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eds6ngel · 9 months ago

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NERDY GIRL (book lover, does well in school, loves to study) DATING EDDIE MUNSON. BOTH LOSING THEIR VIRGINITIES TO EACH OTHER. THANKS, BETH, ILY :33

not so shy now, are we?

eddie munson x afab!fem!reader.

summary: after borrowing a copy of 'jaws' from hawkins library, you are shocked to find the explicit material written across the pages. however, your body reacts in a different way than you intended, which doesn't go unnoticed by eddie...

warnings: HEAVY SMUT!! fem!reader. afab!reader. queer!reader. switch!eddie & switch!reader (they are both dom and sub at different times.) unprotected p in v (r is on birth control.) fingering. A LOT OF DIRTY TALK. mentions of dildos, straps & silicone bodies. mentions of porn. pet names (sweetheart, my love, honey, baby.) swearing. established relationship. one mention of religion/god. some fluff & comfort at the end [2.9k].

a/n: thank you for requesting, my love! i kind of went off on this (i was feeling kinky today :')) so i hope you don't mind that!! we stan kinky virgins in this house and they deserve some love. so, low and behold, kinky eddie and reader ♡

You and Eddie were sat top-to-tail on his bed, lying beside each other as you read away.

Your knees were tucked up to your chest, your borrowed copy of Jaws from Hawkins Library laying in your lap.

Eddie, on the other hand, was sprawled out like a cat, his copy of Fellowship of the Ring held high above his head, the boy squinting to read the words.

You had urged him to get his eyes tested, even offered to pay for the appointment due to the Munson’s financial insecurity, but he wholeheartedly refused, claiming it would “ruin his look.”

You tried your best to convince him it would just make him look sexier, but he brushed you off with a “Thanks, sweetheart” and carried on with his far-sightedness.

You had seen Jaws when it had first come out in theatres over ten years ago, your seven-year-old mind blown away by its visuals and story.

So, when you picked up the book, you expected the story to be pretty much the same, more focused on the descriptive writing than any major plot differences.

But, as you came to a certain scene, your mind started to race.

“Hooper's teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust.”

You and Eddie hadn’t gone any further than humping. It never ended in anything, just something to satisfy yourselves whilst you made out.

You quickly looked over at your boyfriend, his attention deeply focused in on his favourite book.

Raising the book from your lap, you hid your face behind it, softly biting your lip as your eyes scanned the following two sentences.

“Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper's countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly.”

However, despite your best efforts to cover your face, Eddie had already felt the bedsheet moving against his legs. Looking away from his own novel, he takes note of the way your thighs squeezed together, the content of the pages in your respective hand obviously causing a stir in a certain region of your body.

A sudden smirk appears on his face as he thinks of an idea, beginning with a simple gesture to capture your attention. He takes his sock-covered foot and rubs it against your bare one.

The feeling of the fabric against your skin makes you jolt, almost snapping the book shut as you peer over the top of it to see your boyfriend’s face.

“How’s the book, sweetheart?”

You gulped, forcing a smile on your face and nodding furiously as you replied, “Yeah! Yeah… Um, really good! It’s, um… really good, yeah…”

You notice the way he folds the corner of his page, placing the book on his nightstand and crawling up the bed to sit beside you. Out of instinct, you hold the book close to your chest, your mind unable to close it fully due to the urge to continue reading the steamy scene.

He lets out an exaggerated yawn and casually drapes his arm behind your back. “I’m bored of my own book. Read some of yours to me. I’m interested.”

Bored of Fellowship? That couldn’t be right. He was up to something here.

“Um… I’d rather not!” you squeak out, trying to conceal the dirty words on the page in front of you, “I just… don’t feel like reading aloud today.”

He nods understandably, however, that same glint remained lurking in his orbs. “I understand, baby.”

However, so distracted by the beauty of your man, he delicately removes the book from your hands. The action was so incredibly light, Eddie placing it in his right hand whilst his left rested on top of your knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay, let’s see here… What beautiful words grace this adaptation of a truly wonderful film?”

You throat closes up as you are reminded of what you just read a mere few minutes ago. It was currently summer in Indiana, so the freeness of your skirt allowed you to feel how wet you already were beneath your panties.

“Hooper's teeth were clenched, and he ground them the way people do during sleep. From his voice there came a gurgling whine, whose tone rose higher and higher with each frenzied thrust,” Eddie spoke, his tone becoming deeper and more sultry, his hand slowly travelling up your inner thigh.

The words sounded sexy enough coming from your own inner voice, but with Eddie’s? You didn’t know how long you were able to contain yourself.

“Even after his obvious, violent climax, Hooper's countenance had not changed. His teeth were still clenched, his eyes still fixed on the wall, and he continued to pump madly,” he continued, his hand now reaching over your panties, feeling the wetness leaking through.

He chuckles seductively, “Didn’t know Jaws was this explicit sweetheart, but it seems like you were enjoying it regardless.”

God, for a virgin, he already knew how to push your buttons, somehow finding your clit through the fabric and rubbing delicate circles around it.

“Eddie… please,” you whine out, mouth slightly parted as you look at him with pleading eyes. He switches hands, placing the book upside down beside his own and using his right to continue focusing on your bud.

He cups your cheek with his left hand, turning you on your side as he kisses you softly, gentle moans releasing from your lips as he ever so slowly pleasures you.

You can feel him leave your clit, moving his hand upward before stopping at the band of your panties.

“This okay, baby?” he mutters in between kisses, to which you break away to softly reply, “Very okay.”

Your lips connect once more, your hand cupping his cheek as he delves beneath the restriction of your underwear. Inside his own mind, Eddie was floating. He couldn’t believe this was finally happening, and that oddly, he was exemplifying so much confidence.

He relished in the adoration of how wet you were. He doubted that it was merely the underwear that underestimated the amount, you had gotten wetter since he began pleasuring you. You were wet for him.

“Holy shit, baby,” he groans, looking down to see where his hand was buried beneath the fabric of your simple, black panties. His fingers were soaked, travelling lower until they reached your tiny, little hole.

Your face was buried into his neck, nodding frantically as you lifted your leg up higher, giving him access. He felt your head move against the side of his face, his cheek leant against it as he slowly sank one finger inside of you.

The stretch felt so fucking good. The coolness of his ring could be felt against the entrance of your pussy, the tip of his finger softly rubbing against the spongy spot at the back.

He could feel your hot breath against his neck, small whimpers escaping your lips as you simply whispered “More, please. Need more…”

He knew exactly what you meant, but didn’t want to break you. You were tiny, and he would punish himself forever if you even felt an ounce of pain caused by him.

“Don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear, his breath coming out in pants.

“You won’t, my love. Please… Just… I need you so bad.”

And how could he deny that begging? He was one step away from floating to heaven. And if he was being honest, he would happily die this way if it meant you moaning away in his ear.

So, without hesitation, he pulled his finger out, and entered again with two, pushing deep into your pussy.

The stretch was beautifully delicious, the burn being extremely pleasurable as he attacked that spongy spot once again.

He was being delicate, you could recognise that easily. But, that wasn’t something you wanted. What your boyfriend didn’t know is that you were kinky as hell. And the rougher he did it, the more satisfied you would be.

But, Eddie wasn’t all that innocent either. His trips to Family Video were strategically planned so that Robin was on shift, knowing that it was a lot easier (but not completely devoid of awkwardness) if he got his hardcore porn whilst she was working the front counter, rather than someone like Steve Harrington.

“Harder. Please, Eddie, please!” you sobbed into his shoulder. With how full you were, it was almost painful with his slow pace. All you wanted was for him to drive into you with force.

With your cries of frustration, the inner dominance of him struck out, him gritting his teeth and biting on your earlobe, “Yeah, you want it fuckin’ rough, sweetheart?”

“Want nothing more, baby. Please give it to me.”

And with that, he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at lightning speed. With each thrust, the palm of his hand smacked perfectly against your clit, increasing the amount of pleasure you felt.

You were able to give him hickeys on his shoulder purely by biting down whenever he hit particularly hard. Each pull of his skin lended itself with a harsh hiss from between his teeth.

“Is this what you imagined when you were reading that book, baby, huh? Thought about my fingers pumping into you like that?”

Oh god, he was a dirty talker too. You nodded frantically, almost screaming when he stopped pumping, pushing his fingers as deep as they would go and shaking them up and down. The sloshing sounds coming from your pussy made you both moan in unison.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, before continuing to blabber, “Course you did. You think about me often, don’t you, sweetheart? Think about me when you’re alone at night, filling yourself with those sweet toys you have underneath your bed.”

You honestly didn’t even know he knew about them. But, it was hot nonetheless. Knowing that he knew about the nine-inch dildo sent shivers down your spine. God, what if he even saw the strap? The bottom half of a silicone body that you practiced fucking into?

“Always think about you, Eddie. Wanna be fucked by you so bad.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” he moans into your ear, “Think about you too, you know. Never cum so much until I thought about you bouncing on my cock.”

You let out a harsh whine as you felt yourself teetering close to the edge, but Eddie says it before you, “I know you’re about to cum, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

“Gonna cum so hard for you, Eds.”

He can feel you getting tighter and tighter, struggling to move his fingers inside of you, “Then show me, baby. Let go for me.”

And with that cooing, you let out a silent scream, followed by a loud moan as your legs shook violently, tightening around Eddie’s arm, locking him in place as he slowly pumped his fingers, coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“So good for me, baby. So fucking good.”

As you came down from your high, you placed delicate kisses over the marks you had made on his shoulder, Eddie slowly pulling his fingers from you.

But, you gently lifted his hand to your mouth, taking both digits and sucking them clean, exaggeratedly moaning over them and rolling your eyes back on purpose. You felt the strain of his jeans against your thigh ages ago, you were deliberately trying to wind him up.

“Fuckin’ hell, honey. Why didn’t we do that sooner?”

You giggle, biting your lip as you breathe out, “Didn’t know you were as kinky as me.”

“That day I didn’t come into school because I was ‘sick’ was because I came four times after seeing your sex toys the night before. I couldn’t walk all day.”

“Oh my God,” you breathlessly laugh into his shoulder. “Well…” you begin to place soft kisses on his jaw, “I could make that fantasy of yours become a reality if you’d like.”

Eddie felt his dick kick against his jeans. Looks like his body was giving him an answer before he got his head straight.

“Please, baby” he practically whines, “But, don’t expect it to be as sexy as it was a second ago. I doubt I’m going to last longer than a couple minutes.”

“Don’t care,” you say, beginning to un-do his belt buckle, pushing him down onto the mattress softly, “Just need to feel you fill me up.”

Eddie moaned at your dirty words, but had to make sure of something before you started. “Birth control, right?”

“Yeah. On the pill,” you reply, capturing his lips in your own.

Thank God. He could not be dealing with a mini Munson just yet.

You slowly remove his jeans and boxers, tossing them across the room as his cock smacks against his stomach. He was delicious. Had to be around six inches long, girth about the same, curved slightly to the right. He was going to fit amazingly inside of you, you just knew it.

You positioned yourself on top of him, grabbing the base of his cock and rubbing him against your wetness, remembering that practicality was still needed, even if you just wanted to fuck yourself stupid.

You look up at him, checking he was okay, “Ready?”

He nodded, “Always for you, baby.”

And so you began, sinking down onto his beautiful cock, Eddie letting out a choked moan beneath you. If a God truly did exist, you would definitely be thanking him for creating this gorgeous specimen falling apart in front of you.

You leant down, whispering and panting in his ear, “Tell me when to move, baby.”

Eddie grabbed onto your waist, preparing himself for what’s to come, “Move, sweetheart. Jesus Christ.”

And so you did, beginning to slowly lift yourself up, before slamming back down onto his cock. Both of you let out deep groans in sync, you immediately picking your pace up, struggling to contain yourself.

The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room, combined with your whines and Eddie’s deep moans. You pressed down on his chest, using it as leverage to increase your deepness.

Not realising your eyes had been closed the entire time, you slowly opened them, seeing Eddie’s mouth in the perfect ‘O’ and his bangs sticking to his forehead, his eyes closed in delight.

“Open your eyes for me, baby. Need to see your pretty eyes.”

He opens his eyes, almost instantly looking down to where your bodies connected.

“Better than you imagined, huh?” you taunted, your dominance seeping out, “Your cock wasn’t ready for how good this would be, was it baby?”

He shakes his head, completely submitting to you, “Never, baby. Feels so fucking good. Feels like I’m fucking dreaming.”

You try to thrust as hard as you can, assuring him that he wasn’t dreaming at all. That this was all very much real. That his first time was this rough. That his girlfriend was kinky as shit.

Suddenly, you feel his cock begin to twitch inside of you. You mockingly laugh at him, “Your poor baby says otherwise, honey. Think he wants to cum. Am I right in thinking that? He wants to fill me up?”

God, something about you referring to his cock in the third person was about to send him spiralling over the edge. He could barely form words, too pussy-drunk to be able to speak. “Y-Yeah. Gonna cum.”

“I can tell, baby,” you say, leaning forward and whispering into his ear, “Cum in me, please. Really need you to fill me up.”

And with a supported groan, his warm cum splashed against your inner walls, sticking to you as he twitched and moaned.

“Good boy. Good fucking boy,” you whispered as he came down from his high, his dick becoming soft inside of you.

As you lifted yourself off of him, his cum began leaking out of you, the both of you marvelling at the sight.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs out happily, watching it drip into a pile just above his cock, gently caressing your hip.

“We just did that,” you giggle, grinning happily as you collapse onto Eddie’s chest, kissing him silly, smiling against his lips.

“That was… something else.”

“Better than you expected?” you ask, a sudden shyness washing over you, almost a hint of self-consciousness, afraid you took things too far.

“Never dreamed it could be that good in a million years,” he sighs. “Sorry I didn’t last long.”

She grabs his wrist, looking at the object encompassing his wrist, “Seven minutes isn’t bad at all for a first timer!”

Eddie began chuckling, “You looked at my watch before we started?”

You hide into his shoulder, “Wanted to see how well you would do.”

He places a soft kiss on your forehead and laughs, “You nerd. I love you so much.”

You smile softly, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks, “I love you too, baby.”

And with the both of you tired out from your day’s events, you fall asleep peacefully wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that if there’s one place you’d both like to be for the rest of your lives, it would be here.

requests are open! if you would like to send me any asks, check out my character list and send me anything that i have specified is appropriate!

taglist: @cosmorant @ye0nvibezzn @tlclick73 @superlegend216

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #stranger things #eds6ngel

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joequiinn · 7 months ago

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PREVIEW | You Can Have My Hate | B.H. x reader

summary: Unfortunately, you got stuck with Billy fucking Hargrove as your partner for your final assignment in history class. Also unfortunately, Billy discovers you have a killer body underneath all those baggy clothes…

a/n: Billy is a disgusting little man and i love him dearly. as the title says, this is a preview of something i've been working on! the fic is already at 6.5k words and still isn't done, so i decided to put out a little snippet to see if there was any interest, so please let me know if you'd like me to finish the fic!

notes & tropes: fem reader, curvy + large chest reader, foul and suggestive language, canon typical Billy bullshit, awful behavior from both Billy and reader, minor allusions to sex but nothing happens (yet)

music inspo: Closer by Nine Inch Nails

preview wc: 1.9k

You let me violate you | You let me desecrate you You let me penetrate you | You let me complicate you

“Damn, little miss straight-laced,” Billy’s hooded eyes slowly crawled down your body, the corner of his mouthing pulled back in a lecherous smirk, “is that what you’ve been hiding under all those baggy clothes?”

God, you hated Billy Hargrove. Absolutely despised him with every fiber of your being. You knew you should’ve begged your history teacher for a different partner, should’ve gotten on your knees and pleaded for literally anyone other than Billy fucking Hargrove to work on this assignment with you. An idiotic football player or a bitchy cheerleader would’ve been better than this. But no, you didn’t beg and you didn’t plead, so now you were stuck, and god if this wasn’t about to be the worst couple weeks of your life.

Ever since Billy showed up in Hawkins at the beginning of last semester, you detested him. Everything about him screamed disrespectful, hateful asshole, and so having two classes with him meant you had witnessed your fair share of this behavior. Why so many girls wanted to fuck him and why so many boys aspired to be him was a mystery to you, because you could see from the start that he was a no good piece of shit.

But, in a way, you were lucky because you were literally a nobody. And nobodies went unnoticed, which meant not having to deal with bullshit from 90% of your peers. Hell, when your history teacher was pairing everyone off and told Billy who his partner would be, his response was an amused “who?” as if he didn’t believe this person - you - even existed. He had gone the entirety of the school year not having a single clue that you existed, and damn you wish it had just gone on a little longer. You literally had one more month left of senior year, one more month until you never even had to think about Hawkins High again, and the last thing you wanted was to spend half of that month in misery while trying to put up with Billy fucking Hargrove.

This assignment shouldn’t have even been worth shit to you, considering that your grade was nearly perfect and it was your last big project before graduation, but that’s where your history teacher hooked all of you - if this assignment wasn’t completed, then you guys wouldn’t be able to receive your diplomas. Or so he said to deter kids like you from flaking on it - you didn’t know if your boring old history teacher had that kind of authority, but you weren’t about to risk finding out.

And for kids like Billy? Kids who didn’t give a shit, who were already struggling to pass? The grade on this assignment was make or break. Not that it affected you any, of course - Billy could fail his senior year for all you cared. But shockingly enough, he was the one to make a point of its importance to you, the one to emphasize that he had to pass this class and graduate. It was curious to you, since you’d never once seen Billy care about school, but perhaps he was also beginning to feel the fire under his ass to leave Hawkins.

So, for the past week now, you’d been meeting with Billy at the school library, trying your best not to rip out your hair while you did the majority of the work. Hell, you could’ve told Billy just to fuck off and let you work on your own - you’d still let him put his name on the assignment and everything. But for whatever reason, you didn’t and so now you were subjecting yourself to tolerating his bullshit.

And that’s what you were doing right now, sitting across from Billy in the library and using every fiber of your being not to lose it on him. He had been particularly difficult from the moment he sat down, his foot bouncing impatiently and his expression condescending each time you tried to talk to him. He was making it very clear that he’d rather be anywhere other than here. The warm temperature of the library combined with your frustration at Billy was causing you to feel a little toasty, so you caved and tugged your large sweater over your head, leaving you in a tight, black tank top that left little to the imagination.

And said tight, black tank top is exactly what Billy was ogling, making you sneer and immediately regret taking off your sweater.

You never liked showing off your body, never liked the attention it drew you. You wouldn’t say you were self-conscious necessarily, you didn’t hate the way you looked in the mirror or anything like that. But you were very aware of how men looked at women’s bodies, and as someone who hated most forms of attention, you weren’t going to have any of that. So you wore baggy jeans and oversized sweaters, hid your frame under clothes that were always a size or so too big. It kept eyes and hands off of you, and you preferred it that way.

But damn it, it was so hot in the library that afternoon and you weren’t thinking clearly. You couldn’t believe your own stupidity - you just had to take off your sweater in front of Billy fucking Hargrove, a boy who only ever saw women as either sex pots or prudes. His lewd gaze was making you feel even more hot under the collar, but shit did you want to put your sweater back on already despite the heat.

“Will you please focus, Hargrove?” You begged in an exacerbated tone, trying to cross your arms over your chest in a way that wasn’t obvious while looking back down to the textbook open in front of you.

“You expect me to focus now, after you whipped those out?” Billy took such obvious joy in knowing that he was making you uncomfortable. He leaned forward on the table, his eyes once again traveling a salacious path down the curves of your body, “It’s Friday night, I got a pair of double D’s sitting across from me, and you’re asking me to focus on a damn essay?”

“Shut up.” You threatened between your teeth, trying not to raise your voice and draw attention. Your eyes were dark with frustration as you stared at Billy, who simply looked back at you like he didn’t give a damn, like he was just waiting for you to cave to him.

And how the hell could he tell you wore a double D?

You sank in your seat a little while attempting to cross your arms even more aggressively in front of your chest, feeling your cheeks growing red. Billy gave you that smooth, lazy grin that you’ve seen him use before, his eyes hooded as he leaned back in his chair. The feeling of his indecent gaze on your body practically made your skin crawl.

“Fine, Hargrove,” You quickly grab up your belongings and shoot to your feet, fumbling with your bag and sweater to make sure they kept your chest covered, “if you wanna be a prick who won’t focus, we’ll do this next week.”

You started to march out of the library, to retreat to safety. You didn’t like the way Billy was looking at you - it was objectifying and disrespectful and vulgar. Billy never once gave a fuck about - or even noticed - you before, but the second you remove a stupid barrier of clothing, suddenly he’s oh so interested. He was such a pig.

But shit, why was it also… kind of hot?

No, it was not hot.

You couldn’t let yourself even entertain that thought because there sure as shit wasn’t anything hot about it. It wasn’t hot that he objectified you, it wasn’t hot that he drank your body in with impropriety, it wasn’t hot that his tongue ran slowly along his lower lip as his eyes met yours with practiced allure.

No, no, no! You could’ve kicked yourself. Nothing about that should’ve been hot, god damn it.

“Oh, come on, killjoy,” Billy grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around to face him, having followed you through the library. His grip was firm as you looked between his face and hand and back again.

The library wasn’t exactly busy on a Friday afternoon, but you looked around to find that the librarian and another student both looked in your direction. It made you even more nervous to know that eyes were on you; what if you got in trouble, what if the librarian reprimands you both for being disruptive? You looked back to Billy, your brows furrowed in annoyance as you whipped your wrist out of his hold with hostility.

“I’m serious, if all you want is to slack off and look at my tits that’s your business.” You immediately clamped your mouth shut, your eyes widening slightly - that is not what you meant to say at all. Oh god, why the fuck did you say that? Shit, you should’ve just told him that you’d regroup next week, that you weren’t going to put up with him. But no, instead you said arguably the stupidest thing you could, and it was clear on Billy’s face that he was relishing in your stupid words, enjoying them even.

He looked back down at your body, luckily hidden behind your bag and sweater, “My business, huh? Sounds to me like permission to stare.”

“No.” You answered firmly; your cheeks and neck felt so fucking warm. You tried to get back on track, tried to shake off the stupid thing you said just a moment ago, “I just want to finish this project. So, go home and jack off to your Playboys all weekend, and then maybe we can actually get some work done next week.”

Despite your jabs, Billy still grinned wickedly, dipping his head a little as he took a step closer, his voice low, “So, that’s what you’re thinking about, huh? Me jacking off? You enjoying that thought?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find some quick response to that, but you couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. A sound of disbelief left your throat as you gaped with loathing at Billy for a moment. God, you felt like a damn fish trying to breathe out of water. With a glare in your eyes, you clamped your mouth shut, which seemed to be a great amusement to Billy, whose smile widened as a laugh escaped him.

“God, you make it so easy.” He said, shaking his head, “You gotta lighten up, you know?”

You sigh loudly, eyes still staring at him harshly, “Whatever, Hargrove.”

You attempt to walk away once more, but yet again Billy snatches your wrist, “Wait, wait, wait…”

“Stop acting interested in me all of a sudden,” You try to shake your arm out of his hold again, but this time Billy’s grip is tighter, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Look,” his tone was firm as he instructed, “let’s go back over to the table, get some more work done, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you studied his face, “I don’t need a ride.”

“You don’t have a car.” He countered immediately.

“I don’t need a ride from you.”

“You don’t, but isn’t it generous that I’m offering?”

“More like devious.”

“I’ll be a total gentleman.”

You laughed right in his face, “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #stranger things

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jo-harrington · 2 years ago

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Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 1)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love--some crushes at least, Babysitter Steve, No Upside Down means slightly still King Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, no smut in Part 1 but liable to be in other chapters

Note: After a very hot and fast suggestion by @shiftingtherain, this mini-series was born. And instead of working on Store Manager Verse like I wanted to, here we are. This part is a little shorter...it's the intro, sue me. Next few parts will be a tad longer.

Credit for the header partially goes to me for the design and the logistics but I was tired, so I may have borrowed gifs from @emziess and Netflix itself as a jumping off point (with permission from Emzies and Netflix is a corporation so they can rot). I can only do so much guys, I also had to write this thing too.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If Eddie never saw Steve Harrington again in his life, it would still be too soon.

He didn't always indulge in rentals from Family Video—if it was too cold and wet to have band practice in Gareth's garage, or if he was having an especially bad week at school, or if he needed something a little more realistic than the illustrations of Heavy Metal magazine to help him satisfy his needs—but today just had that special feel to it.

He'd gotten a B on his math test, Rick had been feeling a little under the weather and let Eddie make the rounds to his usuals for a sweet little cut, and he had found a dusty old book about alchemy and occultism at the library that was going to help him put the finishing touches on tomorrow night's Hellfire session.

For all of that, Eddie thought a little reward was in order.

A little Dark Crystal, a little pizza from Lou's, a little weed...he'd be having the best Thursday night.

Except...

For the past twenty minutes, he'd pretended to hem and haw over the selection of movies just so he could glare across the store at the counter, where Steve stood, flirting and making grandiose promises, with you.

He burned with jealousy, and God, it took almost everything in him not to gag as Steve reached across the counter to slyly hold your hand. And everything else for his heart not to break as you just let it happen.

Eddie didn't know how or when or why this started—when Harrington had gotten his claws into you and how he had managed to charm his way into your heart—when it should have been Eddie instead.

Eddie'd had a crush on you for years but had always been too nervous to do anything about it.

You were a year younger than him, and friends with his pal Mickey's younger sister, so he'd seen you around quite a bit. Smart and funny and pretty; maybe not as unpopular as Eddie was, but certainly not in the running for homecoming court or whatever other social hierarchies were in place at Hawkins High either. He figured...you know, maybe once he got to senior year he'd get the courage. Maybe take you to prom or something; who wouldn't want to go out with a senior?

But he'd gotten the notice from Higgins that he wouldn't be graduating with the rest of the Class of '84 and it really put a damper on his plans.

He had been hopeful again the following year, actually had a few classes with you and sat with you for partner work when no one else wanted to work with him, when they laughed at him. You weren't even afraid to go up to him in the cafeteria to ask a question, or walk with him in the hall if you had to go in the same direction for your next class. You'd talk about assignments mostly, but he savored every little fact he could learn about you. What books you'd been reading, the fact that you watched Svengoolie on Saturday nights—just like he did—or that you'd had some squabble with Mickey's sister over a scrunchie of all things and were no longer speaking.

But Eddie knew how bad his grades were—somehow even worse than the year before—and aside from the work you did with him, he knew it wasn't gonna be enough for him to graduate. So he wasn't gonna put himself in the position for you to laugh in his face—not that you would but...just in case you did—by asking you out.

He thought you would disappear from his life after you graduated. Get the hell out of Hawkins the way everyone else wanted to. But no. You took a few classes at the community college and worked the dinner shift at Benny's a few nights a week. You'd been there every Tuesday night, when he and the guys grabbed food after their gig at the Hideout. The usual booth reserved, drinks already poured by the time they sat down, and their usual orders already written in your little order pad.

You usually gave him extra whipped cream on his slice of cherry pie too.

The guys always urged him to ask for your number...but he never did. How could he? Even if you were stuck in this town the same way he was...he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

And now...here you were, listening to Harrington talk about some great surprise he had planned for your third date the next day.

Eddie wondered why you hadn't screamed in outrage when Steve mentioned how much Nancy Wheeler had liked it when he took her to this mystery place. He would have definitely expected you to at least flinch at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name.

"It sounds really great," you said instead, smiling and nodding. "I get out of class at 3 on Fridays...should I be here around 4?"

"4 is perfect, honey," Steve grinned.

Eddie couldn't stand to hear whatever sickeningly sweet goodbye you both would come up with so he just grabbed whatever tape was in front of him and approached the counter. You and Steve both flinched when Eddie slammed his selections down on the counter to be checked out.

“Uh…I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye Steve,” you muttered, eyeing Eddie with a half-smile that felt a bit sad. “Bye Eddie.”

"Bye honey."

“Bye honey,” Eddie mocked once you were out the door, then turned back to Steve. “You gonna try and make goo goo eyes at me next Harrington? I don’t have all day.”

“Jesus Munson. What’s up your ass?” Steve scoffed, grabbing the tapes.

“I’m just trying to get my videos and go.” Eddie rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Not really interested in the kind of customer service you're trying to provide."

Steve wondered what the likelihood of getting fired would be, if he just punched that smug look right off of Munson's face.

Keith hated the guy too, he always left the Adult section looking like a mess. Maybe Steve would get a promotion instead.

For years Eddie roamed around Hawkins being a general menace with his gaggle of friends. Causing trouble, shouting at people, making faces at old ladies. He’d gotten “taken in” to the police station one too many times but always seemed to make it out without actually being arrested. Which baffled Steve; Eddie was a drug dealer for crying out loud.

And yeah, Steve had even asked him to come and deal at a party or two but…people like that were bad. Simple as that.

Even after all of that, after you got past the “bad boy” persona….he was a fucking nerd. He wasn’t even cool like the bad boys in movies were. Steve felt like someone was tricking him the first time he had walked past the Hellfire Club’s table in the cafeteria. For all the leather and chains and band tees—all the talk of satanic rituals and blood sacrifices—there was sure a lot of talk about elves and…and bards and Star Wars.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise to Steve that the kids would flock to Eddie by the time they made it to Hawkins High.

But it had been. A huge shock.

His unexpected little gaggle of morons…weren’t really his anymore.

Steve had dropped Dustin off on the first day of school and said “don’t get into any trouble.” Even made Robin promise to keep an eye out for him. He expected the kid to…join the mathletes or something. Get roped in with the science nerds.

But by the end of the week, the kids were all clamoring about how they would need to reschedule movie nights with Steve so they could go to Hellfire club with Eddie.

Steve couldn’t understand it. Eddie was a freak, a punk, some good for nothing…and now the kids were suddenly following him like he was some sort of prophet. Spreading the word of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

See? Steve could do the nerd talk too when he wanted...thanks to Dustin.

Who, much to Steve's annoyance, was apparently Eddie's biggest fan. The guy could do no wrong in Dustin's eyes, and it really irked Steve.

Will and Lucas were spending Saturdays at the library—not for homework, but for research because apparently Eddie really liked incorporating mythology into his campaigns. (Whatever that meant.) Mike was growing his hair out because "Eddie's hair was cool.” What about Steve, whose literal nickname was The Hair? Shit, he'd even seen Eddie give Max a ride to school on a few occasions when he was late dropping Robin off. And he knew Max and her mom had been having a hard time since her step-dad skipped town and Billy...

Steve knew some of the town gossip about Eddie was just a bunch of bullshit...but if Max Mayfield was cool with him?

Yeah, he just couldn't help but be suspicious of the guy.

Regardless, the sooner Steve could get him out of the store, the better his night was gonna get.

...actually...

"That's gonna be $10." Steve announced dryly.

"Woah, $10?!" Eddie scoffed. "I have a membership."

"Since when?" Steve asked, hands immediately landing on his hips.

"I use one every time I'm in here."

"Yeah you use Reefer Rick's."

"So?"

"New policy," Steve lied, hoping it would get Eddie out of his hair for a good while. "No sharing memberships outside of your family. Last I checked, your last name isn't Lipton. So you either cough up the $25 for a new membership Munson, or the $10 for your rental. What's it gonna be?"

Eddie grumbled and dug his wallet out of his pocket, slamming the money on the counter.

"Any candy?" Steve asked mockingly before grabbing the cash.

Eddie grabbed the tape and grumbled under his breath as he exited the store.

Yeah, Steve wasn't gonna be dealing with him any time soon.

For a second though, as he went to start processing returns, he wondered...

If Eddie was in some ritualistic cult...what kind of curse could he possibly put on me?

But that was a dumb thought to have.

Eddie's night just went down hill from the minute he left Family Video.

He didn't notice that they'd given him the wrong pizza at Lou's so now he was stuck with some specialty veggie pie with broccoli on it, the tape he had grabbed indiscriminately had been some artsy foreign romance crap, and just now he'd just spilled Dr. Pepper all over his Hellfire notebook.

"Fuck," he shouted as it spilled over the side of the coffee table and onto his sock-clad feet. He couldn't give a shit about the carpet, he could even ignore his wet socks, but his notebook. Weeks of work, planning and toiling over the most sadistic campaign.

He liked to keep all of the notes of Hellfire's completed campaigns, a sort of...record for future kids to look back on and reference. And now this specific masterpiece would be lost to memory.

He cleaned everything up as best he could before making a quick trip back to his room for an extra notebook or something he could use to salvage his plans for tomorrow's session. He had always been really bad at...keeping spare notebooks on hand. Even the ones he'd used for class always ended up covered in his drawings or notes, little bits and ideas of dialogue he could use for speeches or NPCs.

The best he could find was his math notebook from last year which, surprisingly, sat relatively untouched.

Eddie knew why: that was a class he shared with you. And as he opened to some random mostly-empty page, he saw his little scribbles in the margins surrounding half-faded, penciled-in algebraic equations. Daggers and hearts and his and your initials intertwined together.

It was the one class where he would never encounter partner work with you, so he felt compelled to fill the pages with his daydreams instead of fantasies and lore. You would never see it.

"Well," he huffed as he dropped back down onto the floor and slapped the notebook onto the coffee table. He grabbed his pen and scribbled over the drawings on the page. "Now that she's with Harrington, no use living in this fantasy. Fuck, I was stupid, so stupid to ever think she would want anything to do with me."

He grabbed the dusty old alchemical book from the library and found his place, staring at old sigils and runes and text indiscriminately until he came upon one that looked too perfect for the campaign. Concentric circles, arcane lettering, angular lines...

While Eddie would usually use a clean page for something like this—something he would hand off to his players—he drew a copy of the sigil onto the page and planned to rip the edges off, maybe singe them with his lighter to make it look more authentic.

He kept staring at the still-noticeable doodles beneath the pen scribbles and his heart ached a little in his chest.

Yeah, he would definitely want to burn those too.

By the time he was done copying the sigil, a wave of exhaustion overtook him and he glanced down at his watch.

It wasn't much later than he usually went to bed on a weeknight...

He stared at the half-ruined notes for tomorrow's session that he still needed to rewrite and sighed.

"Fuck it, I'll just redo them in the morning." He got up and stretched his arms over his head. "I can just sleep in tomorrow. Skip class. Show up for Hellfire. Who cares anymore.”

He put the rest of the pizza in the fridge for Wayne and then headed to bed, only to be plagued with dreams of scribbled out love hearts, movie theater candy, guitar solos, and big red gum.

When Eddie woke up the next morning, he felt...honestly felt like he was floating on a cloud. Every muscle in his body felt looser, yet somehow tighter at the same time. His skin felt tighter, like it wasn't right, like it didn't fit somehow, it was suffocating him.

He must have died but he wasn't quite sure if this was heaven or hell.

His eyes burned and blurred slightly as he opened them and what he saw was...unexpected.

Gone were the off-white walls, his posters, the piles of his crap, and that concerning patch of probably-mold in the corner of the ceiling. Instead there was a sturdy ceiling, plaid-papered walls, and matching curtains?

Eddie groaned and rolled over.

What the fuck was this place?

There was a slam of a door somewhere that practically shook the walls surrounding Eddie and as he sat up, he found himself only wearing...briefs? He didn't wear briefs.

This wasn’t his bed, wasn’t his room…wasn’t his… body?

He looked down at his chest, his arms, his hands…his fingers weren’t right, he didn’t have this many freckles and moles, he didn’t have…abs, if that’s what you could call the slight definition on his torso. Still it was more than his body had ever had. His skin…was itchy and mostly hairless.

Eddie reached up and touches his hair—shorter than he was used to, not curly…at all—then his face, as if that was any indicator to what he—

“A mirror!” He exclaimed. His voice…sounded familiar, but different. Fuck what kind of dream was this?

Because it had to be a dream right? It had to be. How else did he wake up in someone else’s body?

He pushed himself out of the bed, walking slightly off-cadence, which…yeah probably came with the territory of your brain needing to get used to a new body. Fuck…was his brain even his brain or did his mind just get transported what was happening?

Ugh it was too early to think about that.

Eddie slowly cracked the bedroom door open and peaked into the rest of the house. He spotted a bathroom just across the way, otherwise��shit, this place actually looked a little familiar. Where the fuck was he? Who the fuck was he?

He quickly crossed the landing into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He heaved a breath and leaned back against the door for a moment to calm himself; his hands were shaking and felt cold. Could he even feel his fingers? Nice to know the occasional nervousness that snuck up on him at his lowest moments hadn’t been left behind in his old body, that they’d followed him to this one.

His body…would it still be in his bed? What if he really had died and…had jumped into his new body? Was this reincarnation?

Fuck, if he was dead…Wayne would find him. Could he even…see his uncle again? How could he ever explain who he was?

Eddie felt the tears prick his eyes and his throat tighten and he slapped his face a few times.

“Come on man, come on,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. It’s only…mildly awful. Fuck, ok. Just go, just look, just…rip it off like a bandaid.”

Eddie took a deep breath and nodded, then crossed the short distance to stand in front of the sink. He stared at his new feet, wiggled his new toes. You never…appreciated the toes you had until you have new ones.

That was awful and you’re an idiot. Just look.

Eddie closed his eyes again and turned his face up towards the mirror. He could do it. He would do it.

He opened his eyes.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

Steve woke up feeling like absolute shit. Everything ached—like he had pulled a muscle or something by sleeping crookedly—he had awful cottonmouth, and he had inhaled…some yarn or something because he woke up coughing and gagging until he got the intrusive strands out of his mouth.

“Gahh, shit, shit,” he said and scratched at his throat. He sounded hoarse. Ugh was he getting sick? He’d have to ask his mom to bring home some soup or something.

Could he call out of work? Shit he had to take Robin to school. She could walk today, he felt awful.

Steve blinked his eyes open and took in the unfamiliar popcorn ceiling with growing concern.

He looked around at the…piles of garbage and the cracks in the plaster walls partially covered by band posters...and felt the rise of panic grow within him. He tried to recall the night before.

He’d wrapped up his shift at Family Video, gone home and had a rare dinner with both of his parents, then…felt extremely tired and went to bed.

So how did he end up here…wherever here was?

This was a kidnapping; it had to be. He was…drugged—explained the cottonmouth—and kidnapped. And now someone was holding him for ransom or something to…blackmail his father? Thomas Harrington was kind of a dick sometimes, sure, but still…he was a pretty decent guy. Who would want to blackmail him?

“H-hello?” Steve called out. “Anyone there? C-can anyone hear me?”

There was some shuffling outside of the door of the room.

Thankfully Steve wasn’t tied up or anything. God, what kind of kidnappers were these? He quickly glanced around the room for a weapon of some sort and he immediately spotted...

A guitar? A few guitars actually. Man these kidnappers really liked music huh?

One was a weird shape--he'd seen some hair metal bands use guitars like that in magazines, but he'd never seen one in person--and was a mottled red color. One was just what you'd expect when someone said "electric guitar." And one was acoustic and looked like it could pack a real wallop.

Bingo.

Steve pushed himself out of the bed and immediately jumped because whatever had been in his mouth was on his shoulders now. He reached up to grab it: hair. Long, wavy, messy...knotty and frizzy. Like it hadn't been brushed for days, maybe weeks?

And his arm, sticking out from whatever t-shirt he'd been put in...was lithe and weak and there were tattoos. On both arms. A creepy claw hand and a bunch of bats.

What was this? How long had they held him hostage for? No wonder they didn't feel the need to tie him up! He'd been knocked out cold.

He needed to get out of here. Now. He needed to get home.

Steve crossed the room to grab the guitar when he noticed it. At first he thought it was another person. But no, it was just a mirror...and in the mirror...his reflection.

Only it wasn't...his reflection.

It had startled him and he had jumped. Then he moved his arms a little and watched the figure in the mirror mimic him. Over and over.

A wave, a turn, a funny face.

He couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke. A dream. A nightmare.

Because it was him, his reflection. But it was not his—Steve Harrington’s—reflection.

It was Eddie Munson's.

#Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson stranger things #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington stranger things #Eddie and steve #stranger things fic #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #Steve Harrington imagine

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munson-blurbs · 1 year ago

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Hurt People

This is just me giving an accurate depiction of what would most likely happen if Eddie Munson was real and went to high school with me. I’m sad tonight.

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, insults, bullying

WC: 718

—

You don’t know how you didn’t see it coming. Maybe it’s because he’s Eddie, the boy—young man, really—thrust into the fringes of society because of his affinity for metal music and fantasy games. Maybe it’s because you’d assumed outcasts, loners, losers, looked out for one another. Or maybe you were just delusional, rose-colored glasses shielding you from what you couldn’t, wouldn’t see.

You and Eddie don’t have any classes together, with you electing to take honors classes and him struggling with introductory courses. You’d never judged him for it, never thought less of him because of it; some people’s talents lay outside of academia. Rumor has it that he’s a decent guitar player, though your parents’ strict rules forbid you from checking out a gig. Truly, you don’t know much about him except that he’s on his third round of senior year and, in your opinion, is the cutest guy at Hawkins High.

The opportunity to befriend him presents itself in the unassuming form of Honor Society volunteer hours. Mrs. O’Donnell needs someone to tutor Eddie in chemistry so she can get him the hell out of her class, and you eagerly offer to be his teacher. Quiet afternoons together in the library might lead to secrets whispered, kisses shared…

The first tutoring session is…fine. Eddie’s completely disinterested in the material, which is to be expected. You keep drawing his attention back to the lab report he’s supposed to be writing, trying to maintain your composure as your patience wears thin.

When he’s barely accomplished anything at the end of the hour, you tell him to meet you back in the study room tomorrow after school.

“You need to hand this in on time,” you say softly but firmly. “Don’t wanna lose points for late work.”

He grumbles as he grabs his tin lunchbox and carelessly shoves the lab report into his backpack, not even saying goodbye.

The next day, you muster up the courage to approach his lunch table. You’ve got your old chemistry study guides clenched in your fists; the idea is to offer them to him so he doesn’t have to reference his own scribbled notes for his upcoming quiz. Just a casual, “hey, I figured you could use these.” Yeah, that could work.

You’re ten feet away when you hear his boisterous laugh. “Oh, and get this,” he’s saying to his friends, “she wants me to study again with her today! Like yesterday wasn’t bad enough.”

“Dude,” one of his buddies chuckles, sympathetically shaking his head and clapping his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “it’s just your luck that the one girl crushing on you happens to be the ugliest girl in the school.”

Your blood runs cold, nerves buzzing in anticipation of Eddie’s response. Surely he’ll tell the guy that he’s gone too far, that poking fun at your appearance is uncalled for.

But Eddie just gives him the finger and replies, “tell me about it. And now I gotta sit there while she makes heart-eyes at me, unless I wanna face O’Donnell’s wrath. Again.”

Tell me about it. Tell me about it. Tell me about it.

There’s no defending you, no sense of irritation with his friend’s statement. It’s pure, unfiltered agreement.

You’re the ugliest girl in school, and even Eddie Munson thinks so.

Tears blur your vision as you make a beeline out of the cafeteria, dumping your papers in the nearest trash can. You’re sorry you wasted your precious time digging them up. Humiliation seeps into your skin. It doesn’t matter if no one else heard him, because you did. And the information isn’t novel to you—you’re not Chrissy Cunningham or Nancy Wheeler, not by a longshot. No, you’re embarrassed because you’d deluded yourself into thinking that Eddie could see you in a way that others didn’t, in a way that you simply couldn’t.

A large part of you hoped that Eddie would see your status as a fellow freak and applaud you for it, welcome you into his group, take you under his wing. That seems like a pipe dream now.

It’s like that old cliche: hurt people hurt people. Maybe if you were bravier—bitchier, even—you’d hurt him back. But for now, you’re too tired from dragging around the burden of your existence.

Hurt will have to wait another day.

—

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #angst #hurt/no comfort #eddie munson x reader

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thebestandworstdayofjune · 4 months ago

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everybody’s goin’ off the deep end (s.h. x reader)

A/N: Long time no see! I wrote this in the midst of Steve Harrington brain rot, I hope you enjoy! If you prefer, you can find it here on Ao3!

Summary: Your life has always been simple. Not necessarily easy, but simple. You know your way around the world you live in. You love your dad, your friends and your exceedingly nerdy babysitting charges. When you’re assigned to be Steve Harrington’s tutor because he is one step away from being kicked off the basketball team, you can feel things beginning to shift in your small town. And that’s just the beginning.

Friday, November 4, 1983

“I think it’s time we admit that this is hopeless.” Steve Harrington looked positively morose, hunched over his Hawkins High School issued copy of Macbeth for the third Friday in a row.

You did your best not to laugh, but he just looked so ridiculous leaning back in his chair far enough that the front legs rise off the ground, shoulders slumped and pencil tapping against the table rapidly. “It’s been ten minutes, and we’ve only made it through two pages.” If you hadn’t been anticipating the slam of the front two chair legs on the floor, you would have jumped out of your seat. You had several times in the past few weeks, even.

But by now, you had the routine down. For the first fifteen minutes, Steve would joke and grumble, hoping that you would offer to cut your session short. Had he been assigned any other mandatory tutor during the meeting with Ms. Chen, the school counselor, and two out of three of his basketball coaches, he would have had a shot. But you’d had one too many reluctant students stuck in front of you at a library table in your time to give in to his whining.

��Exactly!” He tapped his pen against the copy of Macbeth in front of him on the desk, accentuating his point. “Two pages in ten minutes is a horrible track record!” His eyebrows drew together, as they always did when he was particularly pouty. “Besides, Mrs. Brown already spoiled the whole thing.” You raised your eyebrow, continuing to make notes in your already extensively annotated copy. “Calling it a tragedy in class kind of ruins the ending, you know?” You missed the way Steve’s eyes sparkled as you threw your head back in laughter.

“That’s just the type of play, Steve. There’s comedies, tragedies, like Macbeth, and histories.” You glanced over to see Steve slumped over the table, his cheek resting on his hand. “It might be helpful to write that down.” He blinked, seemingly confused for a moment. “For the test?”

“There’s going to be a test?” Steve looked mournful.

“I know that Mrs. Brown went over the syllabus on the first day of class. And there have definitely been tests over the other two books so far. What do you mean what test?” You looked up from your folder, where you had been shuffling through past syllabi to find a lopsided smirk on Steve’s face. “You can’t do that, Steve!”

“I’m offended you bought that! You know I’m taking this seriously.” He looked slightly sheepish at the realization you might not believe him. You took a moment to consider. You’d started studying together a few months ago, and Steve had been remarkably punctual, and had yet to cancel a session. He’d only forgotten to bring his work once and remained apologetic the whole session, even when you’d reassured him that it was fine. You’d spent the hour hunched over your notes with him beside you, you providing insight into the short story from class while Steve did his best to make you laugh.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes grew wide, mock astonishment clear on his face. “An apology?”

“Oh my god, shut up, Harrington.” You playfully roll your eyes, before sliding your own copy of Macbeth towards him. “Trade me.”

Steve glanced down at your copy, grinning. “Do they know you’re defacing school property, Ms. Clarke? I’m not sure that your father would approve.”

“My dad spends all day trying to convince middle schoolers to retain information about layers of the Earth’s crust. He’d just be glad I am taking an interest in an academic pursuit.”

“Even if it’s English?”

You smile to yourself, remembering the year you had to admit to your dad that your Science grade was not what it should be. You’d built being that daughter of Scott Clarke, science enthusiast and Earth and Biology Teacher extraordinaire of Hawkins Middle, up in your mind to be a heavy burden to bear. You’d been so afraid to hand your report card over, but he’d diligently ignored your C- and instead waxed poetic about your perfect English score. “Finally, someone to round out the knowledge base in this house!” He’d beamed and loaded you into the car for ice cream with an urgency unbecoming of the situation.

“Especially if it’s English.” You leaned over the table, quickly finding where you and Steve had left off in your copy and pointing it out to Steve. “Start there, let’s try again.” You made it through the next two scenes, with only minor detours, usually when Steve found one of your annotations particularly amusing.

The door to the library squeaked open, breaking your focus. Nancy and Barb hurried over to your table, crowding around your study materials. “Macbeth cannot possibly be so interesting that you forgot we had plans.” Nancy joked, Steve’s arm settled over the back of the chair. Nancy insisted it ‘wasn’t anything serious’ but you caught them making moon eyes at each other the last few times that your tutoring sessions ran over, and you could have sworn that last week he slipped his number into her notebook when he thought no one was looking.

You glanced up at the clock, cringing internally when you realized you were, in fact, fifteen minutes late to meeting your best friends in the parking lot. Across the table, Steve let out a heavy sigh. “We were a little too into the ghost of Banquo in here.”

Barb gave Steve a weird look. You were almost sure that she was going to say something, her eyebrow was quirking up in the way it usually does when she is about to be snarky, but the moment passed, somewhat awkwardly, but passed all the same. “I’ll see you next week, Steve.” You stood up from your chair, Nancy and Barb following your lead. Steve started to slide your copy of Macbeth back to you across the table. “Keep it, maybe you can get through a few chapters on your own before I see you again.”

“You firing me, Clarke?”

“I don’t think I have the power to fire you from mandatory tutoring, Harrington.”

Steve gifted you a rarity, one of his genuine smiles that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly before standing up and heading for the library doors. “See you on Monday, Ladies!” He offered the three of you a joking salute and a wink before heading for the parking lot.

“Doesn’t he know we are all going the same way?” Barb said, breaking the silence of the library. The three of you dissolved into giggles, and you took your time packing your book bag, not not in the hopes that you would avoid running into Steve again in the parking lot. As much as you loved Nancy, it was almost painful for you and Barb to watch her try to keep whatever is going on with her and Steve from the two of you.

______________________________________________________________

“What about this?” Nancy held up a pink blouse off the rack, eyebrows raised.

“It’s nice, Nance, but I just can’t understand the urgency.” You laughed. The three of you’d had plans to head to Benny’s for milkshakes, as you did every Friday, but on the way Nancy had begged to stop at Pam’s, the clothing store downtown. Reluctantly, you’d parked your dad’s car out front and let her drag the two of you inside. Nancy ducked her head, blush taking over her cheeks as she put the shirt back. Her dismissive muttering could barely be heard over the store’s speakers, blaring the new Cyndi Lauper single.

“Oh come on, Nance.” Barb rolled her eyes, snatching the blouse off the rack again. Nancy’s eyes were wide as her head snapped up to meet Barb’s gaze. “You are horrible at this. Just tell us what’s going on with Steve!”

Nancy grabbed for the shirt, but Barb was holding it over her head while you did your best to hold in your laughter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Nancy grabbed for the shirt, looking back at you over her shoulder clearly asking for help. All you could do was shrug.

“We saw him put his number in your notebook, and the last two times I called your line was busy! It’s never busy!” Nancy’s blush was creeping down her neck. She gave up the fight for the blouse, looking at you accusatorially. Another shrug, and a nod had her looking like she was going to stomp her foot.

“I just-“ she paused, taking a deep breath “I need to make sure that Steve Harrington isn’t going to steal both of my friends.”

“Barb what are you talking about?” On some level, you could understand why she was worried about Nancy. It wasn’t typical for the three of you to have secrets. But you’d tutored countless people, or joined different after school activities, and she’d never worried about the state of your friendship before.

Barb hesitated, suddenly looking ashamed. “Nothing, it’s-” she dropped the hanger back on the rack, her hands twisting together nervously. “It’s nothing, swear.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. You and Nancy shared a look, not entirely convinced.

Without a word, the two of you wrapped your arms around Barb sandwiching her between the two of you as you had done since preschool whenever someone was having a hard day. It had been a while since you’d had reason for a best friend sandwich, but when Barb wrapped her arms around the both of you, leaning her head on top of Nancy’s, you knew you’d made the right choice. “You should get the shirt, Nance. I think Steve will really like it.” Your voice came out muffled, and you couldn’t see Nancy’s face because it was smushed into your arm, but you would have sworn that you felt her smile.

______________________________________________________________________________

You pulled into the Hawkins Middle parking lot doing your best to keep your smile from turning into a grimace. Nancy had been stuck debating between two options at Pam’s for a solid twenty minutes, and after Barb’s minor breakdown, you hadn’t felt it was the time to rush anyone. You threw the car into park and barely managed to stop yourself from sprinting as you headed for your dad’s classroom. The tension left your chest when you heard the screaming from down the hall. In any other situation it would have had the opposite effect, but hearing the AV Club chattering away meant that even if you were running late, your dad is running later.

“Like I said boys, it should be here next week but there is just no telling for sure.” Your dad had run the Hawkins Middle AV Club for as long as you could remember, but he had never had such an enthusiastic membership. In years past, you’d stop by a meeting or two after outgrowing the appropriate age for club participation, but you’d babysat for a few of the kids before, and you had a special soft spot for them. The unanimous, synchronized exclamations of “Bea!” as you rounded the corner led you to believe the feelings were mutual.

Bea was a nickname that had pulled double duty since you were little. Bea, as in short for Beatrice, your middle name after your grandmother who had passed long before your arrival, and Bea as in bumble bee. You were a Bea to everyone, but when your dad used the name, you both knew the difference. You gave everyone a warm smile and a small wave, plopping down in a desk close to the door.

“As soon as it comes in, you all will be the first to know.”

“And the only ones to care.” Mike muttered, causing you to hid your smile behind your hand, in an effort not to encourage them. The boys almost instantly began to speak over one another, calling dibs on who got the first go, where they should call first. Your dad gave you a smile that said ‘there’s nothing I can do about this’.

You coughed a few times, gaining the boys’ attention. “You guys do know you are cutting it close if you want to be somewhere with cable, so you can catch the new episode of that Dungeons and Dragons show. It comes out on Fridays, right?” The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, before they started hastily shoving books into backpacks and tearing out of the room. You stuck your head out of the doorway, calling after the boys to remind them you would see them at the Wheeler’s on Sunday. You were planning on studying for your chemistry test with Nancy. You had probably fifty vocab words to make flashcards for, not to mention the equations and elements you needed to know for your test next week. They waved without turning around before sprinting out the doors of the school.

______________________________________________________________________________

Sunday, November 6, 1983

You’d been able to hear the boys screaming in the basement from your spot on Nancy’s bed for the last few hours. You had a rare weekend off from babysitting, as most of your regulars were currently 9 hours deep into a Dungeons and Dragons campaign in the Wheeler’s basement. Weekends without a babysitting gig were more frequent now that the boys were old enough to bike home from school alone. You would watch Lucas’s little sister on occasion, and Holly more regularly, but it was far more common to end up at the Wheeler’s with Nancy for a while and then offer give the boys a ride home. They would take you up on it if the weather is bad but more often than not, they preferred to race home.

You and Nancy had been pretending to study for the same amount of time. You’d arrived with the best of intentions, your bag heavy with notecards and textbooks, but Nancy had a new copy of Tiger Beat, and then she’d launched into an hours-long grievance against Steve having yet to take her on a real date. Apparently, grabbing a milkshake after school didn’t count, “we do that all the time anyways”, and a makeout session in his care was not cutting it either, “besides it was only like, one time”. Ever since Barb had weaseled the confession out of her at Pam’s, it was like the dam was broken. You’d managed to corral her into focusing on studying for all of ten minutes while you secretly contemplated if it was over stepping to bully him into just asking her to go steady if it meant you got your study partner back, when her new blue phone started ringing on her bedside table. She popped up to answer it, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You’d made double the note cards she had and you still had two chapters to go. You’d largely tuned her out until you heard Steve’s name.

Your eyes snapped to Nancy’s, a blush already having taken over a vast majority of her face. You heard some murmuring from your spot across the bed, but nothing that you could make out clearly. Maybe he was finally working up the nerve to invite her on a proper date. Her shoulders deflated, and the blush was quickly receding from her face when she looked at you. Without a word, she held the phone out to you.

You frantically shook your head, she shoved the phone farther across the bed, causing the base to tumble onto the floor, pulling the handset out of her grasp with it. You both scrambled for the phone but Nancy was quicker, snatching it off of the floor and holding it up to your ear. “Hello?” You asked, wincing when your voice came out squeakier than you were used to.

“Hi, I, uh, I called the number you gave me but your dad answered. Said you’d be here.” Steve sounded almost bashful, which was not something you were used to hearing from him.

“Did my dad say something to you?” Nancy leaned her head closer to the receiver, and you adjusted to make more room for her.

“Just that learning is a voracious and exciting river, and you have to give yourself over to the current, or something.” Nancy started to giggle, you gently shoved her back against her pillows.

“Yeah, that sounds like him. Did you,” you pause, struggling to sound less surprised than you were, “need something, Harrington?”

“I just,” he paused, and you could almost see the way his gaze gets stuck on the ceiling while he tries to work up the nerve to say something he is worried will make him sound stupid. “I needed to know what was up with Lady Macbeth’s weird bloodstain monologue. All you had in the margins was that she was ‘wickedly fucked’. Don’t get me wrong, you’re right, I think anyway, but why is she so crazy all of a sudden.”

You sighed. You’d given him your number after he’d canceled a session during lunch after you and your dad had already arranged the car schedule one too many times, and begged him to call if he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it as soon as he could. It wasn’t exactly for study emergencies, not that you had ever really expected Steve Harrington to have one. “She and Macbeth have swapped how they were at the beginning. Remember how you said he was being a bitch and she was a badass for plotting Duncan’s murder?” You could hear his hair rustling against the speaker, and you could picture him nodding through the phone. It didn’t seem like the time to remind him there was no possible way you could see him. “Well, now she is regretting rushing in and being brash, and he has fully accepted what the witches said at the beginning.” “That it’s his destiny to be the king?” “Yep, you’ve got it. The whole thing is about how power and ambition is corrupting.” More rustling. “Steve, are you nearly done with the play?” “I finished it, that one part was bugging me that’s all.”

“You finished it?!” You winced at the surprise that was clear in your voice. Nancy had not looked this confused since the time you told her the boy’s campaign had actually been interesting the last time you watched them as a group after Joyce got called in for a last minute shift, and Jonathan had photography club, rendering him unavailable. You shrugged, not sure how to explain it.

“Your notes were really helpful, and funny. I didn’t mean to but, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I just, you said that reading Macbeth was worse than taking sandpaper to your eyes.” He’d looked like Mike when he was ten and realized that you had tricked him into finishing the steamed broccoli his mother had left for dinner, the picture of theatrical disgust.

“I said your notes made it better, didn’t I?”

You blinked a few times as Nancy scooched back to your side. “Well, I guess we will have a lot to talk about on Monday, then.” “Yeah, yeah. Um, tell Nancy to have a good night.” He went silent for a moment, and you searched for the right words. “And you too.” He added, derailing your train of thought.

“Sure, Steve, goodnight.” You placed the phone back on the base as if it were a live bomb. “What was that?”

“What do you mean what was that? You’re the one he was calling!”

You gasped. “If one of us is more accustomed to receiving phone calls from Steve Harrington, it’s going to be you!”

Nancy rolled her eyes, a signal as clear as ever that she was gearing up for what she liked to call a lively discussion, and you hated to admit was an argument. Before she could, the phone rang again. You held your breath, preparing to hear Steve’s voice through the phone. Thankfully, it was Barb calling to ask if Nancy needed a ride to school tomorrow, she did, and if they had been studying for Kaminsky’s test, sort of. The conversation quickly devolved into talking about Steve after Barb asked if Nancy had heard from him. Nancy was recounting the awkward conversation you’d just finished and you were doing your best not to help when there was a knock on the door frame.

You glance up to see Dustin standing at the threshold of Nancy’s room, holding a pizza box. He shook it enthusiastically. “There’ two slices left if you want ‘em, sausage and pepperoni!”

You are about to nod enthusiastically when Nancy tells Barb to hold on. She leaves the phone on the bed and shuts the door in Dustin’s face. “Nance!” You frown at her, and you’re off the bed and out the door before she can respond. “Dusty, wait up!” You call when you get to the top of the stairs, catching a glimpse of his hat disappearing around the corner. You find him in the kitchen, depositing the pizza box on the counter. “Did you finish the campaign?”

“Nah, we just got to the fight with the-”

“With the demogorgon? Mike was telling me about it when I was here watching Holly last week. He seemed pleased with the planning.” Dustin shrugged, looking unusually gloomy. “Is this about Nancy?” Another shrug. You throw an arm around his shoulders, walking him to the backdoor. “She didn’t mean it, she’s having a weird night.”

“Seems like she’s been having a weird year.” He mumbled, pulling the door and stepping outside. “There’s something wrong with your sister,” he announced, making his way over to his bike, where it sat in the Wheeler’s garage.

“What are you talking about?” Mike huffed, exasperated.

Lucas was quick to chime in. “Yeah, it’s because she’s been dating that douchebag, Steve Harrington.” His gaze shifted to you, looking guilty.

You held your hands up in the air in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I’m just trying to keep him from getting kicked off the basketball team on account of his English grade.” A touch of mirth made it’s way into your eyes. “Didn’t you hear, we might actually have a shot at State this year.” The boys dissolved into giggles, kicking up the stands on their bikes, fully aware that you had never the willpower to know anything about the school’s sports teams.

“The day that you care about the basketball team is the day that Will rolls two nat twenties in a row.” Lucas laughed. Will was a notoriously bad roller.

You ruffled Will’s hair, discreetly checking to make sure all of the boys had their bags and the flashlights on their bikes turned on. You’d been called late at night over forgotten homework one enough that you did your best to confirm they had anything before they got too far down the street. Lucas rolled his eyes. “We have everything mom.” The rest of the boys shook with laughter.

“Let’s see how you feel being woken up at eleven o’clock over missing math homework, and then we can talk. Are you sure you guys wouldn’t rather have a ride home?” The boys shook their heads in unison, rebuffing you when you asked fi they were sure.

They confirmed one more time that you had no updates about the new radio your dad had ordered for the AV club, before beginning to pedal away. “Be safe, boys!” You called, stepping inside, leaving Lucas and Dustin’s unified “We will!” And the sounds of Mike and Will talking softly drifting in from the garage behind you.

You quickly said your goodbyes to Mr. And Mrs. Wheeler, stuck your head in to say goodnight to Nancy and gave Holly a hug before heading out to your car. By the time you got home, your dad was in bed, a note on the fridge reminding you about your early wake up time for tomorrow, so that he could be at Hawkins’ Middle to receive a package. You were thoroughly tired by the time that your head hit the pillow, but somehow, a pit had formed in the bottom of your stomach. It wasn’t often you tossed and turned, but when you did, you were an old pro. You lasted fifteen minutes before crawling out of bed and setting yourself up on the couch, a cup of tea and a worn old copy of A Wrinkle in Time your dad acquired in high school. It was your favorite bedtime story growing up and it usually did the trick even now. You read until your eyes got heavy and your tea grew cold, before dragging yourself back to bed in the hopes of feeling more like a well rested, responsible, functioning human in the morning. If you were being honest, the chances of that were slim.

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#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #Steve Harrington #Joe Keery #Joe Keery x reader #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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[7k] single dad!steve, wednesday!reader and a meddling kid that may be hawkins' best wingwoman.

Steve Harrington was barely eighteen years old when he was handed an eight month old baby and told he was a father.

It had been a few weeks out of his high school graduation. He was in his house, a pot of instant noodles with a fork sticking out of it abandoned on the coffee table as he watched whatever mediocre game show that was playing on the television. The doorbell rang—an odd occurrence at eleven in the evening—but he got up and answered it regardless.

Except, there was nobody he knew on the other side of the door—just a basket with a baby inside and an envelope taped to the edge with his name sprawled on it.

In a panic, Steve had called Hopper. Later on, he would feel bad for waking the man up and dragging him out of bed at such an odd hour, but he was young, confused and stressed out of his mind that somebody had left a child on his doorstep.

With Hopper there and being the voice of reason, he finally got the guts to open the envelope that explained everything. It was from a one night stand he had at some houseparty last year, one that clearly resulted more than he bargained for. She was from out of town, a friend of a friend’s cousin who heard about the party, and she was already back home when she took the test. She thought she could do it. She thought she could raise a child on her own. But eight months in after a difficult pregnancy, she couldn’t take it anymore. She just couldn’t do it anymore.

Despite the twist in his gut and the guilt he felt that she had to do this all alone, there was not one apology in her letter. No apology for dumping this on him or not contacting him when she found out. No explanation as to why she kept it a secret. Just a simple note at the end that said the baby’s name and that was all.

Aurora Harrington.

He was surprised she had even given the child his surname in the first place.

That night was full of breakdowns, tears and an emergency call to Joyce Byers who made her way over as soon as she could to help the young teen wrap his head around the fact that he was a father. He had a child. He had his family.

Steve had always imagined starting his own family, having kids with the love of his life after they moved into their dream home with a family dog who the kids would grow up with. Never once in his vision did he expect he would be eighteen, unprepared and alone.

But he wasn’t really alone.

He had Hopper and Joyce. He had Robin and the gang of kids who seemed less stressful to deal with now that he had an actual baby who was reliant on him. He had support systems who backed him up during the following months as he discovered fatherhood.

And most importantly, he had his daughter.

Despite his conflicting emotions from that night, Steve would never change it for the world. Maybe he would have wished he met his daughter earlier, that he knew she existed earlier—but beyond that, he couldn’t find a part of him that was upset at the fact she had entered his life.

“Rory! What did we say about running?”

“Sorry, Daddy!”

Steve felt a warmth settle in his chest as he watched his daughter stop, quickly turning on the spot and rushing back to him (even though he said no running) and waiting patiently as he closed and locked the car. He grinned down at the young girl—now three, almost four and energetic as ever—as she extended her hand out for him to take.

“Please?” she asked in the sweetest voice ever and Steve was unable to resist the big, brown eyes staring up at him.

He extended his hand to her, watching as she wrapped her palm around two of his fingers before all but dragging him towards the Hawkins Public Library, a tradition that began long before she could walk. He obediently followed her, his other hand holding the books they had taken out last time as they made their way up the steps and towards the reception.

Orla—a sweet old woman who had been working in the library long before Steve himself was born—gave the father-daughter duo a smile as they entered the building, something oddly maternal about the simple gesture.

“If it isn’t my favourite members,” she greeted in a soft, quiet voice as they approached the desk. In a swift movement, Steve placed the books on the desk before lifting Rory up so she could see the older woman. “Did little miss sunshine enjoy the books this week?”

“Bleh,” the young girl stated, her nose scrunched in disgust.

Steve only laughed, shaking his head at his daughter before turning to Orla. “She said it didn’t make sense.”

“It’s a fairytale,” Orla said in a cooing voice for the young child. “It’s magical, it doesn’t need to make sense.”

“I wanted a dragon,” Rory said with a frown. “No dragons. Only horses. Boring.”

“Well, maybe you’ll find something better this week,” Orla sighed. The woman tried every week to throw a new princess tale or magical story at the girl, and every week she was unamused.

“Can I go look, Daddy?” Rory asked, her attention turning to her father as she stared up at him hopefully.

“Go on, sunshine, I’ll be there in a second,” he murmured and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head, the messy braids he had done that morning already coming undone. He placed her down, only to watch her run off not even seconds later. “No running, Rory!”

“No yelling in the library!” Orla scolded playfully, watching as Steve only blushed in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile.

However, young Rory Harrington didn’t listen to her father’s instructions as she ran towards the children’s section of the library where the shelves were shorter and the colours were brighter. Her wide eyes took in the cartoon characters painted on the walls and the colourful bunting pinned across the ceiling. She eagerly made her way towards the bright plastic chairs and massive beanbags, only to stop short when she noticed somebody was already there.

“Who are you?”

You froze for a moment as the young girl’s voice sounded through the quiet section. You turned to look at her, still kneeling on the floor as you worked through the books you had to reshelf, and your eyes narrowed at the accusation.

“Who are you?” You restored, watching as the young girl with sandy brown hair and big brown eyes tilted her head. And then she smiled wider than you had ever seen any child smile before.

“Rory!” she said her name excitedly. “My name is Rory!”

“Right,” you said with a single nod of your head before you turned back to the shelves.

“Aren’t you gonna say your name?” She asked curiously and you glanced back over your shoulder at her.

“No,” you stated bluntly but the young girl didn’t seem all that bothered by the tone.

“Why are you wearing all black?” She questioned once again.

You let out a sigh. “Because I want to.”

“Oh,” she hummed and nodded. “My Uncle Eddie does that.”

“Good for him, kid,” you murmured before you turned back to the shelves, hoping that if you just let the child rattle on, you could finish your work in this section and run off before the kid’s parents showed up asking the same amount of questions she was.

“He says angels wear black,” she told you, her voice still eager and animated as she spoke. “Daddy says he’s lying but Uncle Eddie never lies!”

You let out a thoughtless hum.

“Are you an angel?”

You paused, blinking as the question processed before you turned to look at her. “Am I an angel?”

Rory nodded. “Yeah, a dark angel. Cause you wear black.”

“A dark angel,” you repeated, wondering where this kid even came from.

“Or a witch!” She said with a gasp, looking at you with hopeful eyes. “Are you a witch?”

“Do you not have somewhere to be or…?” You trailed off, glancing past her as if you expected to see her parents wander over at any moment and apologise for their daughter’s behaviour.

“Nope! Daddy says I can pick three books this week!” Rory grinned widely, like that accomplishment should have meant something to you the way it meant to her.

“Maybe you should go find your daddy then,” you said to her. But she only giggled and shrugged her shoulders before she moved closer to you.

“You have black on your eyes,” she murmured in a curious voice only children have.

“It’s called makeup,” you deadpanned.

“I want some!”

“Ask your daddy.”

Almost as though you summoned him yourself, Steve came rounding the corner with his brows furrowed together, wondering what was taking his daughter so long to pick up a few books for the week. Just like his daughter had done, he quickly fell short when he noticed you in the children’s section.

“Oh. Hi.”

You raised your brows, unamused. But your reaction was the last thing on his mind when Rory ran over to him, arms stretched out for him to catch her and lift her, which he did.

“Daddy! I made a friend!” Rory smiled brightly.

“I see,” Steve murmured before clearing his throat. He looked at you with a more polite smile, one that matched his daughter’s perfectly. “I’m Steve.”

However, you simply nodded and turned your head back towards the shelves you were stacking. Steve frowned a little but didn’t question it—not that he got much of a chance—before Rory was wiggling to be put down again. She raced around the section, grabbing the books she had noticed last week before handing them to Steve with an eager smile, ready to check them out.

Rory gripped her father’s fingers, pausing before they walked away as she turned back to you. “Bye, Angel! See you next week!”

Steve blinked, guessing you had told Rory your name and gave you an awkward wave. “Bye, Angel.”

And just like that, the two Harringtons left, leaving you somewhat intrigued by the small family and the odd choice of nickname.

…

The second time Steve saw you was the next week when he returned with Rory, old books in hand and eager to choose new ones.

She seemed more excitable than usual and it was only confirmed when they entered the library, this time finding you in the reception seat instead of Orla. Steve barely had a chance to say a word before Rory raced over, turning to look at her father expectantly as she waited to be lifted.

“Angel! Angel!”

You lifted your head, catching a glimpse of the small child before you noticed Steve approaching the desk with a kind smile. You watched as he placed a small pile of books down before lifting his daughter, the signature Harrington smile on their faces.

“No yelling in the library,” you said as a way of greeting, but neither of them seemed bothered by it.

“Sorry!” Rory said, polite as ever even if her volume didn’t change.

“Inside voices, sweetheart,” Steve chastised his daughter in a soft voice and the little girl nodded.

You watched the interaction with a hint of curiosity as he kissed the top of the girl’s head before setting her down, letting her run off to the children’s section. He then reached into his back pocket, taking out his wallet and sliding out the small, plastic library card that he slid over the desk towards you.

“Just giving these back,” he said as he somewhat awkwardly pushed the pile of books in your direction.

“I assumed,” you said as you took the pile of books, your fingers tapping away on the computer as you began to enter his details into the system.

“So, are you new here?” He asked in an attempt to fill the awkward silence.

“To the town or the library?” You questioned, your eyes remaining on the screen.

Steve’s brows furrowed together. “Both?”

“Yes,” you stated simply and he found himself at a loss.

“Angel is a cool name,” he tried again, watching the way you worked so mechanically, almost like you were a machine yourself.

“A shame it’s not my name,” you replied.

Steve blinked. “It’s not?”

“Your daughter seems to think otherwise,” you continued. “I guess that happens when young humans are incapable of reading name tags.”

Almost instantly his eyes shot down to the name tag pinned to your black denim pinifer, taking a few seconds to read the name scribbled on the small tag before he mouthed your name, like he was testing it before he said it aloud.

“I think Angel still fits,” he replied lamely when he realised he had fallen silent, and that you had finished checking the books back in as you slid his library card across the desk.

“Do you have any books to check out?” You asked him in a somewhat monotonous voice.

“Do you always avoid compliments?” He retorted, the question slipping past his lips before he could even stop himself. But the short answers bothered him in a way he couldn’t quite understand himself.

“I didn’t realise my job description included maintaining mediocre small talk and aimless comments,” you stated and he knew you were right. He knew very well. But that didn’t stop the bitter taste left in his mouth as he was left grasping for a reply.

Thankfully, Rory approached the desk moments later with two books in her hands and Steve’s thoughts were torn away from you.

…

They saw you every week without fail at the library. However, it was over a month after that first interaction that Steve bumped into you outside of your workplace.

It had been a long day at work—an unexpected double shift when Kevin never showed up and supposedly called in sick—which left Eddie swooping in to take Rory for a few hours before Steve picked her up from the trailer less than thirty minutes ago.

It was coming up to eight o’clock and he knew Rory hadn’t eaten yet. He also knew it was quickly approaching her bedtime and he didn’t have a single clue what was left in the fridge back in the house, which meant an impromptu last minute grocery trip so he could grab the microwavable macaroni and cheese Rory liked.

He was truly a candidate for father of the year.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit up here?” Steve asked the young girl as he pushed the trolley through the automatic doors at the entrance. “You love sitting up here.”

“I’m a big girl, daddy,” Rory huffed out, but she still gripped the edge of his jacket like he requested. “I can walk.”

“If you get tired, just tell me, sunshine,” he said to her, knowing full well his daughter was as stubborn as they got.

Steve was fighting to keep his eyes open and his body moving as they wandered through the aisles of the grocery store, halfheartedly throwing things into the trolley that he vaguely remembered writing on the grocery list that was taped on the fridge. He was too stubborn himself to do two trips this week. If he forgot something, it would just have to wait until the next week.

“Do you want the strawberry yoghurts or the kiwi ones?” Steve asked, his tired brain racking on which one his daughter preferred this week. “Rory?”

Steve blinked as he glanced down to where she was moments ago, only to see the spot next to him empty. It was like a shot of adrenaline was coursing through him as he glanced up and down the aisle, seeing no sign of the young girl.

“Rory!” Steve called out, his voice a little more frantic as he abandoned the trolley and the yoghurts and began racing through the aisles they just left. The grocery store was by no means big, but in that moment it felt fucking massive.

“Rory, where—”

His sneakers screeched against the tile floor as he paused by the small bakery near the back of his store. There Rory was, standing there without a concern in the world, holding onto the edge of your dress like she did with him.

“Daddy! Look!” Rory cheered gleefully, unaware of the emotional distress her father had just been through. “Angel!”

“I…uh, I see that,” Steve’s chest was heaving as he walked towards you both, finally tearing his eyes away from his daughter when he was sure she was okay before looking at you.

“You lost your small human,” you told him.

And maybe it was the adrenaline rush or the stress or the fact Steve was just downright fucking terrified up until a few moments ago, but he laughed. He laughed loudly.

“Yeah,” he breathed out between chuckles. “I did.”

There was a pause.

“Thank you for looking after her,” he added quickly, his cheeks flushing a light pink.

Your eyes dropped down to the young girl who was still gripping your dress. “I didn’t really mean to,” you replied honestly. “She just seemed to…latch on.”

“She used to be a runner,” Steve admitted sheepishly.

“Admirable,” you commented with a nod.

Steve cleared his throat a little, shifting his gaze back to his daughter as he held out his hand. “C’mon, sunshine, we should leave Angel to do her shopping.”

But Rory just pouted. “I wanna stay with her.”

“My cat doesn’t like kids,” you stated bluntly as you tried to take a step away from the young girl, but her grip held tight.

“Kitty?” Rory’s eyes lit up.

“Rory, honey,” Steve sighed and walked closer, kneeling down to gently pull her hands off your dress. “We gotta go.”

Her bottom lip jutted out. “Daddy—”

“M’sorry, sunshine, but we gotta head home,” he murmured in a softer voice, all too well aware of the way your eyes were watching the interaction closely. “It’s your bedtime soon.”

“Story?” She asked hopefully.

“Your favourite one,” he promised and she quickly threw herself into his arms, a small oomph leaving his lips upon impact. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up effortlessly before he gave you a smile. “Thank you, once again. I know you said you did nothing but—”

“Message received, Steve,” you nodded.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, already starting to take a few steps back to head back to whichever aisle he abandoned his trolley in. “Have a good night, Angel.”

…

It was two weeks before Halloween when Steve came into the library alone, looking a little more dishevelled than you had ever seen him before.

It wasn’t unusual for Steve to be a bit of a mess. He was twenty-odd years old and a single dad, it wasn’t like he had his life together at all times. Hell, not even half of the time.

Sometimes it was just stained shirts when he didn’t have time to do laundry or mismatched shoes he didn’t pay attention to when he was running out of the house.

But this was something different.

His clothes were wrinkled and his hair was far messier than usual. There were dark circles under his eyes that made it look like he hadn’t had proper rest in days, and there was a weariness in his eyes that only a young, lost parent could ever really have.

“You look shit,” you said as he shuffled towards the reception desk.

Steve just gave you a sad smile. “Rory’s caught something from daycare, hasn’t stopped coughing or crying in days.”

He was somewhat surprised by the way your brows furrowed in concern.

“She’s sick?”

Steve nodded. “All week. But she demanded new books so a friend is watching over her while I grab some.” He paused for a moment, his eyes widening in realisation. “Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot the other books back home and—“

“Steve,” you said his name, a little softer than your usual tone. “It’s fine. You can bring them next week, or whenever she’s better. I’ll let you off this time.”

His lips twitched a little. “Going soft on me, Angel?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered but he could’ve sworn you smiled a little before your face returned to its usual expression of general disinterest. “Go and pick your books, Steve.”

Steve only grinned before he disappeared off to the kids’ section of the library, flicking through the books as he racked his brain on which ones they had already read and which ones were new.

You were still at the desk when he returned with a pile of seven books, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I couldn’t decide,” he murmured as he placed the pile down. “Plus, she’s been wanting more stories.”

You glanced down at the pile, your eyes flickering across the spines as you read the titles before you frowned. “No.”

Steve’s face fell. “No?”

“She won’t like these,” you told him.

His confusion only grew. “She won’t?” He repeated before shaking his head. How could you seriously know his daughter better than him?

You nodded your head towards the colourful board. “She’s given every princess book only two pumpkins,” you said as you pointed towards the themed reading chart the library had set up for the local kids. “She doesn’t like them.”

“She doesn’t?” He asked, sounding a little helpless.

“She prefers the witch books,” you said and pointed towards the chart where Rory had given each of the books at least three pumpkins or more.

“Oh.”

You watched the way the crease between his brows deepened, his shoulders tense and the rest of him even tenser. He looked like he didn’t have a single clue what to do and he was starting to beat himself up for it.

“I’ll give you a few,” you said eventually as you turned around, heading towards the small cart of books you had yet to reshelf. “I’ve been meaning to give them to Rory anyways.”

“You have?” Steve asked, the surprise in his voice not hidden. Or at least, it wasn’t hidden well.

“She has similar taste to me when I was her age,” you said as you placed a pile of around five books towards him. “That’s a good sign.”

“I’m sure it is, Angel,” he murmured as he took the books, giving you a warm smile. “You’re quite the lady.”

“Don’t you forget it, Steve,” you teased lightly, and he swore he saw another twitch of your lips.

His eyes softened. “Thank you.”

You simply nodded. “I’ll see you when she’s better, Steve.”

And that was the closest thing to a proper goodbye he had ever received from you.

…

When Rory was better, she came running into the library with a grin spread across her face and a themed Halloween headband pushing back her sandy brown hair.

“Angel!”

Steve opened his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue. But you got there first.

“Inside voices, Rory.”

Rory blinked before flashing you a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“You look better,” you noted, your eyes taking in the small child. Except for the paleness that remained even after one was sick, she looked mostly normal. And just as eager for the upcoming holiday than she was the last time you saw her.

“I am better, Angel!” Rory grinned up at you, barely able to stand still as she did. “Halloween is this week!”

“Is it?” You mused. “I had no idea.”

“It is! It is!” Rory clapped her hands together before turning to her father. “Tell her, Daddy!”

Your attention turned to Steve for the first time since he entered, only to find the boy already staring at you with an unreadable expression painted across his face. You waited for him to say something but he never did.

“Daddy!” Rory repeated, tugging on the edge of his jacket and he finally seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in.

“Huh?” Steve looked down at his daughter before he looked at you, his cheeks flushed a light pink. “Oh, yeah, Halloween!”

“Tell Angel how long, Daddy!” Rory insisted.

“Oh,” Steve blinked before clearing his throat. “Uh, five—”

“Five days!” The young girl finished for him.

Your lips twitched. “Well, now I know.”

Steve only smiled sheepishly in response.

Everything followed the same routine for their usual visits to the library. Steve placed the previous books on the counter, you signed them back in as Rory ran off to the children’s section to find some more to take out. Usually, Steve would stand by the desk and make aimless small talk with you that you always insisted was unnecessary, but always entertained regardless. However, when the youngest Harrington disappeared between the shelves, so too did the older one.

You tried not to let your curiosity peek.

Steve returned to the desk a few moments before Rory, holding his own pile of books that he placed on the desk, along with the three new stories his daughter wanted to take out. He watched the way your eyes scanned over the spines before your gaze met his, one eyebrow raised in question.

“New hobby?” You mused, and something in his chest warmed at the fact you essentially cracked a joke with him.

“No, uh,” he let out a nervous laugh, scratching the nape of his neck as he stared down at the pile of books with an odd expression—almost like they scared him. You think they genuinely did. “They are for me.” Pause. “To learn.” Another pause. “Rory wants to join the Hawkins Halloween Bake Sale and I can’t bake for shit.”

“Bad word, Daddy!” The young girl chirped as she skipped towards the desk, more books in hand that she wordlessly handed to her father.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Steve apologised with a sheepish expression.

“You can’t bake?” You questioned.

“Daddy says it’s very hard,” Rory answered instead, nodding solemnly like she agreed with her father.

“It’s not,” you said with a snort, and the sound warmed something in Steve’s chest.

“It is,” he defended, shaking his head. “It’s witchcraft!”

“It’s baking, Steve,” you said in that almost-teasing voice that made his lips twitch upwards. “Not rocket science.”

“It may as well be,” the boy grumbled under his breath.

“Can you help us, Angel?” Rory blurted out of nowhere, looking up at you with her big doe eyes that made it virtually impossible for anyone to say no to the young girl.

Steve’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he turned to you, already shaking his head before he could even utter the words out. “Don’t listen to her, we can cope on our own—”

“Please?” Rory continued, jutting her bottom lip out until you felt something in your chest tighten at the sight.

“When is the bake sale?” You asked, your eyes narrowing in question.

Steve said your name, uttered it out in a choked gasp but Rory continued to answer your questions.

“Halloween!” She cheered gleefully.

“I can help you bake on Saturday,” you said with an earnest nod. “I have the day off.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve said in a softer voice, ignoring the happy cheers of his daughter beside him. “We don’t wanna bother you or—”

“You’re not bothering me,” you stated bluntly. “I want to help. I wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

“Oh,” he murmured before nodding. “You’re sure?”

“Certain.”

Steve tried to bite back his smile. “Yeah, we’ll see you on Saturday then.”

…

The house was in shambles before you even arrived.

Despite no actual baking having occurred, the Harrington household was chaotic since the family had woken earlier that morning. It took a solid five minutes after ringing the doorbell before Steve opened it, swinging the oak door open as his frazzled state gave you a confused smile.

“You’re early,” he replied breathlessly.

You raised your brows. “I’m actually on time.”

His eyes widened as he cursed under his breath. “You are?” His eyes glanced down at his watch. “Shit, you are.”

“Is this a bad time?” Your eyes glanced over his lack of t-shirt and sweatpants laying low on his hips. “You seem…unprepared.”

“Yes…no!” Steve quickly shook his head, running a hand through his head as he pushed his hair away from his face. “No, it’s just…Rory is just really excited to bake.”

Excited was an understatement. Rory was practically bouncing off the walls, grabbing random ingredients from the cupboards and placing them around the house. Steve had spent most of the morning running after her, trying to put things back in the right place whilst also trying to keep his daughter in one place for longer than thirty seconds.

It was endearing, in a way. It was endearing to watch the way the father-daughter duo interacted, and the way they seemed to move like a practised routine. You watched them with a look of interest as Steve tied the small apron around Rory’s waist and placed the costume chef hat on her head before he even put a shirt on himself.

To be fair, he still hadn’t put a shirt on.

“So,” Steve clapped his hands and gave you a smile that matched his daughter’s excited one. “Where do we start?”

And when Steve Harrington told you he was hopeless at baking, you genuinely thought he was exaggerating.

He was very much not exaggerating in the slightest.

“So, I add the salt now?”

“I—” You paused. “You think salt goes into cupcakes?”

He blinked. “They don’t?”

Rory snickered.

Your lips twitched upwards as you budged him to the side with your hip. “Let me do the baking, Steve,” you said as you nodded towards the bowls on the other side of the counter. “Just mix the colours into the icing.” You paused. “And wear gloves unless you want stained hands.”

He grinned. “Aye aye, captain.”

It didn’t take long to mix the icing together. Rory had helped him, and it had been a little messier than intended but the young girl was giggling and smiling the whole time so neither of you had much issue with the matter. Rory settled on the counter, legs swinging off the edge as she watched you work, piping up with random questions here and there.

And never once did you get annoyed with the young girl, staying as patient as ever.

Steve watched with a fond smile on his face, head in his hand as he watched the interactions between you and his daughter. He allowed his chest to warm as his daughter smiled wider than he had ever seen. He allowed his stomach to flutter as you smiled back at her—not a twitch of the lips or the hint of a smile, but a full wide-lipped smile.

Eventually, Rory decided she wanted to run off to play with her dolls while the cupcakes baked and cooled before you could decorate them. You wordlessly began moving around the kitchen cleaning, and Steve didn’t say anything as he began helping.

“Thank you, by the way,” Steve suddenly spoke up, sneaking a glance at you.

Your brows furrowed slightly. “For the cupcakes? They aren’t made yet, they could still be—”

“No, not for that,” he shook his head, his hand pausing his movements of swiping the counter as he turned to face you. “For making Rory smile.”

“She’s a happy kid,” you retorted. “It’s not that difficult to make her happy.”

“Yeah but,” Steve paused before he shrugged his shoulders. “Just…sometimes I think I can’t give her stuff I wanna, you know? Like today, moments like those. She’s been robbed of them and I just wanted to say thank you for giving them to her.”

Your face softened, and it was almost scary to see if it didn’t make his heart speed up. “You’re a good father, Steve.”

He let out a nervous laugh, his gaze dropping to the tile floor of the kitchen. “It doesn’t always feel like it.”

You stepped closer and then one more until there was little distance between you. Steve was almost caught off-guard when you took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing softly.

“You’re the best father you can be for Rory,” you murmured, your voice just above a whisper but it was loud and clear for him. “And that is more than enough.”

Steve swallowed harshly, trying to rid himself of the lump in the back of his throat. He blinked a few times as he tried to rid himself of the tears welling in his lash line before his gaze dropped to your lips. And he should have looked away. He knew he should have. But you were so close and all he would have had to do was tug you a little closer with your joined hands, to dip his head down for his lips to brush over yours and—

“CAN WE DECORATE THE CUPCAKES NOW?”

You both jumped away from each other as Rory barreled through the door, clutching a pink teddy bear in her arms as she looked up at you and Steve expectantly.

You cleared your throat, smiling a little as you nodded. “How about you check with me?”

Rory grinned. “Okay!”

But despite himself, Steve found himself staring at your lips far more than he cared to admit for the rest of the day.

…

“Happy Halloween!”

Steve knew you were working the morning shift at the library on the morning of Halloween. He hadn’t asked you, far too shy to face you properly when every time he looked at your face he imagined kissing you senseless. He chose to ask Orla instead, who gave him a smug smirk and a knowing look when he asked the question.

He tried to tell himself that he was only asking because he knew Rory would want to show you her Halloween costume. He told himself he was doing a kind act for his daughter’s happiness, that he just wanted to see her smile. But in all honesty—and maybe it made him a bad father—a selfish part of Steve just wanted an excuse to see you when he had no real reason to.

“Happy Halloween, Rory—” However, you cut yourself short on her name when you peered over the desk to look at the younger girl.

“Guess who I am?” Rory exclaimed excitedly, practically bouncing on her feet as she looked at you with eager eyes.

Your eyes glanced over the little black denim pinafore dress she was wearing, taking in the black tights and black boots and black shirt underneath. You took in the costume rings she wore and what looked like messily applied black face paint on her lips. You took in the bright pink puffer jacket she was wearing over the costume, no double to battle the cold weather. You looked at her with such a fond expression, it always made Steve want to explode.

“Uh, a witch,” you guessed half-heartedly just to see the young girl squeal in response.

“No, silly!” Rory laughed and shook her head. “I’m you! I’m Angel!”

Steve watched the way you tried to fight the grin growing on your face. “Really? Woah, Rory, your costume is amazing.”

“Daddy helped me,” Rory answered proudly. “He said I look scary!”

You raised your brows as you finally turned to glance at Steve who was watching the interaction with an unreadable expression. “Do you think I’m scary, Steve?”

Steve shook his head. “That feels like a trick question.”

“It is.”

“Then I choose to not answer.”

You gave him a small smile before you turned back to the younger girl. “Shouldn’t you be heading to the carnival?”

“Daddy says you would want to see my costume,” Rory told you.

Steve blanched. “Woah, hold on a second—”

“And he says he wants you to come with us to the carnival!” Rory continued before she looked up at you, eyes wide and her bottom lip jutted out.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Steve let out a nervous laugh. “She’s a little confused—”

“I want you there too!” Rory added, the puppy dog eyes intensifying as you stared down at the same baby browns she shared with her father. “Please, Angel? I wanna show everyone who made the cupcakes!”

You opened your mouth to reply but Steve cut you off, a pink tint to his cheeks as he spoke. “Orla mentioned you finished at one,” he said with a knowing look. “We don’t mind waiting ten minutes while you clock out.”

“Someone would think you had planned this, Steve,” you said in that almost-teasing voice of yours.

He tried to ignore his pounding heart. “Maybe I did.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “I’ll meet you both outside while I grab my stuff.”

Steve tried not to let the relief show on his face, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t as subtle as he played it off in his head considering the small snort you let out before you turned back to your work.

He had tried to fight the mix of nerves and giddiness as he watched you walked down the library steps, offering to take the tray of cupcakes from his hold. But Steve just shook your head, telling you that you could be in charge of holding Rory’s hand instead before the three of you headed towards the town centre where the carnival was set.

It felt domestic and familiar, something that Steve was not expecting but it didn’t really surprise him either. Even if he hadn’t realised, you had somehow wiggled your way into the unit he created with Rory since the day he found her on his doorstep. And maybe it should have scared him or threatened him in some way, shape or form. Maybe it should have stressed him that his perfect, little dynamic was changing.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t.

Walking into the Hawkins’ Halloween Carnival with you holding his daughter’s hand and him holding the cupcakes the three of you made together felt as easy and simple as breathing air. It felt natural for him to take Rory’s hand after dropping the cupcakes off at the bake sale table, swinging her back and forth as you navigated through the stalls. It felt natural for the distance between you two to disappear after Rory ran off to play with some kids from kindergarten.

“I’m surprised the other kids aren’t scared of her,” Steve joked in a lighthearted voice, lightly nudging your shoulder with his own.

You scoffed. “She is far too chirpy to pull off the whole look.”

“My girl is a lil’ ray of sunshine,” he commented, almost proudly like he was seconds away from puffing his chest over the remark.

“It suits her,” you hummed as you nodded in agreement. “She matches her father well.”

Steve smirked a little as he snuck a glance at you. “You calling me a ray of sunshine, Angel?”

“I do have to give you a nickname in retaliation for the horrendous one you’ve given me,” you retorted, turning your head to look up at him.

“Rory came up with that,” he defended before shrugging. “Plus, it suits you.”

“I don’t think many people would call me an angel,” you remarked in a blunt tone, because that much was true. The dark clothes and aesthetic tended to intimidate people, but the candid personality seemed to completely put them off.

“They don’t know you like I do,” Steve countered back, his voice a little lower when he spoke. A little rougher too.

“And do you know me, Steve?”

His eyes darkened. “Yeah, I think I know you pretty damn well, Angel.”

A few beats of silence passed between the two of you. And if either one of you were honest, it wasn’t a setting either of you particularly thrived in. A carnival in the centre of town where almost every Hawkins resident was present at. With kids screaming and families laughing and the sweet scent of cinnamon thick in the air around you. With so many eyes around and yet none focused on you, not that either of you would care to notice. Not when you and Steve were too locked in your own world.

It was you who made the first move.

It was you who reached out to grip the lapels of his jacket in your gloved hands, to tug him closer and destroy the remaining distance between you, to pull him down so you can press your lips against yours.

But it was Steve who kept it going. It was Steve who wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest. It was Steve who let one hand tangle itself in your hair, keeping a hold on the back of your head as he kissed you like it was his last moments on earth. It was Steve who kissed you like the world was ending and these last few seconds in the middle of Hawkins’ Halloween Carnival would be the last few moments alive.

It was you who had the balls to act first, but it was Steve who made it feel like the world was exploding in a million different colours around you.

“DADDY IS KISSING ANGEL! DADDY IS KISSING ANGEL!”

You could feel the curve of his smile against your lips before he pulled away, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink colour as he turned to look at Rory who was giggling and snickering at the pair of you. He heard a soft snort and turned back down to look at you, to memorise the amused smile plastered on your face as he kept his arms wrapped around your body.

“What?” He questioned.

You shook your head, tilting your head up to look at him. “You still think you know me, Steve?”

His smile widened. “I think I’d like to get to know you a little more.”

You could only let out a snort of laughter in response, and Steve was determined to hear it more often in his life, if it was the last thing he would do.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

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eddiexmunsonlover · 7 months ago

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One Step Away From You (Chapter 3)

ExBestFriend!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

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Chapter Summary: After some encouragement from Steve and Robin, you decide to finally talk to Eddie, and it doesn't go so well. Nothing a movie night with Steve and Robin can't help to take your mind off of though. WC: 5.7k Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Angst. Eddie is a bit of an asshole and gets slapped for it. Fatphobic comment/bullying from Jason.

Thursday, September 19th, 1985

The past few days since your first day had been uneventful in terms of Eddie. You continued to avoid the lunch room and opt for spending lunch in the library. Robin has joined you once so far, promising to continue so you wouldn’t ‘get lonely’, as she put it. The handful of times you’ve seen Eddie in the halls, he’d see you and immediately avoided you. Refusing to look at you and even turning to walk in another direction. The 2 classes you have with him weren’t any different, not sparing a glance your way, and either being the first or last to leave class so he wouldn’t be walking out near you. The pressure of the guilt you carried only intensified with each averted gaze and you don’t know how much more you can take.

You know you have to talk to him, figure out a way to make this right but you don’t know how. Don’t know what you could even say to make him understand, make this right. You wonder if it’s even possible to recover the friendship you once had with him, but you know you have to try. Living without having him in your life while you were in Virginia was hard, but seeing him in class and the halls everyday now made it so much worse. More than you can bare, and you feel like you’re gonna crack.

A tiny folded note lands on your desk, catching you off guard. You reach for the paper, peeking up at the teacher as you unfold it.

The trials and tribulations of the French Revolution not entertaining enough for you?

You smile at the note, glancing to the seat to your left. Robin stares back at you, wide eyed and shaking her head at you teasingly. You look back down at the note with a grin, grabbing your pencil and writing a response.

Oh, yes. I’m having the time of my life, can’t you tell?

You pass the note back to her as the teacher writes on the board. Smiling as you watch her reaction.You’re grateful to have a few classes with Robin. She had missed the first few periods of your first day for a doctor's appointment. The next day when you saw her in your 2nd period World History and 3rd period Science class, you let out a major sigh of relief. Your friendship with Robin, and Steve for that matter, happened so naturally. You didn’t have to force it or feel like you had to act differently to be more likable to them. Other friendships in your past had been different.

Whenever you had started at new schools, you felt like you had to always be funny and make jokes to get friends. You’d always been told you had a natural humor to you, a humor you often felt the need to force to be more likable. It had worked too, other kids would be nicer to you. Who knew all it took to lessen your bullying was to make a joke about the teacher’s unzipped fly? It didn’t stop the bullying and teasing all together, but it certainly helped. Still, the ‘friends’ you had made from it were never the deeper, genuine friendships like you had with Eddie, Robin or Steve. That pressure was a weight that was finally off your shoulders now. You didn’t see a point in trying to make new friends for the one year you’d be here at Hawkins High, nor did you feel the need to. Your life feels full with the friendships of Steve, Robin, and the younger party. Well…almost full. That hole once occupied by the wild-haired, metal loving, DnD ‘freak’ of Hawkins aches and looms around, antagonizing you.

It continues to loom for the rest of the day, even into your work shift at the restaurant your Aunt Patty manages. The meager Thursday night dinner rush and small stack of dishes to wash doesn’t help to distract your thoughts, no matter how hard you try. You consider making a stop after work at Family Video to get advice from Robin and Steve about what you should do. You’re getting nowhere going back and forth in your own head. Maybe hearing the words from them will help give you the courage you need to do what you know you need to.

Slow business for the night leads to you getting out at a decent time, an hour before Family Video closes. You hop in your truck and drive the mile down the street to your friends’ workplace. When you pull in front of the store, you and Steve’s cars are the only ones in the parking lot. You’d been betting on it being a slow night for Family Video too, giving you the privacy you wanted for the conversation you need to have.

You’d never talked about Eddie to Robin or Steve throughout your friendship since the beginning of the summer. You know they had to have known about it, though. Steve even mentioned it once at some point at Scoops Ahoy when he tried to remember you from school, “Didn’t you use to hang out with Munson?” You’d simply walked away, the need to organize the back freezers suddenly becoming an urgent task. Steve thankfully let it go and forgot about it quickly, never bringing it up again.

You smile as you see the two through the glass doors, standing behind the counter and bickering about god knows what. The ringing of the bell on the doors grabs their attention, eyes landing on you. Robin dramatically lays her upper body limp across the counter and groans.

“Oh, my savior. Steve is boring me out of my mind and we haven’t had a customer in like, an HOUR.”

Steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips. “I am not boring, thank you very much.” He whines before offering you a soft smile, leaning on his forearms against the counter as you approach. “How was washing dishes?”

You grumble in response, “About as exciting as watching paint dry. Decided to come and provide y’all some clearly much needed entertainment.” You say with a smile that quickly falters as you look down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the counter, “I um- I actually came to talk to you guys about something… maybe get some advice.”

Robin quirks up at that, standing at full attention. Steve straightens up a little too, nodding his head at you. This is the first time they could recall you ever coming to them for advice, tending to keep most personal things to yourself.

“Of course, what’s going on?”

“So, I don’t know how much you guys remember me from before, like from the last time I lived here. But um, I used to be really good friends with Eddie… Eddie Munson. Best friends actually.”

When Steve’s eyebrows furrow, Robin’s eyebrows rise, eyes widening in recognition.

“Wait, Eddie? As in ‘Freak of Hawkins’?”

“Yeahhhh, I remember seeing you guys in the halls at school. Two cute little outcasts against the world.” She smirks as she stares off, lost in memory. Your eyebrows scrunch together, scoffing out a laugh as you shake your head.

“First off,” you point a finger at Steve. “Don’t call him that, I caught your tone. And uh, in case you didn’t realize Stevie boy, you yourself are friends with a ‘freak’.” you say gesturing toward yourself.

“And secondly,” you turn your attention to Robin, mouth open as you ponder what to say. “Cute? Ya know what, let’s move on.”

“Anyway… we were really close. But, after I moved back to Virginia we lost touch.” You pause, shaking your head at yourself, “No, I lost touch. I uh, stopped returning his calls. It…it was just too much, too painful to hear his voice.” You stare off into the comedy aisle, collecting your thoughts under their gaze you didn’t want to meet just yet. “I didn’t expect him to still be here when I moved back, but he is. And uh, it’s clear he’s upset. I mean he has every right to be. He even overheard that girl Debbie that used to come to Scoops talking to me in class about working there. So now he knows I was visiting in the summers and didn’t see him-”

“Wait, Debbie Harris? She was supposed to call me…” Steve mutters the last part under his breath before Robin snaps her fingers in his face.

“Focus, Steve!”

He gives you a sympathetic look, mouthing ‘sorry’ as he brings his attention fully back to you.

“Look. Long story short, I don’t know what to do. I can’t take having him avoid me and clearly hating me just- in my face everyday. I miss him. I know I need to fix this, I just… I don’t know how.” You finish, running your fingers through your hair.

Robin and Steve stare at you in silence for a moment, you can practically see the cogs turning in their brains.

After a moment, Steve leans a little closer toward you. Eyes squinting as he reads your face.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up in shock as your mouth hangs open. You quickly scoff out a laugh, shaking your head as you try to play your reaction off.

“I-Well of course I do. He was my best friend for like 6 years!”

Robin tilts her head slightly as she meets your eyes, both giving you a look that says they see right through you. You feel your throat tighten, cornered by knowing eyes.

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea coming here-” You begin to say, throwing your hands up as you take a step back from the counter.

“No no no. Come on” Steve says, beckoning you back. When you do, he continues. “Look, the only way you’re gonna fix this is if you just talk to him and try to explain your side of things.”

“I know.” You say, sighing as you lean your arms against the counter. “I’m just afraid that whatever I say, it’s not gonna be enough. You know?”

“Well if you guys were as close as it seems, he knows you. Maybe it’ll be easier than you think for him to understand?” Robin adds, a sympathetic and encouraging smile on her face. Steve nods in response.

“And I mean sure, he’s angry. But he probably wants to fix things just as much as you do.” Steve finishes, looking at you with genuine care in his eyes. You take a deep breath, allowing a small smile to appear on your face as you look at your friends and nod softly.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I think I just needed to hear it from someone else. Thanks guys, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” you say, thankful to have them in your life.

“Don’t mention it, Y/L/N” Steve says, offering a wink and a smile. You can only roll your eyes at him playfully in response.

“Well, I know you guys gotta close up shop here soon,” you say as you glance at the clock on the wall. “Butttt, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to do one of our movie nights tomorrow after work?”

Robin and Steve turn towards each other. You laugh as Robin begins to bounce on her heels,

“Yes yes yes!”

“It’ll be a late one, but I’m down.”

“Good,” you smile. “Aaaaand if I remember correctly, it’s my turn to pick.”

Steve groans in response, “Fine, but nothing too gory this time. I can handle some horror but ugh, no guts please!” his face scrunches in disgust, shaking his head as he turns to finish some closing tasks.

“Don’t worry, Stevie. I think I’m feeling something different this time.” You laugh as you grab your keys. “Thanks again, guys.” You bid them farewell so they can finish up closing for the night.

Steve and Robin gave you just what you thought they would, the validation of your own thoughts on what to do, and the push you needed to actually do it. They helped to calm some of your anxiety about it, but not all. You just need to figure out when to talk to him. Maybe you could go over to the trailer to talk to him? It definitely wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have at school. Tomorrow wouldn’t work; you knew from the boys that they had Hellfire after school on Fridays. You had to work and hang-out with Steve and Robin anyway.

Nope, can’t do Saturday either. Maybe Sunday? Yeah, Sunday. I’ll just walk over to Uncle Wayne’s and talk to him. It’ll turn out better than you think it will. It will. You try telling yourself, attempting to carry Rob and Steve’s optimism.

It’ll be okay. You reassure yourself as you spare a glance at the trailer across the street. Noticing a dim light through the curtains of a window you knew too well, before you shut and lock your front door.

Friday, September 20th, 1985

Putting your conversation with Eddie off until Sunday helps to alleviate some of your anxiety. Your schoolwork and handful of quizzes you have today takes your mind off him as well. Starting at Hawkins High weeks after the year began meant you already have work to catch up on. As tedious as it is, it’s a welcomed distraction from worries about salvaging your friendship with Eddie. You’ve spent every afternoon this past week trying to complete your catch-up work, determined to get good grades that’ll help you get into college and a step closer into full adult independence. You’ve put a solid dent in the stack of schoolwork too, as well as your stash you brought with you from Virginia, needing some way to cope with the stress. You’re going to need to find someone you could buy from here in Hawkins soon.

After a last-minute study session with Robin in the library during lunch, the stress leaves you in dire need of a quick smoke break before your next class. You say goodbye to Robin, wishing her a good shift and sharing excitement over the continuation of your movie nights before leaving the library. You walk down the near empty hallway with a few minutes to spare before the bell signaling the end of the lunch period rings. You reach into your bag to fish out your cigarettes as you approach the back doors of the school near the football field, an unofficial smoking spot for students.

Just as you begin to inhale the fresh air, it’s knocked out of your lungs as you step outside and collide with someone. A simple case of someone heading to go inside as you go out, you assume.

“Oop, sorry-” you begin immediately, falling short as your eyes rise to look at the person you’d nearly shoulder checked.

Shit. Both your eyes widen, your mouth falling open as your brain stumbles in shock, trying to figure out what to do. In the split second of recognition, Eddie’s features harden, jaw tightening. He moves to continue to walk past you toward the door you just came out of.

Now’s your chance! It’s not the ideal circumstances, but when a chance like this falls into your lap you can’t let it pass. Just as his hand grabs the door handle, your own reaches to grab his arm.

“Eddie, wait!” you feel and see his entire body tense under your touch. You take a deep breath as your grip on his arm loosens and begins to pull away.

“Can we please just talk?” you plead, voice soft. You hear him laugh in disbelief before he turns back to face you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me?” he asks. His voice is as hard as his features, eyes glaring at you. Your breathing begins to quicken, gulping as your throat runs dry.

“Y-yes. Look Eddie, I’m really sorry. I guess I thought I was doing what was best for me, and for you. I-”

He scoffs, taking a small step closer to you. “And who are you to decide what’s best for me, huh?” his voice raises slightly. You feel your chest tighten, convinced that the blush that has no doubt started to cover your cheeks has spread there too. You feel the rise and fall of your chest as you take quick, short breaths. “You know, I really thought you were different. But you showed me you’re just like everyone else. Just throw me to the side like trash when you’ve had your use of me, right?” he finishes through gritted teeth.

You feel so fucking small. Others have made you feel this way before. Mainly your mom and some bullies in the past, but never Eddie, and that made it feel so much worse. You can’t stop your eyes from beginning to water with tears, biting your bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

“No…No, Eddie I swear it wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just-” you voice comes out weaker than you’d like, embarrassment and guilt overtaking your mind and body.

“Well you did! You think you can just take that back like it’s nothing?” you flinch involuntarily as his voice rises further in anger and hurt. You stare up into his burning eyes as a tear falls from yours. You stand there, staring at each other for a moment before you speak up again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie” your voice betrays you, cracking as you force the words out of your dry throat. You can’t think of anything else to say under his fiery gaze, your brain turning into a jumbled mess. He shakes his head at you, jaw tensing.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t want to hear it. So why don’t you scurry off to your new boyfriend, ‘King Harrington’!” he seethes out in bitterness, “and don’t give me those crocodile tears, Y/N. It’s not gonna work this time.” he scoffs, shaking his head at you in a mixture of anger and disbelief. You look at him in shock, unable to believe those words just came from his mouth.

He knows why you tend to avoid confrontation. Why you turn red and tears burn your eyes when someone raises their voice at you, or when you decide to be vulnerable with someone close. Eddie had been the only person you ever felt truly safe to be vulnerable with. Past experiences left you misunderstood, belittled, lectured, and emotionally neglected, but never by Eddie. He knows how much it takes for you to cry in front of someone. How much it takes for you to let yourself cry in front of someone. He knows, but he can’t stop himself from saying the words that’ll drive a knife right through your heart. All rational thinking out the window, his anger taking the driver’s seat.

His words transfer the same feelings onto you. Lighting a fire within your body, blazing behind your eyes. It barely takes a second for the wave of anger to crash onto you. Before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots out and connects with his cheek in a loud smack. It takes Eddie a moment to register what just happened as he stares at the brick wall his head is now facing. Did you really just slap him? You’d never hit him like that before, nothing beyond playful slaps or punches on his arm. He knew you harbored anger and aggression inside from your past just like he did, but he’d never seen you lash out on someone like this, and certainly not him. He can’t say he should really be surprised, given the hurtful words hurled from his mouth. That thought doesn’t extinguish his anger though, as he turns his gaze back onto you.

“Fuck you!” You snap, pointing your finger in his face. It’s all you can muster saying in the moment, your whole body on fire and vibrating in anger.

You push past him, throwing open the door back into the school just as the bell ending lunch rings. You quickly wipe your tear-streaked face with your hand as you stomp down the hallway. You take deep breaths, attempting to calm your breathing as you follow the hall to the front doors of the school. You need that smoke break even more now than before, especially if you’re gonna have to sit through a few more hours of quizzes and classes… with Eddie. You light a cigarette as soon as you step out the doors. Pacing back and forth in a short line, hoping the nicotine will help to calm your nerves.

You expected him to be angry, you could see it from the moment your eyes met on your first day, but you never expected him to stoop so low. Poking at the sensitive spots of your psyche you’d only revealed to him. Maybe you deserved it, maybe this is your karma personally delivered by the very person you hurt. You scoff as you think over his comment about Steve. Your new boyfriend, “King Harrington”? The fuck is he going on about? You figure he’d seen you, Steve, and Robin in the parking lot after your first day. Including your hug with Steve. You didn’t know hugging a guy automatically made him your boyfriend.

You finish the cigarette as the warning bell rings. You check your face and makeup in your compact mirror, taking another deep breath before venturing back into the school. You aren’t sure how you’re gonna be able to focus at all, thoughts still racing through your mind as you enter your English class. You refuse to meet eyes with anyone. Although you wouldn’t be meeting Eddie’s anyway, as his seat remains empty through the entire class period, as well as in your last class of the day.

Eddie once again secludes to his spot in the woods behind the school. Pacing, smoking, and failing to attempt to focus on last minute touches to tonight’s Hellfire campaign. After a short while the sting on his cheek fades, but still leaves a red-hot warmth in its wake. Maybe he deserved it for hitting a sensitive spot of yours, or maybe you deserved it after breaking his heart. He can’t make up his mind on which is right, telling himself he doesn’t care either way.

You waste no time darting out of your last class when the bell rings, grabbing the last of your things from your locker in record time. Your body had calmed slightly over the last 3 periods of the day since your fight with Eddie, but not your mind. You ruminate on the words said over and over, thinking of different things you wish you had said in the moment. You’re so consumed in your own thoughts you barely register the laughs and voice of some meathead standing at his locker with his buddies just as you begin to pass them.

“Watch out boys, it’s Miss Piggy” he snickers to his other jock buddies huddled around him, giggling like he just said the funniest joke on earth. Jason Carver. You just barely recognized the twerp from when you used to live in Hawkins. Though you’d learned to filter most of it out, you’d caught a few comments and looks from him here and there in the past week you’ve been here. You’d just ignored him, deciding it wasn’t worth your acknowledgement.

Well, not today. You might regret it, but he caught you at the wrong goddamn time.

“Jesus Christ. Grow the fuck up, Carver.” You snarl, rolling your eyes as you continue walking past them.

“The hell you just say to me?!”

Without missing a beat, you throw a middle finger in the air back at them. Not even sparing a backward glance, as much as you’d love to see the look on his face, as you step out the front doors and make a beeline for your truck.

You hop in, quickly turning your key in the ignition.

You’re thankful it’s Friday and you don’t have to give the boys a ride. They’ll be occupied with Hellfire after school, meaning you don’t have to deal with Dustin’s prying questions once he reads you like a damn book.

You head home to pack a change of clothes and grab the movie you picked for movie night before changing into your work clothes.

For the first time in your life, you’re hoping for a busy dinner rush at the restaurant. Anything to keep your mind busy and distracted from the persistent thoughts of him. You get your wish, tonight is no exception to the usual Friday night dinner rush. A steady flow of dishes coming back to the kitchen for you to clean. Unfortunately, not even the music on the radio in the kitchen or non-stop motions of dishwashing are enough to keep the thoughts of him from bursting through your mind.

However, the busyness of the night does help to quiet the thoughts slightly, and makes the hours go by quickly. Before you know it, it’s 11pm when you’re done with your closing tasks. Clocking out, you enter the cool September evening air with a pep in your step, excited to meet up with Steve and Robin. Knowing their presence alone along with one of your favorite comfort movies will help to lighten your mood a bit.

You know the two should be preparing to close around now. You pull into the Family Video parking lot at the perfect timing, just as they’re locking the doors. They throw excited waves your way, before climbing into Steve’s car and driving toward Steve’s house, your car following closely behind. You roll down your window, letting the cool night air wash over your warm face, and turn the radio on to the local rock station.

Given the passing hours and prospect of movie night, you’ve mostly calmed down since your fight with Eddie. Body no longer on edge and shaking with anger. Your heart still carries a heaviness to it, and your thoughts mostly remain the same. You hate how hard it is for your mind to let things go, to not constantly ruminate about things.

Caught on a one-way street

The taste of bittersweet

Love will survive somehow, some way

You haven’t been able to let the feelings of hurt and anger from Eddie’s words go yet. You know they’ll stick with you for days, maybe weeks. Hell, maybe you’ll never be able to let it go. Every word he said floats through your head. Now that you’re not as activated, you recognize he was only wanting to hurt you back for hurting him. You figure his comment about Steve probably stemmed from jealousy. Maybe he thought you replaced him with Steve. The accusing him of being your boyfriend part still confuses you, but you decide it’s something maybe you won’t ever understand.

One love feeds the fire

One heart burns desire

I wonder, who's crying now?

You don’t blame Eddie for wanting to hurt you back. Still, part of you feels like you didn’t deserve the spiteful comments. As you replay his words in your head for the 100th time today, the sting in your chest doesn’t lessen, now threatening to spread to your eyes. You cough, rapidly blinking to stubbornly push the tears away before they can even well in your eyes. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you take in the words of the Journey song playing on the radio.

So many wrongs or rights

Neither could change their headstrong ways

And in a lover's rage

They tore another page

The fighting is worth the love they sav-

You hastily turn off the radio, choosing to sit in silence for the few remaining minutes of the drive to Steve’s. You’ve managed to live without Eddie in your life for 2.5 years now. Sure, it’s hurt like hell, and this time you have to actually physically see him. But you can continue to live without him, you decide. Maybe holding onto the hurt from his words will help, make it easier to move forward without him. You don’t know, but you’re gonna have to try. That much is clear.

You take a deep breath as you park your car behind Steve’s in his driveway. Gathering your things, you’re greeted by hugs in the middle of the driveway. You avoid talking too much about your day outside of work, opting to redirect the conversation to their days as Steve unlocks the front door, laughing at their stories of clueless customers.. If they’ve noticed your avoidance in talking about your day or an off-ness to your demeanor, they don’t mention it.

You needlessly ask Steve if you can shower to rid yourself of the smell of grease before the movie, already knowing he’d say yes. Turns out it’s just what you need, walking back out to the living room in your pajamas feeling more relaxed. Steve and Robin have changed too, sitting on the sofa replaying the events of their shift. You notice the coffee table is already filled with your staple movie night snacks and drinks.

“So, what bloody slasher will I be forced to endure tonight?” Steve asks as you round the couch to stand in front of them.

“No bloody slashers tonight, Stevie.” You laugh as you reach for your movie in your overnight bag. “Tonight, we will be watching… Grease 2.” You announce with a smile, completely shocking Steve. Robin nods in agreement to the movie, grabbing the bowl of popcorn as she gets comfortable in her seat on the couch. As a band kid, you knew Robin would be down for it, loving practically any musical.

Steve, on the other hand, was skeptical.

“Grease…2? The nowhere near as good sequel?” He asks with furrowed brows and a slight frown.

“Steve, have you ever even watched it?” you sigh, putting your hands on your hips.

“Well, no… but I’ve heard-”

“Let me just stop you there. Look, I love the original Grease just as much as anyone. I’ve watched it at least 100 times. I even had to buy another copy of it cause I burned through the first one watching it so much. It’s a classic, yes. However, I personally prefer the sequel.” When Steve’s face continues to meet yours in confusion and disbelief, you continue. His and Robin’s eyes follow you as you slowly pace back and forth in front of them. “It’s… campy, and fun! The songs are fun, the character’s are fun. And it works because it doesn’t take itself too seriously. AND the gender reversal with the guy being the one who’s chasing after the ‘cool’ girl, learning how to ride a motorcycle and changing his style to win her attention is, I think, a perspective shift much needed in this day and age.” You ramble, pointing at Steve as his eyebrows rise, Robin watching you in amusement.

“So yes, we will be watching Grease 2 because it is one of my comfort films and you know what… I really need that tonight.” You sigh as you finish, finally stopping your pacing. You watch as they take in your words, the shift in tone and demeanor at the end. Before they can say or ask anything, you quickly start up again.

“And besides, Steve, are you really going to let the opinions of others influence your own before you’ve even given it a chance?” You ask, looking at him expectantly. “And you’re really gonna tell me you don’t want to watch 90 minutes of Michelle Pfiefer looking totally hot and badass while singing and dancing?” you finally finish, hands on your hips as you look at him. Robin looks at Steve with a grin, completely amused as she throws more popcorn into her mouth.

“Yeah, Steve. Are you really going to let yourself be a mindless follower and conformist?” Robin pokes, smirking with a mouthful of popcorn.

Steve sighs, realizing this is yet another argument he will not win against you.

“You’re right, you’re right. Okay, I’ll keep an open mind!” he states, raising his hands in surrender.

“Good.” You state with a self-satisfied smile as you pop the tape into the VHS player, plopping down on the couch in the middle of the two.

Watching one of your favorite comfort films with your best friends gives you just what you expected, completely taking your mind off the events of the day. Drinking your favorite soda and eating your favorite snacks. You and Robin sing and shimmy along to the songs, laughing at the stupid jokes and silly characters. A few peeks at Steve show he’s fully immersed, specifically in the scenes with Pfieffer, just as you predicted. You even catch him laughing at a few points throughout the film, especially during the ‘Reproduction’ number. Towards the end of the film, you feel Robin’s head rest on your shoulder. You start to feel yourself growing tired as well, the stress of the day and late night hour setting in. As the film finishes you look at Steve, waiting for his opinion.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. I still think the first one is better though.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” you say to him with a soft smile. “Thanks for giving it a chance anyway, for me.”

“Anytime.” he smirks at you before stretching with a yawn. “Well, I think I’m gonna call it a night. The spare room is open for you as usual.”

“Sounds good, besides the fact I have this big sleeping baby on my shoulder.” you giggle as you take a peek at Robin, soft snores escaping her open mouth.

“I got this” he states as he gets up, gently maneuvering Robin’s body off your shoulder and towards the arm of the couch.

You yawn and stretch as you stand, telling Steve goodnight as you head upstairs to the spare bedroom he’s let you crash in after every late movie night over the summer. You groan softly as you snuggle under the cool comforter, feeling the sweet release of sleep quickly approaching. This night was just what you needed after today. All worries pushed away to deal with later.

(If there are no Grease 2 lovers, I am dead. )

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plussize!reader #eddie munson x y/n #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson slow burn #one step away from you

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loveinhawkins · 2 years ago

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Part 1 ao3

A series of notes passed during private study periods in Hawkins High School Library, circa January—May, 1985.

A sheet of paper hastily ripped from its notebook, folded over with a crease down the middle.

—Harrington, did you just turn down that girl?

—What are you talking about?

—Hey, you can’t blame a guy for being nosy. You were the one deciding to TALK in a SACRED LIBRARY.

—If you heard us, why are you asking?

—Okay, sound doesn’t travel that far.

—Why don’t YOU tell me what happened considering you know everything?

—Wow. Touchy.

—Fuck off.

—Sorry. Thought we were just joking around. Didn’t mean to be a dick.

—It’s fine.

—You sure?

—I wasn’t ‘turning her down.’ She’s on the Yearbook Committee. Asking for photos.

—Too many pin-ups to choose from?

—Baby photos.

—What’s the problem? Did you come out the womb holding hairspray?

—No.

—Table it or ditch it?

—?

—It’s something my uncle says. If he asks me about stuff I don’t wanna talk about, I can either table it for later or ditch it completely. But if something keeps coming up and I keep saying to ditch it, then it automatically becomes a table it for later.

—That’s smart.

—Yup.

—Table it.

—Okay.

—? Why do you keep scoring out stuff?

—Sorry sorry. I can only think of baby photos now.

—Not against them in general. Feel free to talk about yourself, Munson.

—Uh-huh. I could hear the sarcasm in how you wrote that.

—Ha. No, really. I don’t mind.

—Well, lucky for you, talking about myself is my favorite subject.

—Lucky me.

—I thought I’d lost literally all of my baby photos. When I lived with my dad, the house got flooded and all of them were hit. Water damage. I had to get my books spread out on a radiator so the pages would dry, and that kinda worked for some of them. Photos were goners, though.

—That’s awful.

—Hold your horses, cowboy. But then when I moved to my uncle’s—we’re at the trailer park in Forest Hills—I saw he had all these photos stacked on a bookcase, and I thought they were all really old, like from when he was a kid and stuff, and some of them were, but he had whole entire ALBUMS of me. Way more than my dad ever had.

—That’s cool.

—You’re so verbose, Harrington.

—I meant it. It’s just. I was just thinking.

—About?

—That’s not why I—I HAVE baby photos, that’s not the problem.

—Don’t sweat it, dude, you don’t need to tell me.

—It’s just. Rebecca, that’s who was talking to me, she kept going on about how everyone else has already sent in a baby photo or, you know, a photo from when they were a kid, and she was excited about it, it’s a whole new thing they’re doing for this year. They’re gonna do a special layout, old photos next to current ones, you know what I mean?

—Afraid I’ve never been privy to the wondrous goings-on of the Yearbook Committee.

—She said it’ll look weird if I’m the only one not doing it. But it’s—I don’t know. I know I could just pick any damn photo and send it in, it’d get the whole Committee off my back. But I think I’d feel weird at the thought of the whole year getting to see—god, this doesn’t even make sense, like I don’t mind them seeing at a photo of me NOW, but I don’t. I don’t like looking at old photos, I never have. I don’t know why. Guess I just don’t like looking back.

—Fuck what everyone else is doing. They’re YOUR photos. Forget the precious ‘layout.’

—Yeah, that’s sorta what I told her, minus the ‘fuck.’

—If it’ll shut them all up, you could send in one of mine. See who actually notices.

—No way.

—Yeah, I was just being stupid.

—No. Those are YOUR photos. Save them for your own Yearbook. Sounds like your uncle could fill the whole thing with pictures.

—Wouldn’t put it past him.

—Shit, is that the time? The bell’s gonna ring in five minutes. I’ve done NOTHING.

—The horror!

—I’m blaming you.

—Honored to be considered a distraction, Harrington.

A scrap of paper, hastily dropped into the pencil case of an unknowing Eddie Munson as the bell rang.

—Thanks.

#notes from hawkins high school library #epistolary fic #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #eddie and wayne munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre steddie

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stwritings · 2 years ago

Text

I've Got You

Synopsis

Eddie helps reader through a bad trip after she's pressured by her boyfriend to take drugs.

What To Expect/Warnings

This is a rather heavy topic and potentially triggering to some so please proceed with caution. ♡

This fic takes place in 87 and has no mention of the plot from Season 4, apart from Eddie graduating. Also was not expecting it to be this long lmfao, woops. No use of y/n, toxic relationship, drug use, peer pressuring, bad drug trip, anxiety, hurt/comfort, confrontation between Eddie and reader's bf, angst, mutual pining, emotional cheating if you squint??, descriptions of drug side effects, alcohol consumption.

Let me know if i missed anything.

(proofread in a very sleepy state lol, dont mind potential spelling mistakes of repetitive words/phrasings)

Once again, i can't stress this enough, please do not read this fic if any of the above mentioned topics are triggering to you. ♡

You can read pt. 2 here!

"This year's different. This year, is my year. I can feel it... '86 baby!"

And that, it was.

Things finally seemed to be taking a turn for the better in Eddie's life. That year, he geared down and put all of his time and focus into his school work determined not to spend one more second in what was, in his opinion, the most dreadful place in town; Hawkins High. Graduation day finally came and as promised to his fellow Hellfire Club members, who all attended the ceremony, he gave the performance of a lifetime on that stage. 'They can't get me in trouble anymore.' he thought as he shredded an air guitar whilst sprinting towards the faculty, hollering as he did so. Once he was face to face with his long time nemesis, Principal Higgins, all of the cleverly thought out disses he had come up with over the last year seemed to fade away. He blamed it on nerves, but deep down he knew that his distain was overshadowed by an immense sense of joy and relief. To everyone's surprise, Eddie calmly grabbed his diploma with a mischievous smile and exited the auditorium gracefully.

'Finally, a new chapter can begin.'

After some much needed time off in the summer allowed him to contemplate his next move in life, Eddie started applying for jobs around Hawkins. His preferred establishments such as the library and record store were, unfortunately, not hiring. Despite the tried and true efforts of his friends at Family Video, they too, were not in need of new employees. He contemplated sticking to his main source of income, but knew that the drug market in Hawkins was not a sustainable nor stable option. Truth be told, he only started dealing as a way of making extra cash whilst still in school. He grew tired of it pretty quickly, but promised himself that the second he would graduate, he would ditch this unconventional side hustle.

His new objective was finding work that would allow him to make enough money to find a place of his own. As much as he loved Wayne and was forever grateful to his uncle for taking him in, he couldn't stand to see him spend one more night on the dreadful pull out mattress.

After weeks of grueling efforts on Eddie's behalf, Wayne came home with some good news one Saturday afternoon. With a hiring flyer and about 8 bags of groceries in hand, he nearly kicked the trailer door down from excitement. "Eddie! Boy, you home?"

Eddie quickly shuffled out of his bedroom to see what the commotion was about. Noting his uncle's erratic breathing and bulging eyes, he was quick to grab the grocery bags out of his hands to allow him to catch his breath.

"Everything okay?" he asked cautiously, unsure what had his normally calm uncle so frazzled.

Wayne waved the flyer into the air and let out a series of chuckles. "More than okay, look what they had hangin' on the wall near the checkout at the supermarket!"

As Eddie turned to face the piece of paper in his uncle's hand, a grimace started to form on his face when he processed the words written on it. "Ah man, i don't know. I'm not really skilled in the art of packing groceries..."

"Come on now, son. You already know the basics, where do the eggs go?"

Eddie stared blankly at his uncle while blinking slowly. Wayne blinked back at Eddie theatricality while motioning for a response.

"Uh, in the bag...?"

"Where in the bag, boy?" his uncle persisted, his once excited tone now slightly annoyed.

"Maybe on top so they don't get broken...?"

"See! It's common knowledge. You could also stock shelves or somethin if you don't wanna pack the bags!"

"Yeah, it's worth a shot, i could use the money..."

Come to find out, the supermarket was in dire need of staff members, and Eddie got the job that same day. Given that the entire store was understaffed, he was able to snag his preferred position of stocking shelves. The uniforms weren't great, and having to hear the same tunes everyday was somewhat unbearable, but the money was good so he couldn't complain.

A few weeks into his new employment, Eddie was introduced to the newest addition to the team. Given that she was also put in the stocking department, they spent much of their time working together and got along great. They would often joke around together, their sense of humor practically identical. Along with her kind and rambunctious personality, they also shared common interests such as reading and music. She was the perfect girl, he thought.

Upon getting to know one another, Eddie quickly learned, much to his dismay, that she had recently moved to Hawkins with her boyfriend so he could be closer to his family.

Needless to say, Eddie's love life was never something he had the opportunity or desire to explore whilst in school. The lack of female attention and constant bullying made it difficult for him to find anyone he wanted to get to know in a romantic way. He was rather disappointed to find out that his latest love interest was already spoken for, but quickly accepted it as such.

This minor disappointment didn't stop them from blossoming a wholesome friendship over the course of the next few months. Their normal 7 hour work days always seemed so short, and Eddie was longing to spend more time with his new friend outside of their place of work. Unfortunately, the fear of rejection, accompanied by the constant sense of exclusion he had faced in his prior years had really taken a toll on his confidence, preventing him from ever seeking out friendships outside of his circle of friends.

Those thoughts and worries were momentarily silenced one Friday morning when, to his pleasant surprise, she enquired about his plans for the weekend. This wasn't unusual, they often spoke of their upcoming outings, but typically Eddie was the one to initiate this topic of conversation in hopes that she would suggest hanging out. The idea of potentially spending time together outside of work was thrilling, so he tried his best to play it cool. "A whole lotta nothing, how about you?"

"My boyfriend's colleagues invited him out to this party but i don't really want to go..."

"So you're hoping a conflict arises preventing you from attending this social obligation?" he quipped while smiling.

"Actually, i was hoping maybe you know the person hosting the party and wouldn't mind attending? It'd be nice to see a familiar face there when my boyfriend inevitably ditches me."

Her eyes met the floor as she spoke her last sentence, an action that didn't go unnoticed. The topic of her significant other wasn't mentioned often, in fact, most times Eddie forget she even had a boyfriend. Of the times he was passively mentioned in conversation, Eddie got the impression that he wasn't the nicest person and that she wasn't entirely happy with him. He tried his best to set aside those thoughts, thinking they were definitely biased and he might be reading too much into the situation.

"Does this mysterious party host have a name?" he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Tom Silverman i think, have you heard of him?" she asked, hope radiating from her eyes.

"As luck would have it, he's friends with my buddy Gareth! I could probably make an appearance." he teased.

"Yeah? Think you could make time in your busy schedule for me?" she reciprocated.

"For you? Anything."

The drive back to her place felt like a blur. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of her earlier interaction with Eddie paired with the excitement of spending time with him later at the party. She loved her boyfriend, she really did, but...

She couldn't bring herself to say it, let alone think it. The reality was, he didn't treat her the way she wanted to be treated. Hell, the way she deserved to be treated. Prior to them moving to Hawkins, Samuel had cheated on her for months on end with a close friend of hers. The betrayal was unforgivable, at least, that's what she thought at the time. Samuel had a way of getting into her head, planting ideas of his own and spinning the truth in ways that would make her question everything.

Following the infidelity, he had managed to convince her that the best way to make amends and save their relationship would be to move away from their hometown. Far from all distractions so they could focus on rebuilding what was broken. This was far from what she wanted, now more than ever since meeting Eddie. He was always so kind to her, a luxury far too often stripped away in her current relationship with Samuel. She loved how she felt when she was around Eddie, even in their strictly platonic relationship.

The hypocrisy of the situation made her want to melt away into a big pile of nothingness. She could feel herself growing fonder of Eddie with each passing interaction, no matter how mundane they were. Something as simple as Eddie asking her about her weekend, or when her birthday was, warmed her heart. Did Samuel even care to remember? He forgot about it last year.

Guilt was eating away at her the more her feelings grew. She would never cheat on Samuel, knowing all too well how heart wrenching of an experience that is to go though. Despite that, she couldn't help the gnawing feeling of infidelity as she felt her feelings for Eddie become more prominent and the distance between her and her partner growing. It wasn't all her fault of course, she suspected Samuel was still up to no good whenever the phone would ring at odd times throughout the night and he'd shoot out of bed to answer it. She knew interrogating him was no use, so she kept mental notes of all the occurrences, in hopes of one day working up the courage to leave him.

Apart from him persuading her into staying, there was also the web of lies she felt she had to uphold to avoid judgement from her loved ones, Eddie included. She felt awful lying to him about the reason for her move, but at the time, thought it was necessary for some sense of self-preservation.

As she pulled into her apartment complex, her racing thoughts came to a halt. She put the car in park, let out a sigh and made her way into the building. Once inside, she was met with none other than Samuel, already plastered at 4:48pm, the party wasn't until 9pm. This would make for a long grueling night. She quietly greeted him before excusing herself to go freshen up.

Samuel's work friends arrived shortly after she got into the shower, the sudden ruckus alerting her of their presence. She hurried out of the shower so to not hog the bathroom for too long and tried sneaking into their shared bedroom without alerting the group. Her efforts were overshadowed by a distasteful comment made from one of the men. She wasn't sure what bothered her more, the unsolicited remark about her body from a complete stranger, or the fact that her boyfriend, the man who was supposed to look out for her, laughed and entertained such disrespectful banter.

The frustration made tears well up in her eye as she quickly shut the bedroom door and locked it, hoping she wouldn't have to face the men for a few more hours until they had to leave. All the while, the only thing keeping her sane was the prospect of seeing Eddie later.

Eddie was a bundle of nerves from the moment he clocked out of work until he pulled up to the party with Gareth. Six pack in hand, he nervously made his way towards the front door before being stopped by his companion.

"Hey man, there's nothing to be nervous about, alright? If you wanna leave at any point, just let me know."

Gareth's reassuring words did little to alleviate Eddie's stress, but it was still nice for him to know that he had support tonight. With that in mind, he gave his friend an anxious smile and they let themselves into party.

Upon first glance, the party was lively and everyone was having a great time. The pair made their way towards the kitchen to put their beer in the fridge, then made an attempt at finding the host to greet him. Eddie had never met Tom, but had heard good things about him through their mutual friend. Whilst on the hunt for him, Eddie's eyes made contact with a sad looking girl sitting alone on a dingy sofa in the back of the living room, red solo cup in hand. He excused himself from Gareth and quickly made his way over to his friend. The moment their eyes locked, excitement was riddled on her face. She jumped off the couch and embraced him in what was arguably the best hug he had ever received.

"You came!!" she exclaimed, visibly intoxicated.

"I'm a man of my word." he said in a playful tone, placing a hand on his heart.

She playfully shoved his shoulder while taking a sip from her drink, giggling the entire time.

"So uh, where's your boyfriend? Am i finally gonna meet the man of the hour?" Eddie's tone was less than enthusiastic, through no fault of his own. Luckily she was too drunk to notice.

"Well," she began, "as presumed, i have been abandoned. Yet again!" although she tried covering it up with a laughter, her eyes gave away her true emotion.

"Well," he said mimicking her tone, "i am more than happy to entertain you until he gets back."

He could have sworn he saw a faint tint of pink painted on her cheeks for a moment. A tender smile was shared between the two before he was abruptly shoved by an unknown subject who was quick to wrap an arm around her.

"Oh sorry man" the lack of sympathy along with his cocky grin gave away the man's identity.

Samuel.

"Don't sweat it, man." Eddie retorted, annoyance prevalent on his face.

She gave Eddie an apologetic look before introducing the two. Her boyfriend quickly brushed off the pleasantries and turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

"Where have you been babe?" he slurred, his hold on her arm becoming increasingly tighter. Her discomfort was clear and as Eddie was about to intervene, she calmly lifted his arm off of her while stating: "Waiting for you, babe." her tone replicating the one Eddie had adopted moments ago.

Samuel grew annoyed, muttering something under his breath before once again, disappearing into the crowd.

"He seems friendly." Eddie stated in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry about him, he's... not the best at introductions."

"No kidding..."

Moments passed without further dialogue, Eddie debated mentioning his concerns but felt it wasn't his place. I mean really, how would he even put into words what he was thinking? 'Hey, you know that douchebag boyfriend of yours? Yeah, he doesn't deserve you'.

"Well," she broke the silence, "I better go check on him, will you stay a while?"

"As long as you need me" he responded.

She shot him a warm smile before venturing into the crowd to find Samuel. Eddie waited until she was outside of his line of vision before letting his smile falter. He quickly ushered to the fridge to grab a can of beer to calm his nerves. The rush of euphoria from seeing her accompanied with the displeasure of meeting Samuel left him feeling very disgruntled. He was zoned out, sipping the beer in his hands relentlessly, when he felt a hand tap him on the bicep. Turning his attention towards the person to his right, he was met with a familiar face.

"Hey, you alright?" Gareth asked, concern prevalent in his tone.

"Nah man, wanna go have a smoke?"

The initial effects of the alcohol she had consumed in an attempt to numb herself seemed to have faded away quickly following Samuel and Eddie's interaction. As much as she wanted to spend the night with Eddie and let her boyfriend mingle on his own, she felt obligated to go looking for him. The party wasn't held at a mansion by any means, but it certainly wasn't a small house. After searching for what seemed like 25 minutes, she finally found Samuel along with a few of his friends in a bedroom in the basement. Upon entering, the first thing she noticed was a dark green colored table with small plastic bags on it, filled with what looked to be pills. She was quickly ushered into the room and prompted to lock the door before being urged to sit down.

"Sam, what are you doing-"

"Babe, baby, hi!" his tone was drastically different from their previous encounter. He seemed much more erratic and his pupils were blown out.

"Are you okay? I've been looking for you-"

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I'm great baby. How are you?"

His frantic eyes and antsy demeanor, accompanied by the unknown substance beside him gave her all the context she needed: He was high. She contemplated her next move, being careful not to upset him.

"I'm fine," she started, "actually, i'm a little tired, i think i'm ready to go home." She knew little could be done to grant her wishes at this point given that she had had far too much to drink to operate a vehicle and Samuel was much less equipt to in this state.

"What... Really? No baby, the night's just starting. You're not having fun?" She was getting ready to answer before being abruptly cut off, his question apparently rhetorical. "I know what will help. Have this." He grabbed her hand and placed one of the chalky pills in her palm.

"I'm not doing drugs, Sam." she said firmly.

"Do you trust me?"

She paused, knowing this was a trap. This wasn't the first time he'd used this tactic to get her to do something she didn't want to. Her delay in responding seemed to aggravate him and he was quick to snap at her.

"Fine, go home then. I just wanted to have a nice time with you tonight. S'what i get for trying." He began shifting his body away from her, turning his attention back to the group.

Through no fault of her own, it had been hard-wired into her brain that in order to avoid an argument and mental torture for the next week, it was easier to agree with whatever he was saying.

"No, no! It's just..."

"You're scared?" his friend said while snickering.

"I've just never done this before..." she replied looking away so no one could see her anxiety ridden expression.

Samuel cupped her face with his hands, an act of intimacy he hadn't shown in years. She melted into his touch, craving to feel a sense of worthiness. "Baby, you'll be fine. I took it and feel amazing. We'll feel amazing together and i'll take care of you if you don't feel good. I promise."

Samuel had often made promises he couldn't keep, and although the little voice in the back of her mind was screaming for her to walk away, she fell victim to his manipulation once again. They exchanged a few promising words to one another before she swallowed the small narcotic, internally comforting herself: 'What's the worst that could happen?'

Following a much needed cigarette break and pep talk from Gareth, Eddie composed himself and entered the house once again. Once inside, he scanned the room in an attempt to spot out his friend, but was unsuccessful. He figured she might be using the restroom or mingling with people around the house and decided to enjoy his second and final beer of the night with Gareth.

20 minutes had passed since she took the unknown substance from her boyfriend, and up until this point, she had convinced herself that she probably wouldn't feel it, or that if she did, it would feel the same as marijuana. But oh, she was wrong. So very wrong. She noticed her heart began to beat faster and her palms were significantly more damp than before. She felt this overwhelming sense of anxiety wash over her and her ears began to ring. Still sat next to Samuel, she grabbed ahold of his arm in a subtle attempt at getting his attention. Whether he was too high to notice or purposely ignoring her, he had no reaction to her touch. Initially feeling embarrassment, she put that feeling aside and decided to vocalize her distress.

"Baby, i don't feel good, m'heart's beating really fast and-" words kept spilling out of her mouth at a much faster rate than she normally spoke. The chatter in the room never faltered, the noise adding fuel to the fire, making her anxiety worsen. Samuel eventually cut her off, insisting on the fact that she was fine. His invalidation floored her feeling of distress, her heartbeat increasing in speed. She could now hear it in her ears. "I don't like this baby, i wanna go home. Please, can we go home." she pleaded, tears starting to form in her eyes.

Samuel grew annoyed with her, his high being compromised by his girlfriend's distress. He offered to take her to a different room, away from all the noise and she agreed, the commotion from the room she was currently in proving to be too much. Luckily for her, there was an additional guest room in the basement, one that was currently vacant. The prospect of spending one on one time with her boyfriend, especially while in such a vulnerable state brought a great deal of comfort to her. That sense of relief was short lived as he stated that he wanted to get back to his friends, insisting on her trying to get some sleep.

Unbeknownst to her, the drug she took was a stimulate, making sleeping next to impossible. Information that Samuel conveniently didn't mention for his own benefit.

He tucked her into bed and promised that if she called out for him he'd be there within seconds. With a kiss goodnight and more reassuring words, he shut the light, closed the door and headed back to the adjacent bedroom to continue his antics. She was left with her wandering anxious thoughts, but tried her best to fall asleep.

After a short while, her attempts were unsuccessful and her anxiety worsened. She tried to calm herself down to no avail and resorted to calling for her boyfriend. No answer. She tried once more, this time a little louder. Still nothing. Time seemed to escape her. She wasn't sure if an hour or 5 minutes had passed. All she knew was that she had been calling for him for what seemed like forever, to no avail. The most hurtful part of it all was overhearing him talking and laughing with his friends in the adjacent room. Surely if she could hear him, he could hear her? Perhaps he was choosing to ignore he cries for help. The idea of getting out of bed to venture into the other room was far too overwhelming in this state, so she settled into bed, holding onto the sheets tightly and hoped that he would come check up on her soon.

With almost an hour having passed since he had last seen her, Eddie grew concerned. He figured with the amount of time that had passed, it wasn't unreasonable to ask the other party goers if they had seen her.

His efforts, although valiant, were unsuccessful. Once he established that she wasn't on the main floor, he decided to wander around the house in hopes of running into her. When he overheard Samuel and a group of men cackling in the basement, he made his way down the stairs.

Once he reached to bottom of steps, he noticed a source of light coming from a closed door, the secondary living room he was now standing in vacant and dark. 'Mystery solved.' he thought, she must be in there with Samuel and his friends. As he started up the stairs again, he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a faint voice coming from the back of the basement. He slowly made his way towards the unlit room and placed an ear against the closed door. That's when he heard it again, only this time, he recognized her voice, calling out for her boyfriend.

Eddie wasted no time opening the door, only to find her laying in bed in the dark. He carefully made his was towards her, crouching down to her level.

"Hey, hey. It's Eddie. Are you okay?" he gently asked. The only response heard was a series of whimpers. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his heart broke. The light from the living room that leaked into the guest room reflected off of her tear stained cheeks and puffy eyelids; she had been crying for quite some time. Eddie wasn't an expert on body language, but judging from her tight grip on the bed sheets and her limbs curled into the fetal position, he could tell she was scared.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, you're safe. I promise. Do you need water? I'll get you anything you need, just tell me..." he stopped himself from uttering anything else, worried he would overwhelm her with questions. After pausing for a moment, he swallowed his pride before asking: "Do you need me to get Samuel?"

She let out a soft cry, her grip on the bed sheets tightening. The mere mention of his name reminded her of the betrayal she felt. He promised he would look after her, but didn't. Instead, he left her in such a vulnerable state, a state she never wanted to be in in the first place.

In her best attempt at composing herself, she was able to mutter out a sentence before her breathe hitched again: "I wanna go home, please." she buried her face in the covers as her body shook, a combination of crying excessively and the drug shaking her form. She was so cold, no amount of heat from the blankets seemed to help.

"Okay, okay, i'll get you home. Just... One minute. I'll be right back, i promise."

Eddie carefully got up and exited to room, gently shutting the door. He made his was towards the room Samuel was in, politeness the last thing on his mind as he barged in. He glanced around the room, noticing the drugs littered across the table, then met Samuel's gaze.

"Are you aware that your girlfriend is crying her eyes out 10 feet away from you?" he spat, shooting daggers at him.

There was a moment of silence, followed by snickering from a few of the men in the room. One of them who, Eddie could only assume was a friend of Samuel's spoke up. "Jesus, what a buzz kill, you owe me for that pill, Sam."

It all clicked. Eddie's vision blurred in what could only be described as a cloud of fury. The echo's of their laughter only fueled his rage as he started putting together what had happened. With every ounce of restraint he could muster, he gave Samuel once last death glare before storming out, being mindful not to slam the door to prevent startling her in the other room.

Slowly opening the door, he tried to come up with the best plan on how to proceed. The two beers he had drank over the last 2 1/2 hours were in no way enough to inebriate him and he knew she needed to be taken home. Once again crouched down by the bedside, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder and began speaking softly.

"Hey, it's Eddie. I can take you home, just need to know your address."

Her crying had subsided but she was shivering and grinding her teeth uncontrollably, a side effect Eddie recognized from whatever drug she had taken. Her lack of response prompted him to try again, this time in a much softer tone.

"Sweetheart, i'll take you home just please, i don't know where you live. Do you have your house keys? Where do you and Samuel live?"

The whimpers that left her lips broke his heart. Eddie figured if he couldn't get an answer out of her in this environment, maybe removing the stress factor would help.

"Okay, can you stand up for me? Here, let's get you up"

As he began helping her from the bed, her sudden exclamation startled him. "No! Please, m'really cold. I need a blanket." Distress painted across her face as she wrapped her arms around her frame, Eddie pondered what the best option would be. After a few seconds, he figured Gareth could deal with the repercussion of his next action later.

"Okay, come on, i've got you." he said as he gently wrapped the giant comforter around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room.

Once they arrived at the base of the steps, he grabbed the excess blanket that was previously dragging along the floor to prevent her from tripping. She was unsteady from the drug, her legs felt like they were made of jelly. Eddie helped her up the stairs, supporting the majority of her weight. Once they reached the main floor, he directed her towards the sofa she was sitting on earlier in the evening and helped her down onto the soft cushion.

"Wait right here." he said in a caring voice. As he began getting up from his crouched position, he felt a cold, damp hand grabbing his.

"Wait, wait, where are you going?" her voice was low but filled with worry. He turned to her, finally getting a good look at her face since being in the dark basement and his heart sank. He tried his best not to show any signs of concern, but this proved to be challenging. Her normally light hazel eyes were almost completely black. Her hair was disheveled and her face slightly puffy from crying.

Eddie had been around plenty of people under the influence before, but never anyone he felt such deep adoration for. It was torture seeing her like this. He once again crouched down so he could meet her eye level and gave her hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. "I've just gotta find Gareth to let him know i'm leaving. I drove him here, don't want him to be stranded. I'll be right back, i promise."

Her gaze softened a bit, and with a small nod, Eddie took that as a go ahead to proceed with his plan. He lifted her hand up to his mouth to give it a quick kiss before getting up to find his friend.

Luckily, with one quick sweep of the main floor, he was able to find Gareth and get him up to speed on the situation.

"What a prick, we should fight that guy."

"Yeah, normally i would agree but i gotta get her outta here. Are you cool finding a ride home tonight?"

"Oh ya, don't sweat it! I can always just crash here if it comes down to it. Get her home safe."

"Thanks man, i'll see you later."

Gareth patted him on the shoulder and with that, Eddie made his way back to the sofa. "Alright, let's get you home, yeah? Up you go."

Taking the same precautionary steps he did while going up the stairs, they made their way out the door to Eddie's van. He helped her into the passenger's side, carefully closing the door and hurried over to the driver's side. Once in, he buckled both of their seatbelts, started the car and began driving away. Once the car was nicely heated and her shivering had subsided, he figured it would be a good time to try to find out the location he should be driving to.

"So uh, am i going the right way? Do you live close by?"

He glanced over at her, smiling sweetly once they made eye contact. She returned the smile, but the sadness displayed on the rest of her features made her true feelings apparent.

"We're far" she mumbled, "i live next to work..."

Eddie sighed internally. He didn't mind the drive, he was more concerned about her having to sit in a car for 45 minutes. "Alright, i'll get us to work and you can tell me where to go from there, yeah? You have your house keys?"

She paused to think and let out a defeated breath upon realizing; their shared house key was kept on Samuel's lanyard. She brought her hands to her face in despair and began apologizing profusely. Eddie wasn't quite sure what she was apologizing for, or to who even. He softly put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, gently moving his thumb over the blanket that was still draped over her.

"It's okay, look we're not that far from Tom's place. I'll turn the car around and we can get the key. I can go in, you don't even have to leave the car-"

She shook her head in quick motions, her hands dropping from her face suddenly. "No, i can't, i'm..." she trailed off, turning to face the passenger's window.

The silence was broken by small cries leaving her mouth. Eddie slowly pulled off to the side of the road and put the car in park so he could focus all of his attention on helping her as best as he could.

"Are you worried he'll be upset?" he began, trying to get to the root of the problem. His question was met with more tears falling from her eyes. Her breathing was becoming more erratic and her hands began to shake. Eddie was torn, he knew she desperately needed to get home, but at what cost? He couldn't live with himself knowing that once he dropped her off, she would be left alone to face that jerk again. He made a snap decision, once again choosing to deal with the potential consequences in the morning.

"Alright, let's go to my place for now. It's not that far from here and we can figure out what to do from there, yeah? Is that okay?"

In an unexpected turn of events, her crying stopped almost immediately following his words. "Can i please stay there tonight?" she muttered softly, eyes glued to the floor of his van.

She knew it might be asking too much, but the thought of facing her boyfriend tonight was too much to handle. Eddie's eyes widened, but he quickly composed himself before responding. "Of course, anything you need."

Obeying the rules of the road was out of character for Eddie, especially when it came to speeding, but tonight was different. He made sure to make the drive to his trailer as peaceful as possible for her, not wanting to worsen her distress.

Once there, he was relieved to see Wayne's truck was gone. At least she wouldn't have to worry about his uncle seeing her in this state.

He quickly hurried her inside and onto the sofa before scrambling around the trailer gathering anything he deemed might be of use. He came back into the living room with additional blankets, a glass of water and a can of soda from the fridge, setting them down on the table. He proposed switching out the blanket for a fresh one, doubting the cleanliness of the one currently wrapped around her.

"S'too cold." she slurred, grinding her teeth once again.

Eddie knew better than to try to rationalize with her so he thought of a solution that would make for the blanket swap to be more pleasant. He grabbed one of the blankets, walked over to the dryer and tossed it in. Making his way back to the living room, he picked up the can of soda to open it and slid closer to her on the table. "Here, have a sip, you must be really thirsty."

Up until he mentioned it, she hadn't noticed how dry her mouth was, or how chapped her lips felt. Now that she was in a comfortable place and felt safe, the fear and adrenaline wearing off, she was very aware of the physical discomforts she was feeling. She quickly grabbed the cup of water, opting for the least cold drink made available and downed the liquid within seconds. Eddie's eyebrows raised and he let out a small chuckle. She met his gaze with a shy smile, clearly embarrassed by the intensity of her gulps. Their exchange of grins was interrupted by a shrill ringing coming from the hallway; the dryer alerting them of it's cycle being complete. Eddie shuffled over to it, quickly returning to the living room with the warmed up blanket.

"Here, feel this." he started, placing a corner of the fluffy material in her hands "Nice and warm for ya. How about we get rid of that dingy old thing?" he said gesturing to the stain riddled comforter.

She agreed with a nod, preparing herself for the sharp cold she would feel once the blanket was no longer on her. Eddie attempted to make the switch as seamless as possible, quickly wrapping the fabric around her. Once the warm blanket was snug around her, Eddie lightly tugged on either side in a playful motion. Their faces were mere inches from one another, he wished they could stay this close forever.

"Better?" he inquired in a soothing voice.

She nodded in response. "Thank you."

He stayed crouched in front of her, his hands remaining on the blanket for longer than he probably should have. He scolded himself internally, before retreating onto the adjacent chair. She instantly missed his presence.

It was fairly late at this point, the clock reading 1:04am. Eddie knew she wouldn't be getting much sleep while the drug was still in her system, but offered to set her up in his bedroom, reassuring her that he would take the pull out bed, not wanting to cross any boundaries or make her uncomfortable. She pondered for a few moments before agreeing. They walked over to the back of the trailer, Eddie leading the way with the extra blankets in hand. He breached the entryway of his bedroom and thanked his past self for tidying up the mess that was littering his bedroom floor earlier in the day.

Once there, she took in her surroundings admiring all the art and little trinkets laying around. Eddie grew nervous from the extended period of silence and cleared his throat before saying "Is this okay?" referring to her sleeping arrangement for the night.

"S'cozy." she responded with a warm smile. She made her way towards the bed and plopped down rather sloppily, her legs still feeling like they could give away at any second. She settled into bed and he began turning off the lamps, pausing before switching off the last one.

"Want this one on?"

"Yes please" she responded quietly from under the blankets. She had the soft material pulled up to her nose and was laying on her side watching him maneuver around the room.

"You got it" he said, a dorky smile painted on his face as he turned to look at her. Despite still appearing strung out, Eddie was enamored by her. He always thought she was beautiful, her current state never wavered that. He thought she looked especially adorable all tucked into his bed, her eyes glistening with gratitude and what appeared to be admiration. She closed her eyes for a brief moment letting out a content sigh, the feeling of safety and comfort engulfing her like a warm hug.

Eddie took this as a sign he should retreat to the living room, making sure to wish her goodnight, as well as reassuring her that she could call for him at any point in time if she needed anything. Although she had been let down earlier by a similar unkept promise, she knew Eddie meant every word he said.

Once in the living room, Eddie opted to sit on the sofa for a while to ensure that if she did call out for him, he would be awake and ready to help. He turned on the television in hopes of keeping his mind busy, his thoughts currently consumed with the image of her in his bed. He despised his heart for making him feel so fondly of someone who was in a relationship, albeit an unhealthy one. Was it so wrong for him to hope that she would leave him? The rage he felt accompanied by sorrow for the way she was treated tonight was overbearing. With a grunt, he stood up from his seat and made his way to the refrigerator in hopes that there would be a cold beer stashed somewhere in there. Wayne wasn't opposed to him drinking his supply, so long as he replaced what was taken. Behind the milk carton were two cans of Pabs Blue Ribbon. He grabbed one of the cans and headed back to the sofa, making sure to open it slowly to minimize the noise from the aluminum cracking.

The second Eddie had left the bedroom, the feeling of anxiety she had previously felt slowly crept it's way back into her core. She shook her leg in an attempt at self-soothing, trying her best to remind herself that she was safe now. She knew that she could call for Eddie at any point and that he would be back in the room within seconds, but the feeling of embarrassment and fear of bothering him prevented her from doing so. She tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep without success. Out of frustration she sat up from the bed, the blanket still wrapped over her head in a cocoon shape. She began looking around the room once more, admiring the posters on his wall. His bedroom was exactly as she had pictured it to be. Having only seem him in their work uniform up until tonight, his haircut and ringed fingers had given her a pretty good idea of what his style would be; his bedroom reflecting that perfectly.

His bedroom was quaint and felt like home. A feeling she hadn't felt in years since being with Samuel.

Samuel.

The mere thought of him sent a cold shudder through her that shook her form. She worried about his reaction to her not being home once he arrived at their apartment. He always accused her of infidelity, likely projecting onto her his own bad behavior, and would surely lash out at her the next time he saw her. She began to spiral, images of past mistreatments and abuse at the hand of her partner crashed into her like a violent wave. Tears streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably, as they had many times before.

She had spent many nights crying into a towel in the bathroom alone so she wouldn't wake him with the sound of her whimpers, as he laid in their shared bed without a care in the world. He lacked the ability to comfort her, expressing it many times, usually by saying: "i don't know what you want from me". In those moments a simple reassuring hug would have sufficed, or any act of compassion or intimacy, but he didn't care. Not then, and certainly not now. This sudden realization was all too much for her to handle in this moment.

She desperately needed comfort. She attempted to compose herself before slowly creeping out of bed and pausing at the ajar door. Part of her knew it was wrong, but the desperate need for consoling overshadowed the morality of her decision. In a barely audible tone, she called Eddie's name and waited nervously inches from the door. Almost instantly, she heard him getting up from the sofa and walk hurriedly to the back of the trailer. The door opened quickly startling her and Eddie let out a small yelp, not expecting to see her standing so close to the door.

"Jesus," he let out with a sigh, clutching his chest. "Sorry, ah, i thought you'd be in bed." After recovering from the small arrythmia he was almost certain he suffered, he chuckled and asked, "Everything okay?"

Upon his arrival, a sense of dread and self-loathing washed over her. She feared rejection but also reprimanding from Eddie. He knew she had a boyfriend, and had been so considerate of that all night, was she really about to ask him if he could sleep in the same bed? It wasn't in a sexual way, but somehow the lather felt worse. Seeking emotional intimacy from someone other than the person she was dating? She felt despicable. The worse form of betrayal in her mind was emotional infidelity, which is exactly what had been taking place over the last few months. She couldn't be blamed though, not entirely. Her absent and neglectful partner had driven her into the arms of a more caring, emotionally intelligent man and for that, he only had himself to blame.

"S'worse when you're out there. Can you stay here? Please..." she managed to mutter.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat. He would do anything she'd ask to help her feel better. "Yeah! Yeah, of course. Let me go get the extra blankets and a pillow and i'll set up on the fl-"

"Could you sleep next to me?"

Her broken tone of voice shattered him. It had become very apparent to him that her relationship was far more damaging than it appeared to be on the surface. Every question she had asked him, whilst in her most vulnerable state, had a sad undertone expecting rejection. The mention of her partner's name alone had caused her intense distress. Without letting another second go by, he sprung into action. He gently agreed and motioned towards the bed, letting her get comfortable before climbing in himself. Not wanting to cross any boundaries or make her feel uncomfortable, Eddie held off on laying down. Instead, he sat up on the bed with his back against the wall, trying to take up as little space as possible as he nonchalantly stared ahead.

She was laying on her side facing him, when he caught a glimpse of her looking up at him. He turned to face her, trying to think of any topic of conversation to hide the fact that he was screaming inside. All the feelings he had for her that he had managed to suppress all this came crashing down on him. She was the girl of his dreams, and she was laying in his bed with him. He quickly shut down those thoughts and focused on her well-being; it was his top priority. He took in her facial features, now that the blanket was no longer covering the bottom half of her face, and noticed she was grinding her teeth still. "Try and relax your jaw." he said with care.

"M'sorry"

"Don't need to apologize," he reassured laughing lightly, "just don't want you to be sore in the morning, is all."

There was a brief moment of silence as her smile grew, then a snort escaped her as she buried her face in the blanket. The innuendo now becoming apparent to Eddie who, also broke out into laughter.

"Oh god, i didn't mean it like that!" was all he managed to say, bringing his palm up to his face. His embarrassment was short-lived, her laughter filling the room was music to his ears.

"I know, s'just funny" she said between giggles.

The room went quiet again, the sound of their breathing being the only audible noise. The effects of the drug were slowly wearing off, evidence of that came from her suddenly yawning.

"Wanna try and get some rest?" he offered.

"That sounds good" she responded.

"Okay, lights on or off?"

"Off please."

"Okay," he said, making his way towards the lamp to shut it off. He excused himself to go turn off the rest of the lights, as well as the TV still playing and made his was back to the room shortly after. He carefully climbed into the bed, this time laying down but still taking up as little room as possible.

Eddie was the kind of sleeper that liked to take up as much of the bed as humanly possible, so he know he wouldn't be getting the best of sleep tonight but he didn't care. Knowing that she was safe meant more to him than a good night's rest. They wished one another goodnight and attempted to drift asleep.

A few minutes of stillness passed, she turned to face him, craving closeness and warmth. Tonight's series of events had proven that Eddie was a gentleman and certainly wasn't the type to take advantage of her or intentionally cross any boundaries. She inched slightly closer to him and whispered: "Can you hold me?"

He hummed in response extending his arms for her to settle in. She nestled into his chest, their bodies fitting perfectly with one another like a puzzle. The feeling of contempt and security she felt while in Eddie's arms was unmatched. It was as if nothing could hurt her as long as he was around. He felt her grip on his shirt tighten slightly, her body pushing onto his in an attempt to get closer. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, feels good. Safe." she replied sleepily. Eddie understood in that moment how touch starved she was. She craved intimacy in it's purest form. He readjusted his arm so he could lightly rub his fingertips on her back soothingly. She was beginning to drift asleep, but was still clenching her jaw, an action Eddie was quick to notice. With his free hand, he lightly cupped the side of her face and rubbed gentle circles on her cheek and jaw in an attempt to sooth her likely sore muscles.

"Try to relax your jaw sweetheart, unclench your teeth." he gently reminded her.

His caring instructions were met with a low hum followed by a barely audible "thank you", the tension in her face releasing almost instantaneously.

Eddie bent down slightly to give the top of her head a kiss while softly uttering: "Goodnight sweetheart.", her only response an even sleepier hum than before. In a matter of seconds, they both drifted to sleep comfortably in each others presence.

The end ♡

This is my first time posting in a while, i hope you liked it, lmk what you think! xo

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson oneshot #angst #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x hurt/comfort #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiic #eddie munson x female reader #st4 eddie #hurt/comfort

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nameless-ken · 9 months ago

Text

Silent Confessions, Loud Masks - Billy Hargrove x Reader Series

(Please reblog!!!) Happy reading! Comment below to be added to taglist.

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: bullying/rude remarks, mostly angst and some fluff

Introduction | Chapter one

Masterlist

(song for this chapter <3)

The air in Hawkins High School's corridors crackles with anticipation as the final bell signals the end of another mundane day. Amidst the crowds of students, Billy Hargrove stands tall, a formidable presence amidst the chaos. His posture exudes confidence, his gaze sharp and penetrating as he scans the hallway.

As you cautiously approach Billy and his group of friends, you can feel their eyes boring into you with a mixture of disdain and amusement. You suppress a shiver, bracing yourself against the impending onslaught of ridicule.

"Hi Billy," your voice wavers slightly as you address him. The group falls silent, their smirks widening as they turn their attention to you.

"Wanted to tell you to meet me in the school library today instead," you continue, words coming out in a rush as you try to maintain your composure in the face of their scrutiny.

"Why would he do that?" Tommy interjects, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he shoots Billy a knowing look. your confusion deepens at the exchange, heart sinking as you realize you’ve become the subject of their mockery.

"Book report," you add, voice barely above a whisper.

Carol snickers, leaning in closer to Tommy with a smirk. "Wow, Billy. Didn't know you were into charity work now. Helping out the loners, huh?"

Billy's lips curl into a sneer as he glances at you, his eyes alight with amusement. "Yeah, guess I'm just feeling generous today," he quips, his tone dripping with condescension as he looks you up and down.

Tommy lets out a boisterous laugh, nudging Billy playfully. "Man, can you believe this? Y/N actually thinks she's worthy of your attention."

Your cheeks burn with humiliation as you listen to their cruel words, holding back tears.

Ignoring the burning stares of Billy and his friends, you quickly turn on your heel and walk away, heart heavy with disappointment. You thought you were getting somewhere with Billy. That little bonding conversation you had in the library a couple days ago was supposed to be the start of something, you aren’t sure what but something different than Billy’s usual antics. Sadly, it seems nothing is going to change.

You hear them as they make their way down the hall, Billy and his friends, their laughter echoing through the empty halls. You hang back, wanting to see what else they have to say behind your back.

"Did you see the look on her face?" Tommy says with a smirk. "Like she actually thought we wanted her to talk to us."

Carol chuckles, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, what a freak. Like, why would someone like her even bother trying to talk to us?"

You watch Billy's lips quirk into a sly grin from around the corner of the library door. "Who knows, maybe she's got a crush on me or something."

Tommy and Carol burst into laughter at Billy's remark, their voices mingling in a chorus of mockery as they continue to taunt you. Your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment as you brave through their cruel words, fists clenched at your sides, forgetting the sadness and getting angrier by the second. You storm into the library, sitting down at an empty table, awaiting Billy’s arrival.

As Billy takes a seat opposite of you, you can't bring yourself to even look him in the eye, the feeling of resentment festering in the pit of her stomach. Billy offers no words of comfort, no gesture of solidarity to ease your sudden distress after what just happened. You hoped that Billy might stand up for you, that he might show some semblance of decency in the face of his friends' cruelty. But as you heard him laugh and joke with them, it becomes painfully clear that you were wrong.

You push over some notes you took last night, alone in your room having nothing better to do. You can feel Billy’s eyes on your face but you keep your gaze down, opening your copy of the book, pen in hand, ready to take more notes.

The silence between you is deafening, each passing minute serving only to deepen the growing divide between you both. Billy copies you, book in hand as he leans back, balancing the chair on its back legs.

As the minutes pass by, you can’t stand the constant glances from Billy across the table at you. You sigh, shoving your book and notebook in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and leaving without a single word spoken.

You feel the weight of Billy's betrayal pressing down on you. As you walk to the band room to wait for Robin, one thought echoes in your mind – Billy Hargrove may be your English partner, but he's no friend of yours.

The neon sign of the local diner flickers invitingly as you and Robin step inside, the familiar buzz of chatter and clinking dishes filling the air. The aroma of sizzling burgers and freshly brewed coffee envelopes you, creating a comforting atmosphere that instantly eases your frayed nerves.

Robin scans the room, her eyes bright with excitement as she spots your favorite booth near the window. "Over there," she says, gesturing eagerly as she leads the way.

You follow closely behind, her footsteps echoing against the checkered floor as Robin navigates through the maze of tables. With each step, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, the familiar sights and sounds of the diner providing a much-needed respite from the chaos of the outside world.

As you reach the booth and settle into your seats, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Robin's unwavering support. "Thanks for coming with me.”

"Of course," Robin remarks, returning the smile. "You know I've always got your back."

"Robin, I don't know what to do. Ever since that encounter with Billy and his friends, I just feel... lost." You admit, pressing your hand to your forehead.

"I get it, Y/N. I can’t imagine how brutal that must’ve been for you. But you can't let Billy get to you like that. He's not worth it."

"I know, but it's not just about him anymore. It's about me, too. I thought maybe I could break through his walls, you know?"

"Hey, don't blame yourself for his behavior. Billy's just a jerk, plain and simple." Robin slams her menu down, leaning onto the table, a stern look on her face.

"I feel like there’s something else there. There has to be a reason he acts the way he does.” You ponder, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I understand your need to over-examine and try to figure out other people, but please, Y/N, be careful. There may be more to his story that could end up hurting more. Not just with him but you too.”

As you listen to Robin's advice, a swirl of conflicting emotions churns within. Billy's callousness has cut you deep, yet a part of you couldn't help but empathize, searching for a glimmer of humanity beneath his hardened exterior. Despite Robin's warnings, you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there is more to Billy's behavior than meets the eye. Perhaps it’s a desperate attempt to rationalize the hurt he causes or a genuine belief in the possibility of some kind of redemption. Regardless, you can’t help but feel a sense of responsibility, as if breaking through Billy's walls was not just about him but a reflection of your own inner struggle for understanding and connection.

You know you probably should’ve told Billy you weren’t showing up to the school library today. You can’t face him, exhausted from having to work late last night and barely got any sleep. But again, why does Billy deserve your respect anyway?

As you trudge along the familiar path home from school, the weight of your eyes are so heavy you could curl up on the grass and fall asleep at any moment.The soft strains of your walkman provide a welcome distraction, the familiar melodies serving as a temporary reprieve from the turmoil swirling within your mind.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely notice the sound of an engine approaching from behind, the low rumble of a car pulling up beside jolting you back to reality. You glance at it, your heart sinking at the sight of Billy's blue Camaro idling next to you, his gaze fixes on you with a mix of confusion and concern.

"Why weren't you at the library?" Billy's voice cuts through, his tone tinged with frustration as he leans near the passenger side window.

You ignore him, jaw clenched tight as you adjust the volume on your walkman, the music drowning out the sound of his voice as you continue walking.

"You said you’d meet me there," you hear him protest, the desperation evident in his tone as he matches your pace with the slow roll of his car. But you refuse to acknowledge him, steps quickening as you try to put distance between yourself and the unwelcome intrusion of his presence.

"Y/N, come on," he pleads, his voice growing more insistent as he trails alongside you. You almost trip over your feet when he says your first name instead of his usual nickname for you. "Can we please just talk?"

Despite his persistence, you gather your self confidence, jaw set in determination as you keep your gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

After a few minutes of futile attempts to get your attention, Billy finally relents, his frustration boiling over as he brings the car to a stop, the screech of tires echoing in the quiet street as he abruptly exits the vehicle.

"Y/N, wait!" he calls out again as he stomps over to where you stand on the side of the road, his presence looming over you in an intimidating display of power.

You brace yourself for his approach, heart pounding as you meet his gaze with a mix of defiance and apprehension.

Billy's eyes flicker with irritation and concern as he reaches out towards you, his hand hovering in the air as if unsure whether to touch you.

"Y/N, please," he implores, his voice softening slightly as he takes a step closer. "Just get in the car so we can talk. I promise I won't bite."

Your gaze hardens at his words, your resolve strengthening as you take a step back, putting some distance between you.

"I don't trust you, Billy," you keep your voice steady despite the unease churning in your stomach. "Not after what I heard you saying about me."

Billy's expression flickers with a fleeting flash of guilt, his shoulders slumping slightly as he meets your eyes.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to me but I just want to apologize,” he insists. "I didn't mean any of that," his tone earnest as he takes another step forward.

"You had a chance to stand up for me, and you didn't. You just let them make fun of me like everyone else." Billy's jaw tightens at your words, a flicker of shame crossing his features as he struggles to find the right response.

"I know, and I'm sorry," he admits. "I messed up, okay? But I want to make it right.”

“Why do you do it though? you press him, voice tinged with genuine curiosity as you take a step closer, the distance between you shrinking.

"I don't know," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper with a mixture of shame and defiance. "I guess...I guess it's just easier to push people away than to let them in. Easier to be the bad guy."

Your heart aches at his confession, a pang of empathy tugging at your chest as you see the vulnerability lurking beneath his tough exterior.

"Why can't you open up to me?" you ask softly, reaching out towards him, hand hovering in the air.

Billy flinches at your touch, his walls springing back up as he takes a step back, putting some distance between you.

"Why do you want me to?" he retorts, his voice laced with bitterness. "What's in it for you?"

Your heart sinks at his defensive response, a wave of frustration washing over you as you struggle to break through the barriers he's built around himself.

"Because I care about you, believe it or not Billy. Because I can see something in you that you refuse to acknowledge, something real and genuine that's worth fighting for. I know a hurt soul when I see one. I hate how much I’m willing to offer my help to you because you’ve been unbelievably disrespectful to me but unlike you, I want to help others.”

Billy's expression softens at your words, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he takes a tentative step towards you. "I just...I don't know how to be any different."

You will never be sorry for how compassionate you are, no matter how terrible the other person may be because deep down, everyone is dealing with their own shit.

"I don’t need your sorrys," you reply, voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "You just have to be willing to try."

"Will you let me give you a ride home?" His voice remains small. "It's the least I can do after everything." Billy walks over and opens the passenger door for you. “I promise I will try to be better, for you.”

You meet Billy's gaze once more, uncertainty clouding your eyes as you weigh his words carefully. You can sense the genuine desire to make amends shining through his usual bravado.

After a moment of hesitation, you nod slowly, a tentative smile gracing your lips as you step into the waiting car.

"You better not make me regret this.”

As you drive by the arcade after picking up your weekly VHS from Family Video with Robin’s discount, you notice Max Mayfield, Billy’s step-sister, standing alone outside in the dimly lit parking lot, arms crossed tightly around herself. Concern flickers across your face as you drive into the parking lot and approach Max.

"Hey, Max," you call out softly. "Are you okay? You look cold."

Max's head snaps, surprise evident in her wide eyes as she meets your gaze.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Max replies, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she wraps her jacket tighter around herself. "Just waiting for Billy. He's late...again."

Your heart sinks at Max's words, sympathy flooding through. You’ve seen Max and Billy together outside the school parking lot on several occasions and they certainly aren’t that friendly with each other.

"Do you need a ride? It's getting late, and it doesn't look like he's coming anytime soon."

Max hesitates for a moment, uncertainty flickering across her features before she nods slowly. "Yeah, that would be great.”

As Max buckles in, you start the engine again, breaking the silence with a gentle smile aimed at her, turning down your Kate Bush tape playing through the radio.

"How's school been treating you since you moved from California?" you wonder, glancing over at both sides of the road and pulling out of the parking lot.

Max shrugs, a faint frown tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's been alright, I guess. Kinda miss the sun though."

You nod sympathetically, understanding the adjustment it must be to move from sunny California to a place like Hawkins. "Yeah, I bet. How about your brother? How do you two get along?"

Max lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head slightly. "Let's just say Billy and I aren't exactly best friends. He's usually too busy being an asshole most of the time."

"I'm sorry to hear that. How long has he acted like that?"

Max's expression darkens, her gaze flickering towards the window as if lost in thought. "It's... complicated. His dad's not exactly the nicest guy around. Billy's learned a lot from him, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry, Max. That must be really tough." You understand Billy’s high walls and how awful he can be to others. “I know we don’t know each other that well but anytime you need someone to talk to, I'm here.”

Max offers her a small, sad smile, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thanks, Y/N."

"Given that I'm Billy's English partner, I'll do my best to knock some sense into him on your behalf." Both of your laughter fills the air as you turn down their road.

The atmosphere grows increasingly tense, the sound of raised voices and shouting carrying through the night air as you pull into their driveway. Your grip tightens on the steering wheel, a sense of foreboding settling over the car.

Max hesitates as she opens the car door, her gaze flickering towards the house with fear and apprehension.

"It's okay," you reassure her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I can wait with you if you want."

Before Max can respond, the front door bursts open, and Billy storms out, his face twisted in anger. Your heart sinks as you take in the sight of his bloody mouth and bruised knuckles, concern washing over you as you cut the engine and step out of your car.

"Billy..." you begin, voice soft as you step towards him. "Are you okay? Can I help you with anything?"

Billy scoffs at your words, his expression hardening as he glares at you with hostility.

"Don't bother," he retorts, his voice laced with bitterness as he storms past you towards his car. "I don't need your help."

You watch helplessly as Billy speeds away into the night. You turn to Max, your gaze filled with sympathy as you offer her a comforting smile.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you question, as the sound of something breaking from inside the house echoes outside.

Max nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she rushes inside the house, leaving you standing alone in the darkness.

Despite his tough exterior and sharp words, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of empathy for Billy. Knowing the abuse he seems to endure from his father explains so much about why he keeps his walls up, why he lashes out the way he does.

You long for the chance to show Billy that not everyone in his life wants to hurt him, that he doesn’t have to face his struggles alone. As you drive home, your thoughts linger on him, a silent promise forming in your mind: you would be there for him, whenever he’s ready to let you in.

You lean against your locker, idly twirling the combination lock as you try to pay attention to what Robin is saying.

“-and did you see her this morning?... She's just so... perfect." Robin sighs dreamily as she speaks about Vickie, her enigmatic crush, who’s also in band with her.

"Tell me about it. You practically melt every time Vickie walks by."

"Shh, keep it down! I don't want the whole school to know." Robin moves to practically cover your mouth with her hands and you laugh.

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. But seriously, what's the deal? You've been eyeing her like crazy lately."

"I don't know... There's just something about her. She's so confident and cool, you know?"

"You should totally go for it."

"Easier said than done, Y/N. Besides, We’re not even sure if she's into girls."

"Take a chance! And who knows, maybe she's been eyeing you too."

"Highly doubt it, but thanks for the pep talk."

"Anytime. You know I've always got your back."

"While we’re on the subject of crushes, how's your thing with Billy going?"

“What? What thing with Billy?” You avoid her gaze.

"Oh, come on, Y/N. I know how stubborn you are and how Billy acts but I can notice there’s something there."

"It's not like that, Robin. We're just partners for a project." You shift uncomfortably.

"Sure, just partners. That's why he's always looking over at you right now.”

You turn your head suddenly, locking eyes with Billy, glancing down to see the note you put in his locker resting in his hands. You send him a friendly smile, hoping to bridge the gap between you after the encounter last night.

However, Billy's response was far from warm. With a dismissive gesture, he tosses the note back into his locker and slams it shut before striding away, his demeanor as aloof as ever.

"Stop it, Robin. You're reading too much into it."

"Yeah, I get it. Last night was rough from what you told me. Maybe he just needs some space. You know how guys can be."

"Am I, though?”

You grab your last textbook and slam your locker shut. "I don't know, Robin. Things have been weird between us lately. After what happened last night..."

"Yeah, maybe. But still, I want to help him. I thought we were starting to get along better."

"Well, if he's being a jerk, then he doesn't deserve you stressing over him. Seriously, you're too good for that. You’re always helping everyone around you.’

You sigh softly, understanding where Robin is coming from. You’ve been a people pleaser your whole life, particularly with people you’re close with and those you care about. It’s an instinct to you that you need to learn to set boundaries with.

Despite Billy’s prickly exterior, you can’t hold his attitude against him, knowing all too well the struggles he faces behind closed doors. You’ll do anything to help him realize there are good people in this world, people willing to help him and show him how different life can be.

After a long day of classes, you trudge out of the school building, the weight of your backpack pulling at your shoulders. Spotting Billy leaning casually against his Camaro, a cloud of smoke swirling around him, you brace yourself for the inevitable interaction.

"Hey, Billy," you greet him, mustering up a polite smile.

"Get in," he commands, his tone sharp and dismissive.

You comply, not wanting to argue or add more to his sour attitude. You slide into the passenger seat as Billy follows, starting the car. Billy revs the engine and peels out of the parking lot, starting at a high speed.

"Can you please slow down?" you shout over the blasting sounds of Metallica.

Billy glances at you briefly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Anything for you, little mouse," he slowly lets his foot up on the gas pedal.

Soon enough, you arrive at Lovers Lake, a place requested by Billy for a change of scenery. The sun casts a warm glow over the tranquil waters. You breathe a sigh of relief as Billy parks the car.

"I'm not here to make out with you, just so you know," you acknowledge the designated makeout spot from many teenagers in Hawkins.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Billy chuckles softly, flicking his half-finished cigarette out the window before stepping out of the car. You follow suit, hopping up to sit on the hood of the car as Billy leans against it, his gaze fixed on the lake.

Pulling out your notebook, you attempt to engage him in conversation about the notes you took in class about your book. Billy remains distant, his attention focused elsewhere. You sigh inwardly, resigning yourself to the fact that connecting with him would be no easy feat.

Billy begins to shed his clothes, you couldn't help but stare a mixture of confusion and embarrassment washing over you. You avert your gaze, focusing intently on the book in your lap, though your peripheral vision betrays you as you glance at his shirtless form.

"What are you doing?" you manage to stammer, cheeks flushing as you dare to look up at him.

Billy turns to face you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he shrugs off his jean jacket. "Going for a swim," he declares, a smirk playing on his lips as he kicks off his boots and peels down his jeans, revealing a pair of navy blue boxers.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him. You quickly avert your eyes once more, trying to focus on the words you wrote down hours ago as if they held the key to your rapidly escalating emotions.

"Come on, join me," Billy urges, his hands resting confidently on his hips as he shoots you a challenging smirk before running to the edge of the lake, sliding off his boxers at the last second, making you gasp at the flash of his ass before he dives into the water.

“Come on, little mouse. Live a little.” He shouts, his upper body coming out of the water, hands pushing his soaking hair away from his face.

With a mixture of apprehension and defiance, you can’t help but hesitate for a moment before walking anxiously toward the lake, starting to peel off your own clothing. Stripped down to your undergarments, feeling the cool breeze against your skin.

“I’m not skinning dipping with you.”

“I’m not forcing you.” Billy says sincerely, his gaze softening as he holds out his hand to you.

Despite your reservations, there's a part of you that longs to break free from the constraints of your everyday life, to embrace the spontaneity and freedom that Billy seems to embody.

With a leap of faith, you take his hand, feeling a rush of exhilaration as you plunge into the water together, the cool embrace of the lake enveloping you both in its refreshing embrace.

As you swim side by side, the tension between you dissipates, replaced by a sense of ease. The water is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun above, and you find yourself relaxing into its embrace.

"I didn't expect you to actually join me," Billy admits, his voice laced with surprise as he glances over at you.

You shrug, a smile playing at your lips. "I guess I just needed a little push," the words coming out more easily than you expected.

"Sometimes we all need a little push," his gaze drifts out across the lake.

There's vulnerability in his words, a glimpse of the person beneath the tough exterior he often presents to the world. It's a side of Billy you've rarely seen, and it leaves you feeling strangely connected to him in that moment.

"Yeah," you agree softly, a sense of understanding passing between you. "Sometimes we do."

For a while, you simply float in silence, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the water against your skin. It's a rare moment of peace in the chaos of your everyday lives, and you find yourself savoring it, reluctant to let it slip away.

"Hey, Y/N," he begins. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For everything. I’m an asshole." You let his apology hang in the air for a moment before responding.

“You’re suffering too,” you swim closer to him but still keep your distance, knowing what he’s hiding beneath the water. “I know you’ve grown up watching and learning and wearing the anger of your father but I wish you could see how different life can be,” you pause, gaging the look in his eyes for caution before you continue your thoughts. “This anger doesn’t fit you.”

Billy's expression softens at your words. "I never really thought about it like that," he admits. "I guess I've just always... I don't know, it's like I've been carrying this anger around with me for so long, I don't know how to let it go."

You nod in understanding, empathy coursing through your veins. "It's not easy," you acknowledge. "But it's possible. You don't have to be defined by your past, Billy. You can choose a different path for yourself."

Billy's eyes flicker with hope and fear. "Do you really think so?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I do," your conviction unwavering. "But it's up to you to make that choice. I’m here, if you want it. Every step of the way.” You can sense the emotions swirling in Billy’s mind right now, with the way his chest moves faster, jaw clenched and eyes closed, you know he’s not used to being talked to gently or even offered any sort of comfort for a long time.

"But apology accepted," you cut through the silence, lightening up the mood, flashing him a smile, which he returns.

"I mean it, though. I shouldn't have said those things about you. It was wrong, and I'm sorry."

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders at his words. "Thank you, Billy. I really appreciate that."

"I'll try to do better," Billy adds, his voice quiet but determined. "For you." He repeats his words from when he drove you home the other day.

Billy extends his arm, meeting yours resting out in front of you. The tips of fingers brush against yours. Your breath hitches at the contact, hoping for more but he sadly moves his hand back towards his chest.

The sun begins to sink lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the lake as evening approaches. With a sigh, you reluctantly swim back to the shore, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine as you step out of the water. You turn your back to Billy as he follows you, not ashamed of showing off all his glory. You hastily pull your clothes on, begging for their warmth. You look over your shoulder to Billy zipping up his jeans and throwing his shirt back on, leaving the buttons undone.

You make your way back to his car, gathering your backpack and books. Billy starts his car, turning the heat on full blast as he notices the goosebumps appearing on your arm as you sit down and buckle in.

You both look at each other one more time, genuine smiles on your faces as Billy drives away from Lovers Lake.

Despite the ups and downs of your tumultuous relationship, there's a bond between you that transcends words, a connection that you know will endure whatever challenges may come your way. It's a small step forward, but it's a start – a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounds you both.

Taglist: @msbillyhargrove @uselessbutinteresting @milestellergfs @periwinkle-quill @ghostcastaway @iletmytittiestitty-russ @missingbillyhargrove @lotionlamp @billys-pretty-babe @isimpfortoomanypeople

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aestheticaltcow · 11 months ago

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Married Life

Steve Harrington x Reader (technically self-insert but like barely lol)

Just a little fluff starring my favorite Hawkins resident.

Stranger Things Masterlist

Meeting you in college was the best accident Steve had ever made. He’d gotten lost in the main building while looking for his actual class. You sat in the front row of the lecture hall, nose in a book, waiting for class to start. You hadn’t noticed Steve until he sat beside you; you shot him a grin and returned to your book. He casually glanced in your direction throughout the specialized sociology elective. He was enthralled and knew you’d be the next Mrs. Harrington from the moment he saw you.

Your relationship started like any classmate dynamic; he’d asked to borrow a pen or if you knew the time. He’d ask to copy your notes or borrow a piece of paper. By mid-terms, he’d worked up the courage to talk to you about anything other than sociology. “Hey, Y/N, do you wanna study together sometime?” Steve suppressed his overwhelming urge to squeal when you'd agreed to it.

The two of you sat in the library, reviewing notes for approximately 10 minutes before diving into more interesting topics. He took mental notes of everything you’d said you enjoyed; he’d causally start bringing you coffee or snacks. There was something about Steve you found intriguing and after months of friendship and a string of bad dates on your end. Steve gathered the courage to ask you on a real date. You agreed Steve was a nice guy and wasn’t ugly- or weird. It was a simple first date; the two of you went to the movie theater on campus, and then he walked you back to your dorm. After that, you were hooked.

The two of you seemed to do everything together. He’d walk you to class and drop you off at work. He was always willing to spend time with you even if it was 'inconvenient' for him.

He challenged your point of view, and you challenged him as well. He didn’t understand why you’d chosen to major in sociology but loved how you lit up when you spoke about it.

Going to Hawkins for the first time was interesting. You hadn’t known about Steve’s high school reputation but were thoroughly amused at Robin’s retelling of embarrassing story after embarrassing story. His parents adored you fresh out of the gate; you saw his Dad pull him aside on your last night. While you hadn’t heard what he told the young man, you noticed how his face had lit up. As you were getting ready to return to school the next day, you had to find out, “He told me to marry you because a woman like you is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.”

After graduation, you and Steve finally rented a small apartment together. You had both landed jobs you loved, and everything was perfect except for one thing. Your last name…

Steve wanted to plan the perfect proposal. He spent months looking for the perfect ring and asked every woman in his life for their opinion. After buying what he hoped would be your engagement ring, he had to figure out how to ask you. A romantic weekend away? A simple but elegant dinner date? At the beach? Or at a park? He thought he had a perfect plan, but one day, you two were walking through a parking structure trying to find his car, and it was the moment. Steve stopped and fished the ring box out of his jacket pocket. You turned around when you realized Steve wasn’t beside you anymore.

“So this wasn’t what I planned on doing, but, Y/N, will you marry me? I know we're in the middle of a fuckin’ parking lot, but this is what I want. I want to be with you forever; this may be the least romantic or special way to propose to the woman of your dreams, but it feels right.” you laughed at first, but as he got down on one knee, you realized he was serious. “Yes, Steve, I would love to be your wife.”

#stranger things #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagine #steve harrington headcannon #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot

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mynameis-noe-body · 1 year ago

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Anon request: Now that university has started what about a story where reader is studying for her exams so she and jim haven't seen each other for a week and jim start missing her so bad so on a friday night he decide to sneak up on her window and make her a surprise and spend the night and saturday morning together.

This Friday night

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Five long days at college, taking lectures, taking notes and enduring long political rallies from the most enthusiastic students. They were unavoidable if you wanted to have a social life at university. For many of them, the idea of returning home every weekend after algebra and experimental physics classes, carrying all their notes and driving across the United States to see their family again, was crazy, but you lived so close to the campus. Enough to decide to return to Hawkins and meet all your friends. So, that's what you did. While your fellow students were split between the silent, dusty corridors of the university library and the tequila-soaked nightclubs, you returned to the sleepy town where you were born and raised, to spend an evening at The Hideout — attending Eddie's concert, visiting Robin and Steve at the video store and avoiding Billy's advances whenever you decided to go swimming in the pool. You usually enjoyed having dinner with your family; your father was an incredible cook, and on Saturday evenings he enjoyed cooking for you and your mother: lasagna, fried aubergines and courgettes, ravioli with sauce, stuffed peppers, baked breaded fish fillets and so on. However, you knew when you came home that weekend that you wouldn't find them. With a resigned sigh, driving your station wagon home, listening to the latest Talking Heads LP on the radio, you sped on towards Hawkins thinking about what sad frozen food you were going to have for dinner that Friday night.

That same Friday, Jim had made his usual tour of the city centre; he had received a call from the supermarket in the afternoon to clear a traffic jam, and in the end he had parked the pick-up, entering the store for a case of water — and maybe a case of beer. He didn't expect to meet your mother at that time of day, when she usually worked in the typing office across the street. Jim and your father were longtime friends, they had met in high school and again after Jim's comeback. He had always been kind, welcoming. So the Chief had also met your mother, and you. You were just a girl when he met you for the first time — sweet sixteen, denim jacket and teased hair, pink lip gloss and backpack full of notebooks — and at the time he certainly hadn't noticed you. And he wouldn't have noticed you if you hadn't blossomed into the beautiful, young woman you had become; Jim was crazy about you. There was no other way to put it. You were damn beautiful, so incredibly smart and all your smiles were bright and clear, so pure. When Jim joined your father to watch the football or baseball championship, he would observe you sideways walking around the house always with a book under your arm, and he would just have time to move his eyes back to the TV screen, and start his lips to the beer can, before you passed through the living room, kissing your dad on the forehead and greeting him. Jim almost never spoke to you... it was already difficult to control his growing erection every time you squeezed his shoulder with your soft hand, smiling at him and asking him if he wanted something to eat. When you had enrolled in college, you had chatted like two adults for the first time, during the barbecue organized by your father. You had spoken full of enthusiasm for your future plans, he had listened to you, smiling at every word. And then, you were interested in him. Jim wouldn't have expected this; that a pretty, young, intelligent little thing shoes any interest in his life was new. You asked him about New York and his daily life in Hawkins, if he had any trips planned for the summer, and what was the last movie he watched at the cinema. Trivial things, perhaps, but it had been nice spending time with you.

So, when Jim saw your mother in the aisles of the supermarket, he immediately stopped her to ask about your weeks at college.

"What a lovely surprise to meet you here!" your mother had exclaimed. "My daughter is coming back this evening, we have just enough time to say goodbye and then my husband and I have to leave... we wanted to spend the weekend with her, but her grandmother is giving us a lot of trouble! We'll spend these days with her, in Richmond."

His eyes opened in surprise. "Free house from Friday to Sunday?" he commented, ironically. "I should expect calls then, Saturday night."

The woman laughed. "Oh no! She's a good girl, you know. And besides, exams are approaching! Surely, she'll want to be alone."

Jim thought about that last sentence all evening. She'll want to be alone. Hawkins was a quiet town, nothing alarming had ever happened... sunk on the sofa of his bungalow, overlooking the lake, Jim glanced at the time again. Nine thirty. It was already dark. The pizza box was lying empty on the coffee table, the beer was finished and yet another dull western was playing on the TV. He didn't like the idea of you being alone. And truth be told, he liked the idea of you having company even less. I'm going to check. He shook his head. It was a bad idea, although… oh screw it. I can do what I want. I'm the Chief of police. Jim grabbed the car keys and drove to your house.

At home, you had already finished dinner. In the previous days you had organized your studies, enough to be able to enjoy a relaxing weekend in complete solitude. Maybe you'd call Robin the next day, but for now... you had your ice cream, an adventure movie you rented at the store, and a half bottle of dessert wine. You didn't need anything else. You were about to finally sit down on the sofa, when someone knocked on the door.

"Coming!" you chirped, skipping towards the entrance. You would have expected anyone but him. Oh shit, you wanted to whisper under your breath. Jim Hopper. Your father's best friend... was it really so cliché to feel such a visceral attraction to a man so older than you? But you couldn't help it. Jim was attractive — his entire presence was intoxicating. His massive body, his eyes so cold and deep at the same time, his hands so big — you had to force yourself, knowing you were blushing as you admired every inch of his body. You cleared your throat and smiled. "Chief Hopper, I wasn't expecting you!" you licked your lips, for a moment. As if to savor something sinful, which you knew was forbidden. “Have you come to arrest me?”

Jim grinned. He leaned against the doorframe, shrugging. “Not until you give me reason to put you in handcuffs.” The way you blushed — so visibly — was tremendously arousing. "Your mother just happened to tell me you were home alone. I just stopped by to make sure everything was okay."

You smiled widely. "Very thoughtful. I was about to watch a movie, actually. Come join me, come on." You turned your back to him, expecting him to follow. Hearing the door close behind him, you allowed yourself a deep breath. "Take a seat!" you exclaimed.

Jim didn't expect this. His muscles had reacted before he could even think — and thinking would have been harmful. Every single thing about that situation suggested a forbidden outcome… but he walked into the living room, sitting on the couch and stretching his back a moment before seeing you arrive with a six-pack of beer in your hand.

“Hope it's enough” you said, sitting down next to him.

Too close. Jim took a deep breath and smiled tightly, grabbing a can. On television you were watching Indiana Jones. "God, this teen movie gives me headaches" he said, shaking his head.

You laughed. “The choice was between this, Rocky and Gone with the Wind.”

"Christ, that Harrington guy is busy at the video store..."

His laugh sounded deep and lovely. You looked at him fascinated, turned towards him without paying any attention to the television, while he lit a cigarette. You would have loved to be that same cigarette, held between his lips, wet from the tip of his tongue... Jim barely looked at you. "What's up?"

You shook your head, smiling. “I missed this.”

"This what? Hawkins?" he blew out a cloud of smoke. "Indiana Jones?"

“Having you at home” you replied, whispering with a smile. Curling your legs up on the couch cushion, Jim noticed how close you were; the long shirt had ridden up enough to show your smooth thighs — he wanted to squeeze them in his entire hand, caress them everywhere, bite into them until he left marks. You're sick, Jesus Christ. But your smile grew bigger with your soft laugh. "Yes, having you here. I enjoyed talking to you, those few times."

"Yeah?" his voice was rough. And while you wondered if it's because of the cigarette, he knew it was only because of you. “Don't you prefer Steve's videotapes?”

"Don't be mean, Steve is a good guy."

"And that's what you're interested in? The good guys?"

“Not really” you said. You inhaled deeply, moving closer slowly, now you could almost touch each other. "The boys I'm interested in should be..."

Your hand caressed the collar of his shirt. Jim looked at you intently, unable to look away from your oh-so-scarlet cheeks, your lips so inviting, your breasts hidden under your shirt. He wanted to touch you everywhere — and it was so wrong, so transgressive, he madly wanted you. And you weren't doing anything to stop it.

"What should they be like?" he breathed.

You looked down, suddenly shy. "Well, would be better if they were the Chief of Police in Hawkins, for example."

Jim let you do it. In fact, he imperceptibly spread his legs when you decided to get on him, straddling his lap. You were beautiful, devastating. He wanted to tear every inch of fabric from your body and wrap you around himself... but his hands resisted, squeezing your hips with enough force to leave a mark. He was fucking hoping to leave them.

“You don't know what you're doing, kid.”

You grinned. "I haven't been a kid for a while, Hop."

Your lips fell on him, attacking him with all your passion. His hands were everywhere. They tore your shirt, took your soft young breasts in his palm, squeezed the firm and sensitive nipples between calloused fingertips until you squeaked. A small creature in the jaws of the wolf. Jim was ravenous. His tongue pushed into your mouth, he tasted every nuance of your skin, letting his mouth slide over your cheeks, your neck, he bit your lips and sucked them between his. It was delicious, sinful, wrong — fucking perfect.

Jim took off his shirt, unzipping his pants as the rest of your clothes fell to the floor. You were crazy, stuck together — he pulled you against his chest, slamming you into the couch cushions, falling on top of you and attacking your neck. His mouth was rough and his beard scratched every corner of your skin. "Christ — sweetheart. You're driving me crazy."

You moaned, he almost came at the sound of your desire-filled breaths. “Yes — oh, please — I want you so much, please.”

"'s that so?" Jim left bruises on your skin with every kiss, gripping your hips tightly as his lips slid south of your body. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your buttocks. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Get fucked on this couch?"

But you shook your head, your legs slowly opening, begging for his hands on your sweet sex. "No — just you. Jim, please. Touch me!" your desperate moan.

You felt his smile on your skin. He left a trail of small kisses on your groin, before caressing your soft lips and bathing your intimacy with his fingertips. You clung to him, to the feeling of his strong, intense body against yours; Jim was immense, his massive chest pushed you against the pillows, you had no escape. God, it felt good to be his. Lying beneath him, his two fingers swirling around that knot of nerves, you moaned deliciously and trembled.

Jim kissed you again. “Do you really want this?” He growled. "You want my fingers inside you? Do you — oh, you're so fucking wet, baby — do you want me to fuck you here, now?" and you nodded, opening your legs against his, begging for his touch. He chuckled, before digging into your neck and kissing you, sucking leaving red marks everywhere.

“Jim” you breathed his name.

"What is it, baby?"

"Jim — please. Your fingers, I wanna come!"

And his fingers entered you, thick and delicious, arching perfectly against the point that released all your pleasure. You clung to him, breathing in the scent of his body. He pushed them harder, deeper, squeezing and biting your shoulder, your breast, he swirled the tip of his tongue over your sensitive nipples. And when you were perfectly wet, completely shaken by the pleasure... "Good girl. Come — come for me" he growled.

And so you came, on his fingers. You kissed him, with all the passion and desperation of the moment, sliding your fingers over his bare chest.

“Darling, you kill me” Jim whispered against your lips, between kisses.

You smiled. "Not yet, love. Let me—"

You climbed on top of him, climbing up his body and sliding over his every muscle. Jim was big, and exciting, absolutely delicious. And you wanted to use your lips on him. His fingers combed through your hair as you moved down, tightening it tighter and tighter. "Oh fuck — baby, if you do that — ah — I don't think I can resist. You are, god —"

"I know, love." You kissed his bare thigh. "You don't have to resist. Just let go."

God, he was big. Thick and so — oh so hard. Fucking aching. And you would have alleviated all his pains: your lips opened on him like flower petals, welcomed him in the soft warmth of your mouth and, breathing deeply, wetting yourself up to your chin with saliva, you took him all. Jim groaned loudly, gripping your hair until it hurt, but it was perfect. You were completely his, and at the same time you had total control over his pleasure. You just wanted to taste him on your tongue. And you sucked it, without breathing, letting yourself be guided by his voracious, greedy hand, pushing you hard to take it all the way down your throat.

"Ah — god, sweetheart, you're going to make me — oh shit, I'm going to —"

Yes. You all wanted it. And you kept taking it all, sucking, licking until...

"Fuck!"

And with his orgasm, silence fell again.

You and Jim found yourselves a couple of hours later still naked, tired, exhausted to be honest. You lay next to each other on your bed, the sheets sweaty and undone just like the two of you. But Jim held you close to his chest, caressing your bare back and there was nothing you could want more.

You kissed his neck, and felt his smile. "Stay this weekend."

He inhaled cigarette smoke, and nodded. "I'll stay as long as you want."

"And I'll be back next weekend too."

Jim laughed. He kissed you hard on the lips and turned off the light, to sleep with you. Every weekend with you would be beautiful... he closed his eyes and kissed your forehead. He didn't confess to you that every minute spent together — as crazy as he was with desire — would be absolutely, totally perfect.

#jim hopper x reader #chief jim hopper #jim hopper x you #hopper #jim hopper smut #jim hopper #anon ask #request #stranger things

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stobinesque · 1 year ago

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Make Me Write: SNIPPET

The people have spoken and the people want Jeff to be Steve's bisexual awakening! I now have ~1.7k words written of this fic that had previously been a vague outline in the back of my head. Full disclosure, though: the "awakening" part of this is going to take a good long while for our beloved Steve.

I'm tagging everyone who explicitly requested this for WIP Wednesday (I counted each request as 3 additional sentences to my total count). But I'm going to hang onto the asks and use them for future motivation!

SNIPPET BELOW!

The return to school is a rocky one. The worst of the bruising has faded, and Steve can finally make it through most of a day reasonably alert—at home, at least. But there’s still a persistent ache throughout his whole body, and the fluorescent lights at Hawkins High are suddenly audible in a way he doesn’t remember them being just a couple weeks ago. About halfway through second period he develops a splitting headache that only gets worse as the hours tick by, and he feels seconds away from losing a breakfast he didn’t eat.

And that’s just the physical stuff. Returning to the social feeding frenzy of a small-town high school stuffed with teens with nothing to do than stick their noses all the way up the asses of everyone around them after getting his lights knocked out by the shiny new guy… Max may have knocked Billy out, but Billy’s not the one who had to take a week and a half off. Billy’s not the one with yellowing bruises splashed across his face. Billy’s had time to fashion himself a little amateur PR campaign, with Tommy Hagan as his own personal town crier.

It’s not like Steve had any particular interest in continuing to hover at the periphery of the circles he’d once been the ringleader of. But with Nancy tucked firmly into Jonathan’s side, and staunchly avoiding his gaze, and without the blandly polite interest of any of his other “friends,” Steve is just…adrift.

And on top of all of that, somehow a grade 3 concussion has not managed him a get out of jail free card for the stack of problem sets, papers, and tests he missed while he was out. Steve’s not totally convinced that a couple teachers didn’t tack on additional assignments out of spite.

“Mr. Harrington.”

Steve freezes with one foot in Mr. Donovan’s classroom. “Yes?”

“You’ll be making up the test you missed at the end of last week.”

“Didn’t I also miss the lessons for that test?”

“It’s not my fault if you didn’t have someone to take notes for you while you were away.”

“Away? I had a concussion.”

“Yes, and I’m sure you’ll think twice before getting up to whatever nonsense resulted in that unfortunate accident again. But that does not change the fact that you have a test you need take before you can continue in this class.”

Steve works his jaw, tempted to pull out the ‘my parents will be hearing about this’ card. He probably could get his mom to kick up enough of a fuss to get him out of the test. If he played his cards right, he might even manage to rile his dad enough to get Mr. Donovan fired. But either option was a devil’s bargain, and Steve has had quite enough of hell and its denizens to last himself at least two lifetimes.

Steve swallows down a retort—if he’s not going to try to manipulate his way out of this he’s certainly not going to dig his hole any deeper—and crosses to the front of the room to grab the test from Mr. Donovan’s hand.

***

Almost all of the tables in the small library are full by the time Steve shuffles through the door right on the heel of the final bell. The only one free is the rickety wooden table near the back that has one leg about half an inch too short that always wobbles whenever someone so much as looks at it. Steve sighs, but he resigns himself to sneaking a book thin enough to wedge under the table leg off the shelf while Mrs. Miller is looking away.

A minute later, Steve is cycling through a large stack of very small books when he’s startled by someone speaking from behind him. “I’d go with The Awakening.”

“Huh?” Steve doesn’t even turn around, singularly focused as he is on making this table passably usable for taking the goddamn Chemistry test.

“The Awakening? Kate Chopin? Perfect profile for wedging under there.”

Steve scans the spines of his pile until he spots the book. Fishing it out, he sees that there is a small indent on the front cover that looks suspiciously similar to the shape of the table feet. Sure enough, it settles into place easily, and winks the wobble into nonexistence.

“Perfect, thank you.” Steve finally turns enough to catch sight of his savior. It’s another kid from Donovan’s fifth period Chemistry, but Steve can’t recall his name. If he puts his mind to it and casts back far and wide, he can maybe conjure an image of a darker-skinned teen sitting at the same cafeteria table as Eddie freaking Munson, but there’s a strong chance Steve’s just extrapolating based on the fact that the guy is currently wearing one of the silly “Hellfire Club” t-shirts. Not that knowing his extracurriculars helps at all with remembering what to call him. Steve’s never been the best at names and faces, but he’s starting to think Billy knocked something loose up there when he knocked him out (that’s basically what a concussion is, right?), because he can usually at least come up with some vague impression of a sound even if it’s off. His head is totally blank on this one.

Trying to recall the guy’s name just leaves him awkwardly staring into the middle distance, though. So when Hellfire Guy drops into one of the chairs at the table, it startles him into following suit. Hellfire Guy drops an identical packet to Steve’s on the table.

“You too?” Steve asks.

Hellfire Guy just kind of stares at him with a confused smile. “Why’d you think I was here during our shared class, Harrington?”

Steve flushes. “I didn’t really think before I spoke, to be honest.”

“Well at least you’re honest.” His new tablemate flashes a more genuine grin. “I was out with strep last week. Frankie grabbed my assignments for me, so I just have to make up this stupid test.”

Steve nods, pretending to know who Frankie is, and refusing to wish that he’d had someone willing to grab his assignments while he’d been out. It’s not like he could have done anything about them when he was sleeping two-thirds of the day away.

Steve settles at the table, and as he moves to start writing his name at the top of the page, he realizes that’s the perfect way to figure out Hellfire Guy’s name without seeming like a total jackass. He flicks his eyes across the table to try to catch a glimpse of what the other kid is writing. But Steve’s ability to parse other people’s handwriting is lackluster on a good day. Throwing in the additional obstacles of trying to read something upside down from a foot away and he may as well be trying to read French. He can’t get even a halfway decent look without having to strain himself awkwardly—which he nearly does, forgetting that the whole point of this exercise was to be discreet.

Hellfire Guy looks up to meet Steve’s gaze, and he looks a tad irked. “You trying to cheat off of me, Harrington?”

“No, no, I—” Steve cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t remember your name,” he says. The Steve of a year ago wouldn’t even care about whether or not he knew some nerd’s name. He doesn’t want to be that guy anymore, and yet he’s still right here in the same exact place. Only now he does care, and the fact that he can’t remember the name of a guy who’s sat two rows over from him for the last three and a half months is just embarrassing. “But I didn’t want you to think—” Steve blows out a sharp breath. “It seemed stupid to ask.”

Hellfire Guy blinks. “My name’s Jeff,” he says, without any hint of judgment or annoyance shading his tone. Jeff tilts his head and looks at Steve with an intent sort of squinting look. “Hargrove really did a number on you, huh?”

“Oh.” Steve hadn’t been expecting that response. “Yeah.” He paints a charming smile onto his face. He doesn’t want to talk about this. “We should probably stop talking before Mrs. Miller starts to think we are cheating.”

Jeff opens his mouth as though to say something, but then glances over the front desk. Mrs. Miller is talking to another student, but rather than call Steve out on his obvious deflection he just shrugs and returns to working on his own test. Steve lets out a slow steady exhale of relief and continues working on his own.

It doesn’t take long for the headache that’s been building all day to bloom into something distractingly painful. Even if parts of the test didn’t reference material that he entirely missed while he was out, all of the questions about stuff that he does recognize are about things he’s been struggling to grasp. The multiple choice section was fine—even if he’s not particularly confident he knows the answers to more than three of the questions, at least he can just guess and move on. But he’s thoroughly stuck on the segment of the test where he has to balance equations.

“Are you okay, man?”

Steve jolts in his seat and looks up at Jeff, who’s staring at him with what Steve takes to be genuine concern—as out of place as that should be on a nerdy junior whose name he didn’t know remember less than thirty minutes ago. Beyond that—what was Steve doing that even prompted Jeff to ask? “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Dude, you’re ripping your hair out, and you sound like a dying lawnmower.”

Steve immediately drops the hand that he didn’t realize had been tugging at his roots from his head, and flushes red. Maybe Billy punched a few holes through his filter while he was doing his best to cave his face in. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You stuck on something?”

Steve scoffs a bit. “All of it.” He runs a hand through his hair again, but this time to try to reverse some of the damage. “I hate balancing equations.”

Tagging: @eriquin @inairbinad @delta-piscium @steventhusiast @bifuriouswaterbender @xenon-demon @steves-strapcollection @spicysix

#steve harrington #jeff stranger things #bisexual steve harrington #read writes #jeff is steve's bi awakening au

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chaoticbeanz · 9 months ago

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Hellfire’s Girl 2

Summary- A new girl moves to Hawkins and has already made an impression.

Pairing- Eddie Munson x Fem!oc

Warnings- friends to lovers, slow burn, she/her pronouns, cursing, mainly nickname will be used,

Word Count- Almost 2k

Notes- There will be some straying from the storyline. Not a lot of Eddie in this one I apologize. Please don't forget to comment. I'd love to hear feedback.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

~3rd Person~

Peaches felt so much better about school and Hawkins in general. She had friends, her boys she decided to call them. And according to Dustin, she’d have a few more. She loves the nickname she was given. She never cared about fitting in but she was glad she found others who made her feel like she belonged. Hellfire made her feel like she was always meant to be there.

After lunch, the group began to separate, walking to their respective classes. Each member bid her farewell.

Before walking down the hall she called out, “Hey Gareth!”

He turned around, “What's up Peaches?”

“After school, did you still wanna have a ‘grass’ session with me?” she asked nervously, pushing up her glasses.

“Hell yeah! I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.”

“Perfect!” she smiled, turning in the opposite direction. Unaware that Eddie was right behind her, only able to catch Gareth’s response. Were they meeting after school? Did you like Gareth? He couldn't help feeling that little green monster creeping up again but it instantly faded when he saw her jump.

“Fuck Eddie!”

He liked hearing her say his name. She somehow made it sound so much sweeter.

~Lena~

“You scared the daylights out of me!” I smacked his arm trying to catch my breath as he raised them in defense.

“Forgive me, milady, that was not my intent.”

I couldn't help but giggle. “Uh huh sure. Then praytell, what is your intent, good sir?”

“To escort fair maiden Peaches to her next educational torture.” Eddie bows to sell the bit.

I had to contain the blush creeping up my cheeks. All the boys are using the nickname but it feels different when Eddie uses it.

When he looks up at me I shake my head, beginning to walk. “Don't you have a class too?” He didn't need to know yet that I had a study hall.

He stands up and jogs to catch up with me. “Mrs, O’Donnell can wait. Besides, I wanted to know what you thought about good ole Hawkins high.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “It’s not so bad. There is a clear imbalance in the hierarchy and everyone seems way too invested in basketball. I personally find it boring. Besides, I’m more of a band girl anyway.”

“Finally! Someone normal!” Eddie cheers out. I couldn't help but laugh at his theatrics.

“Everyone here seems small-minded, that they don't like change or the unconventional.”

“That's Hawkins for ya sweetheart. If you aren't cookie cutter then you're branded a ‘freak’.”

I forced myself to ignore the pet name. But it made me sad to think. Is that how the boys were labeled? Bullied because they dressed differently or liked other things that weren’t sports? Hawkins was so ass backward and it wasn't going to force me into conformity.

“Well, I guess that makes me a freak then.” I turned to face him as I stopped in front of the library.

Eddie looked at me with a look I couldn't quite place. Maybe I shouldn't read too much into it. He pointed at the library questioningly. “Oh, did I forget to mention I have a study hall?” I teased then curtsied. “I thank you good sir for the company. Now I bid thee farewell.”

He smirks at me and takes my hand, “But of course. Anything for Maiden Peaches.” Eddie kissed the back of my hand then sauntered off down the hall.

I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding in. I could feel how red my cheeks were as I walked through the doors looking for a table to sit at and attempt to study. Which proved to be more difficult than intended. Head clouded with Eddie when I knew it shouldn't be. C’mon Lena, you can't have a crush this quickly! You just met him! Besides, he's just being nice because you're the new girl. At least that's what I tried to convince myself. Maybe I could poke around and ask questions with Gareth? Though they seemed like best friends, he probably wouldn't share secrets with me.

Worth a shot.

~Eddie~

God, how was I crushing so hard already?! She’s absolutely perfect! I wanted to know everything about her. What music she listened to, and what movies she watched. Did she know D&D? How would she react to me having a band? I couldn't stop thinking about her.

After I walked away from her, I felt like I was on cloud nine. Fuck going to class. I decided I was going to skip this class and head to my picnic table for a smoke. Then I’d catch up with Gareth. I needed to know what was going on between them. I know I wasn't the only one captivated by not just her beauty but her humor and her charm as well. I lit a cigarette and took a long drag. Letting it fill my lungs then exhale all the smoke.

Maybe ‘m getting ahead of myself? What if she already has a boyfriend? Or what if she doesn't even like guys? I mean Buckley swings that way so it is possible. We just became friends, is it selfish of me to already want something more, to be more to her?

All my life in Hawkins, there wasn't anyone quite like Peaches.

As if on cue, the bell rang just as I stomped out my cigarette. Time to have a chat with Gareth.

~3rd Person~

When Eddie found Gareth, he casually put his arm around his best friend. Gareth could see the mischief in his eyes. “What did I do?”

“Heard you say you were meeting Peaches after school? What's that about?” Eddie tried not to sound desperate, but it may have come out as jealousy instead.

Gareth knew immediately then that his best friend had the hots for her. I mean could he blame him? It didn't stop him from having a bit of fun with Eddie. He didn't need to know that Gareth was secretly trying to help him in the long run. “Yeah man, she asked me if I wanted to share a joint with her.”

He could practically see the gears moving inside Eddie’s head. Trying not to show his agitation.

“You rarely smoke.” Eddie couldn't wrap his head around it. And he thought Peaches couldn't get any better. A grunge stoner goddess roamed these halls.

Of all people though, why’d you have to ask Gareth? His green monster was starting to get the better of him.

“Who am I to turn down such an offer? Besides, gives me the chance to get to know her more.”

Eddie wanted to punch the smirk off his face but contained himself. He had to remind himself that it was fair game. It didn't mean he liked the idea.

“Trying to get with our Peaches, Gare?”

“We’re just friends, Eds.” Just then the bell rang signaling the next class. “Look, I got to go. We’ll talk later man.”

Gareth walked away, leaving Eddie alone in the hallway.

Eddie’s mind was too preoccupied; he barely paid attention for the rest of the day. Well, even less than he usually did.

~Lena~

I couldn't be more happy than to hear the last bell ring. The day was finally over. My brain was fried and not in the way I wanted yet.

I quickly gathered my things and headed to my locker. I didn't want Gareth to have to wait long for me. As I started putting books into my locker, I thought about the questions I wanted to ask him that I didn't get to during lunch. Nothing super personal, just general things about the boys.

Once my locker was locked, I headed towards the doors. Pushing them open I see Gareth leaning against the building. “Sorry if I took too long.”

He turned his head and smiled, “It’s all good Peaches.”

I return the smile and walk towards my car, he pushes off the wall and follows.

“Do you have a spot or…?” I asked as I opened my door and tossed my bag in the back seat.

”Uh…most of the time it’s the back of Eddie’s van.” Gareth rubs the back of his neck, nervously laughing while we get into my car.

I turn my key and it roars to life. Eddie. I hadn’t even thought to ask him. Now I feel like an idiot and rude.

”Oh. Well now I feel bad. Had I known I would’ve asked him if he wanted to join too.”

”Don’t worry Peach. There’s always next time.”

I started reversing out of the spot I was in, “You’re right. We could go to my house if that’s cool with you? My parents let me smoke on the roof.”

”That’s badass! Mine won't even let me in the garage.”

I laughed as I pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards my house. “Oh, I have some tapes in my glove compartment if you don’t want to listen to Queen.”

In the corner of my eye I saw him reach and search through what I had. Though I had a feeling I knew what he’d pick.

“You listen to Black Sabbath?”

I knew he’d be shocked. One, it was considered “Devil music” and two, sometimes I didn’t look like the kind of girl to like that sort of music. But I didn’t care and I told him what I told everyone.

“Music is music Gareth. I like what I like.”

”I knew I made the right decision becoming friends with you Peaches.”

I looked over at him and gave him a smile while at a red light. He put in the tape and we jammed out for the rest of the ride.

When I parked in front of my house, I noticed that neither of my parents were home yet. Which was fine, I wasn’t uncommon since they both had jobs. Before I got out of my car, I reached into the glove compartment to retrieve my last joint and placed it in my pocket.

I unlocked my front door and we entered. “Welcome to Casa de Peaches. Make yourself a home.” I relocked the door then tossed my keys on the coffee table and my bag on the couch. “Before we head to the roof, we should probably grab some drinks and snacks. I don’t know about you but I get major munchies.”

I gestured for him to follow me into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and grabbed a drink. “You can have whatever you want.” I said leaving it open for him to choose. We each grabbed a few snacks from the cabinet as well then he followed me to my room.

”You got a nice place Peaches.” I hear Gareth say as we reach the top of the stairs.

”It’s not so bad. I’m still getting used to it.”

As soon as I opened my door, I was mortified. “Fuck!”

I had forgotten that I had shit everywhere. Clothes, shoes, books, tapes and records. My room looked like a raid happened while I was at school. I could hear Gareth chuckle from behind me. “I am so sorry it’s so messy. I usually have it fairly clean when friends are over.” He probably thinks I’m gross because girls are supposed to be cleaner than boys.

”It reminds me of my room, but slightly girly.” He laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t think less of you.”

Well that’s a relief.

I place my snacks on my small side table next to the window. While Gareth did the same, I quickly started cleaning up some of the disaster. He noticed. “Seriously Peaches, it's fine.”

He ended up grabbing my shoulders to stop me from moving around.

”Okay. Okay.” I took a deep sigh then fished out the joint from my pocket. I couldn’t stop the smirk that was forming.

”Let's light this sucker!”

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“grass” session will be in part 3

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