#steve harrington babysitter edits
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harringroveera · 1 year ago
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That’s what you get for being annoying Dustin
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spookystarfishzombie · 28 days ago
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dwobbitfromtheshire · 5 months ago
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Steve with his husbands and wife.
Imagine Steve showing up to the courthouse like:
"What do you mean I can't marry them all? And what do you mean I can't marry Robin platonically?"
Nancy hears the word "can't" and immediately tries to talk to the judge. Eventually, though, Hopper escorts the drunk foursome out of the building. . .I love them. ❤️
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moonriselabyrinth · 7 months ago
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Since TikTok took the sound down and I had to re-upload there I thought I’d post this here
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queenie-ofthe-void · 8 months ago
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Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday
Thanks for the tag @runninriot! You're lingerie fic idea is so GOOD!!
To be honest there hasn't been a lot of wormy ideas crawling through my covid brain fog, but this is what I've got.
~~~
The night Steve almost died to Billy Hargrove's hands, Mike saw a bully paying in blood for his past mistakes. A former king paying penance for every kid he ever stepped on, every girl he ever left behind. Steve's been trying to prove for months he's a better person than he used to be, that he actually deserves someone like Nancy. Well, Mike thinks this is a good start.
The night Steve almost died to Billy Hargrove's hands, Dustin saw the coolest guy he knows stand up for a group of nerds. A rich kid with a nice car who was still willing to help him when he asked for it. Steve's never talked to him before, but when Dustin needed it, the guy dropped everything he was doing to keep him safe.
The night Steve almost died to Billy Hargrove's hands, Max saw someone like her brother, but so, so unlike him in all the ways that mattered. A random high school guy took one look at her, just some random girl, and decided there was no difference between her and the boys, that he'd take her in under his protection the same as them. That in less than a day, Steve was more of a brother to her than Billy ever was.
The night Steve almost died to Billy Hargrove's hands, Lucas saw a jock use his strength for good. He saw a boy who was no brains all brawn, captain of the swim team and basketball team, use those muscles to protect him and his friends. Someone who was strong enough to take on monsters and bullies without hesitation. Steve's the only Fighter the Party has, and maybe that's something Lucas can help with.
~~~
I can't stop thinking about how this scene should've been a more pivotal moment for Steve's character arc in relation to the Party.
Alright here's the tags! No pressure!
@lingeringmirth @cuips-not-cute @carolperkinsexgirlfriend @devondespresso @pearynice
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jqmunson · 1 year ago
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Eddie and Steve are moving into a new home. While packing they find a shoebox full of old Polaroids. They sit on the bed and look through them together, taking a long trip down memory lane. Happy tears are shed when they see the first picture they ever took together all those years ago. Eddie makes a point to hang up this dingy old polaroid next to their wedding day photo on the mantle of their new home. Steve admires it every morning while he drinks his coffee. His heart swells full of love and eyes mist over with nostalgia as he thinks about how some things just never change.
❤️🥹
-J.q.m
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allthingssteddie · 1 year ago
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Steve sits at home in his work office to read the news that Eddie was stabbed to death after attempting to break up a fight at a bar.
Steve hated how his life turned up. He was 40 years old and was married to women who hated him and the feeling was mutual and was stuck at a job at his father office working hard all day to still get no respect from his dad who refused to retire and likes to make his work life a living hell. He wished he never stoped talking to the party and most importantly he wished he said yes to Eddie when he asked him out. But one night at a party he wishes on his birthday he could go back to high school and when he wakes up he’s back in 1983 and the next time he sees Eddie he immediately kisses him without thinking leaving Eddie confused.
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itsladyliv · 1 year ago
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Dustin stared at me in disbelief.  “Who are you?”     “Obviously the coolest babysitter around.”
Tammy Thompson Takes on the Upside Down, chapter 12 by @asirensrage
Watch it also HD on Youtube. ❤️💙💛💚
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onedirection57er · 2 years ago
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HAPPY 31 BIRTHDAY JOE KEERY WE ALL LOVE STEVE HARRINGTON
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djostateofmind · 1 year ago
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https://www.facebook.com/groups/794618698815733/?ref=share_group_link
Someone come talk about Joe Keery with us!!!
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jqmunson · 10 months ago
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When i mentioned in my caption a lovely friend of mine made the swap version (their version first ❤️) this was who it was
🥰🥰🥰
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harringroveera · 1 year ago
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And then the Harrington-obsession started
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spookystarfishzombie · 1 month ago
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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year ago
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Steve knew how much Nancy cared about her brother and his friends, so he stepped up to the plate. He knew all the things Jonathan did to protect his own brother, and suddenly, Steve remembered all the times he wished as a kid that he had a little sibling of his own all so that he wouldn't be alone. His wish came true in the form of Dustin and his friends. The first babysitters were Nancy and Jonathan, and then Steve became one as well. Maybe Jonathan and Nancy guided him there, but it was Steve who formed the connection, who kept it going strong.
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lovebugism · 2 years ago
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I need the next part to the costumer’s always right like yesterday. The roller coaster this story is sending me through is insane. :’)))))
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THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | family vacation
summary: the gang takes a brief break from the chaos of hawkins and spends a weekend at lake lemon. you and eddie find that it's difficult to be in love and babysit at the same time. (10k)
pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader
tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love (road trip edition), newly established relationship, r's nickname is peach, eddie wants to kiss you but the kids think it's gross :(, the fluffiest chapter yet i dare say, steve in his babysitter era, the gangs all here! TW probable typos, very brief mentions of abusive relationships, briefer mentions of b*lly h*rgrove, talks of sexual/romantic insecurities
( PREVIOUS ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )
 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
It’s t-minus seven minutes until spring break, and you’re spending it with Steve The Hair Harrington.
The parking lot of Hawkins High is relatively empty, filled only with vacant cars and whipping wind that carries the scent of mowed grass and blue skies — the promise of a soon summer. Without your friends and other strangers to fill the quiet with their resounding laughter and booming voices, the strip of concrete is sleepy and silent.
You and Steve turn it all to velvet.
On the hood of his Beamer, you sit with your chins tilted to the sky. Puffy white clouds glide eastward against a blanket of sapphire, and the two of you try to make shapes out of them. Giving meaning to globs of disfigured marshmallows in the sky is a lost art, if you had anything to say about it.
“Aw, that one looks like a heart!” you awe, feeling like a child again as you point to the pretty cloud for Steve to see.
He doesn’t find as much joy in the mundane as you seem to. He only agreed to do it because you asked so nicely — “Wanna watch the clouds with me, Stevie?” you’d said, followed by a drawn-out “Please?” when he initially denied you. 
Besides, it was a pretty alright way to pass the time. Steve always said he lacked the organ that produced patience in other people; seven minutes tend to go by like seven hours for him. Especially when there’s nothing to do but make things out of a bunch of clouds that don’t look like anything to begin with. It’s like a test with no wrong answers that he’s failing somehow anyway.
The boy follows your finger and squints at the sky. “I don���t know. Looks sorta like a penis to me.”
“Steve!” you scold, shoving him with a halfhearted hand. Your brows pinch in horror like he’s just tainted your innocent fun.
His face twists in confusion. “What?”
“That’s obviously a heart.”
“No,” Steve insists like a bickering older sibling. Despite his initial lack of enthusiasm, he presses his shoulder into yours and points his own finger toward the vaguely shaped penis-heart cloud. “That’s the tip right there, see? And those are the balls,” he explains, somewhat crass, as he traces the rounded top of the heart you’d identified. 
He scoffs like he can’t believe you can’t see it. “I mean, seriously, Peach. You should see it more clearly than I do.”
“Why?” you challenge with a squint.
Steve only rolls his eyes in response. He knows where this is going. You’ll never pass up the chance to take the piss out of him.
“Because I’m a slut?” you continue, obviously joking, but with a perfected look of offense twisting your features. “Is that it, Steve Harrington? You think I’m a disgusting wh—”
“Alright! That’s enough.”
A giggle spills from your mouth at his scolding. As funny as it is to mock him, it always feels a little rewarding to know he doesn’t find it as amusing as you do — or the rest of Hawkins, for that matter.
He huffs, impatient and irritable. “God, you’re so annoying…”
“I know,” you lilt with a too sweet smile as you tilt your head to your shoulder. 
The fleeting thought that you can’t wait to annoy him on your weekend getaway passes the plane of your mind, and you remember to ask— “Wait, you packed your shit, right? ‘Cause we definitely aren’t going to make it to Lake Lemon before dark if we have to spend three hours helping you pack your hair products, Stevie.”
“Yes, I packed my shit. Mom.”
Your brows raise, not believing him. He’s rarely ever so responsible on the first go around. Not without a little push from someone — you mainly, Robin on occasion, and his parents whenever they care enough to check on him.
“So you have enough socks and underwear to last until Monday?”
“Yes.”
“And you brought the booze?”
“Yep,” he nods, popping the p. “The alcohol was the first thing I packed, actually.”
“And you have your toothbrush and deodorant and shower stuff?”
He opens his rosy mouth to answer in the affirmative but shuts it again, quickly like a fish. His brows furrow and his lips jut softly out as he thinks to himself. “…Shit,” he answers without really answering.
“At least that’s sorta stuff you can buy on the way there,” you tell him, giggling. “Won’t have to drive three hours back from Lake Lemon for your Farah Fawcett hairspray— ‘cause I absolutely know you would, so there’s no use in arguing with me.”
He doesn’t
Instead, he fiddles with the silver Zippo in his right hand and changes the subject. “Speaking of Lake Lemon,” he singsongs, his sheepish gaze flitting between the lighter and you. “It’s not, like, super weird that I invited Nancy, is it?”
Your brows furrow. An awkward giggle tumbles from your mouth. “No?”
“It’s just— you invited Max and her friends, and I figured Eddie was coming too because, you know, you’re…” His face screws up as he tries to think of the right word. You lean in closer to him, an anticipatory smile on your lips. “Canoodling or whatever. And I just didn’t want Nancy to be left out of the loop. That’s all.”
“And why would that be weird?”
“Well, because— I don’t know, okay? I just wasn’t sure if you guys have spoken since… everything.”
He says it like it was an armageddon or something similarly catastrophic that changed the course of the history of the world. Maybe not the world — just yours. His, too, in a way.
For a while, it ruined you. The thought of never being truly loved ate you alive and left hardly more than bones and strips of flesh in its wake. You found Billy after it spat you out, and god, you thought you were finally becoming whole again. Really, though, you were just holding onto the absence in your heart as though it were another life. 
Then everything from before just kept on ruining you.
But now you’ve got Eddie.
And Eddie kisses you even though you taste like heartache. Eddie makes you feel like your lips shouldn’t be anywhere except his mouth. Eddie is the golden sunlight that streams in through an open window, and you stand amid the flaxen streams — safe and warm and whole again.
Now, you exist in two places — where you stand now and wherever Eddie may be. You don’t belong to the past anymore. Tragedy isn’t your religion anymore. Instead, you pick your teeth with the shards of bone agony left behind and find new faith in the crooks of Eddie’s body.
The everything from before stops feeling so heavy. It’s still cold at times, but in the spring sort of way. Now you love so hard you could weep.
“That was a long time ago, Steve,” you assure him, smiling. He’s almost surprised by its sincerity. “We’ve all moved on since then. It’s not weird, okay? I promise.”
“Okay…” the boy wavers, nodding with a grin that doesn’t meet his eyes.
You wonder if he just doesn’t believe you. Or if he hasn’t entirely moved on.
The bell rings. It’s harsh and shrill, even from where the two of you sit across the parking lot. The muddled voices of a sea of teenagers come muffled at first before breaking into an all-out swell of a thousand incoherent conversations. Kids flood through the front doors in packs.
Steve’s kids, namely.
Dustin is the first of them. His voice is distinct as he migrates through the masses to where your car is parked next to Steve’s on the other side of the lot.
“This is gonna be the best spring break ever!” he shouts, smiling with a mouthful of braces.
It makes you smile, too. How could you not? This curly-headed boy is practically sunshine incarnate.
Steve, who’s gotten too used to the yelling to find it as cute as you do, only rolls his eyes in return. His sneaker-clad feet scuff against the concrete when he descends from the hood of his car. 
“Alright. Take it down a few notches, okay?” the boy grouses, waving his hands in front of him. “I’m not driving three hours to Lake Lemon with your hyper ass in the back the whole way.”
Dustin’s grin fades into an unimpressed deadpan when two of Steve’s fingers tap the blue brim of his Thinking Cap. 
“Well, I’m riding with Eddie, so...” the younger boy trails off, flashing his middle finger and a sugary sweet smile.
Steve’s brows pinch, almost in offense. “Wait— then, who’s all going with who?”
“Me, Lucas, and Max are going with Eddie and Peach. And Mike and El are riding with you and Robin.”
“Oh, great. I get the lovebirds,” Steve monotones, hands rising and falling at his sides in exasperation.
A deep, feminine, and familiar voice pierces the jumbled sounds of the forming crowd. “It’s better than suffering two hours in Eddie’s van,” Robin quips with a rouge-tinted smirk as she appears from the horde alongside the boy himself. The two walk side-by-side with duffle bags slung over their shoulders.
Eddie Munson fakes a pout and nudges the girl with a leather-clad shoulder. “Rude.”
A beam breaks out on your face at the sight of the boy, like sunshine to rain clouds. You hop down from Steve’s hood and rush to him without thinking. He nearly topples over at the force you launch yourself at him with. His arms wrap around you to keep you pressed against him. 
His laugh fans against your cheek. “Well, hello to you, too, sweetheart.”
Your nose nestles into his umber curls as you embrace him. He smells like cigarette smoke and floral hair detangler — familiar like a house you’ve lived in all your life.
“How’d it go?” you ask once you’ve pulled back from him. Not enough to let him go, of course, just enough to see the smile he looks at you with.
His grin widens and his chocolate eyes swim with a boyish excitement that makes your chest swell. “C plus, baby,” he singsongs lowly. “Ms. O’Donnell thinks if I can pass the final, I might actually graduate.”
“That’s amazing, Eds!” you beam, laughing in pure mirth as your hands reach for his glowing cheeks. “I’m so proud of you!”
You smack the most innocent of pecks upon his rosy mouth.
Robin groans from where she’s planted herself at Steve’s side. “God, I am so glad you graduated already. I could not suffer this for eight hours every day.”
You roll your eyes at her dramatics, then look back to Eddie with a quieter smile. “I’m so proud of you,” you repeat, just for him to hear.
He tilts his head to his shoulder, somehow both shy and smug at the same time. “Thanks, babe.”
The rest of the kids file out shortly after. Max comes first — the redheaded raincloud she always is — and Lucas follows later with Mike at his side. The former boy sports a bright green letterman jacket, while the latter wears an obviously unwashed Hellfire Club tee.
The seven of you crowd around Steve’s Beamer, anxious to leave the parking lot and the rest of Hawkins behind — even if it’s only for a few days. 
“Alright,” the oldest boy announces as he claps his hands together. “Everybody ready to go?”
“I have to drop by my place to get my bag,” you tell him.
He squints his honey eyes at you. “You were just bitching about me not packing, and you don’t even have your bag?”
“I have to drop my car off anyway, dork.”
“Hey,” Eddie interjects with furrowed brows. The arm around your shoulder tightens. “Turn down the dirty talk, okay? There are kids present.” 
With pale arms crossed over her chest — always on the defensive, just in case — Max tucks a rogue piece of auburn hair behind her ear and turns to you. “My mom packed some of my stuff this morning,” she tells you and doesn’t explain anything further.
It’s not like she has to, anyway. 
Her sneakers sit by your door every night, and her jacket gets hung up with yours. Her spare clothes now sit in a folded-up pile by the couch, and you wash her laundry along with yours and Eddie’s. Your tiny apartment, which certainly wasn’t built for three bodies and a cat, has become more of a home to her than the one on Cherry Lane ever was.
No one else needs to know that, though.
“I’ll swing by and get it on the way,” you promise.
She nods with a tightlipped, barely there smile. You take it as a silent thank you.
When no one else comments about a missing bag or any other hiccup that might give Steve an aneurysm, Dustin grins. “Alright, gang,” he beams, clapping and rubbing his hands together. “Divide and conquer.”
“Wait, wait, wait—” Steve protests when everyone starts to split up.
Dustin, Max, and Lucas are already headed toward Eddie’s van. The former’s hand stills on the handle at his words. Robin, who’s already rounded the maroon Beamer for the passenger side, hears him but ducks into the seat anyway.
“Wheeler. Where’s your sister.”
“Uh, the newspaper… I think,” he answers with the practiced ambiguity of a teenage boy. He shrugs. “There’s some stuff she has to care of. She said she’d drive up when she got done.”
Steve huffs, feigning exasperation to cover his bleeding heart. “Why am I the only one ever ready for these things?”
“You’re not,” you tease with a laugh. “You forgot to pack, like, the most important shit a person is supposed to pack.”
“Yeah, well, no one asked you, Peach,” Steve squints in the place of any actual response.
“Wow. Great comeback, Harrington.”
“Bite me—”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie grumbles at the bickering. It’s harmless banter more than anything — a couple of venomous-sounding words coming from sincere smiles. The boy tightens his grip on you and leads you toward his van. “Stop flirting.”
 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
It feels strange, being back on Cherry Lane.
You haven’t been here since the last code black a while ago. You never had a reason to be. You weren’t exactly looking for one, either. But now, here you are, standing on the doorstep of the guy who broke your heart and ringing his goddamn doorbell. 
A sickeningly familiar feeling knots the pit of your stomach. It’s like you’re walking back into the war he put you through, even though you’re still cleaning the bloodshed off your hands — just like you did every time you took him back, over and over and over again.
You’re grateful that it’s Max’s mom opening the door and not her brother. More so that she’s already got the duffle bag in hand, so you don’t have to come inside. 
The white of the canvas tote has gone brown with time. The pink strap of it is faded and missing a couple of sequins. The girl’s name is written on the front in hand-drawn block letters, doodled all over with the finesse of someone much younger than she is now.
“Hi,” you smile, just to be polite. It shakes at the edges.
Susan smiles back, tightlipped and pink-mouthed. “Hey,” she mutters kindly back as she steps onto the porch with you. The screen door clangs shut behind her. She tucks an amber strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand when a spring breeze rolls through.
She looks a lot like Max. Freckled face, strong jaw, pouted mouth. She’s pretty in the way her daughter is pretty, too — effortlessly so, without even trying to be. 
Even in baggy jeans and frizzy hair, something about Susan is still so beautiful. It’s not even the simple kind of beauty, either. It’s the kind that forces you to stand in wonder of it, unworthy but unable to look away. It’s the kind of beauty that seems almost sad — like a bright flame snuffed down to only embers.
You don’t need to question whose boot crushed her spirit.
“I think everything’s in here,” the mother explains as she hands the bag over. “I packed her a few extra clothes just in case— oh, and tell her that her Stuffy’s in there, too.”
“Stuffy?” you echo with furrowed brows and a curious smile.
“It’s a stuffed rabbit her dad got her when she was born. She’ll probably hate me for putting it in there, but I know she still sleeps with it sometimes, so…”
You realize, then, that so much of what you learn about Max hardly comes from the girl herself. She’s too closed off most of the time. If you really want to know her, you have to care enough to look. But even then, it takes a sort of X-ray vision.
You know when she’s fighting with Billy again, not because she ever tells you, but because she’s got a Kate Bush tape in her walkman. If it’s a particularly bad fight — the red and orange kind — you know it because Running Up That Hill is playing at full volume.
You can tell when she’s lying when she can’t look you in the eye. You can tell she’s happy when stars twinkle in the ocean blue of them. 
When she can’t stand physical affection, it’s because she’s had a particularly shitty day — but when she’s touching you, it means she’s excited about something or another.
You know her dad bought her the skateboard she rides like a baby blue Cadillac because she patches it up with duct tape instead of buying a new one. Their identical initials — M.M + M.M — are carved into the bottom, too, though faded with time.
And you always assumed she slept with a stuffed animal because she sleeps with her arms crossed like she’s used to holding something in them. You’ll often find her on your couch in the smallest hours of the morning, using Bowie as a replacement for a piece of her childhood.
God, you love learning new things about Max Mayfield.
Especially the things she’d rather die than tell you.
“Okay,” you nod with a terribly fought-back grin. “I’ll let her know.” 
“And you’ll be back on Monday, right?”
“Yeah. Probably sometime early. I’ll call you.”
Susan nods despite still looking a little apprehensive about the whole. She crosses her arms over her chest. Her manicured nails fidget against the oversized flannel she wears. 
“Can you ask her to come over when she gets back?” the mother wonders with a grimace like it’s much to ask. Her brows pinch and her anxiety-bitten mouth forms a tight line. “I know she probably won’t want to — and I don’t blame her, but…” she huffs and runs a hand through her hair, pushing back her bushy auburn bangs. “If you could maybe give her a little push, that’d be great.”
“I’ll, uh… I’ll try,” you promise with a wavering grin.
Both of you know that Max is too stubborn for any sort of push — the big or the small variety. You also know she’s too terrified of Cherry Lane to come back to it just yet. 
“And just, you know, look out for her while she’s gone, okay?”
“Of course.”
Susan scoffs, shaking her head at herself like she’s just stuck her foot in her mouth. “That was— That was stupid of me. You’ve been watching over her this whole time. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”
You smile, more sincerely this time. A look of sympathy melts your features. You find the woman’s supposed blunder more beguiling than offensive.
“It’s fine. I get it.”
“I know you probably think I’m a terrible mom—”
“Not at all,” you argue, meeting her sheepish grin with a look stern in its kindness. “I think you’re a person in a situation that’s hard to get out of. I know... I know what that’s like.”
The both of you share smiles of understanding that only two people who’ve weathered similar circumstances can muster. The snuffed-out embers, deep black rainclouds, and the like.
“Remind her to call me when she gets there,” Susan pleas, tilting her head to her shoulder. “I know she’ll forget otherwise.”
“I’ll tell her,” you promise.
Because you do know that. Max often needs to be reminded of most things — not because she refuses to do them, but because her mind has a way of distracting her. Her consciousness seems to float every which way, making it much more difficult to focus. Sometimes you think she lives in her head more than in her own house. 
You wonder if that’s how her mom is surviving Cherry Lane and the Hargroves. 
God knows that’s how you did it.
 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Eddie’s van is already parked in your apartment complex, right by the stairs that lead to your door.
It’s more strange for it not to be there these days. You expect it, in fact — in the same way you expect your house to feel like your house. It’s comforting because it’s familiar. When Eddie’s not there, it’s like something is out of place. Missing. And even though you can’t quite tell what, you can feel it. 
When Eddie’s not there, it’s not home.
He and the small group of kids he chauffeured fill your tiny apartment with their bustling bodies and animated conversation. It’s hardly more than muddled cross-talk, though. They all make comments over one another, each louder than the one that came before it, in attempts to be heard. 
It’s all muffled until you open the door. 
It practically slaps you in the face right after.
Max is cradling Bowie on the sofa. Just behind her, you can see Lucas and Dustin in the kitchen. They laugh over themselves at a joke you hadn’t heard. Eddie must’ve been the one to tell it because he’s got this proud grin on his face as he turns on his heel to meet you at the door.
“Make yourselves at home, I guess,” you singsong to him — like your full apartment doesn’t make your heart feel a thousand times fuller.
When you spend enough time shutting yourself out from the rest of the world, you forget what it’s like to be in it. Eddie’s reminding you all over again. Max, too. And all of their strange little friends you’re starting to learn more about.
“Sorry,” he apologizes not-so-sincerely. His umber curls bunch at his shoulder as he tilts his head and scrunches his nose. “Had to take a whiz.”
“I was just teasing,” you giggle.
You smack a kiss to his cheek and head to your bedroom for your bag, dropping Max’s at her feet along the way. “Dustin wants to know if he can have some snacks,” the redhead tells you as you walk by her.
“Shut up, Max!” the curly-haired boy calls from the kitchen.
“Of course,” you answer. “Take everything. I don’t care.”
Eddie laughs as he follows you down the hallway. “Do not say that, sweetheart. Because he will take everything.”
Two bags wait for you on the edge of your mattress — a rucksack complete with clothes and bathing suits and spare shoes at the bottom, and a tote full of toiletries. Neither is completely full, but you’ve checked them a million times to know they weren’t lacking anything, either. 
If there was anything you were, it was an efficient packer. 
Well, maybe slut first. Then human being second. And then maybe Eddie Spaghetti enthusiast third. But efficient packer was a close fourth.
You strap one bag over your shoulder and curl the other in the crook of your elbow. “Well, I don’t want him to be hungry. This drive is gonna be hell enough as it is. That’s exactly why I made us sandwiches, so make fun of me all you want—” Your absentminded rambles are halted when you spin on your heel and find Eddie’s mouth on yours.
His fingers grip the sides of your shoulders as he ducks down to kiss you. His rosy mouth engulfs your own and you freeze, shocked by the sudden affection. You melt into him a moment later with a sigh against his cupid’s bow. Eddie’s smile curls against your lips accordingly.
It’s certainly not a peck, but it’s not obscene enough to be described as anything more. It’s innocent and passionate, as most of his kisses tend to be. He uses them to say words he can’t voice out loud. — sort of like his ringed fingers do when they strum his guitar. Eddie kisses you like music.
Your eyes flutter slowly open when he pulls away from you. “What was that for?”
“Because I know I’m not gonna be able to kiss you for a while,” the boy grieves with a sad, crooked grin. His wide palms rub the sides of your arm up and down. “And I’m a little afraid I might die.”
“Well, we better make the last one count then, huh?” you tease, grinning as you curl your free arm around his waist.
The boy beams.
He kisses you breathless a second later.
After one last look through your apartment and several goodbye kisses to your begrudging cat, you lock up and head downstairs again. Steve pulls in, then, with one more passenger than he had before. 
El Hopper sits in his backseat. You’re almost sure she’s never been outside of Hawkins before, but you know for certain she’s never been without her dad.
Jim was less than willing to let her go. Cabin in the woods, no parental supervision, all alone with her boyfriend? It’s quite literally a recipe for disaster. But he trusted you to look after her just like you trusted him to check in on Bowie (though, according to him, the comparison wasn’t at all the same). 
You told him not to worry. That he should be more concerned about booking a flight to California and stopping Joyce from moving across the country. You told him he needs to convince her to stay before she’s in too deep to listen.
“…How the hell am I supposed to do that?” he’d groused across the table at Enzo’s.
“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You did it for me before. You could do it again.”
His iceberg resolve nearly melts. “Alright, don’t get cute. I already said El could go. You don’t have to keep trying to win me over.”
Steve gathers the now nine of you in the parking lot. You form a measly half-circle around him, neither of you particularly caring about his assured rant but allowing him to get it out of his system anyway. 
“Okay, every pay attention, alright? This is serious. I’m responsible for you little shits — if something happens to you, that’s on me. So, listen up—”
Eddie lingers just behind you, warm and reassuring. The leather-clad arms he’s crossed over his chest brush against your back when he leans closer to you. His breath fans against your jaw as he whispers in your ear. “All he needs is a fanny pack and some sandals. Then he’d be in real dad mode.”
“Eddie,” Steve scolds, unsmiling. “I’m talking to you.”
You swallow down your laughter.
“Dustin, Lucas, and Max — you’re riding with Eddie and Peach. Mike and El, you’re with me and Robin. And no canoodling in the backseat, understand? That’s an order.”
The raven-haired boy chuckles as the girl tucks her smile behind his arm. She embraces the lanky limb most ardently. “Canoodling?” Mike echoes in a scoff.
Steve, unimpressed and totally serious, only glares. “I swear to god, I’ll tell Hopper, alright? If you wanna make out, wait until we get there.” He points a stern finger in the boy’s direction, then turns his attention to the rest of the group. 
“We’re taking 870 to avoid city traffic which means it’s gonna take us a little longer to get there. There’s a rest stop at one of the exits, so we can fuel up and use the bathroom and get something to eat. So don’t ask when we’re stopping, ‘cause we’re not, Henderson.”
Dustin raises his middle finger in response.
“See?” you lilt quietly to Eddie. “This is why I brought sandwiches…”
The boy huffs. “Yeah. I probably should’ve listened to you when you said he’d be all… like this.”
“You know I’m never wrong,” you tease. 
A sly smile tugs at your lips. It takes everything in him not to kiss it.
“—And Eddie, drive the speed limit, okay? It’s not the Indy 300.”
“Indy 500, dingus,” Robin corrects. She leans coolly against his car, sneaker propped up against the backseat door as she picks at her chipping maroon-colored nails. 
Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn’t divert his tirade. 
“If you get pulled over, it’ll just make the drive take longer, and we’ll miss the check-in time, alright? Peach paid half, so if she isn’t there on time, we don’t get the keys, and we’re living like bums in the woods for three days.”
“Yes, sir,” Eddie singsongs, obviously insincere, as his arms wrap around your shoulders. He embraces you loosely at the neck and presses his cheek into your temple. “Get Peach there in one piece,” he reiterates. “I think I can do that.”
Steve huffs. His unsmiling honey eyes flit to you. He points to Eddie and talks to you like he isn’t standing behind you. “Keep him on a leash, alright? No way I’m going the whole weekend like this.”
“Ooh. A leash?” the wild-haired boy lilts with a mischievous grin. His lips brush your ear as he murmurs something only you can hear. “I like that sound of that.”
“I’m sure you do, perv,” you joke in response. Your elbow digs into his ribcage, jabbing him softly to part from him. He rubs at his side as you head towards his van. You call to the rest of the group on the way: “We should head out now before Steve loses his mind.”
Eddie’s shoes scuff the pavement as he follows behind you. “I, for one, would love to see that.”
“Good thing we have all weekend, then, huh?” Max deadpans with a playful glint in the blue of her eye.
“I heard that!”
 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
The first half-hour of the drive goes by like nothing.
You’re a bit embarrassed to know you spent its entirety gazing so longingly at the boy in the driver’s seat. 
It was only supposed to be a glance — a small peek at his profile and his ringed fingers thrumming against the worn pleather of his steering wheel before turning away again and grinning to yourself like a schoolgirl at how cute he was. Now you’re nearly halfway-halfway into the drive, and you spent it all ogling.
You’re not sure what was so beguiling about Eddie nodding his head to The Cure or what was so attractive about his pale hands drumming to the beat and the way his metal rings glimmered beneath the setting sun. You only knew that you couldn’t look away from any of it.
“This is stranger than I thought…” he sings to himself, not exactly trying to sound great but not sounding bad either. You can only hear him if you watch his pink mouth croon each word. You do a terrible job of pretending not to be staring at him. “Six different ways inside my heart…”
Dustin pokes his head between the front seats so suddenly it makes you jolt. 
His round face conceals your view of Eddie as he sets his elbows beside the headrests.“Can I have one of those sandwiches you were talking about earlier?” he asks.
“We’ve only been driving for forty minutes!” Eddie laughs.
“I’m hungry,” the boy argues with his brows pinched together. “Sue me.”
“Of course, you can,” you lilt quietly as you reach for the clear Tupperware at your feet. 
You don’t miss the taunting look Dustin gives the boy next to him in return or the hand Eddie pushes against the younger boy’s cheek to force him backward.
You sit the container of napkin-wrapped sandwiches on your lap. You only packed two of each kind. All are labeled in scribbled sharpie. “Okay, I made PB&J, turkey and cheese, and cucumber and lemon—”
“Cucumber and lemon?” Eddie echoes, features flooded with horror. His wide-eyed gaze flits between you and the near-empty interstate ahead of him. “What the hell kinda monstrosity is that?”
“It’s cucumber, cream cheese, and lemon juice, and it’s actually very good, Eddie Munson.”
Dustin requests the peanut butter and jelly, Lucas takes the turkey, and Max wants the cucumber and lemon — the said monstrosity you made because you knew she liked them. You hand them their sandwiches, and they settle again in the back of the van — amid the plethora of blankets and pillows Eddie had tucked away.
You turn to the pretty boy in the driver’s seat. “Which one do you want, Eds?”
“Whatever you’re having,” he shrugs. “‘M not picky.”
He grimaces when you hand him your half of the cucumber and lemon — because, of course, you remembered to cut them into triangles.
You watch the boy take a rather begrudging bite of the sandwich. His cheek juts out as he chews through it, and you don’t know why it makes you smile, only that you’re beaming directly at him. His face is emotionless in that his features are filled with so much of it you can’t tell what he’s trying to express. 
There’s a slight furrow to his brows, a scrunch to his nose, and a glint to his eye. He manages to look disgusted, inquisitive, and pleased all at once.
Your smile widens when he takes another bite.
You fight the urge to tell him, ‘I told you so,’ and instead lean over the center console to smack a kiss to his cheek.
Lucas and Dustin gag through their mouthfuls simultaneously. 
They share a look after — a boyish glance of excitement, as though to say, ‘I can’t believe how in sync we are.’ It quickly turns into a game of who can make the most realistic retching noise, quieted by a single look from Max. It’s not a glare on her freckled face but a scrunched scowl of disgust as she slips the headphones of her walkman back on.
The two boys’ laughter fades all at once.
The van goes quiet again.
You shut your eyes and focus on the faint sound of Eddie’s humming. His hand is wide and warm when it settles on your knee. His thumb drums softly to the beat on the outside of your thigh.
We’re on the road to nowhere, come on inside—
The cerulean sky turns into varying shades of lilac and orange-gold. The highway to Lake Lemon is long and merciless. Two hours feel like two days when you’ve got nothing to do but sit. 
Eddie, with his hands and mind sufficiently occupied, seems to be less of a victim of the unrelenting pavement. He’s slumped against the ragged pleather seat, still humming to the low radio.
Lucas and Dustin spent several minutes arguing about who was taking which blanket and whose legs got to go where. Now, however, they snooze with their backs against the van and their shoulders pressing into each other’s — heads back, mouths open, eyes fluttered shut.
Max is a lot of the same. She sits across from the boys, tucked into the corner of the wall and the driver’s seat. There’s a pillow behind her back and a blanket thrown over her lap. Her eyes are shut, but you can tell she isn’t sleeping. Her head sways in time with the song spilling from her headphones.
And you, with your feet kicked up on the dash and your gaze pointed in the direction of the setting sun, are bored out of your mind.
Eddie squeezes your thigh. “I think we’re about fifteen miles away from the stop.”
“Fucking finally,” you huff. You rest your head against the seat to look over at the boy beside you. “My ass is killing me.”
“Well, I would be happy togive you a massage at the rest stop, babe.”
Your eyes widen as you shift to glance at the back of the van. You’re relieved to see none of the kids paying attention. You swat at Eddie while he winces at himself. It’s been quiet for so long; he forgot they were still back there.
“Sorry,” he whispers, to you and to the sleeping kids who hadn’t heard a word.
“I have a feeling I’m gonna have my hands full with you on this trip, Munson.”
“I could very easily turn that into a sex joke—”
“Eddie.”
“—But I won’t,” the boy concludes. His head tilts to look at you. “See? You didn’t let me finish.”
“I don’t think they would’ve heard, anyway. They’re totally knocked out.”
“That after-school nap is no joke, sweetheart. I mean, seriously, I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I graduate.”
“You can still nap, Eds,” you counter, giggling.
“Yeah, but it’s not the same.”
You concede with the shake of your head. “Sure.”
“Do you think I’ll miss high school when I’m gone? You know, as the graduated one?”
Your brows furrow. “You’re asking me if I think the freak of Hawkins High is gonna miss getting bullied five days out of the week?”
“But I won’t have Hellfire. And I’ll probably lose clients, too — ‘cause, you know, I won’t be able to deal at school like I usually do,” Eddie explains, growing suddenly somber about the whole thing. “I’ve been in school since I was five, you know? I’ve been going to Hawkins High for six years. And change is… gross.”
The whimsical existentialism of high school seniors makes you sigh in reminiscence. 
“You’ll be okay, Eddie Spaghetti,” you assure him, squeezing his hand on your thigh. “It isn’t so bad. I promise.”
“Do you miss high school at all?”
“Hell no,” you answer without thinking.
A laugh sputters from his mouth at the swiftness of your reply. “Not even a little bit?”
“A negative amount, actually.”
“I thought you liked school!” he argues.
“No one likes school.”
“You were good at it!”
“I was okay. And that’s only because I had this weird complex about getting good grades.”
High school for you, at its core, was all about approval. You weren’t sporty, so you had to be smart. You had to be noticed in some way so you weren’t suffocated by being invisible. Maybe if you had gotten therapy for all that before you turned fourteen, you wouldn’t be the way you are now.
“Do you think we would’ve dated? You know, if we knew each other back then?” Eddie asks you out of the blue. The faintest hint of a smile tugs at his pink lips. “Like… Would you have liked me?”
You grin softly to yourself as you think sincerely about his inquiry. 
You don’t think you would’ve felt too differently than you do now — head over heels with no hope in sight. But your heart was different back then, tender and unbroken. God, Eddie Munson would’ve been the best thing for you back then.
“Teenage me would’ve loved you. And you would’ve hated me.”
That makes him scoff. “No way.”
“You shouldn’t sound so sure, babe. I was a mess back then.”
“I would’ve liked you for the same reason I like you now.”
You shoot him an arched brow to egg him on, but he doesn’t move to explain any further. It leaves you wondering — why he would’ve liked you back then, why he likes you now. You don’t have an answer for either. 
You figure it doesn’t matter, anyway. Eddie Munson likes you, and you’re grateful beyond comprehension that you can say it with so much certainty. Never with anyone else have you been more sure of where you stand.
“I think you would’ve been good for me,” you confess, focusing on the pine trees that whip by instead of the boy beside you. Your fingers absentmindedly begin to fidget with his own, entwining and weaving with his without you ever noticing. “‘Cause you do this thing where you, like, understand me better than anyone ever has before.”
Eddie chuckles, then shrugs to humor you. “Yeah, we’re just soulmates. No big deal.”
“And I think I would’ve saved myself a world of heartbreak if I’d found you first instead of—”
You cut yourself off. 
Eddie turns to you, expecting to see you saddened by the sudden change of conversation. He’s surprised to find you smiling.
“Whoa,” you marvel with wide eyes. “I don’t know how we got there. Sorry, that got… way too deep.”
Eddie twists his wrists so he can hold your hand back. His metal rings press into the sides of your fingers as they intertwine with yours. He smiles briefly at you. The road takes too much of his attention to gaze at you the way he’d like to. 
“It’s okay. Let’s not think about any of that now, yeah? Let’s just have fun.”
You nod.
“I’d love to, but suffering through these conversations is making it real hard,” Max monotones from the backseat, eyes still shut.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” you joke.
“I’d love to, but being surrounded by lovebirds is, like, the least cozy thing ever.”
Lucas and Dustin snore a loud, synchronized snore in response. Lovebirds, indeed.
 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
There’s only one working sink at the gas station. It sputters cold water before hesitantly dripping the warmer kind. Robin jams the soap machine like an absolute maniac — and when she gets more strawberry-scented liquid than she bargained for, she smears some onto your palm. The two of you stand side-by-side, fingers occasionally bumping into the other’s as you wash your hands.
“How’s driving with Steve?” you ask her with a knowing grin. 
“The worst,” she answers with a groan, just as dramatically as you imagined she might. “He’s acting like a total dad, obviously. But he’s letting me man that radio, so that’s a plus.”
“Ah, so it’s less Bruce Springsteen and more The Runaways this time?”
Robin’s ocean eyes go wide at the reminder. The last trip where Steve was in charge of the radio, it took two weeks to get “Born in the U.S.A.” out of her head. She shivers at the memory. 
“Yes. Thank god,” she huffs and turns off the faucet. You pump the lever at the paper towel dispenser and hand a napkin over to her. “How’s driving with Eddie?”
The teasingly lilted name doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“Why’d you say his name like that?” you giggle.
She squints. “You know exactly why.”
You do.
“It’s fine, I guess,” you shrug instead of telling her you’ve spent the entire drive staring at him. You still haven’t yet decided which is prettier — the pink and purple sunset or the way Eddie looks beneath it. “He’s not driving like a total maniac with the kids in the car, so… It’s not too bad.”
You open the door with your shoulder. 
“You haven’t heard from Billy, have you?” Robin asks as she walks out ahead of you.
Your eyes widen at the sound of the boy’s name. The realization that you’re not the only one who shudders at the mention of him is equally daunting. You look over your shoulder and towards Max’s stall, where she’d walked in a few minutes after the both of you. You shut the door behind you and wonder if she heard.
“No. I haven’t,” you answer, then plead. “And can we please not talk about him? Especially not in front of Max?”
“Well, tell that to Stevie because he won’t stop asking me?”
Your brows pinch. “Why?”
Robin makes a vague ‘I don’t know’ sound as she shrugs. She roams the snack aisle and eyes the vibrantly colored chip bags. “He probably doesn’t want to bother you about it. And also, he probably thinks you wouldn’t tell him if you did hear from him.”
“I wouldn’t,” you scoff.
“See,” Robin drawls with her head tilted to her shoulder. “That’s the problem!”
“Well, considering the last time I told Steve about Billy, he almost died, I think I’m doing him a favor.”
“…Touché.”
“I haven’t heard from him, okay? And I’m not going to because we’re gonna be three hours away from Hawkins all weekend.”
“Unless he’s stalking you,” Robin argues mindlessly. When her own words dawn on her, she gasps and looks at you with her features gaping in horror. “Oh, my god. What if he goes all Jason Voorhees and starts slaughtering us one by one—”
“Robin!” you shout, unsure of whether or not you should laugh.
“I’m just saying! That guy is crazy, okay? We should not put that maniac shit past him,” the girl agonizes. She walks a few short steps over to you and holds onto your arms with a grip most desperate. Her eyes are wide and pleading as she stares at you. You feel a bit like she’s looking into your soul. “Just please promise me you and Eddie won’t have sex while we’re on vacation.” 
Instead of telling her that most certainly won’t be a problem, you’re left surprised at her out-of-the-blue words. “What?”
“The couple having sex is always the first to die in the movies!” 
“Robin. I love you,” you remind her with your hands over her jacket-clad arms. “But you’re insane.”
She sighs with exasperation when you turn away from her. You hear her mutter under her breath behind you: “Looks like I’m gonna be the girl that gets killed ‘cause no one listened to her about the crazy serial killer dude…”
You get Eddie food at the connected McDonald’s, even though he told you he wasn’t hungry.
 “Those sandwiches are too good to waste, Peach,” he’d said right before pressing a kiss to your cheek. You think he just didn’t want you spending money on him when he was too busy getting gas to catch you. You do it anyway. ‘Cause you love him and everything.
“We talked about this!” Eddie grouses when you meet him at the pump. He taps the nozzle against the van a few times, getting every last drop he can before sticking it back into the stand. “I was really lookin’ forward to that PB&J, sweetheart.”
You smile before popping a fry into your mouth. “Want me to drive?”
“No. I’m good. Probably gonna sleep like a baby when we get there, though,” he tells you, half-joking as he stretches out his tired back. The bottom of his thrifted Stars Wars tee rises to reveal a sliver of his stomach. He catches you looking and grins. “And when I do, I expect to be held like one in compensation.”
You know he’s joking, but you nod anyway. The sack of burgers gets squished between your bodies when he takes you in his arms, palms wide along your waist. 
“Happily,” you grin, already leaning in for a kiss. The tip of his nose smushes against the side of yours when your lips meet. It’s longer than a peck. Softer than one too. He tastes sweet, like lemons.
You hear the kids coming back before you see them. Their chattering melds with the scuffs of their shoes. You and Eddie part from one another, thinking you might’ve gotten away with your fleeting touches before any of them could see. A chorus of groans tells you otherwise.
“See?” Eddie protests with his brows raised, hidden behind his curly bangs. “This is what I was talking about!”
You shake your head with a sympathetic smile. “We’ll be there soon, Eddie Spaghetti,” you promise. The “I’m gonna kiss you silly when we get there” goes unsaid. 
He hears it, though.
 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Soon, as it turns out, was actually another hour. It’s full of huffy teenagers, and ‘are we there yet?’s, and Eddie trying not to lose his sanity between it all. You do your best to keep his mind off of the never-ending highway, but hand-holding and mindless conversations only go so far. By hour three-and-a-half of the relentless drive, the trek was beginning to show on you too.
Lake Lemon was worth it, though. 
The view of sparkling water beneath a velvet purple sky made you forget about your aching back and the extra twenty minutes Eddie spent trying to find the place (and getting lost in the process). The cabin was a quaint two-story thing, wedged between lake and forest. It was old, which meant it was cheap, but it wasn’t any less beautiful. And, for a couple of kids who rarely get the chance to get out of Hawkins, it might as well be Heaven on Earth.
“This place is massive!” Dustin marvels.
It’s not that big, really. It’s certainly not bigger than the Harrington home — which you know he frequents from time to time. You think it may be just because of the wide-open kitchen connecting to the living room and the spiral staircase leading to the second floor.
“Alright,” Steve huffs from behind the group of you as he drops Max’s duffle with a low thud. No one volunteered him to get the bags, but he didn’t object to doing it either. “I think that’s all of ‘em. If you little shits make a mess when you unpack, you better clean up after yourselves. I’m not your maid.”
“Sorry, Stevie. I can’t hear you over this view,” Robin lilts from the other side of the house. She stands at the sliding glass door in the kitchen. Just outside of it is the lake. The water looks black in the night, shining beneath a set of twinkling stars.
“Can me and El take the bedroom upstairs?” Mike asks you, far nicer than he’d ever ask Steve. El hangs on his arm. You’ve got a feeling she’ll stay there all weekend.
He told you recently that he was trying to grow his hair out to look more like Eddie. Now you can’t look at him without smiling. He’s not nearly as intimidating as his structured features make him seem.
“Well, I don’t want Hopper to kill me, so there’s no way I’m giving you guys the master bedroom,” you laugh, tilting your head down to your shoulder. You meet the teenager’s identical pout with a shrug. “But if you wanna share one of the bunks, knock yourselves out. What I don’t know, I can’t tell Hop, so…”
“But shouldn’t the couples get the bigger bedrooms?” Mike argues.
Steve materializes behind your shoulder. “You kids are taking the bunks, alright? That’s final.”
Mike scowls. “You guys are no fun, you know that?”
“You’ll survive,” the older boy deadpans with the roll of his eyes. “Peach and Robin can take one room, Nance can take the other when she gets here. I’ll take the couch and…” Steve trails off and looks over at Eddie. He winces. “I think there might be a spare tent outside for you, Munson.”
Eddie scoffs out a laugh. “Dick…”
“Everyone say ‘thank you, Steve’s dad,” Robin singsongs as she walks back to the living room for her rucksack. Despite her obviously joking tone, everyone else choruses ‘thanks, Steve’s dad!’ in return as they scramble for their bags.
Steve huffs behind you. Sure, his dad put the downpayment on the place, but he didn’t need to be reminded of that. Besides, he paid for everything else.
You turn on your heel to face him, arms crossed over your chest as you smile up at him. “Thank you, Steve,” you lilt in the same too sweet tone as everyone else.
“You don’t have to think me,” the boy scoffs. “You paid for half.”
“Not nearly half.”
“Well, you made up for it by booking the cabin. You did all the work I was too lazy to do, so—”
“So call it even and stop flirting,” Eddie monotones as he slings your bags and his bag over his arm and shoulder.
You roll your eyes with a smile, canting your head to look over at the darker-haired boy. “Wanna go unpack?” you ask.
“If it’ll stop you and Harrington from making out, yeah.”
“Those jokes stopped being funny the first time you told them, Munson,” Steve grouses.
You walk to Eddie and take the hand dangling at his side. You trail behind him as he leads you up the wooden, unusually coiled staircase. 
“Is this what rich people do when they build houses?” he comments. “’Cause this feels really dumb and unnecessary.”
“I assume you know a lot about those things,” you joke drily.
“Rude.”
At the top of the stairs, and for the first time alone, you smack a kiss to his mouth.
There are four doors to choose from on the second story — one is the bathroom, the other a storage closet. 
Of the two bedrooms, you and Eddie pick the door at the very end of the carpeted hall on the right. It’s got a better view of the lake and is on the furthest side of the house — in that, it’s not just above the kids’ room. In that, maybe it’ll be quiet enough for the two of you to pretend that you’re just here by yourselves for a moment or two.
The walls are made of slatted wood, and the slanted ceiling is painted a deep green. There’s a stone fireplace and a dresser with a small television on one side of the room, and a balcony overlooking the lake to the other. It’s not huge but isn’t small either — the perfect size for a girl who loves being close to her boy and a boy who loves to let her. 
Neither of you bothers unpacking. You make a silent agreement to live out of your bags for the next couple of days to save the pain of having to pack all over again when it’s time to go. Rather than spend the next half hour hunching your aching packs to organize clothes into drawers, you spend it flopping into bed beside one another. 
Like muscle memory, you take the right side and Eddie takes the left. “It’s the side closest to the door, anyway,” he tells you. “And men always take that side. For some reason.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s to defend their wives in case someone breaks in,” you say, giggling.
“Well, that’s dumb. What if they come in from the window?”
“…I don’t know how you haven’t graduated yet, Eds. You’re a genius.”
Now, Eddie lies on his stomach with his face smushed into the pillow. Fatigue radiates from him like steam. You smooth a mindless hand up and down his back. Between dealing, going to school, and driving three hours across the state, you know he’s drained.
“What time is it?” he mumbles into the cushion.
You look over at the clock on the nightstand and then back at him. “Almost ten.”
“I’m so exhausted I think I could peel my skin off…”
You exhale sharply through your nose. “I don’t think that’s exhaustion, Eddie Spaghetti.”
His head perks up. His button eyes go wide and hopeful as he looks at you, almost shy. “Wanna hold me?” he murmurs, still half into the pillow in case you reject him and he has to hide again.
“I’m offended you’re even asking me that,” you scoff. “That answer’s always gonna be yes, Eddie Munson.”
You roll onto your back. Eddie squirms against the mattress until he’s close enough to lay his head on your chest. His curls tickle your neck and jaw. Your arms wrap around each other, holding one another like you haven’t spent several hours squished into a van together. 
The moments you should be tired of each other, your love just seems to get bigger. 
You don’t know if you’ve ever experienced that before, or if it’s the first time it’s ever happened in the history of the whole world. The butterflies in your stomach make both feel equally true.
“Did you have a good day?” Eddie mumbles into the t-shirt you’d just changed into. He’s obviously tired, but he doesn’t want to quit talking to you.
“The best,” you sigh, content and finally still. One hand curls into his hair. You scratch softly at his scalp. “And it’s gonna be even better tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods. He doesn’t know if that’s totally true, but he’s found that’s a lot like what your relationship is like — perfect and getting better all the time. So he figures you must be right.
Silence settles within the four walls of the small bedroom. It feels soft like cotton candy, a blanket that’s been tossed over the both of you. You think you could stay like this all night — holding each other and never saying a word. 
Eddie, however, has never met a quiet he doesn’t want to break.
“…Wanna fool around?” he jokes out of the blue.
“With kids downstairs and Robin right next door?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”
“I’d be quiet,” he promises, leaning his chin on the swell of your breast to look at you.
“You don’t know how to be quiet, Munson. Besides, we shouldn’t fool around while we’re here anyway…”
The boy’s brows furrow at the teasing lilt in your tone. A smile curls at his lips. “…Why?”
“‘Cause Robin said those are the first people to die in scary movies.”
“She’s not wrong,” Eddie offers with a laugh. “I mean, she’s crazy, but she’s right.”
You sigh, smiling. “That’s Robin Buckley for you… She’s a total dork.” 
“Guess that’s why you guys get along so well, then, huh?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie singsongs, too cute for his own good. “I just think everyone made a mistake calling you the slut of Hawkins, you know? Like calling me the freak is spot on, but you? You’re totally the dork.”
You snort. “Right…”
“Peach, The Cute,” Eddie lilts like he’s testing it on for size.
“Yeah? Is that what my name would be in your game?”
“Peach, The Adorable,” he continues. “Peach, The Precious, even.”
“Munson, The Annoying,” you croon in the same tone he’d used, though obviously joking and obviously not doing the best job as him. “Eddie, The Guy That’s About To Sleep Outside Tonight.”
Eddie beams. “See? You just proved my point. You’re too adorable for your own good, sweetheart.”
“Yeah?” you hum as he moves off your chest and onto the pillow you’re lying on.
He props his head on his arm and nods. “So cute it makes my chest hurt a little bit.”
“I’m sorry,” you apologize with a soft grin that says otherwise.
“’S okay,” he assures with a softer smile and a twinkle in the chocolate of his eye. His hand rises and toys with the fraying hem of your shirt. “Do you remember what we were talking about in the van earlier? About, like… knowing each other in high school?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’m really glad we weren’t friends back then.”
Your heart wants to break, but you don’t let it. You don’t know what this boy is going to tell you next, but you’ve got a feeling it’s going to kill you and bring you back to life again. “Why?”
“‘Cause I don’t think you would’ve let me get to know you. Like, know you, know you.” 
Not the way everyone else knows you, he wants to say.
“That’s not true,” you reject just because you feel like you should. Both of you know he’s right.
To put it simply, you would’ve loved to fuck Eddie Munson back in high school. Back then, he was just the weirdo who sold the cheapest weed — not the sweetheart you’ve gotten to know him as now. And the two of you would’ve had sex, and it would’ve been fine, but it wouldn’t have meant anything to either of you. 
Sex is just sex until you decide to give it meaning.
And for you — and for a really, really long time — it didn’t mean shit. It was just a dumb way to pass the time when you ran out of words to say. A cheap way to get the validation you’d really been looking for the whole time. Intimacy stopped meaning something because no one touched you the way Eddie touched you.
He makes you feel held. Wanted. Loved. 
You didn’t know either of those things existed when you were seventeen.
But you’ve found them now, in your old dealer who used to give you free weed for helping him study. You’re glad you meant him when you did — after heartache chewed you up and spat you out, left you soaking wet and shivering.
Eddie came to you like a warm blanket and a home-cooked meal. You wouldn’t have been able to appreciate him before now.
“Well, thanks for letting me know you anyway, sweetheart,” Eddie says with a lopsided smile.
Something about it is so strangely tender. More intimate than a thousand I love you’s.
You smile. “Thanks for letting me know you, too, Eddie Spaghetti.”
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hippiegoth97 · 1 year ago
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Be Kind, Rewind: Eddie Munson x Reader
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Collage by Me :)
Master List
Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams
@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore
@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals
@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30
@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson
@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne
@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975
@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer
A/N: Hey, everybody! I've decided to start posting my Eddie Munson one-shots on here. This one is the first ever story I wrote, both for Eddie and fanfiction in general. It's been edited a couple of times, and may still be a bit rough compared to my current work. But I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Description: You work with Steve and Eddie in the video store while Robin is off at summer camp. You like Eddie a lot, but you've never pursued him out of fear. Lucky for you, he has other plans...
Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Smut, swearing, female reader, drug use, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, choking, praise/degradation
Word Count: 4k
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Divider by @strangergraphics-archive
Be Kind, Rewind
"Alright, for 3 rentals your total is $8.50." You say to the mother struggling to keep her child at bay at the register. He's squirming from her grasp, with a mysterious, sticky substance around his mouth. The woman lets him go in order to reach into her purse. He immediately runs around the corner, headed straight for the candy display. He almost rams directly into it before he's scooped up by your supervisor, Steve Harrington.
"Whoa there, little guy! Looks like you've had enough sugar today. Let's get you back to your mother." Steve walks over and plops the child down. He almost makes yet another run for it, but the transaction is through and the woman wraps her arm around her son to keep him close.
"Thank you, young man! He has just been a terror today. His father dropped him off this morning after letting him go ballistic on a Hershey bar."
"No problem at all, ma'am, have a good day!" Steve replies. And with that, the mother and son walk out the door.
"I see why you get labeled by your friends as 'the babysitter'. You're really good with kids. You'll be a great dad someday, I'm sure." You say with a semi-sarcastic tone. He fixes you with a glare.
"Yeah, whatever. Stop slacking and take these returns in the back to rewind. Eddie is no help, he's probably lighting up in there right now."
"Yes sir!" You salute, which earns you a middle finger from Steve. "I'll whip that freak into shape for you too. Fuck knows I hate pulling more than my fair share of the weight." But that isn't exactly true. You’ve always had a thing for Eddie, ever since you were in school with him. You had talked a few times over the years, but soon enough you were swept up in your own interests. He was running the Hellfire Club, and you were too focused on your studies to have any free time for fun. You found yourself staring at him at lunch though, and he'd always looked right back with a smirk on his handsome face. But you never did anything more. It seemed like you both were worlds apart, even though it was just the opposite end of the cafeteria. But in this job you were lucky enough to get, you are in close proximity to Eddie almost every day.
You still stare sometimes, and you are far from subtle. Neither of you go any further than looks or the occasional teasing remark or small conversation. You wish you had the courage to make a move, but despite his perceived interest in you, you’re afraid he’ll reject you if he knows your true feelings. Sure, he plays around and makes somewhat off-color remarks. But those don’t mean anything, right? Eddie does that with everybody. You're not special to him, right? You spend far too much time trying to convince yourself he doesn't mean anything by what he says around you, thinking it would be crazy for him to like you that way, or at all. It's just a game for him, you always tell yourself. It has to be. You sigh, trying to shake these thoughts away and focus on your task.
You grab the stack of returns, and walk from behind the counter to the back room. Before you open the door marked 'Employees Only', you notice the smell of weed and even see smoke peeking out the bottom of the door. You sigh, rolling your eyes at Eddie's usual antics and pushing the door open, struggling to keep hold on the videotapes. As you walk inside, you ram right into Eddie's chest, causing the tapes to crash onto the floor. "Shit." You mutter, and scramble to pick them back up.
"Oh, shit. Sorry Y/N. Lemme help." Eddie kneels down to gather some tapes. He also picks up the blunt he dropped in your collision, quickly putting it out and into his pocket.
"It's the least you can do, Munson. You know, it wouldn't kill you to do some actual work for once. But I see you have more important things to do." You're not really angry, you're more embarrassed for looking clumsy in front of him. You stand, putting yourself above him.
"Yeah, yeah, save it. I hear enough of that from Harrington already. I know you're not that much of a stickler for rules anyways. You sure do like to pretend though." He looks at you from the floor, reaching up to give you the last tape. A devilish smirk plays on his lips. He really enjoys teasing you, pushing your buttons. It's like he gets off on seeing your face scrunch in quick protest.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Once again, your face goes into that grumpy scrunch he finds so adorable. You cross your arms, acting annoyed.
"It means, Y/N, that you act like the perfect citizen. Good grades, never late, hardworking, blah blah blah." He stands now. Putting that final tape on the table next to the rewinding machine. "But we both know about the looks you liked to steal in the cafeteria at lunch. Those same looks you still like to take now. You are no innocent girl, Y/N."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." You lie, cheeks turning bright red. He takes note of your reaction, and presses further. He steps closer to you slowly with each word, eyes staring into yours, until his mouth is just centimeters away.
"Oh, come on, princess." You shiver at the nickname, which he also takes note of. "It's not polite to lie. I get it, you've lived a sheltered life. You feel like you can't waste any time on an asshole like me. Too many reasons not to. You have a bright future waiting for you, right?" He moves his head past yours to speak right into your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek. You freeze, how close he is to you sets your skin aflame. He then speaks quietly, "You wanna know what I think, darling? I think you don't like being a goody-goody at all. I think you're just waiting. Waiting for the right reason to come along for you to break all the rules." He pulls back to look in your eyes, still smirking.
You just stare back in shock, but you're also extremely turned on. You've always wanted to pursue something with Eddie. But he’s right. You don't have time. At least, you think you don't. After the summer, you’re off to college, the first in your family to make it out of this town. But what about before that? The summer has just begun, surely you've earned some fun after years of pounding knowledge into your brain. You’ve earned this, deserve it, even. And Eddie seems more than willing to give it to you.
"You're right." You say simply. His grin somehow gets even wider. You contemplate what to say next, not wanting to give in to him so easily. You're smarter than that. You keep your expression stern, playing a game."You are an asshole." His face falls, and it hurts to see him look like that. You immediately regret that decision.
"Sorry." He turns away from you, grabbing a tape to rewind in the machine. "I guess I read you all wrong. I won't do that again." His tone is soft, sad. He's disappointed, and it's now that you realize he truly likes you. You never really thought about it that way, he always comes off so smug. You just wanted to toy with him the way he seems to do so with you. You have to fix this and fast, otherwise you've blown your chance.
"Oh jesus fucking christ, Eddie! If I would've known you liked me back like that, I wouldn't have said that. I was just messing around, teasing you back. You just act so damn smug all the time, I didn't want to give you the satisfaction so easily." You walk to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tenses for a moment, and then relaxes, sighing. He turns to you again, a smaller smile this time.
"You sneaky little shit. I ought to punish you for that." His hand comes up to hold yours. His ringed fingers rub gently over yours, the cool metal making you shiver again. He chuckles at your reaction.
"So do it then." You look into his eyes, you're the one smirking now. He just stares at you a moment, seemingly genuinely shocked to hear you say something like that. Then he once again starts grinning like an idiot.
"As you wish, princess." He says as he pulls you into him, smashing his lips onto yours. You kiss him back, biting his lip after a moment. He grunts slightly, letting you slip your tongue in his mouth. He guides you backwards until you're against the wall. His lips move to your neck. He licks a long stripe from your collar bone to below your jaw, making you moan. In response, he starts sucking and biting your neck, being spurred on further by any whimpers or whines you let out.
"Oh, Eddie." You moan out, causing him to stop a moment to look at you.
"I like when you say my name, darling." He resumes his work on your neck, on the other side this time. He also brings his hands up to grab your breasts. You are loving this, but you want more.
You push him away for a moment, and he looks at you, confused. "I just want to take this off." You say as you start to lift your top over your head. Eddie assists you, and strips himself of his own. You take a moment to look at his toned chest, his tattoos, and it makes you melt.
"Like what you see, princess?" You blush as he's caught you staring again. You snap out of your trance and pull him back to you, lips colliding again. You run your hands along his arms, up and down his chest. In turn he grabs your breasts again, massaging them gently. He reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He breaks away to lean down to your breasts. He kisses them sloppily and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.
"Eddie!" You gasp, your hands going into his hair. He nips on your sensitive bud, making you whine, and then he moves onto the other one. Your hands travel down to his jeans, you can feel how hard he is for you. You palm him through the material, and his breath hitches slightly.
"Eager, are we?" He asks, slightly muffled against your chest. He lifts his head up, eyes meeting yours again. He takes a moment to look deep into them. He brings his right hand gently to your face, the thumb brushing across your cheek. His gaze makes you feel so exposed, nevermind the fact that you’re completely topless. This moment seems to last hours, but you could also stay like this forever. "I've always liked you, you know." He says finally.
"I can see that." You say jokingly, Eddie rolls his eyes. "I've always liked you, too. I wish we would've done this so much sooner." You look down, feeling even more exposed somehow. He lifts your chin to regain eye contact.
"Hey now, darling. Don't hide that pretty face from me. And technically speaking, we haven't started much of anything yet." His smile is light and kind this time. "And we don't have to rush into anything if you don't want to." He tries to search your face for an answer, as your mouth is stuck in place. "I'm gonna need you to use your words, Y/N. What do you want?"
You can't help but struggle to get the words out. "I want you, Eddie. All of you. Please?" You don't mean for that last part to sound so desperate, you know it just feeds his ego. But you can't help it. You've tasted Eddie and you want more.
"Then all of me you will get, dollface." He kisses you again, softer this time, slower. He moves you again, to the counter next to the rewinding machine, lifting you onto it. His tongue roams down your jaw, neck, chest, his body lowering with it. He's on his knees now,  his hands making quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. You lift yourself slightly so he can pull them down, along with your panties. "Well damn, princess. So wet for me already?" He gazes with wonder at your glistening pussy. You blush a bit at his words, almost reaching your hands up to hide your face. Eddie stops you, holding your wrists. "Don't try to hide from me, darling. Be a good girl for me." You felt yourself become wetter from his words, good girl. "You like when I call you that?" He looks up at you for confirmation.
"Yes, Eddie." You say, your voice is a little shaky.
"I'll keep that in mind." With that, he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit.
"Oh, fuck, Eddie!" You cry out. Your hips buck slightly, but Eddie holds them down.
"I love hearing those beautiful noises from you, baby. But I don't think either of us want to get caught fucking on the job by Harrington, do we? Just try to stay quiet for me, okay?" You nod in agreement, biting your index finger to suppress your moans as Eddie resumes his work on your dripping cunt. He licks your entrance, occasionally inserting his tongue, moaning at how sweet you taste. You've had this done to you before, but that’s nothing compared to Eddie. He starts sucking on your clit, bringing you closer to the edge. His middle finger going inside you, pumping in and out at an agonizing pace. You moan and whine for him, and he's eating up every moment of it. He moans against your clit, the vibrations pushing you closer and closer. You're seeing stars when he puts in a second finger, curving and pumping them in and out expertly.
"Oh fuck, oh, Eddie!" You feel the knot inside you snap, and you release onto his face and fingers. You do your best to hold the scream back, your hand clasped tightly over your mouth. Your hips buck violently and your legs shake as you ride out your high. Eddie slides his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips as he stands up. You watch as he shoves them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean. He keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, and you can't help but feel soaking wet for him again.
"Mmm, you taste delicious, Y/N. And you were such a good girl for me." He says as his fingers leave his mouth with a pop. He kisses you once again, and you taste yourself on his bruised lips. You take this as your signal to stroke Eddie's cock through his pants to give him a turn. He groans slightly, moving to your neck to suck harshly on your flesh. You’re sure to have marks before he’s done with you. You start fiddling with his belt, and he stops. He moves your hands and helps you out, undoing the belt and zipper clumsily. He pulls his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing free, hitting his stomach. Out of instinct, you slide off the counter and onto your knees. You grab the base of him, and take his head into your mouth. He groans again, and it’s quickly becoming your favorite sound.
"Mmm." You moan as you swirl your tongue around the head, your hand stroking the rest of him. You take him as deep as you can, surprising yourself when you fit him all the way in. He mutters curses under his breath as you bob your head on him, licking swirls around his length the whole time.
"Fuck, Y/N" He rasps. "Such a good girl for me." His praises make you more and more wet every time he utters them. You could hear them a million times, and be left wanting to hear them a million more. You can feel his balls tightening, he's so close to cumming. "Y/N, sweetheart. Stop or I'll cum." He says quietly. You remove yourself from him, standing up again. "You are a goddess at that, baby. But I have a feeling we'll both enjoy something else even more." He lifts you back onto the counter, slowly rubbing his cock against your clit and folds. You both moan quietly at this action, and he lays you down while kissing you. He pulls away, preparing to position himself. "Are you ready, darling?" He asks, seeming genuinely nervous about your answer. He truly wants to please you, but only if you let him.
"Yes, Eddie. Please, just fuck me already." Again, you sound so desperate, which you are. But you can't help but love the smirk he gives you in response.
"Anything for you, princess." And with that, he pushes into you, causing you both to groan at the sensation. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, trying to keep himself together, despite how perfect you feel around his dick. You kiss him passionately to signal him to start moving. And when he does, he starts real slow. Carefully pumping in and out of you, teasing almost. He's in no rush, he just wants you to feel comfortable.
"As amazing as you feel right now, Eddie, I need you to go faster." You look in his eyes, practically begging him to make you unable to walk for a week.
"Your wish is my command, Y/N." He begins to snap his hips, plunging into you at a punishing pace. He hits your g-spot easily and expertly. You moan his name over and over, feeling the knot rapidly forming again. He moans too, your name and the phrase 'good girl' falling from his lips. "Is it okay if I try something?" He asks while thrusting at almost inhuman speed.
"Yes, Eddie. Do whatever you want to me. I want it all." You beg, and he brings his ringed hand to your throat. He wraps around it gently, squeezing ever so slightly, gauging your reaction. You moan loudly in response, looking at him with lust and hunger in your eyes. He smiles at you, loving how willingly you submit to him. He loosens his grip on you, moving to stroke your breasts instead. You stop him, bringing his hand back up to your throat. "More, please. It's so fucking hot." You say to him, almost whining for him to continue choking you.
"I knew you were a kinky little freak, princess. I fuckin’ love it." He puts pressure on your throat again, making you feel lightheaded. The knot is threatening to snap any second now. You can tell he’s close, too.
"I'm so close, Eddie. Fuck me harder." You can't believe the things coming out of your mouth, begging him to have any way with you he desired.
"I’m right there with you, sweetheart. I'll give you anything you want. You're such a good girl. Cum for me." He says with a groan, his thrusts becoming sloppy. Despite this, he tries to keep up the pace to bring you down with him. 
“Oh, fuck! Eddie!” You scream as your orgasm rips through you, the world around you exploding. Your walls clamp down onto him, and your thighs tremble outside of your control. 
“Shit.” Eddie grunts when his own high overtakes him. His load spills into you, his hips bucking wildly against you in his final thrusts. He collapses onto you a moment later, panting heavily. You both lie here for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Eddie plants some grateful kisses on your throat as you come down from your highs. When he finally pulls out of you, he looks down to see your mixed release oozing from your cunt. “Jesus christ.” He mutters, his softened cock twitching at the sight. He’s unable to resist the temptation, and kneels down to clean you up with his tongue.
"Fuck!" You're still sparking from your last orgasm, and his cleanup efforts swiftly cause you to cum yet again, screaming his name and tangling your hands in his hair. The stars subside and Eddie stands upright to kiss your lips.
"You're such a good girl for me, darling. Let's get you dressed before Harrington busts us in here." He helps you to your feet, but you stumble as your legs feel like jelly. "Take it easy. I'll help you." He gathers your clothing and gently helps you put everything back on. Only then does he start dressing himself again. You almost whine at the loss of looking at his naked body, but you keep the lust at bay for now.
"So, what does this mean, Eddie?" You feel stupid for asking, this could just be a one-time thing for him. Another notch in the bedpost for the famous Eddie Munson. You pick at your fingers, looking down at the floor.
"What do you want it to mean?" He lifts your chin with his finger, wanting you to meet his eyes.
"Well, I'd like to do this more often with you. And maybe more...if you want." You feel so naked and vulnerable again, even though you're now fully clothed.
"What? Like a date? You wanna be my girlfriend?" He asks, his hand moving to your cheek again. You can't help but feel like he thinks it's a joke. He's hard to read when he smirks like that all the time.
"Yes. If you want to." You reply, trembling slightly. You can’t help being so nervous. Maybe this was all a mistake. He just said things you wanted to hear to get in your pants, and now he's toying with you again. He uses his hands to try to calm you down, rubbing your shoulders gently. He looks into your eyes with sincere care and affection, making your heart melt.
"You need to stop overthinking in there." He taps on your temple with his finger. He smiles calmly. "Of course we can do that. I'd love that more than anything." You smile at his words, throwing your arms around him. Your lips meet again, soft and tender. You can't believe it, you just fucked the baddest guy in town and you get to be his girlfriend. You feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and Eddie feels like he won the lottery. You keep kissing for a while, not wanting to stop living in this moment.
"Alright, guys. I don't know how much pot you've smoked, but if all those tapes aren't rewound by now I'm gonna-" Steve barges in the door, and his jaw drops at the sight of you kissing and groping each other. "Oh, for fuck's sake, you guys! I mean, I saw you two hooking up coming from a mile away. Shit, a blind man could do that. But why must it be here? Where I have to see you?” Steve scolds, continuing on his rant. “And goddammit, it reeks of sex in here! I'll need to get more air freshener. Not like I don't use enough covering Eddie's weed smell. Congrats on being cute and disgusting at the same time. Dammit! Do I need to babysit you, too? Just get yourselves together and get those tapes rewound!" He storms out, but you can still hear him muttering things to himself on the other side of the door.
You and Eddie look at each other, mouths open in shock. And then you burst out laughing, Eddie falling to the floor in a fit of cackling. And all you can think is that this is going to be the best summer of your life.
The end.
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