hand.

He climbed in the van slowly, instantly resting his head against the window. “What’s not feeling good?” you asked.

“Everything.”

“I think you’ve got the flu.”

“I don’t get sick.”

“Baby,” you sighed, as you put the keys in.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not, and that’s okay. It’s okay to be sick, I’m gonna take care of you. Now do you want to go to mine or to the trailer?”

“Can we go home?”

“Sure baby,” you said, brushing his curls gently before beginning the drive. The boys head rested against the cool window for the entirety of the drive, eyes closed.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Eddie,” you whispered, “Baby we’re home.” Eyes fluttering open, you were back at the trailer, the boy winced once more at the light. “Come on, let’s get you in.”

Eddie moved slowly, his whole body sore, heavy. He felt like he would fall if he didn’t sit down soon. Your arm wrapped around his middle, helping him, you saw him sway on his feet.

Pushing open the door, you spoke to Eddie softly, “You go get into something comfy, I’m going to talk to Wayne.” He whined, trying to keep you close to him. “It’s okay baby, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He huffed, slowly making his way to his room, hands on the wall the whole way to support him. “Eddie, what did I tell you about skipping- oh hello Honey,” Wayne Munson spoke, slightly confused with your presence.

“Is everything alright?” he questioned.

“Eddie has a fever so I brought him home, I was wondering if you’d mind me staying to look after him?”

“Our home is yours, you’re always welcome. I’ll find you some medication for him.”

Once you explained his headache, sensitivity to light and sluggishness, Wayne handed you some tablets and a glass of water. “This should help, keep his room dark too, and he’ll need to sweat out a fever.”

“Of course, thank you.”

“Thank you for looking after my boy,” he said, squeezing your shoulder, before nodding and walking back to the couch to continue what he was doing before.

Pushing open Eddies door with your hip, you frowned at the sight before you. Clothes were dropped on the floor, his pyjama draw open. Eddie himself was lay under his quilt, the top his his curls the only indication that it was him.

“Baby, I’ve got some things to make you feel better,” you spoke softly, not wanting to hurt his head. He groaned as he moved from under the blanket, the sunlight attacking his skin.

“Hang on, let me get the curtains,” you said, placing the pills and water next to him, quickly pulling them closed. They weren’t the best, but they did make the room a bearable light for the boy.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as you got on the bed next to him, he took the medication with ease, sipping the water. “Why did you go to school if you felt bad?” you asked, playing with his hair.

“Wanted to see you,” he said, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “Oh Eds,” you kissed his cheek. “Will you stay?”

“Of course I will, let me change.”

“Can we … um, can we,” he huffed, frustrated that he couldn’t get his words out. Sliding out of your jeans and top, you picked up Eddies hellfire shirt, allowing it to cover your skin.

You climbed under the covers next to him, “What baby?”

“Can we, if you want, could we cuddle?” Your heart melted at that, even though he was feeling horrible he still nervously twiddled his thumbs.

“Of course we can,” you smiled at him, shuffling down. He pulled you gently, so you could lay your head on his chest, “Your so warm,” he hummed.

Kissing his chest softly, you smiled up at him, snuggling into his hold. “I’m sorry we don’t do this much I just … it’s hard, but I really like being like this with you.”

“Eds-“

“I just don’t ever want you to think that I’m just with you for sex or just for the sake of having a partner. I love being close with you.”

“I love it too,” pressing another gentle kiss to skin, this time his chin. “You’re gonna get sick,” he said.

“That’s okay, you can look after me then.”

“That I can do, be ready for a solid week of cuddles.”

“Whatever will I do?” you laughed. The boy hummed, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry you’re not very well.”

“It was worse when you weren’t there, I feel so much better now.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, I love being with you. I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too.”

In sync your faces broke into smiles, before Eddie winced, his head still sore. “Rest baby,” you said softly, “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading!

A/N : I kind of want to write another instalment of Margot, let me know if you’d be interested 🫶🏻

Please leave any requests 🤍

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judasofsuburbia · 2 years

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something something kindergarten teacher! steve who is so tired of going on bad dates. kindergarten teacher! robin who doesn't want him to give up.

“Really? The date went that bad?” Robin asks again.

“Yes,” Steve drones. “I swear she looked like she’d rather be at the dentist than on a date with me.”

Robin makes a sad face at him. Steve continues to sort the paint jugs and throw out any that have been mixed with other colors. Robin finishes putting toys back into cubbies and sanitizing the fake food.

“Okay so,” Robin starts.

Steve immediately holds up a hand. “Don’t say ‘maybe she’s not the one but someone is’. I’m sick of this, Rob. I feel like I’m just better off alone.”

“Not true,” Robin argues. “You’re a catch. You’re attractive and good with kids. You make me laugh so hard my ribs shake. You’re a great listener and you make amazing cocktails. Great helmet of hair. Who wouldn’t want to date that?”

Steve’s heard it all before. He loves Robin, he does, but it doesn’t seem to matter what she thinks of him because no one in this town wants to make it to date two with him.

He used to be so good at this. Always had a girl on his arm at football games in high school. Always had a date to prom. Always had some girl to make out with at parties. Even when he realized later on in his twenties that he liked boys too, he still couldn’t find one that took his attraction seriously.

Steve Harrington? Like both? Unheard of, apparently.

Still, Steve didn’t want to start the first day of school on a bad note. “Thanks, Rob. I might need to lick my wounds for a second but I’ll get back on the horse I promise.”

“Good because our marriage pact could be closing soon,” Robin mumbles with a sly smile.

Steve’s head whips around. “Are you‒”

“I have a ring picked out,” Robin practically squeals.

Steve does his best to gently set down the paint jugs and rip off his latex gloves before darting across the room to pick Robin up in a twirling hug. He kisses her head repeatedly until she’s groaning, giggling, and shoving him off.

“Rob, that’s amazing,” Steve breathes. He squeezes her tightly again.

“You better keep your mouth shut,” Robin warns with a pointed finger. “It’s so hard to surprise Nancy Wheeler but I think I’m finally going to be able to.”

Steve’s grinning from ear to ear as he mimes zipping his mouth closed. “Secret’s safe with me.”

The alarm on Steve’s phone breaks them out of their little love fest and suddenly the halls are filled with parents, children, and teachers gabbing to high heaven. Robin gives him a salute before crossing over onto her side of the classroom. Technically, there is a foldable partition between the two rooms but it will be a cold day in Hell if Robin and Steve ever actually separate their classrooms.

Steve goes to stand by his door and greet his new gaggle of students. He high-fives each of them as they walk through the door and points to their assigned cubby and seat.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s looking around the room and sees that two seats are still empty. Dustin and Max Munson. He didn’t see them at parent-teacher night last week but he knows from their file that they’re fraternal twins from a single, widowed dad. He tries to keep an eye out for them but he knows the other kids are getting restless.

Then he hears, “Oh, Mr. Munson, you’re actually in Steve’s‒sorry, Mr. Harrington’s class. He’s just right across the way.”

Steve glances across the room and does a double-take. Across the room is the alleged Mr. Munson, this tall, lanky man with curly brown hair that hits his shoulders with a blank bandana tying down the top of his head, big brown eyes, a leather jacket with pins, a white tank top, and coverall sleeves tied at his waist. He’s positively breathtaking.

Holding either hand are Max and Dustin. A little redhead with a baseball cap, overalls, and a striped shirt. A little brunette curly head with green khaki shorts and a shirt with a dragon on it. Mr. Munson smiles apologetically at Robin and walks across the room to Steve’s. Dustin bolts to his assigned seat and starts talking animatedly to Will Byers who looks a little scared out of his mind but is quickly rescued by Mike Wheeler who is just as excited. Max stays glued to Mr. Munson’s side as he walks up to Steve.

If Steve’s not mistaken, Mr. Munson looks him up and down before speaking.

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Munson says and of course, his voice is pretty too. “This one is a little nervous about being away from her dad.”

Steve draws his eyes away from the strong neck and pale collarbones that poke out from underneath his jacket to the scared girl. He bends down to her level and gives her a soft smile.

“Are you Max? I’m Mr. Harrington,” Steve says.

Max blinks, inching more and more behind Mr. Munson’s pant leg.

“School’s kinda scary, huh?” Steve asks.

Max nods.

“I know I get a little nervous on the first day and I’m the teacher,” Steve admits in a small, dramatic voice. He sees the tiniest sliver of a smile on Max’s face. “I’ve sat you next to Lucas Sinclair,” Steve points to the smiling kid on the other side of the room. Lucas gives a small wave. “He’s a very nice boy and I think he even likes the Bulls,” Steve gestures to Max’s hat. “So, I think you guys will have loads to talk about. We’re gonna have a really fun day, okay? And then you’ll get to tell your dad all about it.”

Max glances timidly around the room again and slowly lets go of her dad’s pant leg. Dustin rushes over and shows Max where her cubby is which detaches her completely. Max sits next to Lucas who does get very excited over her hat. Steve and Mr. Munson watch her relax little by little.

“Holy sh‒shirt," Mr. Munson coughs and smiles sheepishly. "Wow, uh, you really know how to talk to them. Literally made her a friend within five seconds."

Steve stands and tries to regain composure now that the irresistible dad’s attention is on him.

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly. “The first day is always a little tricky.”

Mr. Munson holds out his hand and says, “Eddie.”

Steve takes it, feeling a little dizzy over how firm his grip is and the callouses on his hands. “S-Steve. Harrington.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it last week. Last-minute towing emergency for Chief Hopper,” Eddie says, finally dropping Steve’s hand.

Steve playfully rolls his eyes. “I’ve been telling him for years that he needs to dump that old hunk of junk already. I’m guessing you work for Munson Mechanics?”

Eddie smiles boldly and glances down at his attire. “Yeah, that’s where I get this sick uniform. Very exclusive.”

“I’m jealous,” Steve laughs nervously, trying desperately to keep his eyes on Eddie’s face. But even then, his eyes are so pretty and his smile is so radiant. There’s faint stubble on his upper lip and jaw. Steve wants to run his fingers over it amongst other things.

“Well, I won’t keep you much longer,” Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on his back. “Maybe I’ll get you a free oil change for your trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble‒”

Eddie leans forward a little and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. He whispers, “Or maybe I just want to see you when there are not twenty five-year-olds staring at me.”

From this proximity, Steve can smell his cologne and lingering car oil. He can feel his brain cells dying every second he inhales the intoxicating aroma. Steve breathes shallowly, too aware of the growing blush on his cheeks, and says, “S-sure. I’d like that.”

Eddie smirks and has the audacity to wink before going to each of his kids, ruffling their hair, and kissing them goodbye with a big wet smack on their cheeks. He passes by Steve again and murmurs, “I won’t say goodbye to you like that. Not yet, at least. Good luck with my little gremlins” before walking out the door.

Steve hears the clunk of his boots echoing down the hall and each step makes his heart beat louder against his ribs.

He dares to look at Robin across the room who is staring at him with a smug grin on her face. She mimics getting on a horse and does a little lasso with her hand.

Steve adjusts his glasses, clears his throat, and says in his best teacher voice, “Alright friends, who’s ready to start kindergarten?”

EDIT 2/8: READ THE FULL FIC HERE 🤠

#KINDERGARTEN TEACHER STEVE MY FUCKING BELOVED #emily writes #steddie #steddie ficlet #ronance #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #max mayfield #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #steve harrington/eddie munson #teacher! steve harrington #mechanic! eddie munson #dad! eddie munson

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writer-in-theory · 2 years

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Ever since he can remember, everyone has always said Steve looked like his Mama.

He acts like her too—that persistent kindness and protectiveness for the people they love, the ability to talk to people with relative ease, even the propensity for having a bit of an attitude. Even his soft brown eyes and the texture of his hair, all of it was Maggie Harrington.

Maggie always said that Steve was her greatest accomplishment, one of her best friends. She was so proud of her son, first for being Hawkins High's first All-State Champ in swimming and then for being a good role model in town. She'd missed the moment when he began to distance from her, from his parents, until she hardly knew anything about his life. She thinks it might've been because of Robert.

Steve Harrington could only have the best in store for him, which is why she'd allowed Robert to be tough with him. He knew what it meant to build a good future, what it would take to find happiness and stability. So she'd let Robert yell at him for throwing a party at their house and allowing a poor girl to go missing there. And she'd thought it had worked, based on the way Steve started bringing around sweet Nancy Wheeler and stopped hanging out with the Hagan boy. She thought it had worked.

When the Harringtons came home from their last business trip to Chicago, Steve was being dropped off by Police Chief Hopper. It looked like he'd been in a fight, and as much was confirmed when the Chief told him to stay out of trouble. Robert had been furious, ready to lay into Steve about the Harrington name and respectability, but then a group of kids Maggie didn't recognize tumbled out of the car, too, all hugging Steve and thanking him. He was their hero, they'd told the Harringtons, Steve was the best babysitter ever. Steve had never showed interest in babysitting before, but the way all of those kids so clearly looked up to him had Maggie in near tears.

Maggie had a feeling the mall job was a mistake. She'd felt it the moment Robert made the decision, loudly proclaiming that their son would learn what it was like to work a tough job, that he'd realize how lucky he had it that there was a family business he could be hired in. Maggie hated the humiliated look their Steven had given the first time he set out for the mall in that sailor's uniform, but her husband knew what it was like to be a teen boy, surely he had Steve's best interests at heart.

But then she'd gotten the call that there had been a fire, that Steve was involved and they needed to get down to the hospital. If she thought the fight in '84 looked bad, then nothing could have prepared her for the sight of her son in that hospital bed, vomiting profusely into a container and wincing through the obvious pain in his head. The morning after, that same group of kids fought the hospital staff to visit Steve, demanded it. The one with curly hair and the youngest girl loudly proclaimed that Steve had saved their lives, that he'd risked himself to make sure they were safe. Her baby was an actual goddamn town hero and she'd almost missed it, she almost never knew because she was too busy worrying about his future.

Maggie stopped worrying about family names and legacies, after that. She was the first to ask how his shifts at the movie store were and never minded when his talkative friend came over for dinner. Maggie kept waiting for the moment Steve would admit the two of them were dating, but he kept insisting they were friends, best friends.

She never saw Eddie Munson coming.

After the fourth tragedy to befall Steve, Maggie was convinced he needed to get out of Hawkins before it destroyed him. No one could find Steve in the immediate aftermath of the earthquake. He wasn't at the shelter, or the hospital, or with any other search parties. She'd worried briefly that the serial killer had gotten him, too, that they'd have to see what was so horrific about the method of killing that had left the town sparking a witch hunt for the guy.

He was found later at the Munson trailer, wearing military-style gear and bleeding out from his abdomen and neck. Maggie would never understand how an earthquake could cause that level of damage, nor the kind that was found on Eddie Munson just beside him. When Steve had woken up in the hospital, he'd simply told her that he couldn't talk about it, that it was better if she didn't know. She thinks that might be true.

Once Steve recovered, he stayed by the Munson boy's bedside every day. He'd bring a book, or a hacky sack, anything to keep himself busy while Eddie slept off his injuries. And when he came home, Steve was with him constantly. They were volunteering, he'd told her.

Then one day, months after the earthquake, Steve came home looking nervous.

"Mom." Maggie ached for the days when he'd come waddling into the living room screaming Mama, missed when he felt like he could tell her everything. When had that disappeared? "I need to tell you something."

"Of course, Stevie. You can tell me anything." Steve winced in the way she figured he would: they both know that hadn't been true in years.

Steve shuffled on his feet, wrung his hands together and worried them through his hair. Finally he stood ramrod straight, eyes focused directly on hers as he blurted the truth out. "Mom, I like guys. And girls. It's called being bisexual and I'm not sorry for it. I can pack a bag tonight if I have to, but I won't pretend anymore. I won't."

It was supposed to be scary. Maggie knows the version of her four years ago would have been terrified by the statement, angry or upset. Maybe she still is a little scared, only because she knows what the world is like for people who are different. She used to be upset by people who were different. In '83, she might've kicked Steve out for the fear of it all. But looking at him now, she saw the kid who drove those middle schoolers to the arcade because he could, and who saved peoples' lives in the mall at the near expense of his own, the guy who believed Eddie Munson was innocent even when the entire town had turned on him out of fear of the Other. She saw Steve Harrington, her darling son who'd grown up before she even realized it, becoming far greater a man than she could have ever hoped for.

"How long have you two been dating? You and Eddie Munson?" Maggie asked gently, a smile working its way on her face. She'd wondered why he hadn't dated anyone after Nancy, but maybe it was simply that he wasn't telling her about that part of his life anymore.

Steve's eyes widened, lips parting like he was surprised by the response. He floundered a little, looking around for an explanation. "Um. Since last summer, we met at the mall. How did you...?"

Maggie laughed then, far brighter than it ever had been in years. "I know when my son's in love. I just didn't know where to look, didn't notice the answer was right there."

"You're not...mad? Disappointed?"

"Honey," Maggie sighed, taking a few steps forward so she could grab onto his arms. "Steven Robert Harrington, you are my son. I will always love you, no matter what. I'm so sorry I ever ever made you feel otherwise. All I've ever wanted for you is happiness, and if that's with Eddie Munson then that's that."

"Mom," Steve croaked, voice cracking around the word as he pulled her in for a hug. She could feel him shake in her arms, sniffling like he was trying to hide the tears. "Do you want to meet him? Eddie, I mean, do you want to...?"

"He's outside?"

"He came over to support me, in case we needed to, well." In case his parents were kicking him out. God, where had they gone so wrong? "Do you want to?"

"Please," Maggie answered quietly, knowing this wouldn't be enough to make up for the years of wrong they'd done. She wanted to know her son, wanted to know the people who made him happiest. She wanted to hear about his day and know that if something ever went wrong that he would call his parents himself, not wait for the hospital or the police to do so. "Please."

Then Steve was bringing in Eddie Munson, who stood out in the pristine, polished Harrington home but who made Maggie's son's eyes light up in a way she'd never seen them. He was smiling, holding his hand out for a handshake.

"Mama, this is Eddie," Steve was saying, and Maggie could cry because it felt like she'd done something right, because she could see how deeply in love Steve was with Eddie because it was a mirror of her own expression when she looked at Robert. This was her son, and her future son-in-law, and Maggie couldn't be prouder.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mrs harrington #implied homophobia #but like the harringtons are cool #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanon #jay writes in theory

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formosusiniquis · 3 months

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Robin's Guide to the Care and Feeding of Your Newly Adopted Former Mean Girl

Happy @stevieweek everybody! This is Day One: Stobin with none of the bonus prompts, but keep an eye out cause i've got a few more incoming this week.

Robin Buckley & Stevie Harrington; Pre-Stevie Harrington/Eddie Munson WC: 9483 | T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Tags/Themes: transfem!Steve Harrington; Platonic Soulmates Steve & Robin; Robin Buckley is the Stevie Harrington Defense Squad

AO3

On July 4th, 1985, Steven Joseph Harrington died in the Starcourt Mall Fire.

The story Robin Marie Buckley tells, after two weeks of hospitalization and an additional month in Indianapolis for “personal reasons,” when she returns to her senior year at Hawkins High a full week after the first day of school is one of abject heroism on the part of Steve.

It’s true, even if it isn’t the whole story. Just like it isn’t hard for her to play morose and avoidant, because that’s how she feels. She might know Dustin, but it’s too hard to spend much time with him and she doesn’t want to be the weird friendless senior who only talks to freshmen. She’ll leave that to Eddie Munson, who snatched Steve’s weird little child friends up only a few weeks into the first semester.

Nancy and Jonathan avoid her as much as she does them, she doesn’t think they know what to do with the new girl in the know. It paints a picture, well she realizes later that it paints a picture, but she doesn’t want to sit at a table and eat her peanut butter and jelly sandwich while Nancy Wheeler’s big beautiful eyes are staring at her like she’s an article that’s half an inch too long and needs to be dissected while Jonathan Byers is also there.

So she drifts through the halls of Hawkins High like a ghost, she’s Cathy on the moors. Avoiding anyone who might try to ask her too many questions about the final days of Steve Harrington and Starcourt Mall.

Until the day she spots a baby blue jeep pulled into the Henderson’s driveway, a tall brunette unloading a single suitcase from the back. She’s got her bike across the road before she can even think of a game plan. A noise that’s almost like a scream erupting from her mouth the entire time she coasts over.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re here!” It’s an uncharacteristic bit of grace, that lets her drop her bike to the ground and use its momentum to catapult herself into the other girl’s arms. Too excited for a second to remember that she’s in a place where small town gossip exists, and a new neighbor can fuel the mill for days.

But she enjoys her hug for a second before settling into a more appropriate character. She extends a hand, ignoring the laugh it gets her, “Welcome to Hawkins, I’m Robin, occasional Dustin babysitter.”

The girl’s smile pulls lopsided at her mouth, kissed with a bit of irony and undeniably charmed. “It’s nice to meet you Robin,” her voice is soft, and a little unsure. Wavering like Becky Simpson’s tone deaf oboe playing, unsure of what pitch and timbre to land on. “I’m Stephanie Henderson, Dustin’s cousin.”

The bit crumbles immediately between Robin’s fingers.

“Stephanie? You went with Stephanie? Are you kidding? We workshopped so many names!”

“I liked my name! But it’s weird apparently to be a girl named Steve.” She distributes finger quotes randomly throughout the sentence like Robin hadn’t been the one to say she didn’t know any girls named Steve. “Stephanie is pretty!”

Robin looks her best friend dead in the eye, unsurprised that there’s not a hint of humor even underneath the drama. “Never mind that it sure would be strange for Steve Harrington to die just for girl Steve who looks like she could be his cousin to move to town.”

“Affair baby,” Stephanie presents the solution with a flick of her hand. Robin notices that her nails are still chewed short, more noticeable after they talked about what it would be like for her to grow them out and manicure them.

“Give me the whole name right now,” Robin demands, “I wanna hear how it sounds.”

Steph, cause they’re going to have to figure out nicknames immediately they just aren’t the kind of friends that can go around being Robin and Stephanie, kicks the curb with her scuffed up Nike. Her arms crossed across her middle accentuates the way her body has already started changing, Robin feels like a creep for a second for noticing her friend’s boobs before deciding that they weren’t the kind of friends with those kinds of boundaries.

“Stephanie Marie Henderson.”

“Oh my god!”

“Shut up, don’t even.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“You’re already making a big deal out of it, which it’s not.” Stevie insists.

“You stole my middle name, you’re so obsessed with me.” It’s the best thing she’s ever heard actually, that Stevie might be as into this friendship as she is. She’s always the friend that’s too much.

Stevie’s smile is small, shier than she’s used to seeing it. “Yeah well whatever Stephanie Robin sounds like a straight to VHS Winnie the Pooh movie character or some shit.”

Dustin comes scrambling out of the house before Robin can make another joke. “You were supposed to call before you left! Ma isn’t finished setting up your room, and Tews is stuck under your bed.”

They share a look, and Robin thrills a little that she has a friend that she can share looks with. “Henderson,” Stevie shouts, sounding a little more like she did this summer. “Are you really going to make me carry my own bags in? I'm a fucking lady, dickhead.”

“Sure don't fucking talk like one,” Dustin hollers back from the door, already trudging out of the house.

“Gonna have to work on your feminism,” Robin says. wondering what kind of weird shit a person would have to sort through when they realized they were transsexual. “Just because you're on estrogen doesn't mean your arms are atrophied.”

The butter-wouldn't-melt smile is still the same, even though her face looks softer. She hands off her suitcase, patting Dustin on the head as he visibly stumbles under the weight. “Don't drag it on the sidewalk, it's new,” she directs.

He can't flip them off when it takes both hands to lift the luggage in his hand, “How are you more of an asshole, oh my god.”

“Is that anyway to talk to your cousin, Dustbunny?”

Dustin doesn't answer directly, but he's muttering under his breath the whole way to the house.

“My ribs still hurt some when I'm doing heavy lifting,” Stevie says when he's out of earshot. “Better to be a high maintenance girl all of a sudden than someone he doesn't think he can count on.”

“Don't love the way you used girl in that sentence, Dingus.” Robin shoves at her shoulder, “Let's go look at your room, we can plan how you want to decorate.”

“I'm not saying I'm upset we got the job, Rob, just that it's weird the way Keith was acting. He always hated me, you know that. Before all this,” she gestures down her striped top, well Robin supposes she’s actually gesturing down at the way it hugs her figure, “he hated me. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire.”

“That seems a little dramatic, but welcome to your first workplace sexism.” Robin gives Stevie a comforting pat. Hopeful that it communicates a ‘welcome to the bad parts of everyone knowing you're a girl’ and not how she’d been prepared to work some of that sexism to their advantage. But apparently Keith was charmed by Stevie’s list of favorite films, he’d even laughed when she said her favorite Star Wars movie was the one with the teddy bears. When they’d gone to pick out movies last week she’d heard him lecture a guy for five minutes on how it was Episode VI not ‘the third one.’

Stevie flips her hair, sending Robin a playful glare, “I’ve experienced sexism, thank you, have you already forgotten what I used to look like.”

“I’m sure he’ll go back to hating you once he realizes you working here is going to mean this is one more place that Henderson and the brats are always hanging around.” She went with Stevie to the arcade once and she almost understood why Keith always hid in the back when they walked in.

“Probably, but at least then I can stop being nice to him. He’s such a-” Robin can hear the way Stevie swallows the rest of the sentence. A frustrated, red blush flooding her cheeks as she bites down on her bottom lip. It’s confusing, the small shake of her head and how upset she suddenly seems to be with herself. “Sorry, sorry, never mind.”

Maybe it’s stupid, but for some reason that’s when Robin realizes that Stevie was about to say something mean. That Stevie stopped herself but she is, Robin supposes, frustrated that the instinct is still there. And it’s not like Robin doesn’t remember that they’ve talked about this before. Stevie with that eyepatch on from where they reattached her retina and Robin laying in the hospital bed next to her still under doctor’s supervision. Neither one of them were high anymore, it had been almost sixteen hours since Everything, they were only in the hospital at all because Robin’s mom had found them both passed out in her bed and panicked. When Mrs. Henderson had seen them both in Hawkins General and did what Stevie said was panicking and had them shipped to the city, her car speeding closely behind.

The only thing they could possibly be high on was the sudden crushing awareness of their own mortality, when Stevie’s one good eye locked with hers and she said, “I don’t want the first thing people think of when they remember me to be how I was a douche or an asshole. Or a bitch, I guess, if they actually let me change like they said they would.

“All the girls I know,” she paused and seemed to consider that, “all the girls that I still like, are good and kind and badass.”

“Including me?” Robin had teased, but she had remembered the way she had given Stevie such a hard time from the second they started working together until the moment they as the ‘adults’ realized they were going to have to protect Dustin and Erica from something that might kill them all.

“Especially you.”

So yeah, of course, when she catches herself about to verbally eviscerate Keith behind his back two weeks after being back in town she shuts down. But Robin isn’t about to let that happen. Stevie is good and kind and definitely a badass, if Keith were in trouble she would absolutely risk her life to save him -- as long as saving him didn’t keep her from saving one of the kids.

Stevie was a good person who had some mean girl tendencies, Robin wasn’t going to make her feel bad about that. As long as she was using her powers for good, or like Claire in the Breakfast Club she was kind of Mean Girl lite.

“He’s kind of a slimy creep,” Robin admits. The kind of comment she thinks, but couldn’t ever really say with her last group of friends. It would break the loser code.

Stevie’s shoulders drop from around her ears. She’s still idly picking at the nail polish they just painted on her thumb, but she smiles over at Robin. A little sly, a little catty. “He touched my shoulder while we were leaving and I swear to god he left orange cheese puff residue behind.”

“Maybe half of your new clothes shouldn’t be dry clean only.”

“ Maybe he should help cover my dry cleaning bill if he’s going to put his hands on me in the workplace. I could call Family Video HR, probably. You know his dad owns like half of this strip mall, and people gave me shit about having money, I’m pretty sure they own the dry cleaning place too.”

“So why do these polyester nightmares smell like the BO of employees past?”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

With the job and Stevie back, Robin almost forgets that she spent the first three weeks of school sad and miserable. She’s maybe even a little distracted that they have plans tonight, and forgets that there are reasons other than the threat of bacterial infection to avoid the girl’s room in the language hallway. And more than any of that, it’s really hard to think about any of that when she can feel her bladder starting to pickle her brain.

The door to the bathroom swings open before she can exit the stall. Voices she recognizes as Patty Taylor and Molly Smith already mid-conversation filter in. “I mean she’s pretty, like really pretty, but I mean why would you even move to Hawkins.”

It’s definitely too late to leave.

“Carol said that she heard from Heather that she moved in with her aunt, she was from the city or something.”

The squelching sound of a lipgloss wand leaving the tube is punctuated by a bitchy hum, “Well, you know who spent all that time in the city this summer.”

“I mean yeah, but how would they have even met? I’ve heard like six different stories about why she was there.”

Patty’s voice echoes, through the crack in the stall door Robin can see her lean over top of the sink putting her face even closer to the water spotted mirror above it. “Well she was in that mall fire, but I heard she had to stay so long after initial treatment because she…”

There must be some facial expression she’s missing, Patty trails off like she’s dropped some grand secret. Robin isn’t a total loser, she hears gossip. She knows that Mrs. Click is going through a bitter divorce from her husband because he had that affair with the gas station attendant from the Chevron by the highway. She knows that Tim Morris got sent to military school after he put a cherry bomb in Mrs. O’Leary’s mailbox. She knows that Vickie is definitely a shoo-in for clarinet first chair even though Michael Lewis had it last year and he’s a senior this year.

And yeah okay two of those she had heard from Stevie.

But she thinks she should have had some clue that there was some kind of rumor going around about her. Molly wrinkles her forehead, maybe she isn’t the only one who has no clue about this rumor. “Because she what?”

“Because she lost the baby and they put her in the psych ward,” Patty says loud enough that it bounces off the tile walls of the bathroom. A hand covers her mouth and they both look around like they’ve just remembered that they’re in public. Robin pulls her feet up on the toilet seat with her.

“What baby?” Molly asks in a whisper that seems even louder with the way she forces it out.

“Come on, everyone knows the reason she was so upset that Steve died. He knocked her up while they were working together and with the stress she lost the baby. She was such a freak already, the new girl and her must have been in the same padded cell in the loony bin.”

“Really? I mean with Steve Harrington? ”

“I mean Carol said it so I’m pretty sure it has to be true, you know how close she used to be with Steve.”

The bell rings, sending them both fleeing from the bathroom with muttered curses. Robin stays in the stall too stunned by what she’s heard to move. Stunned and filled with the thought that all she wants right now is to see Stevie.

She bumps into Eddie Munson on the way to the payphone. He gives her an unreadable look, mostly eyebrows that she can’t see beneath his bangs anyway, so she isn’t sure why he even bothers. Is he wondering why she’s skipping class? Or did he see her running from the bathroom and now he’s wondering if maybe the rumors were only partially true, that she’s still pregnant and she hadn’t lost the baby like apparently half the school thinks.

If a wet rat like Munson knows more about her status in the school than she does she really might have to go back and hurl.

She puts in her change and dials the increasingly familiar number for the Henderson place.

“Hen-”

“I need you to come pick me up, now.”

It isn’t hard to convince the school nurse, who’s more worried about when she can slip away to sneak her next cigarette than she is about doing any nursing, that she’s too sick to stay. So she’s waiting out front when Stevie’s new Jeep rockets into the parking lot, the woman of the hour flinging herself out of it before it’s fully in park.

“What happened? What’s wrong? The kids are fine right?” She’s pressing the back of her hand to Robin’s forehead, the other at her side clenching into fists as she looks over Robin’s head for any creature or person that might need to be put down.

“Everything’s fine,” she lies, “I needed to see you.”

A single eyebrow raises, Robin helped her pluck that eyebrow into that arch and now it’s being used in disbelief at her own blatant lie. “Fine,” she relents, “I’ll tell you when we aren’t standing in the middle of the parking lot, okay?”

The radio is off but so are the doors, so even as Robin refuses to talk the sound of the wind rushing past them fills the silence of the car. With no destination in mind, Stevie seems to be driving a slow meandering circuit of Hawkins.

“I overheard Patty and Molly talking about us in the bathroom today.” She says only after they’ve passed Melvalds twice with no sign of parking.

“They were talking in the bathroom about us or they were talking about us in the bathroom.”

“That’s the same sentence twice.”

“No it’s not. In the bathroom or in the bathroom.” The emphasis is nonsensical, but after a second it clicks.

“They were in the bathroom. I guess I was also in the bathroom but it was definitely not about our bathroom conversation.”

“What were they saying?” Stevie noses out gossip like a search dog noses out missing kids.

Robin sticks her hand out the side of the car, dancing it up and down in the wind like a wave. Letting the force of it glide up and over her like she wishes she could just get over whatever it is that has her so upset. Gossip and rumor that she knows isn’t true.

“Technically you got to be two characters. They think we know each other from the psych ward because boy you got me pregnant and when you died I lost the baby and went crazy.”

Her seatbelt catches her hard against the chest, forcing the air out of her lungs. Stevie’s hit the brakes so hard that the smell of rubber is in the air, uncaring that they’re in the middle of a main road. She’s just looking at Robin with something, disbelief or outrage, maybe a little bit of that rage she gets when her people have been hurt.

“Patty said that? Patty Taylor? Patty with the retainer breath whose lipgloss makes it look like she’s always drooling on herself, Patty?”

A nod is enough answer for Stevie to let out a little humph, setting her eyes back to the road and easing them into drive like they’d just been caught by a stray redlight.

“What?”

She shakes her head, gazing around the upcoming turn like they don’t both know it’ll be the rundown place that used to be Benny’s. It’s going to be something mean, something she’s worried will make her sound too much like the person she used to be.

As far as Robin is concerned whatever it is won’t be any different than when she swung that phone at that Russian guard. Or crashed that car into Billy’s. It’s all just different ways of helping to protect the people she loves that aren’t as good at protecting themselves.

“Tell me,” she insists, wheedles even. “Whatever it is I won’t tell anyone else. It’s time honored girl code you have to tell me.”

“Girl code?”

“I’ll mimeo you a copy of the handbook, tell me. It’ll make me feel better.”

Stevie’s sigh is audible over the wind rushing past them, her side eye not bad enough that Robin is at all worried about it. “I just think it’s funny that she’s passing judgment on you and your possible pregnancy when everyone knows she’s banned from the U of I campus because she went streaking to impress a guy that wasn’t even interested in her. The only reason she doesn’t have an arrest record for it is because her dad is a former professor or donor or something and threatened funding if the Dean pressed charges.”

“Oh my god, really?”

“Totally, the guy was on the basketball team. He came back and told everyone when he came home for the pre-season kegger.”

She grabs Stevie’s hand off the gearshift, holds it just because she can. Relishes in the closeness the two of them can have now that she’s back and everything is better again. “You are the strongest woman I know, all this knowledge and you just keep it to yourself all the time.”

She snorts, squeezing Robin’s hand, “I literally don’t, I just told you something. Pretty sure that’s like if I had the nuclear launch codes or something and I gave them out to just one person because they’re having a really bad day.”

“Oh! Do you remember doing those stupid duck and cover drills in elementary school?”

“Oh that's really nice of you, Mrs. Buckley, but Aunt Claudia is expecting me home for dinner.” Stevie's voice calls from outside the door, only a surprise because they didn't have plans to hang out today.

She scrambles from her bed, the wire on her headphones tangling around her neck until the weight of her walkman drags them off her. Flinging the door open she's just in time to save her best friend. “Thanks for bringing her up, Mom, we’re just gonna hang out in my room til Steph has to leave, okay?”

Shoving Stevie toward the bed before her Mom has a chance to say anything else, Robin at least smiles before she shuts the door in her mother’s face.

“What happened?”

Stevie is digging through her jewelry box, has a ring Robin picked up at a garage sale because it looked cool and didn’t think about trying on, and doesn’t bother looking ashamed at being caught snooping. “Why does something have to be wrong?”

She slips the ring on her finger, the gold band and mossy green stone looks better on her than it would have Robin. “You can keep it if you admit something happened.” Stevie starts to raise an eyebrow, but it halts half way up her forehead when Robin gives the Family Video vest she’s still wearing a tug.

Her smile goes lopsided, tilts too high on one side before she wanders over to flop down on the bed. “I, maybe, did something stupid.”

Flopping down beside her, Robin swears when she lands on her walkman first. “Stupid like when you put Re-Animator in the romance section or stupid like when you tripped into the Back to the Future cutout and apologized cause you weren't wearing your glasses.”

“Stupid like I don't know, Rob, you know how at first I was pretending that I didn't know anyone when they came in right, cause I'm supposed to be new in town.”

“Like bad witness protection because they put you right back where you left.”

“Right, well I kinda forgot to do that this morning when I was working by myself?”

Looking now she can tell this is something that has had Stevie really worked up. The strands of hair at the front of her face have lost some of their beachy wave from where she's been fussing with it, pushing it back, tugging at it. Waiting for when she saw Robin again.

Sitting up from the bed, she grabs Stevie's hand in a too tight grip. “What happened? You're okay right? They didn't recognize you and do anything shitty, right?”

“Well that's the thing,” she somehow looks even more distressed, it gives Robin another clue. Stevie is afraid she's broken some unspoken rule of girlhood by doing whatever it is she's done. Which means the story will be interesting.

“So Roger came in, you know Roger right? Second stringer on the basketball team, his footwork was too slow to ever actually be any good on the court but he had an amazing three pointer as long as no one was ever anywhere near him. So he'd make a great professional HORSE player but not really going anywhere with the actual game. He came in with his girlfriend-”

“Mindy Peterson.”

“Right, and when did they even get together?” She shakes her head. “Not the point, I was flipping through the Tiger Beat that Cindy left in the drawer after her shift, cause this months Car and Driver was a total waste of money. And he wanders up, surprising me cause the bell over the door still doesn't work and I thought I was alone in there. He starts talking to me like he already knows me.”

“He was flirting with you in front of his girlfriend!”

“That wasn't flirting, he was just being friendly; and I didn't know Mindy was there, she was back in the romance section picking something out.”

“So he's flirting with you while his girlfriend is picking out something for date night.”

Stevie rolls her eyes, shoving not so gently at Robin's shoulder. “He was talking to me like he already knew me, and I do know him so I did the same. I mentioned the last game he played in, well we played in. And then he starts looking at me and I realized what I look like.”

She gestures down at herself, and Robin isn't sure if this is a compliment time or a diffuse the situation time. Stevie really doesn't look that much like she used to. Her face has softened, her hair is longer, and she's leaned into the blonde highlights that she had in the summer.

“He's all ‘Do I know you?’” She continues, and Robin laughs, it's crazy how deep she can still get her voice and even though Roger does not have anything approaching the bass that Stevie has given him. It makes the situation feel even more bizarre. “it's not like I can say, ‘What you don't recognize me from all the times I gave you advice on how to keep yourself open on offense so you could actually get a hand on the ball?’”

Robin reaches for the nail polish on her bedside table, the robin's egg blue Stevie has taken to and the taupe brown that she likes but doesn't clash with Stevie's. They both pick at their nails when they get nervous, and Stevie has definitely been nervous.

“You could have said that,” she says just to be contrary, Stevie hand held in hers it means Robin avoids the smack that would have come.

She puts blue on every finger but one, letting Stevie think as she caps the polish and grabs the taupe to finish the hand. “Hi remember me, I faked my death so I could get boobies without getting murdered in the pumpkin patch I already avoided almost dying in once. Did you know they give you a new social security number for that?”

“So what did you actually do?”

“I lied, obviously.” She blinks twice, opens her eyes wider so she looks doe-eyed and vacant. “Oh gosh, well I guess you wouldn’t remember me. I used to only come to Hawkins during the holidays to babysit my little cousin, and I always try to catch a basketball game when I’m in town. Sometimes I’d sneak out and go to the parties, but I’m shy so...”

“Oh my god, like you’ve ever been shy in your life.”

“I’m going to have to be now!” She throws her hands up, fingers spread wide to avoid accidentally smudging her fresh nails. “It’s not like I can lie my way out of admitting to sharing homeroom with someone next. I’m just lucky Roger’s never took his eyes off the bottom button of my blouse.”

“Do you remember that movie I made you watch a couple months ago, the black and white one?”

“Oh yeah, that really narrows it down.”

“Gaslight, the one with the opera singer’s niece and her new husband tries to make her think she’s crazy. We just lie until everyone is convinced that it’s the truth.”

“The truth being that Stephanie Henderson always existed?”

Eye contact isn’t easy, unless it’s Stevie. They hold each other’s gaze as the excitement bubbles between them. “Exactly,” Robin says, “and that if they think anything else, they’re crazy.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She says, but it sounds like ‘you’re on.’

“Can I be a bitch for a second?” Stevie asks. She doesn’t look up from whatever magazine she was already flipping through when Robin walked through the door. It’s too casual, too calculated.

Progress has been slow but she’s slowly getting Stevie to the point where she doesn’t feel like she has to be nice all the time just because she’s a girl. Where she still acts like the bitchy dingus she'd been before, just a happier version.

“Obviously, just let me clock in.”

When she gets back Stevie has a stack of returns that she’s working on rewinding. One thumb in her mouth as she chews at the cuticle. “So what’s-?

“If I hear one more word about Eddie the Freak, I’m going to lose it, Rob. I mean what’s he got that’s so great? I could have taken us to the All State Championships if I hadn’t gotten that last concussion saving the twerps. I’ve saved all those twerps’ lives at least two times! I was cool. I am cool! But all I get to hear these days is ‘Oh, Stevie, Eddie just did the coolest thing in the campaign today.’ ‘Thanks for the advice, Stevie, but I’m going to go with what Eddie said instead.’ ‘I know it’s your only day off, Stevie, but could you pick us up late after school? There's Hellfire today.’ ‘Stevie, since Keith actually likes you could you hold Ladyhawke for us. Oh, no we’re going to do a movie night with Eddie.’”

She’s panting slightly when she’s finished, like she’s been holding this in for weeks. With all the quotes she’s racked up she probably has been.

“You know he kicked my tray off the lunch table last week,” she encourages. She snags a box of Sour Patch Kids from the candy counter. Popping one in her mouth before waving the bag under Stevie’s frowning face. She doesn’t even have a movie turned on. Well she does, but it looks like it was one of the weekend returns Stevie wasn’t going to put on Watership Down.

“Well he’s inconsiderate,” Stevie says, digging around in the box until she finds a red one and popping it into her mouth. “Everything is all fuck the man until he’s the man in question and then he’s the only one anyone should listen to about anything. Lucas is going to make the basketball team, he’s been working really hard on it with Jay and some of the other guys on the team.”

She’s basically taken the whole box of candy at this point. Robin doesn’t even care, just watches as Stevie picks out her favorite colors and lines them up on her magazine on the counter like a sweet and sour army. Completely oblivious to the quiet devastation that’s playing out on her face. Her brow furrowed and tight when she talks about Lucas, basketball another thing Robin wonders if she’s being unintentionally left out of.

“I just know Munson’s going to turn it into some us or them thing, like it isn’t possible to like more than one thing.”

“Maybe you-”

“And maybe that’s why they’ve been so cool with all of this,” she shrugs her shoulder in place of gesturing down at herself, too busy tearing apart a lone sourpatch general, “like it was a send off before they moved on to an actual guy who can actually do something for them. That’s probably a better send off than I deserve even right, like I mean, the kind of person I used to be. Maybe I don’t get more than one happy thing.”

Robin flattens the little red and green army underneath the flat of her hand, “Absolutely not. You are not going to let a… a… a dumpster raccoon with Mrs. Goble’s mystery meat on the bottom of his stupid shoes make you think that you don’t deserve the entire world.”

“But-” Stevie tears at the cardboard of the box between her fingers, leaving little pieces of it on the floor between her feet.

“But nothing, your little shithead kids might have latched onto the first giant nerd that looked at them when they crossed through the doors of the high school like freshly hatched ducklings but you’re the coolest person they’ve ever had the chance to meet and it’s their loss if they don’t notice.”

“I mean they’re in high school so-”

“So they’ve decided to get all the stupid decisions out at the start. It’s a bold decision but maybe that will keep them from-”

“From crashing their dad’s truck into half the cars at prom?”

“I wish one of them had been yours,” she steals the last red Sour Patch from between Stevie’s fingers, popping it into her mouth before her best friend can do anything about it.

“You’re never going to pass your driver’s test, I hope you like the bus.”

“You’re going to drive me to work forever because you love me,” she drags love out as she dances away from Stevie’s slapping hands, snagging a stack of tapes to return to the shelves as she goes.

There’s no way Stevie isn’t rolling her eyes, but Robin also knows that she’ll look all soft and pleased. Knows because a yellow candy smacks hard against the copy of The Breakfast Club that’s right beside her head.

“What the hell is going on with that rabbit?”

“Pretty sure it’s proof that you should never be trusted to pick the shift movie.”

“Stevie’s being a total headcase this week, will you tell her to chill out,” Henderson delivers what Robin is going to generously call a request after cornering her between fourth and fifth periods. Cause if it isn’t a request then it’s an order or a demand, and her small friend is not going to be happy with what she has to say in that case.

“Well that depends, Dusty, why are you calling my best friend a headcase?”

He rolls his eyes at her, a trait that Stevie might put up with but Robin is not about to. “Because she’s being one, every time I try to talk to her it’s like…” he trails off. That’s probably for the best.

“It’s like all you can talk about is your new best friend Eddie? It’s like you aren’t interested in her now that you’ve got some new brother that you can hang out with instead? It’s like all she’s good for is a ride to see the boys? It’s like you can’t ask her how to talk to girls anymore or how you should do your hair because she’s not the same anymore.”

“I didn’t say that,” he shrieks, hands waving between them like he can swipe away the thousand bees that are her accusations. She feels stinging mad actually now that she’s started putting words out there for the things that she’s feeling.

“You don’t have to say it, it’s what you’ve been doing.”

“Did she say that?” Robin gently swings her locker door just shy of closed. Dustin looks younger than she thinks she’s seen him since the first time they met. Looks smaller than she’s seen him in her life. Looking up at her with big watery eyes, waiting for her to make it okay.

Stevie’s gonna be pissed if she doesn’t at least try to make it okay.

She picks each word carefully, not wanting him to feel completely off the hook, “She didn’t say it exactly like that.”

Dustin looks at the floor, his hat obscuring his face enough that she can’t tell if he’s followed through on the watery eyes to full crying. The ambiguity makes him easier to talk to for a second, now that she doesn’t have to worry about watching what his expression is doing.

“She’s still the same person who walked down the train tracks with a kid she barely knew looking for his runaway science experiment. She’s still the person who did your hair for the snowball. She’s the person who went hunting for Russian spies with you. She’s the person that would like to keep giving you terrible advice on how to date.”

His next breath is phlegmy and ragged. “It wasn’t terrible advice.”

“Right, right, your Moonchild Empress or whatever.”

Dustin hasn’t been quiet once in the entire time that she’s known him so Robin assumes the quiet means he’s done talking. Swinging her locker back open she goes back to what she was doing before he interrupted, which had, coincidentally been Stevie related. Deciding whether or not she was going to bring her copy Watership Down to work with her so Stevie could see what was up with the rabbits.

“They should meet.”

Robin had also been leaning toward introducing her to Fiver and Hazel, but she doesn't think that’s what Dustin means.

“Who should-”

“Stevie and Eddie,” he looks at her with a wide grin. An expression she recognizes from shortly before she found herself in an elevator to hell. Dustin thinks he's just had a good idea. “Stevie can see that Eddie's super cool, Eddie will stop- And once they know each other we can hang out all the time, why didn't I think of this before!”

It does occur to her that she could remind Dustin that Stevie existed before July of 1985. That she went to school here and definitely already knows Eddie, that's where half the problem comes from even. But then she thinks of how much fun their next sleepover will be, when Stevie has brand new things to hate and make fun of.

“Maybe you're right Dustin, maybe that is the problem.”

He pumps his fist in time with the warning bell. “This is going to be great, I can't believe I didn't already think of this.”

He's still talking to himself as he starts to scamper off to a class he's going to be late to. But she isn’t about to let him leave without making sure he took away the real lesson he was supposed to. “And pass along to your little friends that her new meds didn't lobotomize her brain or amputate her legs. She can still tell you how to talk to girls, she can still shoot a free throw, she can still show you how to change a tire after it's blown out on the interstate.”

Dustin's staying with the Wheelers, Claudia has the night shift which means she and Stevie have the whole house to themselves.

Robin is making herself at home in Stevie's room, moving extra quilts and pillows from the linen closet into a fort she's making on the floor. Because today is going to be the best bitch day in the world, once Stevie makes it home from playing chauffeur. Because today Stevie gave in and went to lunch and a movie with Dustin and his new best friend Eddie.

She keeps trying to imagine what Stevie will say. Maybe Munson dips his fries in syrup or something disgusting. Maybe he showed up to the movie in his nerd brigade shirt. Maybe he showed up thirty minutes late! And the Stevie in her head has devastating things to say about all of those things, but she knows none of them are right. She just can't manage the right amount of even toned bitchery that Stevie can, the clever double entendre that makes the person she's insulting look all the dumber for getting upset at the blatant quips.

“Did you really bike here, you weirdo? You know I would have picked you up.” Stevie's voice carries down the hallway, accented by the sound of her keys hitting the bowl by the door and her shoes getting picked up from the floor and set down in the shoe tree.

“You got that bike rack for the Jeep. I wanted to make sure it actually got some use.”

The answering laugh is the one Robin possessively thinks of as hers, a little ugly, high pitched and snorting. It makes it to the bedroom just a second before Stevies face. A face that's wearing the lipgloss with the glitter in it, the one she saves for when she's trying to impress someone or make them look at her mouth.

“You look nice?”

“Such a charmer, Rob, no wonder you've got so many girls banging down your door.” She eases herself down onto the floor beside Robin, smoothing out a buttery yellow skirt that has to be new. She knows every single item in Stevie's closet, except this skirt.

She isn't going to think about how Stevie went out shopping without her though. She'd rather focus her attention somewhere more entertaining. “How was lunch?”

Stevie fusses with the edge of her skirt, rolling the hem of it between two fingers. Her face pinking though under that she's smiling. “Ugh you wouldn't even believe Henderson was a twerp, as usual. Insisted that he had to have one side of the table to himself, ordered two milkshake flavors so he could mix them together, and of course I'm paying for the whole thing.”

“Dustin being a dweeb is old news, what else happened at lunch.”

“I mean,” she trails off, making a face Robin has never seen before. Which shouldn't be possible, she thinks she is supposed to have seen all of Stevie's faces. “Munson was a total freak, obviously. Kept calling me ‘My Lady’ and all that nerd shit. You’d think I came in with a cast with the way he opened every door and kept pulling out my chair.”

It all sounds decidedly unfreakish to Robin, in fact it sounds like Stevie finds the guy charming. She realizes with something close to horror that she does actually recognize the expression on Stevie’s face. Just not on her best friend. It’s the bashful, twitterpated expression of a girl at a sleepover trying not to admit she has a crush. An expression that might as well be a death knell, cause the only time she’s ever seen it is right before date night started beating girl’s night.

“Not that it matters, the guy doesn’t know how to take a joke,” Stevie goes on, her smile still too shy to fully bloom but no less in place. Even as she pretends that whatever this is is supposed to be some dealbreaker. “I asked him what he gets out of playing Halflings and Half-wits with the dweeb squad and I thought he was going to climb on the table right there. Ed-weird went on for like five minutes on how the gremlins are some of the best players he’s ever played with, and they're an endless fount of creativity that keeps him perpetually on his toes.”

Stevie never actually stood a chance. And if Robin had been paying attention she would have realized that.

There wasn’t anyone who loved passionate, nerdy people as much as Stevie.

Eddie Munson wore his king of the loud mouthed nerds crown with pride. And he was as obsessed with the gremlins as Stevie was

“Why are we talking about him?” She flops over until her head is in Robin’s lap, flopping one arm outside of the pillow fortress to reach under the bed. She crows, victorious, holding a jar that's pond scum brown like it’s treasure. “Had to hide this after Dust put it in his hair. Put this goop on your face and tell me about what Vickie said in band yesterday again. Cause I'm pretty sure she was dating Dan Summers last year, and he didn't really seem like the type of guy to stay with his high school girlfriend.”

It's coincidence, pure and simple, that puts her right outside O'Donnell's fourth period class. Thompson's study hall, her own fourth period, was technically across the building but everyone knew Mr. Thompson came to work on Mondays too hungover to care about attendance.

And study hall didn't have a certain wannabe friend-dater standing outside it, debating whether or not he was going to go inside.

She is still figuring out her angle of attack when it looks like he's decided he is actually going to class. Considering O’Donnell is the type to write office referral slips to kids who aren’t meant to be in her room for ‘being a distraction’ there isn’t really any time for subtlety. Still, she’s surprised by the tone of her own voice when she shouts, “Munson!”

Heads turn in the hallway, of course they do. Faces she only knows by virtue of twelve years of school watching on with a lust for future violence she recognizes from that concrete bunker. But if Munson is concerned that a girl he's never spoken to is yelling at him, he doesn't look it as he turns on both heels to face her.

He smiles first, benignly pleasant. But Stevie taught her that trick, smiling to diffuse anger or hide how she has no idea how the person talking to her actually knows her. Munson is doing both, they had two classes together last semester and she was in the orchestra for the last school musical.

The blankness eventually clears from his eyes, “Bye Bye Buckley!”

Not about to be distracted by the dumbest reference she's ever heard, and with the eyes of at least two people she can see on her, she drags Munson away from class. It's bound to be all around the school by the dismissal bell, but rumor is less important than the mission.

The girls room by the library is always abandoned. The mirrors are dingy or cracked and it always smells like cat piss for no discernable reason. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He looks around the bathroom with an inquisitive eye like the grimy bluish tile is somehow more interesting than her. “I'm not actually carrying if you were-”

He doesn't have the decency to stumble when she shoves at his chest, trying to push him back into the stall doors.

“What are your intentions with Stevie?”

“Ah yes, the mysterious cousin Henderson. Who says I have intentions?” His only saving grace is that it takes her too long to get her thoughts in order. A miasma of rants at the tip of her tongue about Stevie and how she was too good for him and any thoughts he might be having about her.

But in the time it takes to see through her friend based rage, she’s able to watch a transformation take place on Eddie’s face. The smug aloofness that had taken over his face from the moment she cornered him in the hallway washes away. Leaving behind something giddy and young, bright eyes and a flushed face. “Unless she was asking about me. You two are bosom friends, are you not Diana? That would make me Gilbert Blythe, hell of a role.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of people who wish they could break a slate over your head.”

“You’re probably right, doesn’t answer my question though. Was your dear Anne Shirley talking about me?” He scuffs a boot against the floor. Doing an impressive impression of a bashful school boy while standing in front of her in his ratted out, heavy metal glory. There are at least four chains that she can spot on his outfit right now but his face would be just as at home on Opie Taylor.

But she isn’t going to get fooled by some routine. She has something to say and she’s going to make sure she says it.

“She’s really special, Munson. She’s not some cheerleader you fuck in the woods because she wants to get back at her parents that are divorcing and you’re the scariest thing available that isn’t actually dangerous.”

“Tell me how you really feel, Buckley.” The retort seems to drag itself from his mouth on instinct. Cause the aw shucks routine he’d been giving is lying broken on the floor replaced by open mouthed shock.

“I am.” The bell rings, marking them both officially late for class. She glares him down, waiting to see if he’ll leave, effectively flinching first. He glares back. “She’s an athlete, likes sports.”

Maybe it’s wrong to list the things about Stevie that she knows Munson won’t like. But she also isn’t about to let her best friend water herself down for some stupid boy.

“Wayne will be thrilled to have someone who understands what he’s talking about. Go team.”

“She hates fantasy. Dustin loaned her his copy of Fellowship of the Ring and she gave it back when they kept singing.”

“I’m sure she’d like it if I sang them for her.”

“She isn’t going to become some demure, church mouse just because you’re around. She’s snarky and confident and, and…”

He sets a hand on her shoulder in a way that is so patronizing she wishes she were as good at being a bitch as Stevie was. But she suppresses her first instinct to bite him if only because she’s working at keeping up her record of 4578 days without biting a classmate.

“I don’t know what any of that means,” he says, “but it sounds like you and your hot best friend have been talking about me. So thanks for that intel, Bucks.”

People wearing leather and motorcycle boots shouldn’t be able to skip. The stupid hanky in his stupid pocket flaps behind him like a wagging tail as Munson leaves her in the girls room with the smell of ammonia.

Stevie has Breakfast at Tiffany’s playing on the TV when Robin makes it to work. Keith let them have most of their shifts together but drew the line at letting Stevie shut the store down to come pick her up after school. So on days where Stevie works a double, she’s stuck arriving to work sweaty and guessing at whatever movie will have ended up on the big TV.

And today she gets to catch Stevie standing in the middle of the floor, a stack of tapes in her arms, while she watches the party happening in Holly Golightly’s apartment. Audrey Hepburn swaying with her guest in the middle of the floor.

“Someone’s in a mood.”

From over her shoulder, Stevie sends Robin a look. Something loaded with dry humor and a smugness that usually means something juicy happened in the time before Robin got there.

Usually.

There’s something about the look today that feels personally directed at her.

“Well it was this or Some Like it Hot, and the stay at home moms are weird about black and white movies that aren’t the first few minutes of Wizard of Oz.”

“That’s sepia.”

“Bless you.”

Making sure Stevie can see her rolling her eyes, she heads to the back to clock in. By the time she makes it back, Stevie has the volume turned down on Holly Golightly’s romantic disasters. She’s back behind the counter, head pillowed in her hands and Robin remembers why people used to be a little scared of her popular kid cabaret. Walking up the center aisle, she feels like she’s headed straight toward a tiger with its mouth open and she’s about to put her head in there.

“So you’ll never believe what happened earlier,” Stevie taps her nail against her cheek.

“Paul Collins came in with his mistress to look at porn again?”

Humming, Stevie doesn’t say anything as Robin comes behind the counter with her. There’s a stack of tapes that need to be rewound and a roll of Be Kind Rewind stickers that need to be stuck to cases.

“Still time for that,” she says right as Robin started to think they were going to drop it. “Sally Tyler called from the payphone.”

“Sally from the basketball team?”

“Yeah,” that smile is even wider. This is almost certainly payback for the You Suck board. “I’m thinking about joining her rec team but we’ve played one-on-one in the park once or twice.”

“And she had a Family Video emergency that only you could solve?”

“Sorta. She was just really concerned, she’d heard a rumor that my best friend was dragging the guy she saw me having lunch with this weekend into the girls room.”

This is definitely payback for the You Suck board. Stevie’s looking a little too pleased with herself as she smiles at what can only be Robin’s slack jawed surprise.

“I get if you're mad,” she says and that’s all she can assume is happening, she isn’t sure how else to read what’s happening on Stevie’s face. “But-”

“Thank you.”

“I was just trying to- What?”

“Come on,” she rolls her eyes, swipes a half hearted smack to Robin’s shoulder. “I’ve been on the other side of that, you know. Well meaning friends pulling me aside to ask what my intentions are.”

“Oh my god, did she follow us in there?”

Delight makes Stevie’s eyes sparkle, “Did you actually? I love you. Did you give him hell?”

“I think he got the upperhand.”

“I think it’s all the playing pretend. The shitheads will run circles around the unprepared too.”

It seems a little too good to be true. “You really aren’t mad?”

Someone abandoned The Breakfast Club at the scene where Ally Sheedy gets the makeover. It had seemed like a stupid scene when she’d seen it in theaters, now it makes something weird pit in the bottom of her stomach. She doesn’t get the chance to hit rewind, to send Allison back in time so she can be strange and herself again, because Stevie is flipping her around and pulling her into a bone crushing hug.

“First of all,” she says into the side of Robin’s hair, “the only thing I’m even a little miffed about is you thinking I couldn’t kick Munson’s ass myself. But no one’s ever done anything like that for me before so I’m cool with letting it slide.”

“But we are acknowledging that you definitely have a thing for the guy with the rattiest hair in the school. Probably even Roane county.” Robin says, face pressed into the meat of Stevie’s shoulder.

Stevie shoves her away with a groan that Robin’s laughter is already drowning out. “Yeah, alright. He’s kind of okay I guess.”

“Such sweet words for the father of your brood.”

“He’s not the father of my anything,” she flips her hair over one shoulder, “anyway I think he gets off on it so I’m gonna keep being mean to him.”

“That was more than I wanted to know about either of you.”

“No it wasn’t, you like that I’m mean too. You get all sad faced when you think I’m trying to bury my impulses.”

For the second time today Robin is left too surprised to say anything. She’s left gaping, not that Stevie is looking at her now; too busy picking at the nail polish left on her pinky.

“I like it,” she says quietly after a moment. Robin has shut her mouth by the time Stevie looks up at her again, something soft but serious on her face. She reaches across the counter to grab Robin by the hand, melding what’s left of their coordinating manicures by linking their fingers. “You’re my number one. Even if Eddie does anything about anything, he’s going to have to compete with you.”

Neither of them move as the weight of the moment surrounds them like one of Mrs. Henderson’s quilts. Heavy and homey and right. But they are still at work and as the bell beside the door dings, and they break their silence to greet their new customer in tandem, they shrug off the heavy sincerity for something more functional. Stevie’s smile turns sly, and she tugs Robin closer while keeping an eye on the man now browsing the comedies. “You’ll never guess who came in earlier to ask if we had Nine and a Half Weeks yet.”

#stevieweek24 #stevie week #Stevie Harrington #transfem Steve Harrington #Stevie Henderson #Steve Henderson #platonic soulmates Steve and Robin #platonic Stobin #Stobin #Steve and Robin #steddie #pre Steddie #Robin POV #I was asking myself why I didn't get all 6 fics I had planned written before the week started after a month of writing #and realized this is nearly 10k cause I have chronic can't shut up disease #minimum 2 more coming at you this week get hype

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eiightysixbaby · 9 months

Text

…and a happy new year

word count: 5.5k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: your first week with eddie since his return to hawkins is pure bliss. you both decide you need to ring in the new year the right way. or, you and eddie can't keep your hands off of each other at nancy's new year's party.

author's note: this is an extra oneshot taking place right after my fic i'll be home for christmas. you don't have to read that fic to understand this, but i'd be extremely grateful if you gave it a chance.

cw: 18+ ONLY — SMUT. established relationship, lots of petname usage, alcohol consumption, eye-fucking basically lol, unprotected piv (he pulls out tho), oral (f receiving), reader's nickname is 'sunny'

December 31st, 1989.

One week. Seven days. Ten thousand and eighty minutes. Six-hundred-and-four-thousand, eight hundred seconds. That’s how long it had been since you found out Eddie was home, give or take. Six of those days were spent with him as yours, finally all yours after such a long and grueling wait.

It’s New Year’s Eve, now, Christmas having passed quickly. You and Eddie had spent the time between holidays in a cozy, warm haze together. It was surreal when you woke the day after Christmas with him in your bed beside you. It was a week full of sleepovers, reacquainting yourself with the man you’d missed so much, rediscovering your most favorite parts about him. It was him stealing kisses from you basically every single chance he got, getting up in your personal space to press sloppy kisses to your cheek, or lingering pecks to your lips.

Kissing is as far as it had gone, for the meantime. That was fine, you didn’t need or expect anything more just yet, and neither did Eddie. The last thing he wanted to do was get his girl, and then fuck up by rushing things.

At least, it was fine, until right now. Until you decided to wear that outfit to Nancy’s New Year’s party. He was watching you from across the Wheeler’s basement, where you stood with Robin and Max laughing about something. A champagne flute was placed delicately between your fingers, your body relaxed. Your plaid skirt hugged your hips just right before fanning out around your thighs, the neckline of your sweater dipping just low enough to make him fantasize about what lies beneath.

He feels a little bit sick, ogling you like this. You’re so sweet, so soft, and he’s basically panting like a dog where he stands beside Steve.

What he doesn’t know, is that you’ve been eyeing him up, too — albeit more subtly. He just looks so good tonight, in his blue jeans (a rarity for him) and his sweater and that black leather jacket. The jeans might be a little too snug, hugging him perfectly in all of the right places, and you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t staring at his ass each time you could catch a glimpse.

At one point, you finally catch each other trying to gawk. You giggle around your mouthful of sparkling wine, giving him a shy little wave from across the room. His smile is immediate, eyes brightening as if he hadn’t seen you in ages. He’d spent every possible second with you since Christmas. It makes your heart skip a beat, the alcohol no longer the only thing making your face feel warm.

“You guys are disgusting,” Robin teases, her arm automatically slinking around Nancy when the smaller girl comes to stand beside her. Nancy perches on her toes, kissing Robin’s cheek.

“And we aren’t disgusting?” she asks, face scrunching up adorably when Robin laughs.

“Fair enough.”

“We won’t be offended if you abandon us to go canoodle him,” Max smirks, breaking into a laugh when you roll your eyes.

“There will be no canoodling,” you say, but it’s clear none of them believe you. Not like it matters, anyways. They’re just happy for you.

Eddie beats you to it, walking over to you before you can go to him. The television plays in the corner, the news broadcast of the big ball-drop event in New York crackling through the screen. He snakes his arm around you, pulling you into his side. His warmth immediately blankets you, and you look up at him with bright eyes.

“Hi handsome,” you say.

“Hey, sugar. Come here often?” he asks, giving you a sweet-dimpled smile before he leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

It’s still a little surreal, that he’s yours now. That he’s home. That you can kiss him whenever you want; that he does kiss you whenever he wants. You look over Eddie’s shoulder, watching the way Jonathan and Steve pretend to gag from their spots on the worn-out old sofa.

“Hey! I saw that!” you shout at them, giving them a playful middle finger as Eddie leans down again to kiss your head.

His grip on your waist tightens, and it makes you press your thighs together, suddenly antsy. His hand seems to sear an imprint into your skin, permanently a part of you. Your body is hot, growing more eager to have him in ways you haven’t before.

“You look like you need a refill on your drink, sweetheart,” Eddie says, his face tilted downwards at you, tipping his own glass towards yours. “Let’s go get you some more?” he nods in the direction of the staircase, grabbing your hand when you agree.

He leads you up the rickety wooden steps, into the warmth of the kitchen. There’s a large spread of food laid out on the counter, and more alcohol than your group really needs considering there’s only six of you who are of drinking age. The second you’re upstairs, and positive there’s no one else lingering nearby, Eddie has your back pressed against the countertop. His lips capture yours in a passionate kiss, and you can feel the way he smiles into it when you pull him closer.

“You look so gorgeous tonight, you know that?” he murmurs against your ear, nose brushing into your hair. “I mean, you always do, but this outfit…” he drawls. “Baby.”

His hands wander, but don’t push. His words have an edge of scandal, but yet he speaks them so sweetly. It’s a good thing Nancy’s parents and her little sister Holly are out of town, otherwise you’d be playing an extremely dangerous game right now.

Your fingers trail up Eddie’s chest, walking up up up until they reach the neckline of his sweater. You tug on it, bringing his lips to yours and making him groan.

“You’re killing me, sweets,” he says, eyes boggling like a cartoon.

The glass of liquid courage you’d consumed has you feeling bold as you bat your lashes up at him. “I want you so bad…” you hum, placing a kiss to his jawline before slipping out of his grasp and refilling your glass of wine.

He barely lets you get away, hot on your trail with his front pressed to your back as you try not to spill the whole bottle in your hand.

“Baby. I know you’re not gonna say that and then walk away from me,” Eddie says, pitiful as you slip out of his reach once more.

“It’s less than an hour til midnight, Ed. We can’t miss the ball drop,” you reply simply, a wicked smirk on your face that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing. It feels like a little game, drawing out the anticipation longer, and it drives him crazy.

Maybe the alcohol was getting to you, or maybe he really was just ethereal tonight, because your hard-to-get demeanor was almost impossible to uphold. Especially with the way he was about ready to drop to his knees and beg for you.

“Sunny, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, grabbing you from behind before you can get away, pulling you against his chest just to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Always so dramatic, Munson,” you giggle, taking a sip of your freshly-poured drink before leading him back down to the basement.

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin are in the middle of a riveting game of Twister, Will calling out the moves each of them will have to make. El and Max have resorted to sitting on the floor by the TV, watching the live broadcast beneath a blanket. You and Eddie join Robin, Nance, Jonathan, and Steve where they all sit on the furniture, Eddie letting you take a seat on his lap.

“I can’t believe it’s about to be 1990,” Robin scoffs, far too upset about the matter. “I just like the 80s. Something about the 90s rubs me the wrong way.”

“Well, get used to it Rob, cause it’s about to be the 90s for the next ten years of your life,” Eddie says, shaking his head when she lets out a loud groan.

You try to focus on the conversation that ensues after that, you really do, but you swear you can feel something pressing into your ass. You wiggle a little on Eddie’s lap, testing it, and then you’re sure you feel it. He’s definitely hard right now, and you’re definitely making it worse for him.

You chew at your lip, squishing your legs together as you squirm on top of him. He notices your restlessness, and he knows exactly why you can’t stay still.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he whispers into your ear, as quiet as possible as everyone else talks around you.

You don’t answer, knowing he’s just setting you up, and you almost yelp when he squeezes your hip with one hand.

“Just gotta wait till after the ball drops, baby,” he purrs, using your words from before against you. “Then we can ring in the new year the right way.”

You end up getting off of Eddie’s lap, because it’s the only way you can even attempt to focus on something that isn’t him. Jonathan had gone to join in on the game of Twister after Mike decided he’d had enough, so you distract yourself by going to watch.

He’s currently got both hands placed on near-opposite sides of the mat, pressing into the different colored circles. His feet are criss-crossed behind him, making him look a bit like a pretzel.

“I’ve had too much to drink,” he giggles when he sees you approach. “This might end badly.” His body wobbles a little as if on cue, but he straightens himself before a collapse.

“Don’t be a quitter,” you laugh. “You need to win this round, Jon! I’ve put all my money on this!” you tease, making him laugh more.

You try to keep your focus on the antics unfolding in front of you, but you can feel Eddie’s eyes on you. Drinking you in, searing two holes through the back of your skull. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of finally having him, going further than you ever have. You check the clock, noticing it’s only ten minutes away from midnight.

Just ten minutes. You can survive another ten minutes.

At least, you’re convinced you can until a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle and Eddie’s lips press a soft kiss to your neck. You asked for it, you suppose, teasing him in the kitchen. And he’s gonna make sure you’re very worked up, now. He sways your body back and forth, holding you tight. Your head tilts back, resting against his shoulder as you look up at him.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says, winking down at you.

“If you guys don’t get off of each other, I’m literally going to throw up,” Dustin says, peeking out from behind Lucas where they’re tangled up on the Twister mat.

“Shut it, Henderson, or I’ll knock you over right now,” Eddie threatens, slowly reaching out a hand towards the teen.

“No! NO!” Dustin screeches, making Jonathan laugh so hard he finally topples.

“Okay, I give up,” he resigns. “Shit, it’s almost midnight. I need another drink,” he says, running up the stairs to quickly refill.

Everyone shuffles closer to the television, standing close together as the hands of the clock reach twelve.

“You ready? For our first whole year together?” Eddie says softly, still standing behind you.

“More than ready,” you reply, your whole body filled with an unexplainable amount of affection. You need him.

Before you know it, there’s a countdown on the TV screen from sixty seconds, and everyone watches as the number dwindles. The group counts in unison once it gets down to twenty seconds.

Ten seconds…

Eddie’s grip tightens around your middle. You’re both smiling wide as you count backwards.

Five seconds…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

A loud and joyful “Happy New Year!” resounds from the chests of everyone in the room, Steve letting out a loud whistle. Eddie spins you around, planting a kiss on your lips. Your glass in one hand, you wrap the other arm around Eddie’s neck, letting the kiss linger for as long as it can. Your skin is set ablaze where he holds your lower back, and when he finally pulls away his eyes are big and wide.

“I love you, Sunny,” he says, taking you by surprise.

It was the first time he’d said it, in the romantic context at least. And while the love had been felt all week, you’d been waiting to hear it, straight from his mouth.

“I love you, Eddie,” you smile wide, clinking your glass with his before you both take a sip of the alcohol.

You cheers with the rest of the group, everyone happy — even Robin, despite the 80s officially being over.

Eddie lets you slip away to the girls, helping Steve clean up some of the confetti that had been thrown around the room.

“Why are you so happy, sunshine?” Robin asks, noticing the smile that won’t leave your face.

“He just told me he loves me,” you say, looking down at your feet as her and Nancy both squeal.

“Finally!” Nancy squeezes your arm, her big blue eyes squinted in delight.

You feel warm, bubbly, content. This week had felt like a dream, but the best part is that it’s all been real.

Not long after midnight, the teens set up their sleeping bags on the basement floor for their sleepover. Robin and Nancy head up to the latter’s room for the night, Steve and Jonathan opt to sleep in the living room, and you and Eddie get the guest bedroom.

He’s hot on your trail as you ascend the carpeted stairs, letting yourselves into the usually empty room and shutting the door behind you. He presses you, soft against the door before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle, despite how eager he is, his mouth slowly moving against yours. Your lips part, tongue poking out just slightly to meet his. His hands keep a firm hold on your waist, thumbs smoothing over the soft fabric of your skirt, slipping beneath the hem of your sweater and sending goosebumps across your skin.

“I love you so much. God, I love you so much,” he says, mouth against your cheek.

Your nose brushes his face, lips pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” you reply, and you can’t help but smile.

“What’re you smiling for?” he cocks a brow, lips barely able to stop kissing your face to ask the question.

“I’ve just wanted to hear you say that for so long,” you say, and he pauses. Deep brown eyes search yours, all the love in the world held in his gaze.

“Well I’ll tell you as many times as you’ll hear it, babe,” he grins, his perfectly straight teeth on display, his dimples coming out. “I love you,” a kiss is pressed to your mouth. “I love you,” another on your jawline. “I love you.”

“I need you, Eddie,” you sigh as his mouth makes its way to your neck, sucking oh so softly on the delicate skin. “I’ve needed you all night,” you say, your voice leaning into a bit of a whine.

He chuckles, pressing his front against yours. You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh.

“In case you haven’t noticed, sweetheart, same,” he says, letting his hands fully slip beneath your sweater before taking a pause. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too soon?”

“I promise I want to. I’ve thought about it all week,” you admit, looking down at the floor in slight embarrassment. He’s having none of that, tilting your chin back up to look at him instantly.

“You just tell me if you want to stop, at any point, ‘kay?” he asks, holding your shoulders.

“I will, Eddie.”

With that, he’s picking you up, placing you down onto the perfectly made bed. You lay back, head sinking into the pillow as he hovers above you, leaning down to kiss you like his life depends on it. Your hands hold his face, not wanting him to go away for even a second. He laughs into the kiss, pulling ever so slightly away.

“I can’t do much of anything if you don’t let me move, sweetness.”

You huff, giving him a dramatic pout as you let him go.

“Can I take this sweater off?” he asks you, smiling when you nod.

Slowly, the material is worked over your head, your arms lifting to allow him to pull it off. His eyes go wide at the sight of your pretty lace bra, holding your tits perfectly. You’re even more stunning than he ever could’ve imagined, and he hasn’t even seen all of you yet. His perfect girl.

His head immediately dips down, kissing your neck, down to your collarbone, his teeth stopping to toy with the pendant on your necklace. He kisses the dip between your breasts, his hands slowly creeping up to slip under the cups of your bra. Fingers squeeze your nipples gently, making a breathy moan leave your mouth.

“Eddie…” you arch your back, and he takes the hint, reaching around to unclasp the garment. He tosses it to the floor, worshiping your tits with his hands and his mouth.

He sucks on one nipple, then the other, tongue laving over the sensitive buds. Your hand finds its way to his hair, embedding your fingers into his soft curls and tugging. He groans when you do, a reaction you weren’t expecting, but it encourages you to continue. Eventually, when he’s decided he’s focused enough on your breasts for now, his mouth continues its descent.

Kisses are trailed down your stomach, below your bellybutton, right to the waistband of your skirt. Your breath hitches when he reaches that spot, your brows furrowing as you look down at him.

“Please keep going,” you whine, and he smirks at the hint of desperation in your voice.

“So eager, huh sweet girl?” he teases gently, fingers already hooking beneath your skirt to pull it down. He discards it just as he had your bra, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties to match the top piece.

You feel your cheeks get hot. You hadn’t intentionally worn a matching set; you didn’t go into the night expecting anything. But you fear it looks that way now.

Lucky for you, Eddie doesn’t notice; or if he does he doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like he’s never seen anything more precious, more beautiful.

“Baby, holy shit…” he breathes, sinking down to press kisses to your thighs.

You couldn’t count the number of kisses you’ve received tonight if you tried. He’s sure to hit every inch of your skin. His nose brushes against your clit, his hot breath fanning against your core. You know you’re soaking the lace that keeps you covered, and you can feel yourself throb for him. His mouth kisses atop your panties before he presses his tongue flat against them, so close to where you need him most. Separated only by thin fabric.

It’s cruel, the way he teases, his lips kissing over your clit before moving to your inner thighs. His teeth nip at the skin there, making you shiver when he starts to suck.

“Ed, oh my god,” you pant, your legs threatening to close involuntarily, your body so sensitive. He grips your thighs, pushing them apart more forcefully than he’d done anything so far.

“Gotta keep your legs spread wide for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, big eyes glancing up at you.

You nod quickly, feeling your slick start to pool in your panties. “Need your mouth on me, please,” you cry, grateful when you feel him tug your underwear down.

“Such a sweet girl, being so polite,” he says, pulling the lace around your ankles and feet until you’re completely ridden of your last article of clothing.

Eddie tugs off his jacket, followed by his shirt before he leans back down between your legs. He pokes his tongue out tentatively, licking a stripe up your folds. You gasp, hips bucking before his strong grip brings them back down. He buries his face in your pussy, tongue prodding inside of you, lapping up the honey that drips from your center. His nose bumps against your clit, giving you much needed friction. It takes everything in you to not grind against his face, trying keep some composure.

You’d imagined scenarios like this plenty of times, always knew Eddie would be able to make you feel good. But he’s truly unreal, you’ve never felt pleasure like this in your life. It’s been worth the wait to have him, you can say that for certain, your brain fuzzy as he devours you.

You’d think this is his last meal, the way he licks and sucks and moans as he does it. He flicks the tip of his tongue rapidly over your clit, and you have to remind yourself of where you are before a loud whine can escape you. You bite down on your fist, something to muffle your noises, to keep your actions discreet.

Eddie’s relentless, barely coming up for air as his tongue unravels you. When he does pause, he gives you a devious little grin, his chin shiny with your arousal. The sight makes you feral, primal in the way you desire him. And as much as you love the way he eats your cunt, you need more from him.

“Eddie, baby, please—” you pant, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. Once you’ve got it, you feel nervous under his intense stare. “I want to have sex,” you say softly. “I need you inside of me. Like, right now.”

“My god, you’re something else,” he breathes, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

He moves to hover over you, his bare chest on full display. You let your hands run down his pale skin, fingers tracing the outlines of his tattoos. He shivers at your touch, and you can see the tented fabric of his jeans; his cock straining to be near you. His lips are on yours, his tongue working your mouth open for him as you reach down to palm him through the denim. The taste of yourself on his mouth has you throbbing for him, aching. He whimpers when you squeeze the outline of his cock, a sound you weren’t anticipating.

“I think you should take these off,” you suggest, tugging at the waistband of his pants.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes blown out with lust. “Good idea.”

He shimmies out of his tight jeans, his boxers following suit. His cock springs free, and your eyes widen at the sight of it. He’s got the perfect girth, and he’s long. The head is pink and leaking for you already, and there’s a slight curve to his shaft. A vein protrudes from beneath the skin, practically throbbing.

“Oh my god…” you whisper, startling when you realize you said it out loud. He’s grinning like the devil, bending back down to kiss your cheek.

“Like what you see, huh, Sunny?” he asks, smug as ever.

You roll your eyes, playfully shoving him away. “Fuck off,” you giggle, your tone holding no malice.

He does the exact opposite of what you said, invading your space once more to kiss all over your face. You laugh, making him join in with you.

“I do like what I see, for the record,” you tell him honestly, his smile turning shy. “I can’t believe you’re mine. I’m so lucky that, after everything, this is where we are now,” you continue, seeing the way his face completely softens at your sweet words.

“I’m the lucky one, I promise you,” he says. “Do I need to say it again? I love you so fucking much.”

It feels so right hearing him say those words. It feels like you’ve been saying them your whole lives, rather than just starting tonight.

“I love you,” you sigh, his body pressing against yours.

The realization of the line you’re about to cross hits you, but it’s welcomed. You trust Eddie to take care of you more than you’d trust anyone, and your heart pounds in your chest as you think about how much you want him. Your adoration for him is unwavering, and you so badly crave him.

“You ready for me?” he asks, patient as he rubs his thumb along your cheek. “Shit — do you want me to get a condom?”

“Yeah. I’m ready,” you confirm. “Don’t want you to use a condom. Wanna feel every inch of you,” you plead, biting your lip as he curses under his breath.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he chuckles, shaking his head of dark brown curls.

“So you’ve said,” you reply, letting him kiss you sweetly before lining himself up properly. You inhale deeply when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

He makes eye contact with you as he slips inside your wet walls, both of you moaning in unison at the feeling. For him, it’s the way you squeeze around his length, sucking him right in. For you, it’s the overwhelming stretch to accommodate him. It knocks the wind out of you, your eyes rolling back as he sinks in even deeper.

“Oh my god, baby,” Eddie groans, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

He doesn’t move once he gets fully sheathed inside, letting you adjust to his size. When you start to get squirmy, he knows you’re ready for more. He thrusts slowly, wanting to take his precious time with you. Wanting to be careful, to make love to you rather than fuck you like a one night stand. He wants to show you how much you mean to him.

The gentle rocking of his hips has your back arching, his cock reaching perfect depths inside of you. He hits the spot your fingers can’t, drawing breathy whines and moans of his name from your pretty lips.

“You have to be quiet, sweet girl,” he shushes, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to.”

“You just feel… s-so good, Eddie. This is everything I wanted,” you whisper, your hands clutching his back tight as he moves just a little bit faster.

The slick glide of his cock in and out, in and out has you seeing stars beneath him. Every inch of him feels divine, and he steals your breath each time he pushes back in. Your nails dig at the skin of his shoulder blades, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself quiet. His ragged breaths turn you on even more, as does the strained look on his face as he tries desperately not to cry out for you.

“Wanna ride me, baby?” he asks. “I’d love to see the way those pretty tits bounce with you on top,” he purrs, sugary sweetness dripping from his words. He wants to worship you, like the goddess you are.

You’re nodding eagerly, having already wanted to ask him if you could ride him. He pulls out, making you wince before he flips you over. With him sprawled out on the bed, now, you’re getting a full view of everything.

His cock is wet with your slick, nearly purple in color and clearly so needy. The dark patch of hair at the base is enticing, and you want to nuzzle your face into it. His balls hang heavy between his thighs, and you reach out instinctively to squeeze them.

“Fuck,” he hisses, making you smirk in satisfaction.

It could be a fun game, you think, learning how to touch him; discovering what makes him whine, what makes him twitch. You’re excited by the fact that you have all the time in the world to learn what gets him going. His body is yours to explore, to study and observe. It makes you hot for him all over again.

You straddle him, letting your wet folds glide along his length. Your palms are planted flat on his chest, wiggling your ass on top of him.

“Such a little tease,” he says, looking up at you in awe. “Look so pretty up there.”

You flush, gripping the base of his drooling cock before aligning it with your entrance. Sinking down onto him, a light and pretty whine escapes you. He watches, completely enamored as your expression changes with each inch of him that fills you. You’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, he’s certain of it.

This new angle allows him to go even deeper, and it feels incredible in a different way than the previous position had. Your hands grip onto his sides, his shoulders, anywhere you can reach to ground yourself as you start to rock your hips steadily.

“Eddie…” you moan, trying to keep your voice quiet. He looks blissed out where his head rests on the pillow, his lips parted as he takes shallow breaths.

He begins to do some of the work for you, his hips meeting yours as he starts to rut up into you. You gasp, his cock hitting that perfect spot once again. Your body feels tingly, electrified. Everywhere he touches you you can feel sparks, wishing his hand could be everywhere all at once. He sets a slightly faster pace than he had in missionary, bouncing you perfectly up and down. You lean down, your chest pressing to his as you hold his shoulders for stability. Burying your face into his neck, you start to kiss and suck on the skin there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good,” he grunts, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin filling the bedroom.

Desperate for more, you let your hand worm its way between your bodies, starting to rub your swollen clit. There’s barely enough room between the two of you for it to work, but you’ve got it. Eddie, of course can feel it though.

“Whatcha doin’ there, sweetness?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to hear the grin in his voice.

Your fingers continue their ministrations, pressing into your clit in circles. “Nothin’” you mumble, shy into his shoulder.

“Ah-ah, none of that, shy girl. Look at me,” he commands gently, tilting your chin up with a finger beneath it. He smiles wide when your eyes meet his. “Does that feel good?”

“So good, Eddie,” you breathe, cheeks blazing hot under his taunting stare. He’s smug, of course he is, because he has you so worked up you’re touching yourself to get to your release faster.

“Good. Keep doing that for me, baby, okay?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, wobbly as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Not too fast, but just enough to tip you over the edge.

The way his cock presses repeatedly into your sweet spot makes you see stars, your fingers moving as fast as they can go over your sensitive bud. Your mouth is agape, no sound coming out as he fucks into you.

“I love being inside of you, baby. Love everything about you,” he murmurs into your ear, kissing the side of your head.

The softness of his words juxtaposed with the absolute filthy way he’s fucking you makes you delirious, your body so desperate for release. You find it harder and harder to stay quiet, whimpers and squeaks leaving your mouth with each thrust he gives you. You’re so close, the tension in the pit of your stomach rising to a head.

“Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock?” Eddie encourages, sensing your quick approach, his honey tone of voice pushing you past your breaking point at last.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, washing over you in overwhelming waves. You clench hard around him, soaking his cock and the curls at the base of it. Nothing has ever felt better, your mind and body succumbing to sheer pleasure; being pulled right under. He pulls out just in time, ropes of his own cum spurting out over his stomach and chest.

You both breathe heavily, the sounds of each inhale and exhale the only thing filling the space around you. You shakily climb off of Eddie, sitting beside him on the bed. He reaches over, pulling tissues from the box on the bedside table. He cleans you up before he cleans himself, gingerly wiping between your thighs. He kisses you in the midst of it, lips pressed to yours as one hand grips your face.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Sunny,” he whispers. “My fucking dream girl.”

You giggle, unable to hide how smitten you are. “Such a sap, Eds,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and then some,” you say after pulling away, enjoying the way his cheeks flush pink. “In case I haven’t said it enough this week, I’m so fucking happy you’re home.”

“I’m never going anywhere ever again. It’s me and you forever, sweetheart,” he promises, laying back down and pulling you to join him.

Chest to chest, you tilt your chin up to look at him. Your noses are nearly touching, his arms wrapped around your middle; keeping you close and keeping you safe.

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you even more.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #i’ll be home for christmas

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loveshotzz · 11 months

Text

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Tongue Tied

summary: A Halloween party, Brenda, and teaching Steve that shotgunning isn’t just a trick guys use to kiss girls.

wc: 2.9k

warnings: My blog is 18+ fem!reader, slight jealousy, and a little insecurity if you squint, fluff, weed smoking and mentions of drinking.

<- 🎃 chapter one | mini series masterlist

Tina’s ‘witches brew’ was maybe just as bad as the music she picked, but Steve Harrington was staring at you from across the crowded room.

You’d only ever seen Top Gun once, and in all honesty you didn’t even need to watch it to know that he looked better than Tom Cruise. The brown leather of his bomber jacket fits snug across his broad shoulders, and tappers tight around his waist. It’s half way zipped up, revealing the white shirt underneath and the aviators that he’d walked in wearing dangling from the collar. The weight of them pulls the fabric down enough to catch a glimpse of the dark hair that covers his chest, and your throat dries up at the thought of him shirtless. His Levi’s are light washed and well worn, a soft outline of where he usually keeps his wallet dangerously close to where your gaze wants to linger. The black combat boots he wears somehow make his feet look even bigger, your thighs press together under your dress.

His eyes roam the length of your body the way you hoped they would when you decided to dress up as The Mistress of the Dark herself. Your plunging neckline begs for his hungry gaze, and you push up your chest to encourage it. A thick black belt hugs tight around your waist, accentuating your curves in a way that has you feeling more confident than normal. Especially when you catch the way he bites his bottom lip in a smirk, darkened eyes lingering on the fake dagger resting against the softness of your tummy. Wiggling your long black nails at him, you can’t help but relish in the fact that a simple wave makes the former king of Hawkins cheeks flush the same shade of red as your lips.

It had been four days since that night with Steve. A whole 96 hours and the boy across the room from you has occupied your thoughts for every minute of every single one. It was becoming a real problem, but yet here you were at a Halloween party you’d already said no to because you knew he would be here.

Robin’s very obviously telling a story next to him, her hands moving wildly as she gets more worked up with whatever is happening in it. She’s too focused on the way Nancy’s giggling in front of her to notice that her best friend isn’t listening, the full weight of his attention making your insides warm.

Is this what it’s like to be one of those girls?

Steve chugs the rest of his beer, throat bobbing with every large gulp before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. He holds your gaze even when you see him say something to Robin who waves him off, lost in the oldest Wheeler’s big blue eyes, and the first few steps in your direction is enough to send your heart into overdrive.

You almost lose sight of him when he starts to cross the makeshift dance floor in the living room, his wild auburn hair the only thing staying in your line of vision. It’s a mess of dancing bodies, and orange and black balloons already starting to lose their luster falling from the ceiling.

His eyes meet yours in the crowd and you feel the heels you can hardly walk in start to carry you closer, stepping over the empty cups and streamers that litter the floor. His smile widens, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when you feel your cheeks push up doing the same.

It’s when Steve finally makes it to the edge of the crowd, stopping just a few more steps away from you when it happens. When she happens.

Brenda.

She’s dressed as Madonna, her perfect blond hair teased just right, giving it more volume than Steve’s even on his best day. Black fishnets cover her toned legs, with a matching tutu that leaves little to the imagination stopping just above the curve of her ass.

The corset she wears gives her breasts the kind of push that you know is the reason for Steve’s blush when she steps in front of him. Perfectly manicured pink nails dragging up his chest before her palm flattens just underneath where his sunglasses hang.

His eyes flicker between the two of you, a nervous laugh leaving his mouth at whatever she’s saying. He scratches the back of his neck when he responds, and it makes her throw her head back in flirty giggles before her fingers start playing with his jacket zipper.

The sting of rejection is harsher than you thought it’d be, and you hope he can’t see the way it wipes the smile clean off your face. Girls like Brenda always seemed to be the boy’s kryptonite. The urge to find your best friend is what keeps your feet moving, almost like that was your plan all along. The joint you stashed away earlier in his jacket pocket calls your name, and you don’t look at Steve as you walk past the two of them, even when you see his hand reach out for your wrist.

It’s just Steve anyway.

You keep telling yourself that, hoping that it will ease the slight lump in your throat. An anger bubbling just under the surface turning the heat in your stomach into something more like lava, a volcano bubbling, just ready to explode as you try to convince yourself that you don’t have a crush.

When you find Eddie in the next room, his tongue deep in his girlfriend Cece’s mouth on the couch, and you can’t hide the bitterness that drips from your tone.

“Make sure to get some oxygen so you don’t pass out, Jesus Christ.”

Your rude interruption makes them both pull apart with a loud smack, the fake blood he’d sloppily smeared down the corners of his mouth almost gone leaving a pink stain on his pale skin instead.

“What’s your deal? Can’t you see I’m a little busy.” Eddie’s gaze narrows into an annoyed glare, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing the same thing to Harrington.”

“That’s not why I came,” you snort, crossing your arms and it makes him raise his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Bullshit.”

The two of you stare each other down, unwavering, it’s only when his eyes flick towards the dance floor that he sees the cause of your sour mood. The hard lines on his forehead soften before he rubs a ringed hand over his face with an exasperated groan. Cece wraps her arms around his waist tighter, hearts taking over her pupils when she gets a front row seat of her boyfriend being your best friend.

“Here,” he sighs under his breath, pulling open his jacket to pluck out the perfectly rolled joint inside his hidden pocket. He holds it out to you in a peace offering.

“Thanks,” you mumble as you take it, giving him a weak smile before tucking the cone in your belt next to your lighter, “Go back to sucking each other's faces off, sorry to interrupt.”

Your joke makes her giggle, and Eddie grin in the kind of way that's contagious.

“He’s an idiot,” the metal head tries to comfort, “Honestly, he’ll tell you himself.”

“I’m fine.” You keep your expression as unreadable as possible, but you know it's futile to try and hide from him, “It’s just Steve.”

It’s colder outside than when you first got here, and you don’t have nearly enough alcohol in your system to keep you warm. Goosebumps rise on the inappropriate amount of skin you have showing for the season, making you wish you’d grabbed your jacket. The breeze rustles the leaves that refuse to let go or their brittle branches, mixing with the muffled bass of the music inside, while your heels make a hollow thump against the wood of Tina’s back porch.

Pulling out the joint and your lighter from your belt, you take a seat on the top of the stairs that lead to her backyard. There’s a shiver that runs down your spine as your thumb flicks the wheel that brings the flame to life, a temporary heat warming your face as you spin the fat end over the fire to burn it evenly. The earthy smell hits your nose, shoulders already relaxing before you take the first toke. Bringing it to your lips, you tuck your lighter back inside your belt, leaning back on your palm to look at the clear night sky above you as you inhale your first drag into your lungs.

It’s just Steve.

When you exhale, your eyes stay trained on the white wisps of smoke that shades the twinkling of the stars behind it and you try not to think of Brenda’s pink nails running through his hair. Your next hit is much bigger. The music from inside gets louder, making you jump when you hear the sliding glass door open. Straightening up, you turn around with a glare ready for whoever the intruder is, only to be face to face with the boy you’re trying to convince yourself you don’t like.

“Hey, there you are.” His smile is easy, and you hate that it warms you like the sun just from looking at it.

You raise your eyebrows in acknowledgment, hollowing out your cheeks taking another drag before bringing your gaze back to the sky. His boots sound heavier than your heels against the wood, some steps making the deck creak under his weight. The silence is thick with words on the tips of both your tongues, but neither one of you is willing to break it first. He sighs awkwardly out of his nose, rubbing his palms against his thighs before taking the seat next to you. Your knees knock together, and the heat of him so close sends another shiver down to your bones.

“Jesus, you have to be cold. It’s like 40 degrees outside.” Steve doesn’t hesitate to start shrugging off his jacket, and you clock the movements from the corner of your eye.

“Steve, no, really I’m fine,” you try to protest but he doesn’t listen, thick tan arms coming into view.

“Please, I can hear your teeth from here,” he chuckles, standing up to drape the leather over your shoulders, and you try not to stare at the way the hem of his shirt rises up revealing a dark happy trail.

It feels like he’s everywhere when your shoulders slot into the warm pockets where he just was, wrapped up in him just like on your couch. The spice of his cologne clings to the fabric on the inside, and you have to fight back the urge to bury your nose into the collar and inhale.

“Well aren’t you gonna be cold now?” You ask, finally daring to meet his eyes, taking another hit.

“Nah, I’ll be alright.” He winks with the kind of confidence that makes your face hot, clasping his hands together over his spread knees making your shoulders bump.

“So, Top Gun huh?” Giggling, you finally earn a Steve Harrington eyeroll.

“Look, I didn’t have to buy anything okay. I wasn’t even going to come tonight, until I heard,” he stops himself, pink dusting his cheeks and you don’t think it's from the frost in the air, “I’m surprised you’ve even seen it, doesn’t seem like your type of movie.”

“What’s my type of movie, Steve?” You grin with a cocked brow, letting the end of the joint rest against your bottom lip, the heat from before blooming deep in your gut when he tracks the movement licking his.

“I don’t know,” his heavy gaze makes your throat bob, “You tell me.”

You don’t think you’re talking about movies anymore.

“Isn’t Brenda going to be looking for you?” You tear your eyes away from him, taking another hit to seem nonchalant. The loud snort you get in response makes you jump.

“Brenda? No, I’ve been dodging that girl for months.” Running a hand through his hair, he dares to snatch the joint from between your fingers like he was some kind of professional or something. “Is that why you ran off on me in there?”

“I did not run off!” You huff, ducking your head inside his jacket to glare at him from over the top of it, “Why would I do that?”

Vulnerability softens Steve’s features when he looks at you tucked into his coat like it’s always meant to keep you warm.

“I don’t know,” he repeats quietly, “You tell me.”

Too scared of rejection, it’s his turn to look away bringing the joint to his mouth in an attempt to take a hit. You watch him hollow his cheeks, impressed for a second until he opens it to exhale and blows nothing out. A giggle slips past your lips that breaks the tension, making him groan loudly trying to fight his own smile.

“Look, I’m still new at this okay.” He sighs, a breathy laugh escaping him with a shake of his head handing it back to you. He’s only a little embarrassed, too enamored by how cute you look giggling at him.

“Hey, the confidence was there, you just gotta work on the technique.” You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, something sweet dancing behind your eyes when you scoot a little closer. “Do you want me to shotgun it for you?”

It’s Steve’s throat that bobs now.

“Aren’t guys supposed to do that to girls? I mean, I’ve seen Eddie do it at a few parties…” he starts, eyes going wide when you scoff at him.

“Wow, your feminism is showing.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, it’s just like in movies - I’m not saying girls can’t - wow this is not coming out the way I want it too, I’m just going to shut up now.” Steve stammers, running another nervous hand through his hair, blowing out an exasperated breath before meeting you

with sheepish eyes.

“Are you driving tonight?” You ask, looking up at him from under your lashes, bringing the joint to your mouth.

“No, for once.” He gives you a lopsided grin that makes your head spin.

“Good.” Turning your body towards him, the confidence you’re trying to hang onto wavers being this close again.

It’s just Steve.

He looks nervous as you feel, but tries to hide behind a quiet laugh, the amber of the beer he drank inside lingering on his breath. The warmth of his palm finds a home on your fishnet covered thigh that’s revealed to him by the side slit of your dress, fingertips pressing into soft skin. The heat behind his stare makes your body buzz as you inhale the last little bit of the joint into your lungs, beckoning him closer with a hum, and a curl of your long nails you snuff the rest out on the stairs. Surely Tina won’t mind.

“Really?!” Steve half whispers, half yells but the whites of his teeth show giving him away.

The corners of your mouth twitch as you lean forward catching the way his gaze flicks down, and how the view makes the gold specs inside his eyes darken. Resting your hand on his cheek, the stubble tickles your palm when your fingers spread out, your thumb coaxing his chin down to open up more for you. His long lashes flutter when his nose bumps with yours, heads turning just enough for lips to brush for a second and you feel the blunt ends of his nails dig into the holes of your fishnets.

You release your hit, feeling him steal the air from your lungs, his hand daring to move up your thigh to your waist where he tugs you even closer. He holds it in for a second, both of your eyes meeting down the bridge of your nose but neither of you pulling away.

Do it.

When he exhales there’s hardly anything left, but you take it anyway, your fingers finding their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. He squeezes at the dough of your hips, in a silent plea to put him out of his misery and just when you think you’re about to show him mercy the sound of the music getting louder and the sliding glass door opening makes you both jump away.

“Hey! - Oh shit! Sorry Harrington, I didn’t know you were out here.” Eddie tries to apologize profusely with his eyes when he sees the glare you’re shooting him. “I just sold the last of my stuff and Cece’s ready to go, so if you still need a ride?”

Your best friend looks at Steve begging him to take the opening to hopefully spare his life.

“I didn’t drive tonight if you can actually believe,” Steve laughs nervously scratching the back of his neck, “or obviously I’d love nothing more for you to stay.”

He says the last part softly, just for you more than pleased when he sees you try and fight the smile from taking over your face.

“Maybe next time,” you look at him from under your lashes hoping that he picks up the fact that you want a ‘next time.’

The blush that turns the tips of his ears pink tells you he does. He watches you get up and start to shrug his jacket off, shaking his head as he stands up to stop you.

“Keep it tonight, honey. It looks better on you anyway.”

-> chapter three

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington series

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songforeddiemunson · 1 year

Note

Can you please do a Eddie X virgin reader where there has always been romance and they never acted on it until they confess when there watching a film and then a couple weeks after they make out then have soft sex

Thank you so much for the request!! I made some minor adjustments because that's just the route the narrative took me, but I hope you like it! I'm SO sorry this took so long, it's been a nutty few weeks.

NEXT SUMMER

Eddie Munson x Fem!Virgin!Reader (description vague apart from AFAB for inclusivity)

Summary: Eddie meets a cousin of the Wheelers who is visiting for the summer, and falls head over heels. The problem is, she lives in Chicago, and needs to return in the fall. Can they handle it?

Warnings/Tropes: longing with a bit of angst, fluffy affection, romantic soft smut, mild language, aftercare, mostly this is just really sweet.

Word Count: 5517

August 1990

You first caught Eddie’s eye on a late summer evening, standing under the twinkling lights of carnival rides at the county fair. It was the sort of cotton candy sky just moments before the sun dipped below the horizon, signaling the end of another august day. The droning cicadas were rapidly giving way to the cricket’s song, but all of those innocuous details faded away as Eddie watched you as you waited in line for the Scrambler, talking and laughing with your companion.

Eddie’s heart nearly leapt in his throat when he saw that the person you were speaking with was someone he actually knew. Nancy Wheeler! his brain screamed, and before he realized what he was doing, his feet were carrying him forward as if he was on autopilot, such was your magnetism.

Nancy caught sight of Eddie as he approached, and her face broke out into a broad grin. “Eddie!” she exclaimed with delight. “It’s so great to see you!” She hugged him as you stood by, a polite smile gracing your lips.

“Likewise, Wheeler,” Eddie replied fondly, and when his eyes slipped to you, your heart nearly ceased its rhythm. The breath was stolen from your lungs, and all you could do was stare wordlessly at the handsome man who evidently was a friend to Nancy.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was experiencing the same physical paralysis under your gaze.

“Eddie! You have to meet my little cousin! She goes by Ivy, but her name is–”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, cutting Nancy off. Blood rushed to your cheeks in mortification. “I am not little, I’m twenty years old now!’

Nancy giggled fondly. “Well sure, but you’ll always be little to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m only two years younger than you, but whatever.”

Eddie laughed, and your cheeks pinkened even more. “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie,” you said. You struggled to meet his eyes; it was like staring at the sun.

“It’s good to meet you too Ivy, if– if you don’t mind me calling you that.”

You smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Please do.”

And so you spent the rest of the evening with Eddie and Nancy, keeping things oh so casual but feeling like you might die every time he looked at you. You remained aloof because, after all, you didn’t even live in Hawkins, and eventually you’d have to return home to the city.

When Eddie first learned that you would be returning to Chicago at the end of the summer, he was crestfallen but struggled to mask it.

“I’m sure Chicago is really cool,” he said with forced bravado. “Way cooler than boring old Hawkins.”

“Oh but I love coming here,” you breathed enthusiastically. “Chicago is cool and all, but this is so nice. I love smelling the mown grass, and being able to go to the drive-in movie theater, and all that great summertime stuff.” You gestured around you. “And the county fair! I love coming to the fair.”

Eddie smiled despite his growing sadness. “You make it sound pretty nice. But really it’s just cornfields…”

“...I love corn,” you countered.

“And strip malls…”

“.....strip malls always have video stores, and I love movies.” you said with a grin.

Nancy returned from buying a candy apple.

You pointed at her. “Candy apples! I can’t buy candy apples in Chicago.”

“Hmm?” she replied, confused, chewing. “I’m sure you can buy candle apples in Chicag–”

“Not from the fair though,” you interrupted. “They’re better from the fair.”

“Point taken,” Eddie said with a chuckle, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“I do still want to jump in a creek though,” you said wistfully.

“Gross, no. There are leeches,” Nancy said.

“Not in creeks,” Eddie laughed. “Ponds, maybe. But creeks are fine.”

And so the evening wound down. You and Eddie went back and forth over the virtues of city vs country living, but Eddie had to admit, you did have a way of making Hawkins sound pretty great. When it was time to part ways, Eddie desperately wanted to kiss you, so much that his lips nearly burned from the need, but he refrained. What would a girl like you ever see in a guy like him?

Two days later, on a late Sunday morning, where the summer sun shone relentlessly through a bluebird sky, Eddie picked up the phone and dialed the Wheeler’s number with a shaking hand.

Mike answered, sounding like he just woke up.

“Mehllo?” he mumbled by way of answer.

“Mike! It’s Eddie.”

“Munson?!” that seemed to wake him up. “Dude! It’s been forever!”

“Yeah man! How are you doing?”

“Oh things are good, I’m going off to college next month, and–”

“Is your cousin around? Ivy?” Eddie blurted anxiously, covering his face in embarrassment over the way he must have sounded. “Sorry man, it’s just that I need to ask her something. I would love to catch up with you though! Before you head to school; we should get together.”

“Yeah definitely,” Mike responded, unbothered. "We’ll catch up. I’ll go get Ivy….”

Eddie heard the handset thump against whatever surface Mike set it upon, and heard him call your name. He faintly heard your voice respond, which made Eddie’s already hammering heart pick up its pace. More fumbling noises ended with a slightly breathless, “Hello? Eddie?”

“Hi Ivy,” he replied, and you thought maybe you could hear a smile in his voice. “Wanna go jump in a creek?”

Your summertime in Hawkins was coming to a close; in only a few days’ time you were due to return to Chicago and university. As the final days ticked away, a ball of sadness gradually grew in the pit of your stomach. It was the best summer ever, and you were sorry to see its end.

Since the night you met him at the fair, Eddie had taken you cliff jumping into the Bear Creek, something that simultaneously terrified and thrilled you, leaving you more exhilarated than you have felt in a long while. But when you weren’t jumping, you simply floated in the water, watching the dappled sun dance across its surface, loving life.

Eddie also took you to the drive-in theater. It wasn’t a date, since he didn’t technically ask you out like that, and Nancy and Mike also insisted on tagging along. You lined camping chairs up in front of the van and rolled down the windows with the sound up loud so you could all sit together. It was a lovely, balmy night of watching Total Recall, and you ate too many skittles while swatting mosquitoes. It was perfect.

And now summer was ending and it was time to go, and you couldn’t possibly want to return to Chicago less. Why did you have to meet Eddie now?

You sighed as you packed up your things, folding clothes and setting them in your suitcase slowly, unmotivated. Nancy perched on the side of your bed, watching.

“You seem really bummed out,” Nancy remarked.

“I guess I’m not looking forward to going home. I wish I could stay a bit longer.” you replied, not bothering to hide your low mood.

“Would this have anything to do with a certain long-haired boy that lives on the other side of town?” Nancy prodded. It’s not like you were hiding anything.

“That obvious? And he’s twenty-four, he’s not a boy.”

Nancy nodded, with a giggle. “Fair enough.”

“And…maybe. I don’t know. It’s not like he’s kissed me or asked me out properly....” You stalled your packing, and you folded and unfolded the same sweater over and over while you let your thoughts wander.

“But you want him to?” Nancy prodded gently after a moment.

You sighed. “Yeah, I do. It’s kind of all I can think about actually,” you added with a wistful chuckle. “But what’s the point when I live all the way in Chicago the other nine months of the year?” You flopped down dramatically on the bed with a huff.

“Maybe you can talk on the phone and stuff throughout the year, and pick up where you left off next summer?”

“Long distance?” You allowed a glimmer of hope to creep in. “Do you think that could work?”

Nancy shrugged. “I did it with Jonathan when he moved to California. It’s not easy, but it can work.”

You hitched a deep sigh. “What if he doesn’t want to?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Nancy replied.

The sky was overcast as you loaded the last of your bags into the back of the Wheeler’s car, matching your mood. You hugged Mike and Karen goodbye; Ted and Nancy were going to ride with you to the train station. You scanned the empty suburban streets for Eddie, but he was nowhere to be seen, causing your heart to sink even lower.

Just as you were about to climb into the backseat, you heard a sound that pulled your attention toward the woods at the edge of the neighborhood. There was some rustling and you saw that the flora was jostling about. What the–

Eddie suddenly materialized from the trees, calling, “Wait!” as he trotted over toward you. Your heart reversed its previous downward trajectory with haste, and happiness soared through you so abruptly and completely that you thought you might fall over.

“I cut through the woods,” Eddie stated breathlessly. “I was afraid I wouldn’t make it.”

“Just in time,” you grinned.

Ted poked his head out of the car’s driver window. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get going.”

“Oh– Okay, I won’t take long,” Eddie stammered slightly. “I just wanted to say good bye and ask you…is it okay if I call you?”

You struggled to contain your delight at the suggestion. “Yes Eddie, I would really love that.” You pulled a small notepad from your purse, jotted your number down, and tore the scrap of paper out before handing it over. “Don’t lose this.”

Eddie had the fleeting thought that he would have your digits tattooed on his flesh to ensure their permanence. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Ted honked the horn, even though you were all standing right there.

“Okay, well I have to go. Call me tomorrow?”

Eddie nodded, his throat suddenly gone dry. “I will.”

As you sat down and closed the car door behind you, Ted wasted no time pulling away. You twisted around in the seat to watch Eddie grow smaller as the distance increased. He raised a hand and waved shortly before you went around a bend, causing you to lose sight of him.

The temporary high of seeing Eddie was quickly supplanted by sadness. It was going to be a very long wait for next summer.

June 1991

Once you were clear of the train platform, your rolling suitcase and duffle bag appropriately situated, you bolted through the crowd as quickly as possible.

Nine long months you waited. Nine months of speaking on the phone for hours nearly every night, talking about everything, watching movies together, helping Eddie write his next D&D campaign, discussing books. You shared hopes, dreams, wishes, and desires. Nine months of longing. Nine months of imagining his lips on yours, his fingers gripping the meat of your thighs, picturing him doing things to you that you’d never done with anyone before. You were tired of waiting.

You never officially declared yourselves to each other, still hadn’t even kissed, so you couldn’t be completely sure that he felt the same way. But you had a pretty good idea; after all, would a guy spend that much time on the phone with you if he didn’t feel some kind of way? He said he was going to pick you up at the train station after all, so that had to count for something.

You were determined. Eddie would not slip through your fingers; this summer was going to change everything.

And there he was. As you entered the terminal with the other passengers, you spotted him immediately. He was leaning up against the wall, torn tight jeans and black band tee, long chestnut curls cascading around his shoulders. He was beautiful.

The way his face lit up when he spotted you could probably heal the world, if you could find a way to harness it.

You let your bags drop to the ground as you ran to him, and he opened his arms to you as you collided with him, slamming him back against the wall. His arms slid up around your back and gripped you tightly, his breath fanned across one ear, setting all your senses alight, and you simply resided in his embrace and felt the object of your affection absolutely envelop you. Oh how you had waited for this.

You pulled away just enough to look at his face. He was undeniably very happy, eyes bright, smiling broadly, his dimple making itself known.

“Hey you,” he said.

“Hi you,” you replied.

“I’ve missed you,” he said softly.

“I've been counting the minutes,” you said. You thought maybe you were going to cry.

“Try seconds,” he whispered, opening his eyes wide as if he was revealing a scandalous secret.

The rest of the bustling train station faded away. The voices and echoes were reduced to a muffled din, and all the people who hastened past you became less corporeal. As your eyes roamed his face, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

He blinked and pulled away, and as soon as it started, the spell was broken.

He hastened over to your bags and grabbed hold of them, slinging your duffel over his shoulder and taking your rollbag in one hand. “Let’s go,” he said with a look over his shoulder, his hair bouncing as he hurried through the terminal with you in tow. He slowed as he approached the doors to outside. “Uh, I’ll take you to the Wheeler’s to settle in, but I wondered…” He paused, his expression belying his own lack of confidence. He looked almost shy. “I got an apartment about a month back, finally…a space of my own,” he continued. “I wondered if maybe you wanted to watch a movie later?”

“Eddie!” you breathed, excited. “That’s so great! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said with a small shrug. “No pressure, if you don’t want to. I just wanted to put it out there, no strings attached.”

“I would love to,” you beamed.

“Do you want to know what movie I picked out?” Eddie asked.

“I really don’t care,” you replied, and you laughed together as you walked to the parking lot.

You waited anxiously for Eddie’s arrival later that evening.

“It’s a daaaate!” Mike sang as if he was still fourteen and not a freshman in college. Nancy slapped him on the arm.

“Don’t tease,” she admonished, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

“It is not a date!” you countered as you checked your reflection for the thousandth time. “Doesn’t someone have to say it’s a date for it to actually be a date?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Some things are just sort of….assumed.”

You and Nancy glared at him in tandem. “Uh, no thank you. Nobody should make assumptions about anything like that,” Nancy scolded.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah I mean, what if he just thinks I’m a great friend, and I go and spoil everything going in there thinking this is a date?”

Mike gestured toward you as you touched up your lip gloss. “Says the chick who has been fussing over her appearance obsessively for the last 45 minutes.”

“I’m just being prepared,” you said.

“For what?” Nancy said with a chuckle.

“Just in case it is a date. I never said I didn’t want it to be.”

Nancy laughed as Mike groaned in exasperation. Fortunately, you were saved from further discussion by the doorbell. You ran from the room before anyone could stop you, grabbing your shoulder bag on the way.

You opened the door and revealed a slightly nervous looking Eddie, and he nearly stole your breath away.

Eddie was resplendent in a blue and black plaid button-up shirt with his black jeans and black converse sneakers. He had clearly made an effort to tame his hair, and his waves were soft and tidy. His breath caught when he saw you.

“H– hi,” he said with a grin.

“Hi yourself,” you said. You chanced a look over your shoulder, fearful of an audience. “Okay let’s go before Mike and Nancy get weird and interrogate us,” you said, grabbing Eddie by the hand and making him laugh while shutting the door behind you. Eddie held his van door open for you before walking around the other side and starting up the engine. Was that aftershave he was wearing?

Butterflies exploded in your chest. Oh my god, this is a date, you thought to yourself elatedly.

Eddie’s place was nice, simple, and clean. He didn’t have much in the way of furniture or decor yet, but he had the basics, and it was all his.

You were halfway through Goodfellas– which was really good– and sipping on bud light bottles on opposite ends of the couch. You were sitting with your legs curled underneath you, your left foot sticking out along the couch cushion. Eddie reached over and gently laid a hand on your ankle, pulling your attention away from the film.

“I’m gonna grab another beer. You want anything?”

“Sure, you want me to pause it?”

“Nah, I’ve seen this twice already,” he said as he headed to the kitchen.

“Eddie!” you said, smiling. “Why didn’t you rent something you’ve never seen?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he called. “I love this movie.”

You picked up the remote and paused the film anyway.

“But it just came out on VHS!” you said, laughing. "How have you seen it multiple times already?"

He returned with two freshly opened beers and handed one to you. He sat down again, a little closer this time.

“What– you don’t watch movies over and over again every chance you get? Is that…like….not normal or something?” He smirked at his own sarcasm.

“Not that quickly I’m afraid,” you said, and he laughed out loud.

“I guess I’m a bit of a fixator,” he said. “I fixate on things.”

“I suppose we all have things we fixate on,” you said.

“What do you fixate on?” He asked. He was leaning slightly in your direction. It made your heart speed up a little bit.

“Well lately,” you said, drawing out your syllables and pretending to think really hard about it. “Lately it’s been this guy.”

“Oooh,” Eddie said. “Tell me more.”

“Well, he looks a little rough around the edges, but it turns out that he’s the sweetest.”

“He is?” Eddie played along.

“Oh yes. And he has the biggest, most soulful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. It’s like he’s always seeing the world in new and interesting ways. And don’t get me started on his lips…”

“What about his lips?” Eddie asked.

“They’re so full and plump, like fruit, and I want to nibble on them.”

Eddie huffed a small laugh. “You want to nibble on his lips?”

“Among other things,” you said, a little breathily.

As your eyes flicked down to his lips, he licked them unconsciously, and you knew everything was about to change.

Eddie leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and he raised his right hand to cup the back of your head, pulling you forward. You felt his breath fan across your cheek as he rubbed his nose against yours.

“What other things did you have in mind?” he murmured.

“I want him,” you said simply. “But I don’t know how he feels.”

“Hmm,” Eddie cooed. “I think it’s safe to say he wants you too.”

“He does?”

“Oh yes,” he breathed, and then he kissed you.

Your breathing hitched– it was finally happening.

You enjoyed the simple feeling of his beautiful lips against yours for a moment before you parted your lips to deepen the kiss. You slotted his bottom lip between your teeth and applied gentle pressure. Eddie’s quiet gasp did things to you.

You chuckled, and rose up on your knees before pressing your body firmly against his, the movie now forgotten.

Eddie broke away, beaming. “I thought you probably felt the same way, but I wasn’t sure, and I was afraid to make a move and fuck it all up–”

“Shut up and keep kissing me,” you said.

He did as he was told. He also dialed up the passion, and you kissed each other hungrily, pouring nine months of longing into your efforts. Your tongues danced together, your hands roamed the expanse of his back, and you slid one hand up and under his shirt to feel his flesh.

Eddie gasped at your touch, and pulled away. His pupils were blown wide from the excitement, and you imagined that yours might look the same. He cupped the side of your face in his hands, boring his eyes into yours.

“Are we together? Are you mine?” he asked, and your heart broke and soared with equal measure at the sheer sweet earnestness of him.

“Yes, Eddie,” was all you could muster before he was kissing you again. He tipped you back and gently laid you down across the sofa, allowing his hand to travel up the length of your torso, keeping things chaste, but only barely.

You laid together and kissed deeply for a time, until you decided you’d had enough.

“Eddie,” you said. “T– take me to bed.”

“Are you sure? That’s really what you want?”

You nodded, but you couldn’t hide your nerves, and he gently pinched your chin to tilt your head up. “You seem anxious,” he said softly.

“Well, I – I haven’t actually done it before.”

Eddie’s eyes widened slightly.

“I’ve done some stuff, a little hand stuff mostly, but never, uh– it. Sex. I’ve never had sex.”

Eddie smiled affectionately at your display of nerves. “Relax, babe. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to do.”

“But I am ready,” you said, more assuredly. “I really want to do this with you. I want you to be my first.”

Eddie searched your face for any further signs of nervousness or unease, but all he saw in your eyes now was conviction and honestly. You reached up a hand and laid it on his cheek.

“Nine months I’ve waited for this. I knew a long time ago that you were the one, Eddie. I’ve waited long enough.’

Eddie nodded. “Okay,” he said softly.

He moved to stand and gently scooped you up in his arms, making you giggle, and he carried you over to the bedroom. He kicked the door open with his foot, making you laugh some more, and laid you on his bed, which was clean if unmade. He leaned down and braced himself on either side of your body to kiss you.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me,” he said between kisses, and then stood back up to pull his shirt over his head. He did it in one fluid motion, letting his soft curls dance across his shoulders and back, and he was a sight to behold. You’d seen him with no shirt on last summer when he took you swimming, but somehow this was different.

“May I?” he asked, and paused with his fingers above the fly of your denim shorts. You nodded, and let Eddie loosen the buttons before pulling your shorts down along your legs and tossing them aside.

You smiled up at him as he loosened his own jeans and pushed them down before stepping out of them, leaving him clad in nothing but his boxers. He returned to the bed and laid next to you, gently trailing one palm up your body and pushing up your shirt, resting it at the bottom of your ribcage just below the underwire of your bra. Eddie resumed kissing you; it was something you were quite sure you would never tire of. He was amazing.

After a beat he pulled away to look down at you. “I need to get you ready,” he said softly. “I don’t want it to hurt.”

“Okay Eddie,” you replied. He pulled your shirt over your head gently, and then moved one hand to your back to unclasp your bra.

“You seem to have some experience with this,” you said, feeling a stab of self-consciousness.

Eddie paused. “A little. I’m not a virgin, but I’m hardly a Casanova or anything…”

“It’s okay, I don’t need to know.” you looked away.

Eddie was not pleased with the loss of eye-contact, and he could sense your discomfort.

“Hey,” he said softly, turning your face to his. “It’s only been a couple different girls. I really haven’t had much action for a guy my age, trust me. And nothing serious, ever.” He kissed your forehead. “You’re special. I want this– I want it to be special.”

You relaxed and smiled. “Honestly, I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Completely.”

“Okay then.”

He pulled your loosened bra off, leaving you in only your knickers. “If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

Your answering smile was cut short as he bent and placed a kiss on your nipple. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, before he sucked the little bud between his lips, setting all your senses alight.

“Oh–that feels nice.” you sighed.

As Eddie suckled you, he slowly trailed his hand down the length of your torso, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He paused at the elastic of your underwear, slipping one finger just under the thin white band, but continued no further.

“You can– ah– you can touch me Eddie,” you managed between gasps.

With no further preamble, he slowly slid his hand into the delicate cotton, and his fingers found your heat. He removed his mouth from your nipple, leaving it feeling cool and bereft, before kissing you lasciviously as he slowly pushed a finger inside of you. You gasped, but as quickly as he had entered, he was gone again. He dipped in smoothly a second time, but then turned his attention to your clit, applying gentle pressure and circling it with his moistened finger.

You arched your back and moaned at the sensation. Your senses were heightened, your heart was racing, and you couldn’t believe that you were here, with Eddie, after all this time. You were delighted; you’d waited so long for this, and you were going to enjoy it.

Eddie slowly picked up the pace and pressure of his ministrations. You felt as if all the blood in your body was rushing to the space between your legs, and your body began to tremble. It felt good– damn good. You could hear the wet sounds of your arousal as his fingers picked up speed, and then, without warning, he slid one back inside of you. You moaned as he pumped you with one finger, sliding out, stroking the sensitive button of nerves, pushing back in. You were teetering on the edge of climax when, suddenly, he stopped.

“Wha–” you said blearily, as Eddie padded over to his nightstand.

“I’m just grabbing a rubber babe,” Eddie smiled, as he pulled open the drawer and held up a foil square.

“Ah, right.”

“Just want to be careful, ya know?”

“Of course.”

Eddie paused to look at you, his face painted with adoration and concern. “You sure you’re still okay with this?”

You nodded emphatically. “Yeah, yes.”

Eddie looked angelic. Flushed with desire, his hair slightly mussed, lips reddened from kissing, his boxers tented by his arousal. He walked around the bed to stand at the end, and he gently pulled your underwear off, leaving you fully exposed for the first time. You had to fight to resist the urge to curl into yourself protectively. You weren’t the only naked one for long, however, as Eddie pushed his boxers down, and you were able to see all of him for the first time.

He was beautiful. He was perfect.

He deftly rolled the rubber along his length before he laid down next to you, and let his fingers return to your heat. He leaned down and kissed your neck while he worked you open, this time with two fingers. He slid them inside as he kissed your lips and licked into your mouth, and then he gently climbed on top, allowing you to rest your calves around his hips.

You felt his tip prod your entrance.

“Are you ready?” he breathed into your ear.

“Yes,” you said, and he captured your earlobe with his teeth as he slowly started to push in.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried softly. It felt like white fire had ignited where you were joined and traveled up your body, settling behind your eyes, and a kaleidoscope of sparks clouded your vision. You squeezed your eyes shut and ground your teeth together as you moaned through the sensation. It hurt, but it was a sort of pain you’d never felt before.

“God, babe,” Eddie gasped as another shallow, gentle thrust pulled him deeper. “This okay?”

It wasn’t okay exactly, it stung like hell, but it was okay because this was Eddie, and there was nobody else on the planet you were willing to experience this with.

“Uhhuh, yeah,” you panted. “I’m okay.”

Eddie sat back on his heels and grasped your thighs with his hands, pulling you flush against him and seating himself fully inside of you. His eyes met yours and he smiled at you adoringly as he began to move.

You moaned in sweet agony as each thrust ignited new fires within you, but before you realized what was happening, the pain began to give way to intense pleasure. Your gasps of pain grew to cries of ecstasy, and Eddie could feel you yield to him, could feel the resistance temper, and he delighted in watching the change come over you. White fire was replaced by pure bliss.

He lifted your legs to rest your ankles on his shoulders, and picked up his pace.

Eddie hugged your legs to his chest as he pumped, every thrust hitting deep, the mingled gasps and cries of your lovemaking growing in volume and timbre. You reached out a hand to touch his chest, but he was too far away. Eddie noticed this, and he released your legs to lean forward, bracing himself with his hands on either side of your shoulders, and he kissed you. It was damn hot, the passion of it all, making out so intensely that your teeth clattered together as he fucked you, all of your senses heightened and electrified.

You scratched at his back as your felt your climax building, causing his own pace to falter. Your cries of delight as you came caused his own orgasm to crash into him suddenly, and you both moaned as you rode it out together.

And then all was still.

You breathed together as you came down from the intense sensations you had just experienced, and you could feel Eddie’s heart beating in its cage, his chest pressed against yours. He could feel yours too.

After a moment, he got up, discarded the used condom, and slipped on his boxers, smiling down at your prone, naked body as he did so. “Was that okay? It didn’t hurt too much?”

You thought for a second. “It did hurt at first, that probably can’t be helped. But after a little while, it felt really good. Was I– was I any good?”

Eddie beamed. “Oh babe. You don’t have to ever worry about that. It was incredible.” He headed to the bathroom, and returned shortly with a damp washcloth. He sat beside you and gently tended to your sore, sensitive area. The cool terrycloth was soothing, and he peppered your face with kisses, making you giggle. He tossed the washcloth aside and laid down with you, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.

“Do you want to stay here with me? You can, if you want,” Eddie murmured into your hair. He sounded sleepy.

“Eddie, I want to be wherever you are,” you replied. You were feeling quite drowsy yourself.

“I don’t want the Wheelers to think I kidnapped you,” he said with a small chuckle.

“They know where I am, and we’re all adults, so I’m staying put.”

Eddie grinned. You had no way of knowing what was happening in his heart, but he wished he could transfer part of his joy to you, so you could feel even a fraction of his elation.

Eddie had no way of knowing that you were feeling exactly the same way. He also had no way of knowing that you were planning to transfer to Indiana State in the fall. In time, you would share your hearts fully with each other, but for the moment, you enjoyed just laying in his arms, and drifting off into blissful slumber.

Together. ♥

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#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #my writing

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wroteclassicaly · 1 year

Text

I Won’t Stand By - Part One

(Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: Steve has always been worth more. And you won’t stand by and watch him get his heart broken again. He needs to know.

Warnings: Language, pining, unrequited (or are they?) feelings, heavy on the angst, happy ending… eventually.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x best-friend!female reader

A/N: After I made this post, I started thinking heavily on Steve, Nancy & Stancy, a little more than usual. And I just feel like I needed to write this and channel some energy into it, as it basically took on a mind of its own (we heavily into Steve, okay? He’s consuming me). It’s going to have one more part to it (which I’ve already outlined). It’s thick on the angst, but it’ll have a happy ending, I think? I tried some different stuff with Steve and his reactions, so I hope y’all like it? Lemme know ❤️💖

“Are you stupid?”

You’d never insinuated, nor had you ever called Steve anything that would suggest he was ignorant, and you had known him since elementary school. You never made him feel like anyone else could, by a joke or an offhand comment, usually a backhanded compliment. But as he sees you standing under the entryway of the Family Video — three lunches in your hand, your neon pink windbreaker covered in rain drops, eyes steady in their focus on him and Robin — he’s never felt more like his IQ is non-existent.

Robin looks briefly confused, tapping her purple painted nails on the cheap wooden counter, unsure where to look. However, her mouth opens before she can stop it. “Hey, what’s going on? Is that a ham croissant I smell?”

You’d laugh if your lungs weren’t full of a scream that you’re sure is about to rip itself free. Your heartbeat is thumping so hard against your ribcage that it’s echoing all around your chest, playing ping pong. Steve opens his mouth to speak, starting to shift his posture enough that he can work himself around the counter to get to you. He can’t stand to see you this upset, especially at him. You don’t let him come within an inch of your trembling form, afraid that you’ll say things you can’t take back, or you’ll vomit your breakfast all over his green vest.

You want to berate yourself for the way he looks struck, physically recoiling as if to console himself. His sneakers stop on the rug you’re standing on, your wet loafers drenched and dripping. Nike and leather. You can’t take how good he smells, the way that it always greets you with a hug, but instead, you walked into his conversation with Robin about his upcoming date with Nancy. He really meant it, he saw her as his future, he never got over her, and now that she’s realized what she lost — she wants him back.

Steve is about to call a code for backup, when you decide to say something, stepping around him, paper bags full of food clenched and wrinkled in your vice. You damn near spit the words, tone laced with acidic venom. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

His chest aches with the bitterness of confusion, a hunger to understand that’s clawing at his throat and attempting to seize his tongue. He’s fumbling for words and that seems to fuel your excitement. Robin, meanwhile, her irises widen, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. It's a simple & soft, “Oh, shit.” As she watches your feelings unfold in real time, understanding.

You throw the sacks onto the counter, Robin barely able to catch them before they can slide off, and you turn back, right as Steve shakes himself clear and attempts to meet you. Your finger jabs into his chest, breath getting caught in your throat. He bites his tongue when he sees your sclera is flooded with unshed tears. You know if you blink that it’ll all be over for you. How can you convey how you’re feeling?

Even if you weren’t ass over elbow for the guy, you still wouldn’t want him back together with Nancy Wheeler. She might be your friend too, but you were there for Steve. You saw everything he had to go through, and even though you didn’t leave his side, he was still dealing with their relationship and monster land — alone, trapped in his head. It wasn’t until he graduated that he was able to let go of each mental blockage that she and the whole situation caused him to put up (enough so), and truly let you in. She didn’t share his goals and Steve deserved better than a relationship that seems like nothing more than pure nostalgia.

Neither of them should settle. They are still vastly different.

Fuck, you really need to scream. Your chest is heavy with it, weighted. You’re sinking, choking on oxygen, your body rejecting it. Panic.

Steve practically begs Robin for help, jaw unhinged and tongue slicking across his lips. He tries to find something to say — anything. You roll your eyes and the tears finally salt your lash line, cooling and burning. “Actually, you know what? Fuck this right now!”

And if customers didn’t just come in, the little bell dinging and electrifying your anxieties — you’d have run right out the front door. But you do the next best thing — your only other option. You dart for the family labeled restroom in the back. Steve doesn’t even have to ask, Robin nodding her head. “Go. I got this.”

~*~

You curse yourself for not locking the door, for Steve’s thoroughly kind behavior (why can’t he just be an asshole and make this easier?). You’re practically bent over the sink, sobbing quietly into the fluorescent expanse, and you hear the door open and close. His cologne invades your senses — all delicate traces of woodsy spice. His freshly laundered clothing, even his minty breath from the spray you know he carries in his back pocket. It’s slow motion when you meet his concerned stare in the mirror.

His large palm clasps over your shoulder, wrist watch catching in the light. He turns you, but you find solace in the tile flooring and your loafer covered toes. His fingertips, ever-so gentle and calloused, filter beneath your chin — tilting. You try to look away but it’s a pointless effort. Steve’s brown is pitched high in an attempt to understand, to relate.

Your torso wants to give in and collapse, legs dead and heavy, stuck to the floor. Your mouth is dry, but your throat is wet with tears. It’s suddenly Tina’s Halloween party all those years ago, and you’re holding Steve as he’s crying, showing himself like you had never seen before. Your nose wrinkles into a scrunch, you reach up to swat his hand away. He catches your wrist with his other, and shakes his head, thumbpad caressing the healing cut on your cheek, even a month later it still remains.

When you went to battle with Vecna and the four of you were attacked by his little tentacle hive minds, you’d gotten the sharp end of one to the face. That very fear settles in his stomach at the memory, sloshing about with the gnawing worry over what’s currently going on with you. He tucks a strand of hair back behind your ear, a line of goosebumps shrouding your arms like invisible sleeves. His voice is so gentle with concern that you choke on an outright whimper.

“Talk to me, honey. What happened? What did I do?”

To a fault, this man is too good for anyone. And that’ll be his ultimate downfall. That’s enough to push on your anger, because you’re already riding the inevitable tidal wave of heartbreak, just waiting for the water to drown you. You don’t try to move his hold on you, you’re more than smart enough to know that he won’t budge if he doesn’t want to. You force yourself to talk to him, voice wavering and weak, and the word puke releases. “That’s the problem, Steve. It’s not what you did, but what you’re going to do to yourself by going back to her.”

“Wait, so you heard me and Robin—“

“I heard you in the RV, I heard you in the fucking upside down, and yes — I just heard about your stupid fucking date.”

He shakes his head, thumb tracing over your healing wound, a brief look of guilt flickering, his voice hoarse and tired. “So that’s why you think I’m stupid then, huh?”

“Do you remember when you cried all night after Tina’s party? When you spent money on flowers for her, or lost your entire friend group? Yeah, they were assholes, but you gave up everything because you thought something was wrong with you, that you needed to change.”

He’s briefly glancing at his own shoe wear, an audible swallow heard from him. How could he forget that night? He couldn’t stomach the word bullshit for months after.

You continue, unable to stop if someone duct taped your mouth shut.

“You dealt with torture, with trauma, with being cheated on. You became a more mature person, but that doesn’t mean you were ever an awful boyfriend, Steve. And now that she and Jonathan have grown apart, now that she’s seen you — it doesn’t make it okay for her to decide that you’re suddenly worth something again.”

He knows you’re right. Fuck, he can feel your statement carve itself into his every internal organ. He can’t disagree, he can’t fight you, because he fought with himself one too many times since Nancy destroyed him. His pride wants to argue, wants to blame himself, defend her, but he also knows you. And he knows you’re not taking shots at Nancy, nor are you trying to hurt him.

You’re surprised at how calmly you’re able to articulate yourself. You keep going. He needs to know.

“We were all kids when everything happened, and I don’t blame her for dealing with her own shit. I’m not excusing how she treated you. But I understand, and I love her. I just know that she doesn’t want the same things you want, Steve. It’s like you’re both trying to fit pieces into a mold that was never meant to work together, past what it was in the first place… So I’m fucking begging you, don’t do this to yourself.”

His hand drops, far too quickly than you’re ready for. His back falls against the door, his tresses dusting his forehead. Your body feels as if it’s been paved into the asphalt, unprepared for what he says next. “Any reasons other than that?”

“Steve—“ Your voice wobbles.

“No, you’ve made yourself clear. Me and Nance? Bad idea — I got that.”

“It’s because —“

“Why? There’s more to it than what you’re telling me, I know there is. Don’t fucking lie to me!” You’ve hit that spot in him, that wounded pride. He’s lashing a bit, arms crossing over his chest, biceps flexed beneath his white t-shirt.

“Because, I..” Your sentence topples.

He inches forward. “Because you what? Talk to me!”

Does he realize? Maybe he has an inkling, maybe he’s pushing it. You aren’t able to decipher, your emotions swirling, everything becoming too much all at once. Your instincts fly out the window, shattering glass, heart catching on your throat as it leaps out of your mouth and floats into the room. You lurch forward and grab Steve’s cheeks, his stubble tickling the backs of your fingers — and you press your lips to his.

He’s stiff at first, arms remaining tight and bound together. You’re crying, salting his mouth slick. He tastes like peppermint and coffee, with a hint of that creamer you’ve gotten him hooked on. His mouth is soft, becoming pliant. He begins to kiss you back, but it’s for a fraction, yet it’s there. His nose nudges yours, bumping, your lips parting with a smack as he uses his hands (arms uncrossing), to pull you away, cradling your face.

Heated, like a syrupy honey, he talks to you. He’s got it this go around. “Why didn’t you tell me that this was going on?”

You go to leave him, he won’t dare let you. His hold tightens, index finger rubbing along your cut. Your eyes flutter closed, fresh tears dowsing the raw skin of your cheeks. The moisture pours over Steve’s fingers.

“Don’t.” It’s him who is begging, chained undercurrents cutting into the depth of his voice. “Please don’t cry.”

The way that he strokes you, his grazing thumb soothing your cut, like you’re right back in the underworld and he almost died twice over seeing you hurt. He swipes at your tears, trying to wipe them away, but they blotch. More keeps coming. You’re dangling over that precipice of an anxiety attack that he can also sense. Like he’s coddling a wounded deer, Steve pulls you closer, bringing his lips to your forehead — pressing, voice gravelly, mouth moving away to utter, “Come here. Stay right here.” And helps you rest in his arms, your head sliding beneath his chin.

Whatever you attempt to say, it comes out as gibberish whimpering. Steve’s own chest cavity is scorched, throat blazing, eyes misty. You find solace in his broad physique, nose at his sternum. He’s confused, so many things running through his head, that it fucking aches at the base of his skull. Your cherry lip gloss-flavored kiss lingers, making him think of things he thought were just passing feelings for you a while ago.

There’s many things he wants to say, but his brain has a case of coward, working him into a settled question instead. “How long?”

“Everyday since I’ve known you, I think.” It’s an automatic whisper, a ghostly caress of your broken voice, but he still hears your answer.

He’s nodding, an annoyance filtering, a sadness. How could you not tell him something like this? All those nights you shared, talking about everything. He’s been more vulnerable with you than he’s been with anyone in his entire twenty years. This, he has to call you on.

“In all of the time you’ve known me, have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?”

Still buried in his embrace, you shake your head no.

“Is it — do you… Shit.” He isn’t sure how to phrase it, not wanting to make an ass of himself, the word also scaring the hell out of him.

He gets his answer, thankfully — when you speak. “Don’t ask me if I love —“ You cut yourself off briefly, before adding on, “— just… don’t, okay?”

His lids close, a sigh escaping. Holy shit, you love him. Someone else loves him, his best-friend is in love with him. And he could never see that? He talked about sex with other girls, about Nancy.

And not once did you ever stop him or act like it wasn’t alright. You hyped him up, you were always there to boost his spirits and his ego. He feels like a total asshole. His previous sigh has you shaking your head, especially after he lets out a quiet “I’m sorry.”

You break off his embrace, finding a hold on his forearms, squeezing. “Steve, look at me.” You find your courage again.

He complies immediately, rich hazel catching, nearly stealing your breath. You clear your throat lightly, inhaling through your nose to relax yourself. Steve’s hands are still on your face — unrelenting. “This thing with Nancy, it’s not even because of how I feel, not completely. You’re more than some trophy husband, you’re more than some minimum wage video clerk, even though I think your jobs have been pretty fucking cool.” His softened gaze dips off and he chuckles himself into that cheekily, familiar grin.

“Please don’t do this to yourself again, Steve. You deserve better than this. You always have. You’re the fucking heart of our group, don’t you understand that? Fuck the thumps on the head, fuck nostalgia. I’ve never stopped seeing what a good man you are, even when you used to be a bitchy jerk sometimes.”

He laughs again, music to your ears that gets you to stop crying briefly. You slide your fingers along his bare arms and he’s thoughtful, pausing, wanting to look away from you. Because what he’s going to say, he can’t bear the expression on your face. He just wishes, he almost begs the universe that Nancy hadn’t brought back her bullshit and confused him. And you kissed him and released a bunch of things he’d pushed away, things he didn’t even know existed.

Someone’s going to get hurt and he thinks it should be him, but as he’s gentle with you, fingertips splaying down the sides of your neck, he’s brought back down to the messy reality he’s a part of. “It wasn’t resolved on my terms. Honey, I have to try. Can’t you see things from my perspective, please understand?”

You decide instantaneously what you’re going to do, your ribs aching at the sudden drop in your heart rate, your throat feeling like it’s swollen to twice the normal size. Your hand leaves his wrist, combing the hair off his forehead — memorizing every mole and freckle, his cupid's bow, his jaw, those hauntingly warm eyes. He thinks you’ll get it, that you’ll stay. And you do get it, but the latter? You’re eerily firm, new tears seeping out, flooding your vision, making him a blurry silhouette.

It’s gonna be bad, he can feel the twisting in his gut. He tries to say something, beginning a reason. You cut him off. “I need you to understand that I can’t stand by and watch this. I care about you both, but you can’t ask me to watch you two try and sweep everything under the rug, and you can’t expect me to watch if your heart gets broken. I won’t watch you fall apart again. I can’t do it, Steve.”

“What are you saying?” He sounds pained, like you’d socked him in his stomach. It sure fucking feels like it. Even the tip of his tongue is aching, his own vision becoming cloudy. “How do you even know things won’t work?”

“If they do, then great. If she’s your person and that’s what was meant to happen, I hope it works for you.” If he’s happy, you mean that. But you just don’t think he deserves this, he deserves more, despite your feelings. And there’s some things that you just know.

He straightens himself against the door when he sees you reach around for the handle. He shakes his head and tries to keep your touch. You drop it, tears dripping off your lashes and onto the cheap flooring below. “Let me leave, Steve.”

“No, not happening.”

“Don’t do this.”

“You’re my best-friend, I can’t just be without you.”

“You have Robin. You can handle this.”

“I don’t wanna fucking handle this,” he lashes out, stepping forward and cupping your cheeks, making you look at him, his touch searing into your skin, “I want you.”

“Steve.” You’re a little heavier in your command, pulling his hands away, impulse leading. You lift onto your tippy toes and permit yourself a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

His breath is choppy, a sudden heat leveling off the room, his nose bumps, sliding off your peck, his lips crashing into yours. You kiss him back with everything in you, mouths wet and tear stricken. He’s crying too, everything wet, spit stringing as your lips separate.

“I really hope it turns out to be what you want.” You pant your sorrows against his mouth, drinking him in — seeing. You’re falling, abandoning emotions and nearing sobbing territory.

Steve’s hands drop as you say this and it gives you the leverage you need to leave him alone in the bathroom, one last pleading cry from him cut off as you close the door behind you. You keep your head down and you walk through the store alone, its popcorn and candy coated scent striking you. You only stop when you’re at the counter and Robin has a piece of her sandwich pinched between her fingers, a pitiful look on her face as she sees your tear-stained features. She doesn’t get the chance to ask you anything, not before you request, crushing her heart into pieces. “Make sure he’s okay. He’s gonna need you.”

And your presence is gone in mere seconds, that bell signifying something much more than anyone was ready to comprehend. You make it to your car, rain pouring around you, right as Steve leaves the bathroom pinching his nose and sniffling, watching you from the window. You don’t break down, not until you’ve driven away and found somewhere to pull over.

Over…

// Eat me paragraph //

1K notes · View notes

gravedigginbbydoll · 9 months

Text

Slumber Party Kissin'

Modern! Nancy x Fem! Reader Smut

Midwest Princess Series

AN: Heyo! So each one of these will be a one-shot based off of a Chappell Roan song and added to a Masterlist later! Please forgive me as this is my first ever time writing with Nancy!

CW: MDNI!!! mature, internalized questioning, unrequited? crush, first queer experiences, mentions of past relationships (Steve and Jonathan), use of nickname Angel, fem! reader (v) x Nancy, 69ing, oral (v), fingering, making out, boob play, etc

Even miles away in Manhattan, Nancy Wheeler had a hold on you.

You two grew up together, photos of the two of you, arms around each other, missing teeth. You whispered secrets to one another, sharing dolls. Nancy was your world. Until you complicated it.

You two shared everything. Right down to first kisses. You thought it was normal to giggle with a friend and kiss, ignoring the weird feeling of her braces behind soft lips. To play with and style her vanilla and coconut hair, the curls soft in your fingers. You whispered to one another how much you disliked boys, Nancy crying over how they stuck gum in her hair.

Hell, you even played Boyfriend and Girlfriend.

You only began to notice Nancy’s apprehension when you both befriended Barb.

Barb wasn’t grossed out by your bond anything, just seemed to joke about how people may perceive you as more.

Nancy stopped holding your hand. She stopped giving you soft kisses on the cheek.

You two stayed friends but drifted apart slowly, busy with your own lives.

Flash forward a few years and Nancy was in college and freshly broken up with her boyfriend and you were in the big city, free spirited. You were learning things, like how you loved the hustle and bustle but missed Hawkins small town charm. She had called your cell phone, voice warm and sweet as ever. Your heart clenched.

“Hey…I know we haven’t hung out in a while, but I’m in New York for an interview with the New York Post…”

“Nance, that’s awesome!,” You exclaimed, heart and mind begging her to come see you, your stomach twisting.

“Um, yeah…So I-”

“Did you need a place to crash, because- Sorry! My connection is so shitty, I-,” You started, heart racing.

“No, yeah! I would appreciate that! Yeah…you’re the best,” Nancy stated, a smile clear in her voice.

“Of course! Like old times, huh? We can make it like a sleepover!,” You grinned, heart threatening to escape its cage.

“Oh yeah! I’d love that! Thanks, angel,” Nancy said softly, before saying her goodbyes as your heart threatened to stop. You hadn’t heard that nickname in a while.

If you knew one thing, it was this: You had…feelings…for Nancy.

You loved her coconut and vanilla shampoo, the way she rolled her eyes when you said something ridiculous, her studious nature, and her blinding smile. She was smart, strong, and maybe a little too stubborn.

You’d suspected it, of course. For years. But you’d never been with a girl. Only a handful of boys had piqued your interest, and most of them… were less than stellar.

Nancy was a constant in your mind, more reassured than cicadas in the summertime.

You immediately sat up in your tiny studio apartment (all you could afford), and rushed out the door.

This had to be the best reunion ever.

When you finished, your apartment was decked out in pink string lights, snacks littering your kitchen counter, along with DVDs stacked up on your coffee table, and all the activities you knew Nancy would love. Face masks, friendship bracelet making, and your switch to play MarioKart (She always beat you).

You stared at the whole set up, proud of the progress, when a knock startled you. You answered the door, eyes wide at Nancy on the other side. She was still petite as ever, but her heels made her a little taller. Her familiar curls were shorter now, her makeup simple but…flawless. She smiled softly at you, blue eyes making your heart stop.

“Hey, Angel,” She said, reaching out for a hug.

You met her hug, melting into her arms and your face buried in her hair. There was that familiar scent, making your heart skip a beat. You pulled away after a bit, trying to will yourself to calm your heart, your face warm.

“Hey, Nance. Come on in, get comfy,” You ushered her in as she looked around, smiling.

“Wow, this is so cute! You didn’t have to go through all this for me,” She said, eyebrows pinched in a way that made you want to hold her hand. You refrained.

“Nonsense! It was fun, honestly,” You shrugged, smiling. You tried to will your eyes away from her lips, her lip gloss capturing the peachy color perfectly.

Shit.

You smiled and clapped your hands, turning around, desperately trying to ignore the stampede of elephants currently running laps in your stomach.

“Well…what movie do you wanna start off with? Mean Girls?”

Nancy and you were huddled under a blanket, currently suffering a sugar high and giggling over Regina getting hit by a bus. A bowl of popcorn rested between the two of you as you chatted, you seemingly playing off the desire to kiss the brunette next to you.

Nancy dug into the bowl, smiling.

“Ya know…Regina George is one of my women crushes,” She joked, eyes twinkling with humor.

You gasped, laughing, “Me too! Me too!,” You couldn’t stop the giggles coming out of your mouth.

“But honestly I’m kind of surprised…All American Sweetheart Nancy Wheeler, Investigative Journalist, Future Nobel Prize Winner…crush on Regina? I thought you’d say like, Cady or Janice…Maybe Karen. I can see you liking a bimbo,” You teased, dodging the popcorn Nancy threw at you in horror, pretty lips in an O.

“Hey! Look, I don’t support the way Regina acts…She’s just really gorgeous. And fashionable. Now for Karen…I prefer Amanda Seyfried in Mamma Mia. She’s super hot there…and sweet,” Nancy smiles, cheeks pink.

Your heart skips a beat, laughing softly. Nancy wasn’t a prude or anything, just a studious and goal driven person, her wit sometimes scaring you. Hearing her gush over girls when you experienced her own apprehension towards you two toeing the line both confused and made you perk up.

Would she maybe give you a chance?

But you were too scared to push it.

You and Nancy eventually wore yourselves out, passing out on the couch.

You woke up after her, the scent of cinnamon and coffee permeating your kitchen. Nancy, always being an early bird, had woken up early and made breakfast. You rubbed at your eyes sleepily, stretching and yawning, trying to shake off the cobwebs.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Nancy piped up, hands holding a mug as she smiled into the mug, eyes sparkling with that same sharpness you adored from her. She was dressed up and makeup simple yet elegant, as per usual. You’d almost forgotten she’d had an interview this morning.

You perked up a bit at her voice, her voice making the stampede of elephants take another lap in your stomach. You seriously needed to get this crush under control.

“Morning,” You piped up, standing up from your couch, stretching.

“So I thought maybe we could explore the city? I’d like to know the place if I get to stay here,” She says sheepishly, her cheeks pink. You felt your heart pick up speed as your cheeks burst into flames.

Nancy. In the city. Around you.

“Sure! Did the interview this morning go well?,” You questioned in the most casual tone you could muster, coming over and grabbing the mug of coffee she so fondly made for you, her remembrance of how you liked it making your chest feel tight.

“Yeah! I think I really impressed them with my past papers and the one I wrote for the Hawkins Post about the Mayor’s embezzling,” She grinned, her expression glowing.

“That’s awesome, Nance,” You smiled, walking around the counter to pull her into a side hug, your hands brushing her waist. You pulled away quickly, covering it with a cough.

“Um, we should celebrate,” You offer, trying to ignore the imagery in your head of Nancy by you, your hands around her waist, your lips on her…

Get a hold of yourself, dumbass.

You ignore the growing need in your belly.

“Yeah! Let’s!,” Nancy smiles, lighting up the entire kitchen.

You smile and let her know you’re going to take a quick shower and change, heading for your drawers and grabbing clothes before heading off to the bathroom, trying to not think of how she had smelled like your soap, clearly using your shower this morning before heading out.

Her lean and petite frame naked and…

You were gonna need cold water.

You and Nancy spent the whole day walking around and exploring, huddled together in jackets, the crisp New York air cutting through the fabric. You showed her Times Square, the Mysterious Bookshop (which of course she poured over, being the mystery lover that she was), Central Park and the Swedish Cottage Marionette Theater (you’d bought tickets in advance like a lovesick loser), and more. You’d ended the night by taking Nancy to a bar, buying her drinks in celebration.

Which is how you had ended up stumbling into your apartment, giggling, the two of you leaned against one another.

You were drunk, falling over yourselves as you sat on the couch and Nancy giggled, cheeks red and hair a mess.

“I can’t beli-lieve I punched that guy,” She slurred, grinning.

You grinned back just as dopey, giggling. “Yo-you were like my knight in shining armorrr,” You drawled out, hiccuping. You leaned against Nancy as she swayed on the couch a bit before standing up, leaving you to flop over.

“Where goooo?,” You sing-songed, the buzz in your veins making you flop around like a fish.

“W-ater…need..to give you,” Nancy mumbled, giggling as she overfilled a glass and it spilled into the sink. “Oops.”

She stumbled over to you, giving you the water, your mind still fuzzy as she stood and tilted your head up and poured the water in your mouth, the desire growing between your legs. You swallowed, cheeks burning.

“Y-you look out for me too much,” You slurred, voice soft.

Nancy flopped next to you, shrugging it off, drinking some of the water. You watched her throat bob up and down as she drank, the wetness beneath your legs pooling as you noticed her jawline and neck, wanting to mark the pale skin with purple and red bruises.

She set the cup down, turning to face you and eyes so intense you sobered up a little.

“Rem-ember when we useded to play boyfriend and girlfriend?,” She asked, voice still slurring slightly but softer.

You nodded, your throat feeling dry. Hell yeah you remembered it. Lips brushing Nancy’s neck, her own lips. Coming much closer to kissing than friends should. Sure, you were young, but you knew the implications. Later on in your early teen years, you two practiced kissing on one another, claiming you didn’t want to be bad at it. It was a giggly and silly sort of kiss, but led to more ‘practice’, you claiming to be nervous. You sort of lied, but Nancy never knew.

“I miss that,” She whispered, eyes staring at the couch as she played with the stray thread that seemed to escape the cushions. You gulped, heart threatening to stop. Your hands shook. You were sobering up quickly, still fuzzy but desire building.

“Y-yeah…Si-simpler times,” You managed to get out, your words stuck in your throat like honey. You turned to sit criss-cross, facing Nancy, your eyes taking in her long lashes and how she bit her lip. Fuck. You wanted to bite it for her.

She leaned forward, voice barely above a whisper as she looked down at your lap, hands fidgeting. “I n-never told you…but I think you were a better kisser than Steve or Jonathan.”

You laughed a bit, heat extending from your cheeks to your neck. “No way…I would always smile and giggle.”

Nancy giggled a bit, smiling and scooting closer, eyes still wandering before looking at you, clearly sheepish and still buzzed. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve improved. You’ve grown a lot.”

You felt your heart stop and your mouth run dry. You swallowed and smiled, trying to tame your flaming skin. “Y-yeah…Definitely more experienced..But nothing’s been crazy,” You joked, waving a hand off, trying to be careful to not cross the line.

Nancy nodded, letting a beat of silence cross before she piped up again. “H-have you ever…done anything…with…a girl?,” She questioned, brow furrowed, cheeks red. She seemed to fidget a bit, making your eyes glance at her chest, which was raising and falling rapidly, splotchy pink. You looked up.

“N-no. Bu-but I mean there’s a first time for everything, right?,” You joked, your stomach twisting and turning at Nancy’s sudden interest in your sex life.

“What about you?,” You asked softly. Nancy shook her head, chewing on her lips again before thoughtfully looking at you, face crossed with an expression you couldn’t read, brows furrowed and eyes guarded. “Wo-would you w-want to?” She bit her lip again, hand touching your calf.

You swallowed, eyes on her touching you. You whispered, your heart racing and the heavy beat loud in your ears. “I mean…maybe..”

She leaned forward a bit and seemed to sigh softly, her voice slightly shaking. “C-can we try…pretending…again? Ju-just…for old time’s sake.”

You felt your brain short circuit as your heart seemed to disappear into the floor, your eyes wide.

“Ye-yeah…I mean we’re tipsy and-”

Nancy cut you off with a bruising kiss, her plush lips capturing yours as you felt your breath get taken away, eyes fluttering closed as she grabbed your jaw with one hand. You kept kissing, breaking apart for air before she crashed back into you, your back hitting the couch as she loomed over you, elbows against the couch, a giggle escaping your lips as Nancy smiled against your mouth.

“Shh, I’m trying to impress you with my kissing skills,” She mumbled against your lips, a smile still on her face.

You were about to retort before she began kissing you more passionately. She licked your bottom lip, making you gasp and allowing her to slip her tongue into your mouth, you softly moaning beneath her.

Your hands drifted up to around her waist, never getting enough of her soft skin. You pulled her in closer, the two of you pressed together. Your hands slipped beneath her top, rubbing at her sides and slowly inching her shirt up inch by inch. She finally sat up, straddling you and throwing off her top, her pale pink and lacy bra making you salivate. You reached up slowly as she bit her lip, nodding. Your hands brushed the fabric, your mind swimming with only thoughts of how intimate this was. You squeezed one breast, Nancy moaning softly before reaching around and undoing her bra, letting it fall loose, blush spreading from her cheeks to her chest. She shrugged off the bra, letting it fall to the ground before grabbing your hands, placing them on her bare breast, chewing on her lip as her blue eyes stared at you with want. You kneaded her breasts, playing with her nipples like you often would with yourself, hips bucking up at the erotic scene unfolding above you. Nancy rolled her hips against yours, moaning at the friction. You felt it too, the direct pressure against your aching core.

Nancy leaned down and continued making out, the two of you moaning against each other's mouths, rolling your hips against one another. Nancy eventually tugged at your shirt, mumbling against your mouth. “Off. Now.”

You moaned against her, tugging your shirt up and over your head as she pulled away, then reaching behind yourself and undoing your bra, shrugging it off quickly as she leaned down and took one of your nipples in your mouth, immediately making you arch your back and whimper beneath her. She didn’t abandon your other nipple either, nimble finger tracing the bud and pinching it softly.

“You feel so soft,” She whispered around your breast, licking the bud before nipping at it. She rolled her hips against yours as you bucked your hips up, moaning. She sat back up, cupping your breasts before pinching both of the buds and making you cry out, blue eyes staring at your chest. “So pretty…”

You reached up from your spot under her, tugging at her button on her jeans, whimpering beneath her as Nancy squeezed one of your breasts delicately before whispering softly. “Be patient, angel.”

She undid your button on your own pants, tugging them down your legs before tossing the pants away, staring at you for a minute, biting her lip. You felt heat crawl from your neck up your cheeks, aware of your nakedness as Nancy spread your legs gently, softly coaxing you. She stared at the wet spot near your center before looking at you, smiling softly.

“Guess I proved myself,” She said softly, making you hide your face in your hands, embarrassed at how easily she made you soak through your underwear. She pulled your hands away gently, tutting. “No, no. I wanna see those pretty eyes…”

She reached out her hand, her pointer finger rubbing your sensitive clit through the fabric, making you writhe beneath her. She hooked a finger into your underwear, eyes eager as she looked at you.

“Can I take these off?”

You nodded wordlessly, lifting your hips so she could remove the one barrier keeping you clothed. Nancy tossed the fabric to the side, staring at your cunt like it was a meal, licking her lips. Her gaze stayed at your dripping core, eyes dark with lust. “Ca-can I…I know I haven’t ever… but-” You cut her off by squeezing her hand that was holding your thigh, nodding. Words were escaping you.

She laid down fully, her soft breath so close that it made you shiver. She licked a stripe up your slit cautiously, continuing when she heard your whining. She kitten licked your clit a few times before sucking it into her mouth, shooting waves of pleasure through the bud. Your hands tangled into her soft curls, the usually tidy brunette waves now a mess. She folded your legs up against your chest in a gentle coaxing manner, humming against your cunt as you did so. She began alternating licking broader stripes and focusing on circling your clit with her tongue. She clearly was calculating which movements and flicks of her tongue made you pull at her hair more, being sure to keep the constant pleasure flowing. Eventually she pulled away from licking and sucking at your clit, moving one of her hands off to rub at the sensitive spot with her fingers, pulling whines from your throat, pleasure bubbling up in your stomach.

“So pretty…so much better than anyone I’ve ever had, angel,” Nancy practically purred, making you buck your hips up into her touch. She stopped for a bit to stare at you, reveling in how your pussy clenched around nothing,

“Nan...Nancy….,” You whimpered, pleasure numbing your brain, need seeping into your bones. “T-touch me, please…touch me…”

Nancy chewed on her bottom lip in thought, her breath hitching as you begged for any release. She stood up quickly, unbuttoning her pants and stripping down to nothing, barely giving you a chance to react to her pink lacy panties. She laid down on the couch, making you sit up and look at her confused. She bit her lip and stared at you, eyes making you shiver. “Come sit on my face, angel,” She coaxed you, swallowing down her nerves. You felt your heart speed up, cheeks hotter than hell, nodding.

You’d known from high school rumors that Steve loved the 69 position, and Nancy was a ‘quick learner’’. Of course this was before Steve grew and matured, becoming the sweet man Nancy befriended and children adored. But this fact intimidated you a bit. What if you sucked at this? You’d never-

Your thoughts were cut off with a soft slap to your thigh, Nancy’s tone firm and meaning business. “Hey, stop overthinking. Just sit.” She laid back down as you climbed on top, your core hovering over her face before her soft hands gripped your hips and pulled you down onto her mouth, immediately lapping at your dripping center. You laid down, opening her legs and starting simple by circling her clit, your hands clammy with anxiety. She moaned around your clit, driving you to continue before slowly lowering your head to her center, licking a tentative stripe, and moaning. Her mouth against you along with the taste of her cunt, nothing like the other people you’d ever slept with. You began licking stripes up and down, circling her clit with your tongue, your own hips bucking against Nancy’s face as you continued moaning against her own dripping cunt, your pleasure building. Nancy’s moan vibrating against your clit, driving you to suck more and wriggle your hips against her. She kept rubbing your thighs, so gentle yet breaking you apart at the same time. Eventually you both were rocking your hips against one anothers faces, moaning and whimpering echoing in the room. You felt that familiar build up, popping off Nancy’s clit obscenely and whimpering against her thigh, begging.

“Fuck…Baby, please, fuck, fuck, fuck-,” You whined out as Nancy pulled off you, those delicate fingers now thrusting in and out of your entrance while her thumb rubbed at your clit.

“You can let go, angel. Cum,” Nancy whispered, her stern tone pushing you to climax as you cried out, bones suddenly gone, somehow still rubbing at her clit until she moaned loudly, clenching around nothing.

“Fuck, angel.”

You stayed leaned against her, your breathing still shallow as you both panted, her softly caressing your skin and laying gentle kisses on your skin, trying to catch her breath. You felt her whisper against your thigh, voice meek.

“That was…better than the video I watched.”

You laid in silence for a moment, brain still fuzzy before you laughed a bit, realizing Nancy meant she had watched (and probably studied in earnest) some porn.

“Definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the two of you comfortable and seemingly worn out for a second, before Nancy’s voice piped up below you.

“So…are you willing to try something else?,” She asked cautiously.

You scrambled up and sat across from her, admiring her naked body, her lean muscles and lithe stature. Your cunt clenched in lust again, your breath shallow.

“We do have all night-,” You stated, cut off by another bruising kiss that had you falling backward again.

Guess it’s true what they say…In New York, you can try many things.

Taglist: @reidsbtch

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler x you #nancy wheeler x y/n #nancy wheeler smut #nancy wheeler fluff #nancy wheeler imagine #nancy wheeler one shot #nancy x reader #nancy x you #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #nancy wheeler x fem! reader #slumber party kissing

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moonstruckme · 1 year

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So, I know you don't commonly really write for steddie, and you don't have to write this if you don't wanna. But what about Like, reader graduates hawkins high and goes of to college (eddie is probably still held back for his last year???) And when she left she was more on the quite side, soft color pallet, kinda stariotypical pastel sunshine character. And she comes back for the summer and she's like, more punk-ish??? Like a few more piercings, and same kinda quite personality but kinda different aesthetic?

I think you could do something similar with poly!marauders as well, where same thing happens but it's over the summer between years?

Idk, you dont even have to write it, I just have a stupid soft spot for this weird trope/character arc. Make sure to take care of yourself and have a lovely day!!!!!

I'm happy to write for any characters on my list, thanks for requesting gorgeous! Hope you're having a lovely day and taking care of yourself as well <3

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 637 words

Steve and Eddie are scanning the crowd for you up until the very moment you come up to them. Even then, it takes Eddie a second to recognize you.

“Hey,” you say, tentative.

“Hey,” Steve says, stepping forward. “Shit, honey, come here.”

You grin, some of the apprehension easing from your features as you hug him.

“Shit,” Eddie agrees, wrapping his arms around the both of you. “Almost didn’t recognize you, sunshine.”

Sunshine might not even be the best nickname for you now. When you’d left for college last fall, you’d looked like the rainbow had befriended you personally. All pastels, colorful sweaters and flowy little skirts. Now, it’s like you’ve been plucked from a graphic novel. Your clothes are dark down to the shoes, with ripped black tights under your shorts and lace-up combat boots that, frankly, Eddie thinks might get a little hot in the Indiana summer. He wonders if you’d be amenable to him calling you his little bat. Or witchling, maybe? He’ll have to workshop it.

“You look so different.” Steve sounds positively flabbergasted, stepping back to take you in more fully. “I mean, not a bad different, I just—wow, it’s really…” Eddie snickers. In his opinion, you look far less like someone Steve Harrington would ordinarily date (the girl next door, preppy style, Nancy Wheeler clone) and more like someone he would (cool as fuck). Luckily for you, they both love you down to your ooey gooey core no matter how you present yourself.

“It’s a new look, babe, and it’s fucking sick,” Eddie summarizes. “Is this what college does to people? Maybe I should come visit.”

You roll your eyes at him, flushing faintly. Another pro of your new style: the pink of your face stands out ever-so-much-more brilliantly against your new dark palate.

“I’m serious, sweetheart,” Eddie goes on, delighting in watching your color change. “I need you to start coming to my shows so we can lure in your crowd. You’re too fucking cool for us now.”

Your shoulders start to come up around your ears, but Steve saves you, tucking you under his arm with a kiss to the top of your head. “She was always too cool for us,” he says. It’s the truth, and Eddie sends you a wink to make sure you know he knows it. “You look amazing, really. God, we’ve missed you so—is that a tattoo?”

Eddie all but lunges for you. “Where?”

“Here,” Steve says, stretching the collar of your shirt over your shoulder, where an inky design sits starkly against your skin. “Shit, this is so cool.” Eddie jostles for space, head squishing between yours and Steve’s to get a better look. “It really works for you.”

You smile bashfully. “Thanks.”

“Fuck me,” Eddie breathes, and you shiver pleasantly as his breath his your shoulder. “Actually, if I can get us to Steve’s in five minutes, would you top me right now? This is too fucking hot—oh, don’t look at me like that, Stevie boy. You know you like it too.”

“I do,” Steve says, giving Eddie a look that’s probably aiming for stern but only hitting fond as he tries to coax your face from his chest. “It looks great honey, when did you get this?”

Your voice is characteristically quiet, but a bit proud, when you say, “That one’s from a couple months ago. I got my first last November, though.”

“Your first?” Eddie’s gobsmacked. “How many are there? Wait, no, don’t tell me.” He grabs you by the legs, hoisting you over his shoulder. “I wanna find ‘em.”

“Eds, put me down!” You hiss in his ear, but your words are undercut by giggles. “Steve!”

“Sorry, but I’m kinda on board with this one,” Steve says with an apologetic shrug in your direction. He tosses Eddie the keys.

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travelingtwentysomething · 2 months

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Let's Be Honest, If You Could Hop Dimensions, You'd Save Eddie Munson Too <- AO3 LINK

(Please give my Steddie+Original NonBinary Time/Dimension Traveling Character fic a shot? I'm writing again, and I need validation, please REBLOG. Steve Harrington isn't the only one with a Praise Kink around here. 🫠)

It's a very unserious comedy/adventure- Featuring a Non Binary Character named Haven (this is not a self insert). They are a badass Dimension/Time Traveler who shows up for Eddie. It's hard not to fall for the OP baddie who comes specifically to save your ass, so naturally Eddie falls for them, then Haven helps Eddie see he can have it all and they quickly rope Steve into their shenanigans. This ain't a slow burn, but because it's the Apocalypse you'd think, 'there's barely any time for make-outs and cuddles'... but when Boys in Crop Tops are involved, we make time...

Also, it features a lovely scene where Eddie is in disguise and Steve cannot for the life of him 🥵...

<Artwork above is my own creation assisted by AI> ...with a little helping of original art inspired by the scene from @DrawingRune on Twitter ...

Summary:

Getting dropped into the Stranger Things Universe in the boathouse where Eddie Munson is currently hiding out could have gone better. Unfortunately, dimension traveling isn't an exact science. Honestly, its kind of a shot in the dark at the best of times.

At least they landed near the person they were looking for.

The timing could have been better.

And they had some notes on the point of arrival.

Being that it was just behind the boat where Eddie was currently hiding under a tarp, in fear for his life. Would have been a smoother entrance if it had been about six feet over, in the actual boathouse, and three feet above the water instead of below it.

Relationships:

Eddie Munson/Original Character, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington/Original Character, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson/Original Character, Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler

Additional Tags:

Fix-It, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Dimension Travel, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Has ADHD, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Hurt Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Steve Harrington Needs Love, Steve Harrington Has a Praise Kink, Wingman Robin Buckley, Robin Buckley Loves Nancy Wheeler, Bisexual Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley Has ADHD, Nancy Wheeler is a Mess, Protective Eleven | Jane Hopper, Pansexual Eleven | Jane Hopper, Polyamory, Polyamorous Characters, Polyamory Negotiations, non binary character, Polyamory is the answer to everything, Gaybies, everyone is a little gay, Comedy, Don't delude yourself, you were thinking about going to save Eddie too, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Don't worry it's only Jason, Creepy Henry Creel | One | Vecna, Sorry Vecna there's a new Baddie in town, Thy name is Haven

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starshideurfics · 4 months

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Thirsty Thursday - Going Steady

omegaverse, 1950s, the fair’s in town and it’s date night

Eddie should really be watching where he’s going, but it’s hard when his sweet, clean-cut omega showed up for their date in a wiggle dress. It’s hugging curves Eddie never sees in public.

And sure, he’s seen Steve in wide leg trousers before, but other than that handful of times, he always has a full petticoat under his skirt.

So he’s distracted by staring at his boyfriend’s perfect backside, just as any red-blooded American alpha would be.

Steve is leading the way, certain he saw a place selling funnel cake, wanting something sweet, but more substantial than cotton candy.

Eddie just needs to keep his feet moving, but unless he looks up soon, he’s bound to run into someone—

He does, smacking Nancy Wheeler with his elbow. “Sorry, Wheels!” he rushes to say to the alpha girl. She may be short, but he knows she could kick his ass into next week.

Nancy rolls her eyes at him, then glances back at what could be distracting him and flashes a knowing grin.

Steve turns back then, and Nancy’s eyes widen. “Eddie, come on! I told you the stall was this way—oh! Hi, Nance!”

She waves back, then turns to Eddie and says, “Better go catch up. You don’t want Steve getting too fast for you, huh?”

Eddie feels his brain go blank for a second.

“See ya later, Wheeler,” he mumbles, jogging to catch up with Steve, happily taking the omega’s hand as he leads them to the funnel cake stand.

👗✨🎪🎶👙

Eddie drops Steve off at home with a kiss at his front door, before sneaking around to the back and climbing a drainpipe.

He meets Steve at his window, smiling as he is pulled inside for another kiss. “We only need to stay quiet for a little bit, my parents are going to a party, they’ll be gone for hours.”

“Good.” Eddie settles his hands on Steve’s hips, finally getting to touch now they’re alone.

Steve presses close, happy to let Eddie kiss his neck for a long moment, before pushing him away and turning around. “Help me with the zip?”

“Can do, babydoll.” Eddie scrambles to grip the pull and drag it down, revealing skin and the matching red of Steve’s bra and panties.

He has to wiggle to get the tight fabric down, but when he does Steve lets the dress pool around his feet and step out.

When he turns back around, Eddie’s jaw drops as he takes in Steve’s bra, the cups only halfway covering his nipples.

“You tryin’ to kill me, Stevie?” Eddie asks as he advances. “Warn a guy before you show me that when we’re tryin’ to stay quiet until your folks leave.”

Steve laughs softly as he reaches for Eddie’s hands and places them over his tits.

“Oh, I can be quiet, Eddie.” He drops one hand and takes hold of Eddie’s belt buckle. “Can you?”

“Anything for you, babydoll.”

#steddie #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #ficlet #thisty thursday

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flowercrowngods · 11 months

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a study in grief, because barb was mike’s friend, too — and steve knows

🤍 also on ao3

November never feels right in Hawkins anymore, and it’s especially bad for the Byers and the Wheelers, with Will‘s Upside Down-iversary and Barb’s death day — except she doesn’t just get a day, she gets a whole week. From the day she went missing to the day that is written on her tomb stone, the day of the lie, the day that will always remind them of the shit they got mixed up with.

The week, really. To some extent Steve feels like this week of grief belongs to all of them, not just Barb — because something died inside all of them, something that sounds and looks and feels a lot like childhood and innocence that could never be restored.

Not like he could — or would — ever say that out loud and burden himself with anymore guilt when it comes to Barb. She should have her week. Fuck, she should have had a life. A lifetime lived, not a lifetime mourned.

God, how she should have lived.

He never even knew her, not really, other than snide and sassy remarks that he would have loved sometimes to acknowledge with a grin or a laugh or even a good natured shove if things had been different. He never even knew her, learned more about her posthumously through Nancy’s and Karen’s and the Hollands’ stories and pictures. And something about getting to know someone rather intimately once they’re dead just never sits right. It haunts you in a way you wouldn’t be haunted had you known them properly.

It’s a different kind of grief, the one that cannot be expressed without the danger of insensitivity. So Steve keeps his mouth shut and visits her grave. Her empty, empty grave. And he listens and he waits and he hugs and he thinks.

He murmurs, sometimes, when nobody’s listening, that he doesn’t swim anymore. That he hasn’t been in the pool in one, two, three years now, and that it’ll turn into four, five, six years. He whispers, sometimes, when nobody’s listening, that he’s made a stone for her in his garden, written on it with black sharpie and trembling hand.

In memory of Barb. 8 Nov 1983

Tells her that it feels dumb, and that he’s sorry, but he can’t remove it because that would feel worse, and that he’s so, so sorry. Because she doesn’t even like him. And he’s kinda come to love her. And because everything about that is wrong, and that she shouldn’t have to be bound to someone she doesn’t like just because she doesn’t have the chance to leave anymore now; because she’s already left, and—

He’s so, so sorry.

And then he leaves. He’s always the first to leave, with Karen’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing as if in thanks or in need for someone to hold her for mourning the girl she’s come to love as a daughter. Steve smiles at her, a sad grimace though it is, and gently squeezes Karen’s hand. Because Karen’s grief is real, and she must feel so much worse.

If he were any younger and had met fewer monsters, had gotten fewer head injuries and near-death experiences, Steve would wonder if worse was even possible. But now he knows. And he squeezes.

In his car, blinking away tears and clawing away the itch under his skin, Steve realises and notices and remembers that only one who never comes is Mike.

So he drives, almost aimlessly; trying not to think of sorries, of empty caskets and lies and NDAs, of murmured comments in the hallways and eyes rolled behind thick glasses and the occasional smile reserved only for Nancy. Trying not to be haunted by could have beens and would have beens and should have beens, and instead remind himself that they weren’t friends. She wasn’t to him what he knows about her now.

He has no right to feel this hollow.

But there’s someone, he knows, who does. Someone who won’t let himself grief, because he was never told how to. Because he was never told it was okay to mourn your older sister’s best friend who practically lived at your house on the weekends for years. Someone who grew up with her, someone who looked up to her, because Barb was a nerd and she was cool!

And that someone can be found sitting on the curb by his house, ripping out strands of grass and littering the street in green blades and clumps. Ted would freak out if the man was capable of one single emotion.

Steve parks the car a good few feet away and walks over — slowly, so it’ll look casual enough to not make Mike suspicious.

“Steve?” the boy says, grimacing up him, squinting against the horrible grey of the sky that is both gloomy and blinding today. “What do you want?”

Steve holds his eyes for a minute, mustering his posture, his chronically horrible posture and the good amount of lawn that’s already fallen victim to his needing an outlet of… whatever he’s feeling.

He nods at the curb, the side where the lawn is still intact. “Mind if I sit?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I wanna?”

After a while, Mike shrugs. “Not like I can stop you from doing anything ever, so.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all year, man,” Steve says, unable to suppress his grin, and Mike groans beside him, rolling his eyes in a long-suffering way.

There’s something subdued about him, though, something muted. Suppressed.

And he remembers how three years ago Mike went through the end of the world several times. Will disappeared. Will died. Barb disappeared. Barb died. Will came back, but changed, and Mike couldn’t reach him anymore. Not like before. And then El. There and gone. And Mike, among everyone’s grief and trauma with a hefty dose of his own. Steve remembers, right after, doors slamming and Nancy crying, yelling at her little brother that he’s not allowed to be sad, how can he be sad, when his best friend came back! How dare you, Michael, shut up!

Steve’s never seen Nancy like that — and didn’t, after. It was just that one time, but he’s sure that it wasn’t easy in the Wheeler house for a while. Still isn’t, maybe, with how emotionally stunted Nancy has become, guarded and cold and quiet, dangerous, while Mike turned… loud. Prickly. Like a gaping wound, the blood still seeping from it not in a lethal way but steady nonetheless, and ever so painful, because it was told it’s not a wound at all.

He remembers, too, sitting with Mike afterwards as Nancy sent him away, told him to leave, she’d call tonight but she couldn’t right now. He remembers the twelve year-old boy with a frown on his face and angry, sad, confused tears in his eyes.

“She was my friend, too!”

“Yeah?”

Mike nodded, curling in on himself where they sat on the bottom of the stairs. “I knew her! I shared my pizza with her and we watched movies together and she talked to me about Dungeons and Dragons and about how I could join her campaign, maybe, if she ever gets around to be the dm, and— and she knows things! Knew, I mean. We’d do our homework, the three of us, and Barb would help me when Nance wouldn’t and— She was my friend. She liked books but hates the Catcher in the Rye because Caulfield annoys her, and I don’t know what that means but I know that! I know because…”

“Because she’s your friend,” Steve finished for him, realisation and a new understanding for their dynamic dawning on him. And it’s an awful, awful understanding that makes him feel gaping and hollow in a visceral way.

Mike nodded and sniffled, wiping his face on his sleeve that came away wet and snotty, and somehow that sound never made it out of Steve’s head, and he can hear it even now, three years later as they’re sitting on the curb.

And he’s gaping once more.

“Went to see Barb today,” he says, an offering that hangs between them, a truth for Mike to ignore or build on.

There are not many times Steve’s ever looked at someone and thought they withered, but Mike does. Right now, he does. His face falls, his shoulders slump, and he frowns because anything else would lead to tears and an emotional breakdown he’s been holding off for three years now.

“I don’t care.” His voice is pressed, his face halfway buried behind his shoulders as he throws a handful of grass at Steve.

“Mike,” he says, sounding frail even to his own ears. Tender. “She was your friend.”

“I don’t care!” Mike repeats, his voice even worse. Maybe his lungs are withering, too, maybe the air grows rotten with each lie he tells to protect himself from feeling everything he’s been keeping at bay for three years. Maybe denial has an expiration date.

Steve watches. Waits. It’s what he does, the second week of November.

And then, after a few lungfuls of air that looked like they were fighting him for it, hidden in his arms and away from Steve’s gaze, Mike’s voice breaks.

“They don’t care.”

They. Steve knows. Remembers rather helplessly. Still he asks, “Who’s they?”

Another breath, but this time it sounds like a gasp. Like a sob. “Mom. Nance. They don’t— They don’t care! I don’t get to be sad, I don’t get to see her, I don’t get to think of her without Nancy telling me it’s unfair that I do, without mom giving me that… that fucking look! I don’t get to feel, because I’m a boy and because my best friend didn’t die and that just— that feels like an unfair bottom line, but they don’t care!”

Steve wants to cry with him, because he’s right. It’s not fair. None of it.

Mike hides his sobs in his arms, pulling the hood of his sweater further over his face, like he’s scared to find that the world will start caring when he’s at his lowest.

“And, yknow what’s the worst? I hate that you know. I hate that you’re the only one who knows, and I hate that you’re here, and I just… I hate it.”

“Sorry,” Steve offers after a while.

“Shut up,” Mike says. “You shouldn’t know. They should! Why doesn’t Nancy see? Why won’t she let me? Why doesn’t she know?!”

“I don’t know,” Steve offers, a whispered half-truth, because he does know. Because everything Mike feels, Nancy feels, too. But she also feels guilt and a hole in her heart and her life and her future. She feels the lack of teenage innocence because it was ripped from her, stolen and dragged to another dimension before it was brutally executed.

He can’t tell Mike that, though; not right now. Because it’s not a competition, and it’s not an honest question but a desperate, hurting one.

“Talk to her,” he says at last, quietly, when the sobs have calmed down and Mike has gone endlessly still beside him. “Tell her everything you told me. That she was your friend, too, and that you miss her, and that you feel like you can’t and shouldn’t, and how that makes everything worse. Tell her she’s not the only one who lost Barb. I think she’ll listen now.”

At last, Mike looks up, his face still largely covered by the hood, but Steve can see the tear tracks and he can see the wariness. But also hope. Or yearning, a longing for the version of reality Steve’s just opened up to his mind.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she’s your sister. Because it’s been three years. And because Barb was your friend, too.”

Another tear, two, three, four, before Mike sniffles again. A wet sound that takes Steve back to three years ago, when they were sitting together and he was watching what was still the beginning of Mike Wheeler breaking over loss and trauma he was never allowed to work through.

“Okay.” A sad little sound. It makes Steve smile, because if he doesn’t smile right now, he’ll cry and scream at the world, burn it down and tear it apart so it won’t hurt Mike anymore.

“Good,” he says at last. “Do you wanna—“

“Can we go to the cemetery?” Mike interrupts him.

Steve inclines his head. “Right now?”

A shrug. He waits. Watches and waits and thinks. Allowing him to find his footing.

“Tomorrow?”

He smiles, warmth and pride blooming inside him, slowly stitching together the gaping wound and allowing him to breathe.

“Sure. Absolutely.”

“Cool.”

Rather abruptly, then, after a beat of pause, Mike gets up and kicks at Steve’s foot.

“Get up, asshole.”

Steve sputters, taken aback by the whiplash and the sudden change in mood and energy, but he does as he’s told. The minute he stands, he finds himself with an armful of a fifteen year-old, holding on like his life depends on it.

“Thank you.” It’s mumbled into his sweater, sounding wet again, but Steve doesn’t care about that as he wraps his arms around Mike’s shoulders and holds him, too, deciding he won’t be the first to let go.

“Anytime, dickhead, you know that.”

Mike snorts, and it’s better than the sniffle, and it makes Steve smile into the hug.

#stranger things #steve harrington #mike wheeler #steve & mike #barb holland #character study #stranger things fanfic #wow look at me writing a steve mike without background steddie or byler!! growth #dio words #this one will fly under the radar probably but it’s so important to me that mike gets his place in grieving barb too #it’s 1:12am don’t even look at me

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