#Stranger Things imagine

[iwritefandomimagines]

SOULMATES — STEVE HARRINGTON

masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x reader, platonic!eddie x reader

descriptions: for someone who so totally isn’t crushing on his best friend, steve harrington is not a fan of her close friendship with eddie fucking munson.

tags/warnings: jealous!steve, swearing, eddie is flirty but ur friendship is platonic, reader uses she/her pronouns, steve is pathetic and silly and overreacts because he’s so down bad

author’s note: ok so i may or may not have essentially dreamt this scenario & woken up half remembering it but determined to put it down for u all … please enjoy and pleaaaaase let me know what you think!!!

———

Steve isn’t sure you’ve ever bounded into Family Video quite so enthusiastically. Nor has he ever seen you move quite so quickly.

Your hair is frazzled, your eyes blown wide, and your whole body lit up with energy as you skip to the counter and lean your elbows on it.

“Hey Stevie,” you hum, “Figured I’d come say hi on my break to tell you this crazy story about last night.”

You worked just down the road from Family Video, in a small diner that required you to wear a traditional (and yet crazily short) waitress’ uniform that showed off your legs frustratingly well.

Not that he was ever looking.

You often found yourself spending lunch breaks loitering around Steve when you were on shift at similar times, and he’d return the favour shortly after when he took his break.

It was a routine that you both loved, but one that had fallen away a little recently as you’d been moving around your shifts more and taking on fewer of them while you studied part-time.

It wasn’t like you didn’t still spend a ridiculous amount of time together, though — Steve’s was like a second home to you, and yours to him, and any day you didn’t see eachother would at least end with an hour long phone call full of gossip and mindless chattering.

Not last night, though. He’d called, but with no answer.

He’d even considered driving by your place just to see if you were home — but he decided against it. That would be way too intense.

Steve nods, his brow quirking up curiously as he waits for you to elaborate.

You’re obviously free to do whatever you like, whenever you like, and with whoever you like… But he’ll be damned if he’s not intrigued to know where you were last night.

“So I’m at Eddie’s, right?” you begin, and you watch as his eyes widen and his jaw clenches.

He scoffs, “You were at Eddie’s?”

You nod, furrowing your brows at his reaction, “Yeah, we all went back after the gig?”

“After the gig?”

“Yeah, dummy, after the Corroded Coffin gig,” your chin is resting on one palm, and the other waves at him as if his cluelessness is ridiculous, “I told you I was going to their show last night. Remember?”

He doesn’t remember, but he’s sure he recalls you telling him off for falling asleep intermittently on the phone a few nights ago and giving you mumbled answers.

“No, I don’t remember,” he shakes his head, expression still tense, “And I think I’d remember you telling me you’d be with Eddie.”

Your hands are on your hips now, irritation evident on your face, “Okay, what the hell is your problem and why do you keep saying Eddie’s name like that? I totally did tell you, you just obviously weren’t listening.”

Steve takes in a sharp breath, watching the frustration in your features as he conjures up his excuse.

“I didn’t know you were close enough to be hanging round at his trailer,” he huffs.

He shouldn’t be annoyed by that fact, and he hates that the feeling in his stomach at the thought of you in the confined space of Eddie’s trailer can definitely be read loud and clear as jealousy even by himself.

He knew you were friends with Eddie and that you had plenty in common — he’d noticed as much every time the curly-haired boy loitered around you when the whole gang hung out — but not that you were that close.

You roll your eyes, unimpressed, “What, like I wasn’t hanging out in your room like a week after we met? Alone, for that matter!”

He remembers that time well.

When you’d first met, he was enamoured with you, and he loved that you’d clicked so quickly and dragged him straight out of the hole of wallowing he’d found himself in post-Nancy.

He’d told himself the crush he harboured when you first got close was just situational and that it had long gone, but he knew that wasn’t the case really.

He was just grateful to have such a good friend and so he’d shoved those feelings where they couldn’t resurface — until today, apparently.

“Well he’s obviously got a thing for you, inviting you back to his trailer after his gig, acting like the big rockstar after a show to, like, six people,” he pouts, and as he says the words he feels increasingly pathetic for how he’s acting, but he can’t help it, “Did you stay the night?”

It’s your turn to scoff now, and you fold your arms over your chest as you see his eyes grow shy while he awaits your answer.

You shake your head, “You’re ridiculous. I didn’t go to his trailer alone, he does not have a thing for me, and he dropped me home right when everyone else left, smartass.”

“So you’re not screwing Munson?”

“You know what, I’ll tell you my story when you’ve got your head out of your ass,” you huff, turning on your heel to leave the store, “My break’s basically over, anyway.”

He’s an idiot. And he knows he’s an idiot.

But the niggling fear that something’s going on between you and Eddie has unsettled his stomach and he does not like that one bit.

—

The hour that follows before Steve has his own lunch break passes agonisingly slowly.

He’s tapping his fingers on the counter, a pen between his teeth as he pretends to read today’s returns list with at least some semblance of interest.

His mind, though, is on you and on the fact he knows you’re pissed off with him for overreacting about your friendship with Eddie and he doesn’t know how he’ll explain it when he grovels for your forgiveness.

As the door dings open and Robin walks in to start her shift, he finally lets out an apprehensive sigh of relief.

“Hey dingus. Why do you look like you’re gonna crap your pants right now?” she asks, eyes glinting with humour as she furrows her brow.

Steve shakes his head, “I need to speak to Y/N about something. It’s important.”

At that, the humour in her eyes meets her smile and she lets out a small laugh, “Uh oh, lovers quarrel?”

“Something like that,” Steve mumbles, “Not that we’re lovers she’s just— She’s spending a lot of time with Eddie. It’s weird. We clashed a bit about it.”

Robin saunters round to join him on his side of the counter, dramatically removing her coat as she nudges his side.

Steve is eternally grateful for Robin’s friendship and the fact that, despite her teasing, she’s always a listening ear when he needs her.

She’s more than aware of how he feels—felt, he’d usually insist— about you, and she’s been trying to get you to admit that you feel the same too, just with little success.

“Dude, there’s nothing going on between her and Eddie Munson,” she scoffs as though it’s the most obvious fact in the world, “She worships the ground you walk on. You’re literally, like, soulmates.”

Steve pouts, “Platonic soulmates, maybe.”

He’d heard you say those words to the kids once when Dustin had called you soulmates and you’d gotten flustered.

“Platonic soulmates, sure. He’s my favourite person and I love him. But as a friend, Dusty.”

Yes, it was just an awkward reaction to the teens prying, but it was like a bullet to the chest to hear for him.

“Not even gonna ask where you learned that term,” Robin dismisses, waving her hands wildly in gesticulation as she speaks, “But you’re totally wrong. Look, buzz off for your lunch and go see her. And apologise for whatever you’ve said to her that’s got you moping around like a kicked puppy.”

Steve draws in a deep breath and bites his lip, nodding as he leaps over the counter and shakes off his nerves.

It’s a humid day, and he can’t tell if the sweat beading on his forehead on his short walk to your workplace is because of that or the sheer panic induced by his amalgam of current fears.

Was he going to have to come clean that he was jealous? Would you see right through him if he didn’t?

The ding of the bell to the diner doesn’t spark your immediate attention as it usually does, and at this Steve finds himself frowning.

The frown only deepens when he sees exactly why.

You’re leaning over the table into a booth on the far side of the diner, face lit up with a beaming smile and the sound of your laughter echoing in Steve’s ears.

But it’s the mop of curly brown hair opposite you that twists the knife that feels like it’s lodged in Steve’s chest.

So much for there being nothing going on.

He catches himself thinking this, trying to rationalise Eddie’s presence with the fact he’s not alone in the booth, but he can’t help the unease that has overcome him.

“Oh hey Steve!” your manager Mary grins, “She’s been in a right grump since she came back from her lunch break, hopefully you can cheer her up. I’ll get your usual ready for you now.”

Mary adores Steve, and you’ve always teased him about it — the way she dotes on him is so adorable and if you were totally honest you mostly just enjoyed how the mention of this made him blush.

“Oh it’s okay, thanks Mary,” he sends her a small smile to reassure her as her face drops, “Just a quick visit this lunch, mom’s leftovers for lunch for me today!”

That was an obvious lie that his rumbling stomach cursed him for.

His parents were never home, let alone the kind of parents to cook big family meals and send him away with leftovers.

She nods, “Okay sweetheart, you go say hi. That Eddie boy seems to be helping with whatever got her so down, but I know you put the biggest smile on her face.”

“Thanks, Mary. I’ll try.”

He can’t ignore the pang in his chest at the fact it was him that was the cause of your bad mood, nor the fact that Eddie of all people was the one here cheering you up.

Almost on cue, you turn around just as he starts making his way towards you, and he frowns as your expression sours.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m a bit busy right now,” you shrug, “Serving customers.”

You soften a little at the sadness in his eyes and as much as you’d like to stay strong and stoic to wait for him to grovel, you heave in a deep sigh, “Go grab a table and I’ll come over once I’ve cleared up Ed’s table.”

Ed.

He makes eye contact with Eddie now, who flings him a smirk and a wave and leans towards you, “What’ve I told’ya about calling me Ed, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, and when you turn back to Steve he’s already stalking over to another booth with his arms crossed and his feet practically stomping.

Sweetheart put a bad taste in his mouth and he didn’t want to stick around for more flirting.

You shoot Eddie a glare and watch the smirk on his face grow, “Told’ya he was jealous. God, he looked about ready to hit me.”

You shake your head, blushing crimson, “He is not jealous he just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Yeah, ‘cause he’s jealous,” he shrugs smugly, “You need to just tell him you like him before either his head explodes from that jealousy or I’m found dead as a result of it.”

Gareth pipes up beside him now, “He’s right. I don’t even know him and I can tell he’s literally head over heels for you. And apparently he has been forever.”

You ponder their words hopefully — maybe they’re at least partially right.

It would certainly explain why he was so concerned by you spending so much time with Eddie and in particular with the potential of that time being spent alone.

“You pair are a pain in my ass,” you huff, hands on hips.

Eddie pokes out his tongue, “Say that again when you’ve told him how you feel and he confirms that we’re right.”

With another roll of your eyes, you’ve turned on your heel and are headed straight over to your best friend’s table.

He doesn’t look up.

“Does Ed over there mind you ditching him to talk to me?” Steve is pouting and you’d find it adorable if it wasn’t so frustrating.

You laugh, “Eddie doesn’t care, in fact he encouraged it. Did you mind me being over there?”

He sighs, eyes flickering over to where Eddie and Gareth were watching the conversation intently.

He doesn’t answer and you find yourself slipping into the booth opposite him and reaching out to place your hand atop his — which is currently fiddling with a napkin.

“They’re certain you’re jealous,” you hum, your gaze challenging him as he finally meets it, “That you’ve convinced yourself I’m into Eddie because you’re into me and scared I like him better.”

Again at first he’s silent, unsure of where this conversation is going and how honest to be.

“And… Uh…are you? Do you like him better?”

“Are you seriously asking that question?”

“Well I don’t know, he called you sweetheart and you didn’t look happy to see me and—,”

You scoff, “I was upset at you for being so weird earlier. You’re my favourite person in the world, Stevie. I’m always happy to see you. Of course I don’t like him better.”

He can’t decide whether to take this as a signifier that hope for reciprocation of his feelings isn’t misplaced, but he takes the plunge and flips his hand over to intertwine his fingers with yours.

“You’re my favourite person too. Fine… Maybe I was jealous,” he runs his free hand through his hair as he gazes into your eyes and tries to read your response, “Maybe I’ve been trying to pretend I haven’t been crushing on you since, like, literally the day I met you because I didn’t want to screw up our friendship. And everyone’s into you—look at you! I just—,”

The smile that lights up your face is so bright and so beautiful that he wishes he had a camera on hand to snap it and retain the image forever.

“You never thought that maybe I’ve been feeling the same way and it might be worth the risk?” you raise your brows, “We’ve just been total fuckin’ idiots this whole time, huh?”

Steve laughs now too, all of his nerves washing away as you grip his hand even tighter.

Melodious laughter radiates from the two of you as you drink in the moment, and you know Eddie will be teasing you about the cliche moment later, but you never want to let go of Steve’s hand.

“I can’t believe it’s taken you being jealous of Eddie Munson for this. He’s known how I feel about you for ages, by the way, he just likes getting a rise out of you,” you shake your head, stifling laughter with the back of your other hand, “Plus he is so not my type!”

“He’s not, huh,” cocky, jokey Steve is back now as he pulls your intertwined hands up under his chin, “What is, then?”

You pretend to be deep in thought for a moment, “Hm. Massive dorks with disturbingly good hair, pretty brown eyes, a jealous streak and a concerningly bad sense of humour.”

His mouth forms an ‘O’ as he feigns offence for a moment, before he presses a kiss to the back of your hand and leans forward a little.

The kiss leaves a tingle on your hand when his lips pull away and you’re sure you’re going to ascend to heaven at any given moment.

He’s watching you so tenderly, his soft hand still tight in yours, and you just want to bottle up this time forever.

“Checks out,” he smirks, “But I do not have a bad sense of humour. Unless you count me pretending that your jokes are ever funny.”

“Thin ice, Mr Romantic,” you pout, “You’re supposed to be sweeping me off my feet right now, remember?”

He leans up so that your noses are touching, “Yeah, yeah. Well I’ve been waiting all the time I’ve known you to kiss you, so how about we start there?”

“Perfect.”

The kiss is every bit as tender as his lingering touch, lips plush and minty and ever so eager despite the gentle kiss.

You don’t dare intensify it, however much you want to, knowing that all eyes are on you.

You pull back, both of your eyes wide and your breathing ragged, and he licks his lips, “Oh I could get used to that.”

You’re interrupted by a cough.

“As pleased as I am to see you lovebirds finally getting some sense,” Mary tuts, a smirk on her lips as she taps her toes, “Perhaps save that for when Y/N isn’t supposed to be serving customers, hm?”

“Sorry ma’am,” Steve looks down sheepishly, and you want to kiss the adorable expression off his face immediately.

You place your palms on the table and scoot yourself up and out of the booth, but not before pressing one last quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ll come to Family Video when I finish at 4,” you sing-song, “We can pick up where we left off, yeah? Talk a little, kiss some more… Whatever you want.”

“Sounds perfect. You can finally tell me your story later too, yeah?”

Your eyes twinkle and you let out a belly laugh at the reminder of the stupid tale that had set all this in motion, “Yeah, maybe. I’m sure I’ll be distracted though.”

That sets his whole body alight even though he knows you’re not insinuating anything like that, and he briefly ducks his head to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Mhm, yeah, maybe.”

You twirl away with a spring in your step and a knowing smirk on your painted lips, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

After a slice of pie (on Mary’s insistence), Steve goes back to Family Video a very happy man.

And now he can’t wait for 4PM to roll round to make up for all of the time he’s spent pining.

———

eeee i hope you enjoyed this !!! it’s not perfect but please let me know what you think because it was so fun to write anyway. i love jealous silly steve ! feel free to request some steve/eddie/jonathan fics btw <3

[dayasfilms]

Chapter Nine - The Beginning of the End

Summary: You defeated Vecna but Hawkins is left destroyed. Thinking that it’s over, you all soon realize that it’s far from that, and that this was just the beginning of the end.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Y/N, blood, death, gore, choking, murder, hospitals, broken bones, mentions of being brain dead and being blind, thoughts of self harm, depression, feeling worthless, mentions of sex, weapons, angst, fluff, heartbreak, crying, insecurity, making out, mentions of menstruation, pregnancy, and children, descriptions of getting naked to shower but nothing happens, surgeries, fire, little bit of changes in the plot but nothing too drastic

Word Count: 12.1k

Note: Reticent is finally finished! Until ST season five releases, this series is done! I had such a fun time writing and sharing all of my ideas with you all. It makes me delighted that so many of you have read this and ended up liking it, it truly warms my heart. I want to say that I will be posting Reticent one shots when I have the time so you can delve deeper into Star’s story. Many of the storylines cannot be integrated in the original series, so these one shots happen outside of the regular timeline. If you would like to read them, you can click on this link or even go back to the main Reticent Series Masterlist below and find them there. Thank you so much for letting me share this story with you all!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

Steve parked the RV just outside the trailer park after dropping off Lucas, Erica, and Max. All of you remained inside, gathered around to go over the plan one last time. Standing at the front, your gun and sword secured in their holsters, you faced the group. “Alright. Let’s run through it again. One more time. Phase one.”

“We meet Erica at the playground,” Nancy said. “She’ll signal Max and Lucas when we’re ready.”

“Phase two,” you continued.

“Max baits Vecna,” Steve added. “He’ll go after her, which’ll put him in his trance.”

“Phase three?”

“Me and Eddie draw the bats away,” Dustin said with a nod.

“And phase four?” You asked, eyes sweeping the group.

“We head into Vecna’s newly bat-free lair and…flambé,” Robin finished, shaking the bottle in her hand.

You let out a breath, gaze serious. “No one moves to the next phase until we’ve all copied. No one deviates from the plan. No matter what. Got it?”

“Got it,” they echoed in unison.

You all stood and exited the RV, making your way toward Eddie’s trailer. Through the darkness, you slipped inside without any of the neighbors noticing. Steve then flicked on the light and shrugged off his bag.

“Be careful,” Dustin told him.

“Thanks, buddy,” Steve replied, grabbing hold of the rope. He climbed up and disappeared through the gate. A few seconds later, he looked up at them, shrugging with his arms out.

“Woah, what does he want us to do? Applaud?” Robin muttered to you and Nancy. You chuckled softly, unable to help it.

On the other side, Steve dragged a mattress beneath the opening. “Alright, let’s go.” You took off your bag and weapons, tossing it through the gate before grabbing the rope and climbing. The moment your body hit the mattress, Steve reached a hand out to help you stand. “Gotcha.”

His hand lingered on yours. You looked at each other, just for a second, and then you both looked away, releasing your hands. Nancy came next, using Robin’s knee as a boost. She landed with a thud, and you helped her up and away from the gate. One by one, everyone followed, tossing their gear through and climbing after it. Dustin was last, with Steve and Eddie grabbing each side of him, pulling him up.

Once everyone was through, you slung your bag over your shoulder, picked up your weapons, and headed out of the trailer. Just before you left, you and Steve turned back to face Dustin and Eddie.

“Hey, guys, listen,” Steve said seriously, locking eyes with them. “If things here start to go south, I mean, at all, you abort. Okay? Draw the attention of the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna.”

The boys stared back, silent.

“Don’t try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just–”

“Decoys,” Dustin finished. “Don’t worry. You can be the hero, Steve.”

“Absolutely. I mean, look at us,” Eddie said, gesturing between him and Dustin. “We are not heroes.”

Steve gave a short nod. You stepped forward and pulled Dustin into a hug. “Be careful,” you murmured.

“You too,” he said, hugging you tightly.

You and Steve turned to leave when Eddie called the latter out. “Hey, Steve?” Steve glanced back. “Make him pay.”

Steve nodded firmly, falling back into step beside you. You, Steve, Nancy, and Robin walked away together, flashlights sweeping the path ahead as you made your way to the Creel House.

Yasmin, Joyce, and Hopper were inside the dimly lit church, trying to catch their breath from everything they’d just been through. Hopper rummaged through a stack of old boxes tucked in the corner, searching for fresh clothes. After a minute, he found a few pieces that looked somewhat wearable and tossed them onto another box beside him.

He turned to face the two women, holding up a couple of shirts and pants. “Yeah, these were the smallest I could find.”

Yasmin let out a tired sigh and stepped forward, taking the bundle from his hands. There was a coat too, the same kind Hopper had picked for himself. He handed another pair of clothes and a jacket to Joyce. The three of them glanced around the church, eyes scanning for a bit of privacy.

“I think there was a bathroom in there,” Joyce said, nodding her head toward the back of the room.

“You can go, Joyce,” Yasmin offered gently, before motioning to another corner. “I’ll change over there.”

Joyce gave her a grateful smile before heading toward the bathroom. As Yasmin made her way past Hopper, she bumped into him lightly, both of them letting out small, tired laughs. She went behind a shelf, casting a quick glance over her shoulder as Hopper moved to the opposite corner. Then she turned back to the shelf in front of her and began setting the clothes down.

Finally free of the worn, filthy outfit she’d been stuck in for days, Yasmin pulled her shirt and pants off, left in just her undergarments. She exhaled, grateful to breathe without the tightness of fabric clinging to her. She quickly slipped on the new shirt and pants, pulling them up just as she turned and froze at the sight of Hopper.

He was facing away from her, wrapping a bandage around his injured arm. Her eyes fell on the marks covering his back. Her heart clenched in pain.

She stepped toward him, her eyes tracing the scars. “What did they do to you?” Yasmin whispered, her voice trembling. Hopper turned slowly, his back now pressed against the shelf. “Oh my God.”

He gave a small shake of his head, clearly trying to not worry her. “No, it’s not that bad. It’s…” He let out a slow breath. “You know, I needed to lose weight anyway.”

Yasmin frowned, giving him a stern look.

“It’s given me time to think, you know?” He said, eyes moving away from hers. “About who I’ve been…and what I’ve done.” He met her gaze again. “I never should’ve sent you that message.”

“No,” she said quickly, cutting him off. “You didn’t know what was going to happen.”

“I knew it’d be dangerous.”

“So did I.” Yasmin’s voice was firm. “I’m glad you sent it. I made the choice to come here, to find you. And I would choose it again, even knowing everything I know now.”

He stared at her, like he still couldn’t believe she was standing there. Yasmin tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile forming on her lips.

“Besides…we have that date to get to. You remember?” She said.

“Remember?” Hopper scoffed, smiling for real now. “I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it all planned out,” he said with a nod.

Yasmin laughed under her breath. “Oh? Let’s hear it.”

“I’m getting two orders of breadsticks. Two,” he said, pointing a finger. “Those things knock your socks off. Enzo puts some spice on ‘em, I don’t know what it is, but it’s good. And when you dip it in olive oil? Forget about it. And for the main course…I’m torn between the veal and the lasagna, but I think I gotta go with lasagna, right?”

She looked at him, half smiling, half aching. “You’ve been dreaming about breadsticks and lasagna?”

He nodded without hesitation. “I’ve been on a diet of watery soup, moldy bread, and maggots, so yeah, I’ve been dreaming about breadsticks and lasagna. I mean, sue me.” She laughed, eyes glimmering. Hopper straightened, stepping closer to her. “Should I have been dreaming about something else?” He asked, voice softer now.

She shrugged, a little breathless. “You tell me.”

“Well…there’s wine.”

“Oh, well, wine’s good,” she said, playing along.

“I was thinking a nice Cheeanti.”

“It’s Chianti,” she corrected.

“Chianti. Right.” He nodded, unbothered. “Then there’s dessert.”

“Of course. Gotta have dessert,” Yasmin said, crossing her arms.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

There was a pause before she spoke again. “And after that?” She asked, lips barely parting.

Hopper couldn’t help it. He smiled again, wider than he had in months, taking another step until there was no space left between them. “I don’t know.”

“Use your imagination,” she whispered.

“Who needs imagination?”

And then, he finally kissed her. His lips met hers like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, his hands sliding around her waist as she rose to meet him, arms wrapping around his neck. Their laughter tangled between kisses as Hopper accidentally backed into a stack of boxes, nearly knocking them over. They couldn’t stop touching each other. His hands moved to her hair, her fingers cupping his face, and for a second, they drowned out everything around them. They waited too long to have this moment.

Suddenly, the phone rang. They broke apart, groaning in irritation and half out of breath. Then they realized that the call could be from them. Hopper immediately pulled away and rushed toward the phone, Yasmin staying behind, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

“Remember, they’re listening!” She told him sharply as he picked it up.

The four of you continued through the woods, but the longer you walked, the more unsure you became about your direction. The worry about getting lost crept in your mind. Robin seemed to be thinking the same.

“Uh…I don’t mean to freak anyone out, but I swear we’ve seen this tree before,” Robin said nervously, pointing.

“That’s impossible,” Nancy said, shaking her head.

“That would suck, right?” Robin muttered. “If Vecna destroyed the world because…because we got lost in the woods?”

“We’re not lost, Robin,” Nancy assured her, walking up behind. “Robin, hey. Watch out for the vines! Hive mind!”

“Careful, Robin!” You called, watching the two girls ahead. You stayed beside Steve, your eyes drifting to the ground as you tried to find something to say.

“Don’t worry about her,” Steve said. “She’s just stressed. You know, scared.”

You gave a small chuckle. “Yeah. Believe me, I know the feeling. It’s just…”

“She’s a super klutz?” He asked with a grin.

You tilted your head, amused. “She did tell Nancy and I that it took her longer than most babies to learn how to walk, so…”

Steve laughed. “I really shouldn’t laugh. When I was a baby, I actually crawled backwards.”

You blinked. “What? Crawled backwards? Why am I just now hearing about this?”

“Yep,” he said. “You know, I’d push with my hands like this.” He motioned forward with his palms. “Beep, beep. Always in reverse, you know?” You stared at him, lips parted in disbelief. “Come on, it makes sense,” he insisted. “You push to move, right?”

“No,” you said, laughing. “No, it absolutely doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, it did to my tiny little Harrington brain. That is, until I reversed my baby butt down a flight of stairs and thumped my head really good.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh my God. That explains so much.”

“Yeah. I think it kinda does.” He gave you a sheepish smile. “I think, like, right out of the gate, like, I’m super confident. But I’m also, like, an idiot. Which is just…I mean, it’s a brutal combination.”

You frowned. “You’re not an idiot, Steve. Don’t say that.”

He chuckled, softer this time. “Nah, I definitely am. But, I mean, the good news is, I get a big enough thump on my head, I can change, you know? I can learn. I can crawl forward.” He slowed, turning slightly toward you. “Listen, I guess what I’m trying to say in a really stupid, roundabout way is, um…is thank you.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Thank me?”

“Yeah.”

“For what?”

“For giving my head the biggest thump of its life two years ago.”

You paused, the memory hitting you at once. The Halloween party, the bathroom, the words you said when you revealed the reason why you ended things with him in the first place. Steve had never forgotten. Neither did you.

He started walking again, and you followed. “I needed it. It’s changed my life. And now I’m crawling forward. Slowly.”

Your chest tightened. He still remembered. He still thought about it.

“I just wonder sometimes…you know, if some other girl had given me a proper thump before we’d met, would things have been different?” He turned his entire body to look at you again. “Like, if we were meeting together for the first time right now, part of me…I dunno, part of me thinks we would’ve made it.”

You felt the heat rise in your chest, heart pounding. His words made your throat close up. You couldn’t move, eyes locked onto him. “Steve…”

“Remember the dream I told you about?” His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “About the Winnebago? Seeing the country with my six little nuggets?”

You nodded slowly, a small smile forming.

He smiled too. “It’s all true. Every last word. But I left one part out. It’s the most important part.” He stepped closer, his voice soft. “You’re there. You’ve always been there.”

Your breath caught. You could feel the words rising in your throat, but they wouldn’t come out. You just stood there, stunned. “Steve…I–”

“Hey, guys!” Robin’s voice cut through the moment. “Awesome news! Looks like we weren’t going the wrong way after all!”

Nancy stood beside her, watching the two of you carefully. Her gaze lingered on you, noticing how you stared down at your boots. “Let’s go,” Nancy said, turning away.

Robin took off running, prompting Steve to shout. “Robin! Slow down!”

You and Steve followed, walking in silence. As you made your way to the Creel House, your mind was still back in that moment, still playing his words over and over again. You’d have to talk to him later. If you all even made it out alive.

You reached the edge of the woods, your eyes landing on the old house in the distance. The blue tinted sky flashed with red, and the air was filled with high-pitched screeching. As you turned your head, you caught sight of the playground, its lights flickering.

“Erica…” Steve breathed out.

You rushed toward the playground, giving Erica the signal that you had arrived. Now all you could do was wait for the next phase.

It didn’t take long for Erica to speak. “Okay, the lovebirds have copied. Max is moving into phase two: distracting Vecna.”

“So far, so smooth,” Robin said nervously.

“Yeah, we’re not even at the hard part yet,” Steve replied.

Your gaze shifted back to the house, brows furrowed. “Take the bait, you son of a bitch,” you mumbled to yourself, thinking about Max. “Take the damn bait.”

Then Erica’s voice came through again. “Okay, she’s in. Initiate phase three.” Your chest tightened. Max was in the trance again, under Vecna’s spell. You had to get this done as soon as possible.

Robin quickly radioed Dustin and Eddie. “She’s in. Move on to phase three.”

“Copy that. Initiating phase three,” Dustin answered. Soon, the distant noise of metal music filled the air, and you saw the bats swarming toward it, away from the house.

“Okay, it’s working. Let’s go,” Nancy said.

The four of you stood up and moved toward the house. You led the way, the music growing louder with each step. Screeches from the bats echoed in the night as they went toward the sound. Steve picked up his pace until he was walking beside you. The two of you reached the front door, and he pushed it open. Your breath caught. Vines covered nearly every inch of the house’s interior.

“Oh shit,” Steve muttered. “That’s not good.”

You exchanged a look with him. He gave you a quick nod, then began hopping in the small spaces between the vines. You turned to check on Nancy and Robin. Robin was trembling.

Nancy reached for her hand. “It’s okay. You got this.”

Robin met her eyes, still unsure. You stepped back towards her and gently took Robin’s other hand. “Don’t worry. We’re here with you.”

Robin gave you both a small, grateful smile and nodded. You all turned back to face the vines, stepping carefully through the little gaps. The stairs were the worst, with it being completely covered. You tried to control your breathing as you made your way up, dodging all the vines.

At the top, Steve reached out to help pull you up. You took his hand, letting him steady you. He helped the others too, and soon all four of you stood at the top. Your eyes went straight to the attic door. Vecna was in there, no doubt in a trance. You glanced between your friends, preparing yourselves. One by one, you drew your weapons, your hand tightening around your shotgun.

But before you could move, the entire house began to shake violently. Steve and Nancy grabbed your arms on either side as the floor shook beneath you and all four of you tumbled back.

After a long minute, the ground stilled. You scrambled upright, your breaths ragged.

Then, suddenly, a vine wrapped around Robin’s ankle. Her eyes went wide with terror. She was pulled backward and slammed into the wall. Vines surged forward, wrapping around her legs, arms, and throat, pinning her in place.

“Steve! Y/N! Nancy!” She screamed, her voice cracking.

You and Nancy jumped forward, smashing your shotguns into the vines to break them off. Steve swung his axe, cutting into them, but another vine wrapped around his weapon, ripping it from his hands and pulling him to the other wall. He struggled to retrieve it when one coiled tightly around his throat and slammed him into the wall. More vines followed, pinning his limbs.

Nancy cried out as she was struck next, thrown across the floor before being slammed against the wall beside Robin. Vines constricted around her limbs and throat just as fast.

Your heart pounded in terror as a vine wrapped around your ankle, throwing you off your feet. Your shotgun flew out of your hands as you were dragged across the floor. You fought to get free, clawing at the ground.

Reaching behind you, you grabbed your sword and swung it blindly. The blade sliced through the vine, freeing you. But before you could get up, another vine tied around your arm and slammed you against the wall beside Steve. Your head hit hard against the surface, pain exploding at the same exact spot you’ve hit so many times, already aching and throbbing.

The vines continued to twist around your arms and legs, locking you in place. One tightened around your neck, choking you. You tried to fight it, but it was no use. Your airway was cut off. You felt yourself slipping, darkness creeping in as your vision blurred.

You weren’t ready. You still had to finish Vecna, you had to save Max. You still had so many things you wanted to say to everyone. So many unspoken words to the people you loved. But your chances of surviving this felt terrifyingly slim.

“You shut off this fence, right?” Hopper asked, glancing between Yasmin, Joyce, and Murray as they stepped into the prison yard.

“Yeah,” Joyce replied with a nod.

“Good,” Hopper said, turning to face them. “So you can turn it back on again.”

Murray chuckled dryly, throwing his arms up. “Jim, you wanna clue us in on what you’re thinking here, or are we supposed to read your mind?”

Hopper looked around the empty yard, jaw clenched. “This pit was designed to trap monsters. We get ‘em in here, we lock it up, we rain fire from above, and we hope to hell that gives El, Y/N, and the others an upper hand.”

They had already snuck back into the prison, only to find everything destroyed. The tanks that once held the frozen creatures were shattered, glass littering the ground. Most of the Russian guards were dead.

One guard had been barely clinging to life, long enough to warn them that the shadow had entered the creatures, making them come alive. They’d watched the surveillance monitors in horror, seeing the demogorgons stalking the halls. The monsters had already killed the rest of the guards. There was no one left. They knew there was only one thing left to do to help everyone back at home.

“Okay,” Murray said, nodding slowly. “I’m with ya, except the whole, uh…‘getting them all in here’ part.”

“It’s a hive mind,” Hopper explained. “You draw one, you draw ‘em all.” He tossed a flamethrower to Joyce, the second already in Murray’s hands. Then he pointed at both of them. “You two are the grill masters.”

He turned to Yasmin next. Her brow was furrowed with confusion.

“And you,” he said. “You’re the jailer. Get that fence turned on. Once they’re all in here, lock the door behind ‘em.”

Yasmin didn’t move. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She had a feeling about what he was going to do, but she didn’t want to say out loud. “What about you?” She asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m the bait.”

The words hit her like a punch to the chest. She could barely breathe. She followed him silently back toward the security room, where the monitors and gate controls were. Her stomach twisted. Her throat burned. The only thought echoing in her head was that he was going to lure the demogorgons himself.

Hopper pointed to one of the monitors. “That one there,” he said. “See him? In the laundry room? It’s not far from here. He’s all alone. He’s our target.”

Yasmin couldn’t move. All she could think about was the people she lost. Her daughter was gone. She lost Hopper months ago in the mall. She had survived that grief once, barely. Now she had him back. And she had you after her daughter. She couldn’t do it again.

“Hey,” Hopper said softly, pulling her back. His hands landed on her shoulders. “I’m gonna die someday. But not today.” He gave her a gentle smile. “I’ve still got a date to make. Remember?”

He was trying to keep it light, but nothing about this felt light. Yasmin shook her head, her voice shaky. “I don’t know, Hop,” she whispered.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers, his hand rising to cup her cheek. “This time,” he said, his voice certain. “It’s gonna be different.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, eyes slipping shut. “It better be,” she whispered. Then she opened them, locking her gaze with his. “Because I am not having another funeral.”

He kissed her then, softly, telling her that it would be okay. And when he pulled away, Yasmin was still holding her breath, praying that this time would be different.

Yasmin stayed glued to the monitor, barely breathing as she watched Hopper head down the corridor, searching for the demogorgon he’d chosen to target. Her fists clenched at her sides. Every second felt too long. She saw him come to a stop, whistling to get the creature’s attention. The demogorgon let out a low growl before chasing him.

Her heart climbed into her throat. She kept watching, unable to look away. He ran, dodging into different hallways, trying to keep his distance, but she knew he could only keep it up for so long. She glanced around the security room in a panic, eyes falling on the taser prods hanging on the wall. Without hesitation, she grabbed one and bolted out the door, the grip of the weapon tight in her hand as her boots pounded against the floor.

Her breath was heavy as she turned a corner, praying she wasn’t too late, and then she saw them. The demogorgon had Hopper pinned, mouth split open and ready to feast. He was using everything in him to close its mouth.

She ran at full speed, raising the taser and jamming it into the creature’s side, electricity crackling as it screamed in pain. The demogorgon thrashed once and then collapsed.

Hopper stood up, chest heaving as he looked at her with wide eyes, relief flooding his face. “Yasmin,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms.

Thudding footsteps echoed through another corridor. They were loud and heavy, and they were getting closer to them. They both turned at the same time, eyes landing on the wave of demogorgons charging toward them. Hopper immediately grabbed her hand and ran, pulling her down the hall and into the open prison yard. He used his shotgun to shoot at them, trying to slow the creatures down.

But the monsters were still right behind them, they were too fast. They went into the closest cell, Hopper slamming the door shut just as the creatures reached them. His arms wrapped tightly around her, both of them bracing for impact as the gate was broken away.

One of the demogorgons roared and stepped through, snarling and ready to kill. Yasmin froze, her entire body going numb. This was it. They were going to die.

“HEY, ASSHOLES!”

Murray’s voice rang out and the demogorgons paused, heads snapping up toward the sound. Flames burst across the yard as Murray and Joyce opened fire with their flamethrowers, lighting up everything in sight. Hopper pulled Yasmin to him, shielding her away from the heat. The demogorgons screeched, burning as the fire consumed them, one by one.

As soon as the last bit of hope slipped from your mind, you felt the vines release you. All four of you dropped to the ground, gasping for air. You coughed harshly, bringing a trembling hand to your throat, trying to ease the soreness as your chest heaved with every breath.

“I don’t believe in a higher power or divine intervention,” Robin croaked, her voice rough from the pressure on her throat. “But that was a miracle.”

You grabbed your weapons, sliding your sword into the holster on your back as you held your shotgun tight in your hand. You turned toward the door, your body still shaking. “Then we better not waste it.”

“Phase four,” Steve said under his breath.

“Flambé,” Robin added.

You walked into the attic, your eyes locked on Vecna who was in his trance just like you’d hoped. Robin lit the bottle in Steve’s hand, and without wasting a second more, threw it straight toward the monster. The flames immediately engulfed Vecna’s body. His eyes snapped open, his scream echoing through the room as he fell to the floor.

Thousands of miles away, there was still another monster. After Joyce and Murray lit all the remaining demogorgons in time, they all turned into a blob, the fire sizzling out on the prison field. Smoke thickened the air as Hopper and Yasmin exited the cell, both of them shaking. But Yasmin’s eyes caught onto another demogorgon that was still moving. It staggered to its feet, injured but alive, a low growl coming from its mouth. She also noticed a sword a few feet away from Hopper’s feet.

Before he could reach for it, Yasmin stepped forward and grabbed it herself. Hopper paused, looking at her, but her eyes were on the creature. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, anger burning beneath her skin. She had enough of this.

Back in the Creel House, Vecna let out another cry as Robin lit the second bottle and threw it, more flames burning him. You and Nancy raised your shotguns, stepping forward. The two of you fired in sync, bullets tearing into Vecna’s chest, the force knocking him back. He stumbled but didn’t fall. He locked eyes with you both, and you didn’t hesitate to fire again, making him scream in pain.

Yasmin slid forward, the sword slicing through one of the demogorgon’s arms. It roared and stumbled but didn’t stop. It swiped at her with its remaining arm, but she ducked, spinning low to the ground before slashing again, this time cutting off the creature’s leg. Blood splattered across her face, but she didn’t flinch.

Nancy stepped back and watched as you advanced toward Vecna. He tried to step forward again, but your next shot hit his shoulder, throwing him off balance. His body shook as his legs almost gave way, though he still remained standing.

With a full turn of her body, Yasmin swung the sword a final time, cutting the demogorgon’s head off. It dropped to the floor with a thud, blood pooling at her feet as her chest heaved. She looked at the creature that was now turning into a glob. Hopper walked over to her, his lips parted before wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight against him. They then heard the sound of a helicopter, and they looked up to see Dmitri and Yuri waving at them from above. Murray and Joyce yelled in joy, while Yasmin and Hopper grinned, holding one another tight.

And in Hawkins, you took one last shot, this time aiming straight for the center of Vecna’s chest. You held your breath, squinting your eyes before pulling the trigger. The bullet’s force threw him backwards, smashing through the window behind him as his body disappeared from your sight.

You slowly lowered your gun, your chest rising and falling. You turned back, looking at the other three before rushing out of the room. The others followed, running down the stairs and out the front door. But when you reached the spot where Vecna should have landed, your breath caught.

He was gone.

Only his imprint remained, flames sizzling around it. You stared, brows furrowed in disbelief, lips parted as a familiar feeling of dread settled into your gut. Then came the sound you feared the most.

The chimes.

The four of you ran back into the house, eyes set on the grandfather clock. Your stomach twisted as you counted the sounds. One…two…three…

“Four chimes,” Robin whispered.

“Max,” Nancy said quietly.

Your eyes filled with tears, lips parting as your knees nearly gave out. You barely had time to process it before the ground started shaking violently beneath your feet. Steve grabbed your hand as the house trembled again, new openings splitting through the walls and floor. The four of you held onto anything you could, bracing yourselves as the Creel House was torn apart from the inside.

When the shaking stopped, you slowly stood up. You looked around in horror. The vision Vecna had shown you had come true. The Upside Down was now in Hawkins.

You all ran out the house. There was no time to speak. You needed to get out of here. You needed to get back to the gate you came from and find Dustin and Eddie.

As you reached the Upside Down version of Eddie’s trailer, you slowed down. There were new gates everywhere, but your eyes were drawn to the boy on the ground, crying. It was Dustin. Your stomach dropped.

The four of you rushed toward him, eyes widening as you saw Eddie lay there, his body lifeless and chewed up by the bats. Dustin sobbed over him, shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t breathe.

Steve pulled Dustin back, whispering something you couldn’t hear. You moved beside them, grabbing Dustin’s arm, helping him up. The boy limped in pain after injuring his leg as you tried to drag him away from Eddie. There was nothing you could do but leave him there.

You all went back through the gate, escaping the Upside Down, but it didn’t feel like you won. The trailer park was split apart by gaping red cracks, some things swallowed into the ground. You stepped out of Eddie’s trailer and finally fell to your knees, body trembling as sobs overtook you.

Your hands pressed to your face, palms digging into your eyes, but nothing could stop the emotions that poured out. You cried harder than you ever had in your life.

Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin, who were silently crying, looked at you, watching you tear yourself apart. Steve walked over to you slowly, his own eyes red and glassy. He knelt beside you, reaching for your shoulder, but you flinched away violently.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” you croaked, voice hoarse.

His face fell but he didn’t say anything.

“I told you Max shouldn’t have gone. I begged all of you,” your voice broke. “And none of you listened to me.” Steve tried to speak again, but you stood up and stepped forward, pointing a finger at each of them. “I told you,” you said louder. “And none of you fucking listened!”

“Y/N–” Steve tried gently.

“No!” You shouted, eyes burning. You shoved him hard in the chest, your fists hitting him again and again. “It should’ve been me! I should’ve gone in! I should’ve been the bait!”

Your legs gave out as the sobs took over again, and Steve caught you instantly. You collapsed into him, gripping his jacket with everything you had. He held you close, one hand tangled in your hair, the other around your back as he buried his face into your shoulder, letting you take it out on him.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He could feel you falling apart in his arms, and it broke him in a way nothing else ever had.

Steve took you to his house after you refused to let go of him. You clung to him like a lifeline, barely breathing, unable to speak. Every time Max crossed your mind, your eyes welled with fresh tears.

The hospital had been chaos. You’d all rushed there to get Dustin checked out, and deep down, you knew Max would be there too. Your suspicion was confirmed when you saw Lucas and Erica sitting in the waiting room. Max was in surgery.

The moment your eyes met theirs, you pulled them both into a hug, all of you sobbing together in the middle of the room. Lucas told you what happened, that Vecna got to her. That she died for a whole minute. You broke at that, falling apart in his arms. But then he said she started breathing again, one minute later. The doctors called it a miracle.

You collapsed into Steve again, his arms wrapping around you tightly as you cried into his chest. Around you, the waiting room filled with more people. Many were hurt due to the collapse of Hawkins. All you could think about was Max. You were so close to saving her, to saving Hawkins. But now, she was almost gone, and you didn’t even know if she was still alive. You failed again.

Eventually, a surgeon came out and explained Max’s condition. She was alive but in a coma. You followed the group to her hospital room, legs barely carrying you, until you saw her in the bed. The sight made your knees buckle, but Steve caught you before you fell.

She was wrapped head to toe in bandages, her body broken and eyes closed. They said she was blind, as well as braindead. The odds of her waking up were slim. You couldn’t look at her anymore. You ran out, choking on your own sobs as your hands covered your face.

Steve followed you out. Not because he thought you were fragile, but because he was scared. After hearing you say you wished it had been you instead of Max, he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know what you might do.

He pulled you into him again, holding you tightly, his hand moving up and down your back as you cried harder, letting your weight fall into his chest. He didn’t say anything, he just held you.

A few minutes later, Nancy stepped out of Max’s room and saw the two of you. Her own eyes were red, tears staining her cheeks. Steve met her gaze as she walked over to the two of you and he shook his head. “I’m going to take her back to my place,” he murmured, gently tightening his hold on you.

Nancy nodded, understanding instantly. “Okay. I’ll bring her stuff over in the morning.” She looked at you one last time before turning away, heart breaking not only for Max, but for you too. She knew you’d carry the guilt, even though none of it was your fault.

By the time Steve reached his house, you had stopped crying. You didn’t say a single word but your red, swollen eyes and tear-streaked face said everything.

He helped you inside, taking you straight to his room. You sat down on the edge of his bed without a word, staring at the floor as he searched for something comfortable for you to wear. He returned with a stack of clothes and set them beside you. You didn’t move.

You were still replaying everything in your head, the way you’d snapped at everyone, the screaming, the guilt. You made a mental note to apologize later, but not now. Right now, you didn’t want to feel anything. You just wanted to shut it all out.

Steve kneeled in front of you, placing a hand gently on your cheek and guiding your face to meet his. “Hey,” he said softly. “You think you can take a shower?”

You didn’t respond. You stared at his chest, avoiding his eyes. He reached out again, tilting your chin up.

“Come on, honey,” he coaxed. “Just a shower. Or a bath. Whatever you want. You need to get out of these clothes. You’ll feel better once you’re clean.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears again, but you nodded faintly. That was all he needed. He stood and helped you to your feet, walking you to the bathroom. You stood silently as he turned the shower on, waiting for the water to warm.

“I’ll be in the other room,” he said gently, just as he was about to step out. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” As he reached for the doorknob, your hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his. He stopped, looking down at your fingers curled around his, then up at your face. You didn’t meet his eyes at first.

“Stay,” you whispered. Your voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear you.

Steve’s heart clenched in his chest. For a second, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right. “Are you su–”

“Please,” you said again, louder this time. Your voice cracked, your eyes glistening. The look on your face broke him all over again.

He didn’t hesitate. He stepped back toward you and nodded. His eyes lingered on your clothes, unsure of what to do next. “Can you…take off your clothes?”

You shook your head slowly, lips trembling. You took his hands gently and guided them to the zipper of your jacket, trying to show him what you meant. His eyes widened as realization hit, but he didn’t say anything. With careful fingers, he unzipped your jacket, still trembling slightly as he began to undress you.

The moment was intimate, but it felt right. You let him peel off your layers, jacket, shirt, and then the rest, your eyes never leaving his. You stood bare before him, vulnerable in every way, but he only looked at you with so much care it made your chest ache.

Steve didn’t hesitate to undress himself next. He kicked off his pants, pulled off his jacket, and the only thing left was the makeshift bandage wrapped tightly around his torso. The second you saw it, your throat closed. You swallowed hard, your eyes beginning to sting again.

Steve stepped forward and cupped your cheeks with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the fresh tears before they could fall. “No, no, no. Don’t cry, honey,” he whispered softly. “I’m okay. Doesn’t even hurt that bad anymore, alright?”

You nodded slowly, even though you didn’t quite believe him. The tears still came. “We need to clean it,” you said, voice cracking. “Your wound.”

“We will,” he murmured, his eyes gentle. “And we’ll clean your wound too, on your arm.”

You blinked in surprise, as if remembering it for the first time. The wound still stung faintly, but you barely felt it. Your body was too numb, too overwhelmed by everything else. The physical pain didn’t matter anymore. But Steve noticed. He always did.

He reached for the edge of the bandage and slowly began unwrapping it from around his waist. You watched, your stomach twisting as the dried blood peeled away with it. His movements were careful, and when the last bit was off and the wound was exposed, it was worse than you remembered. You reached for him instinctively, resting your palm lightly on his ribs, your thumb brushing near the edge of the wound. He leaned into your touch.

Without saying anything more, he took your hand and led you into the shower. The bathroom filled with the sound of running water as steam slowly fogged the glass. He stepped in first, holding out a hand for you. You took it, letting the water run down your bodies, washing away the blood, the grime, and the dirt from the Upside Down.

The heat of the water grounded you both. Steve winced as it hit his wound, but didn’t complain. You reached for the soap, lathering it between your hands before gently, carefully washing the dried blood from his body. Your touch was featherlight, scared of hurting him more, but he didn’t flinch. He just watched you.

He reached for your arm next, silently asking for permission. You nodded. He took your injured arm in both of his hands, washing around the wound delicately. The pain made you hiss under your breath, but you didn’t pull away. His eyes met yours, searching for signs to stop, but you just nodded your head, letting him continue.

You both moved slowly, his hands roaming over your arms, your shoulders, down your back. You turned to face him fully, pressing your forehead to his chest as the water poured over both of you. His arms wrapped around you again, tighter this time. He didn’t care that it hurt, he just needed you close.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, lips against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

After the two of you got out of the shower, put on fresh bandages, and changed into new clothes, you felt a little bit better. You definitely felt refreshed, and for a second, you forgot everything. It wasn’t until Steve left you alone in his room to get you something to eat when the emptiness started creeping back in again. That familiar heaviness pressed against your chest, crawling its way up your throat.

You took a deep breath. In and out. In and out. But it didn’t help. Ever since you’d climbed out of the Upside Down hours ago and started crying, it was like something inside you had cracked wide open. The crying hadn’t stopped. You didn’t even know you could cry this much, but the tears kept coming.

Every time you thought you were done, it would hit you again. It was as if a dam broke and the water wouldn’t stop rushing out. You used to be good at hiding your emotions. You were the one people leaned on, the one who didn’t break. It was hard to show emotions when you were trained to be emotionless. You didn’t want to be seen as weak, never letting anyone truly see you. But now you couldn’t even stand upright without feeling like the world was tilting.

Your thoughts spiraled to Max. You weren’t there but you could imagine the sound of her bones breaking, the way her body went still in Lucas’s arms.

You needed your mom. She was always the one who could bring you back when the panic attacks started, when the world got too loud for you to handle. After that prison, after everything you’ve been through, she’d be there to hold you through the nightmares. You thought you’d grown past needing that. But tonight proved you wrong.

Steve moved quickly in the kitchen, trying to make something fast. He didn’t want to leave you alone for long. He settled on scrambled eggs and toast, the one thing he knew you’d eat no matter what time it was. It was easy and fast, and he’d made it for you countless times before. He moved around the kitchen in a rush, barely waiting for the bread to pop from the toaster before throwing everything on a plate. He hurried up the stairs, wanting to get back before anything happened.

As soon as he walked into his room, his stomach dropped. You weren’t there. He stopped cold, eyes scanning the room, his breath catching. You’d been sitting on his bed. You were right there.

He quickly set the plate of food down on the nightstand. He looked toward the bathroom, thinking maybe you’d gone in there, but then he heard your tiny, broken cry.

He turned his head, heart pounding, following the noise around to the other side of his bed and found you there. You were curled up against the frame, knees pulled tight to your chest, your back pressed to the edge of the mattress. Your hands were covering your ears, your body rocking ever so slightly. Your lips were moving, whispering something he couldn’t make out. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, immediately crouching down in front of you. You didn’t respond and he didn’t want to push. He didn’t want to startle you so he moved slowly, lowering himself onto the floor beside you until he was at your level. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You blinked, like you were just now realizing he was there. And without a word, you shifted forward, collapsing into him. Steve wrapped his arms around you without hesitation, holding you close, letting you melt against him as your tears soaked his shirt. He rubbed gentle circles into your back and pressed his cheek to your temple. You clung to him like he was the only person left in the world.

Steve managed to get you to eat after calming you down. You forced him to eat with you, knowing he hadn’t eaten either. You felt terrible for being so difficult. For clinging to him. For being a mess. You weren’t even together anymore, yet he still did everything for you, held you when you fell apart, cleaned your wounds, fed you like you hadn’t just broken his heart a few months ago. That reminded you that you still needed to talk to him, your mind going back to what he told you in the woods.

The two of you lay under his blankets, facing each other in the dark. You could hear the sound of his breathing, the slow rhythm of it matching yours.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

His finger came up and brushed lightly against your lips, shushing you before the guilt could spill out. “I don’t want to hear you apologize,” he whispered, voice soft. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And nothing’s wrong with you. Your feelings are normal. You’re allowed to break down. You don’t always have to be the strong one, you know? And I’ll always be here. Whenever you need me.”

You blinked slowly, your chest tightening. You hated crying again, but it still came, just quieter this time. You breathed out, voice trembling. “Thank you. For everything. You don’t have to be so kind, yet you’re always taking care of me.”

He gave you a small smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’d do the same for me.”

You stared at him, the words on your tongue, waiting to be said. “I still think about us,” you said. “A lot more than I want to admit.”

He didn’t say anything right away. His eyes flickered between yours. “Me too.”

“I hated how it ended,” you confessed. “I thought breaking it off would be easier, but it just made everything harder. I tried pretending like it was the right thing, like letting go was the mature choice, but all I’ve wanted since I left was to come back. To you.”

Steve let out a breath, one he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I thought I was doing the right thing too. I didn’t want to hold you back. You had this whole new life starting in California. And I–I didn’t think I fit into it.”

“You did,” you said, reaching for his hand under the covers. “You still do.”

His hand tightened around yours. “I meant what I said back there. You’ve always been there. I never stopped loving you.”

You nodded, voice barely audible. “I never stopped loving you either.”

Steve looked at you like you were his entire world, like nothing had changed even though everything had. “So what now?”

You moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. “Maybe…we stop pretending that letting each other go was ever going to work.”

And when his lips met yours, your heart exploded. It was soft and warm. You’ve been dreaming of this ever since you left, dreaming about him being yours again. It felt like coming home after being gone for too long. He was your home.

That night, you fell asleep wrapped in the arms of the man who never stopped waiting for you.

It was two days after everything happened. You had visited Max again at the hospital, with Steve by your side. The guilt coursed through you as you silently cried. You hated seeing her like this, her entire body covered in bandages.

You kept trying to calm yourself down, but every time you did, the guilt came rushing back. You still believed it should’ve been you instead of Max. At least then, she would be safe. You had failed to protect the kids again, even after promising yourself you would always be there.

The only good thing you could think of was having Steve back. Nancy dropped off your things the next morning, and Steve gave the two of you some time alone while he made lunch. You apologized to her for breaking down in front of everyone. But your best friend didn’t even blink, she was there for you, reminding you again and again that none of this was your fault. You were grateful for her. For all of them. You just wished you could believe it.

Now, you were at the Wheeler’s house, helping them sort through boxes of items to donate. You still felt awful for blowing up on them that night, screaming at everyone about what happened to Max. Maybe it came from years of pent-up frustration, or maybe it was just from being so exhausted. Either way, you apologized to them afterward, and they all shook their heads, offering soft, reassuring smiles like it hadn’t changed a thing.

Steve had handed you a letter from Max that was addressed to you, one of the ones she wrote in case she didn’t make it. You didn’t know how long you cried, only that it was long enough. You hated letters ever since Hopper’s.

You saw more and more people packing their bags and leaving Hawkins, realizing that the town really was cursed. You watched as car after car left the city, not once looking back.

You loaded one of the last boxes into Steve’s trunk. You were all headed to Hawkins High, where the donation center was set up. So many people had been hurt, so much had been destroyed. Everyone was trying to help however they could.

You and Steve arrived hand in hand, and though most of the group, except Nancy who already knew the morning she came to drop off your stuff, was surprised to see the two of you back together, they were happy. You tried your best to stay joyful, laughing along with the others, your hand constantly finding Steve’s. He never minded. He liked keeping you close. In fact, he kissed you whenever he could, even when Dustin groaned about the two of you ‘sucking each other’s faces off’ in front of the Wheeler house.

Steve only narrowed his eyes at him, tightening his hold around your waist. “Shut up, Henderson.” And instead of stopping, he pressed even more kisses to your face, just to annoy him. Dustin gagged dramatically, making you giggle as you gently shoved Steve away and returned to packing the last box into the car.

You heard a vehicle behind you, but didn’t think much of it until Karen’s voice rang out. “Did someone order a pizza?”

“Pizza?” Dustin repeated, confused, as you all turned to face the pizza van pulling into the driveway. You knew that van.

Your lips parted as you watched the doors open and saw the people you hadn’t seen in a week. Jonathan, Will, Eleven, Mike, and Argyle. They stepped out one by one, and everyone around you broke into smiles. You didn’t hesitate, running straight to El and wrapping your arms around her tightly.

“Oh my God, El!” You squealed, pulling back to cup her face in your hands. Your eyes drifted to her head, widening in shock. “Your hair?!”

Eleven laughed, nodding. “I missed you,” she said, voice soft.

Your heart swelled. “I missed you, too,” you grinned, pulling her in for another hug. When she glanced over your shoulder to see Dustin, you let her go, letting her run to him.

Turning back around, your eyes landed on another familiar face. Jonathan gave you a small wave, and you jogged over to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped you into a big hug without hesitation. Nancy lit up at the sight of her best friend and her boyfriend.

You smiled into his chest, relief washing over you. You’d been so worried about them, especially after they hadn’t answered any of your calls.

When you pulled back, you lightly punched him in the chest, making him blink in surprise. “Why the hell weren’t you answering the phone?! We were all so worried!”

Jonathan sighed. “I know, I know. I’ll explain everything, okay?” He glanced at Nancy, who gave him a tiny smile. “I’ll tell you all everything.”

“You better,” you muttered, and then realized you had your own explaining to do about your past. “I’ve got some things to say, too.”

Jonathan furrowed his brows, glancing at Nancy. She only shrugged, knowing it wasn’t her place to say anything.

Steve then walked up, wrapping his arm around your waist. Jonathan raised a brow at the gesture, and your cheeks flushed. “Jonathan,” Steve said with a tight-lipped smile.

“Steve,” Jonathan replied with a small nod. The two of them were trying to be civil.

You still didn’t understand why they hadn’t tried harder to get along. As far as you knew, whatever differences they had years ago were long behind them. You and Nancy exchanged a look, both rolling your eyes at your boyfriends’ awkward tension. Neither of them noticed.

You then saw Argyle standing nearby, grinning at the group.

“You’re here too!” You said, pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah, dude!” He grinned, giving you a light shake. “It’s wayyy different from good ol’ Cali, but still super cool. Not how I pictured spending spring break, though.”

You laughed. “Try moving away from here to California. Talk about different.”

“It’s crazy!”

You moved on to hug Will and Mike, holding the former a little longer. You missed them so much more than you’d even realized.

Dustin filled the California crew in on Max’s condition, and their faces turned somber. You and Nancy knew it would be best to take them to the hospital, to let them see Max, Lucas, and Erica, even though your heart still ached at the thought. You knew Lucas would be happy to see them.

You looked at Steve, not wanting to leave him. You’d already packed the donation boxes into his car, but now it seemed like you’d be splitting up. But then you had an idea. Your eyes flicked between his BMW and Argyle’s van, your mind racing.

Steve caught the look on your face, tilting his head. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

You turned to him. “I think I’m going to go to the hospital with them. Do you wanna come?”

You saw the hesitation in his face, how much he didn’t want to be apart from you. He glanced at his car. “I want to,” he admitted. “But who else is gonna take all these boxes to the school? Robin can’t drive.”

You smiled before looping your arms around his waist. “What if we move all the boxes into Argyle’s van? That way, we all ride together, drop off the stuff, and whoever wants to stay at the school can. Then the rest of us go to the hospital.”

Steve looked down at you, his expression softening. He smiled before leaning in and kissing the tip of your nose. “I like the way you think.”

You all piled into Argyle’s pizza van after moving the boxes from Steve’s car into the back, driving off toward the school. Robin and Dustin volunteered to drop off the donations, letting the rest of you head straight to the hospital. Your chest tightened the closer you got, your heart racing as the image of Max all bandaged up kept replaying in your head. Steve gave your hand a gentle squeeze, a silent reminder that he was right there beside you.

Once you arrived at the hospital, you followed the familiar path to Max’s room. You and Nancy led the way, both of you having already been here a few times. The others trailed quietly behind, while Argyle stayed back in the hallway to give you all some space.

Lucas was sitting by Max’s bedside, reading softly from a book. He looked up as soon as the door opened, his expression changing completely when he saw the group enter the room.

“Oh my God,” he breathed out, rising quickly to his feet and pulling Will and Mike into a hug. “We’ve been calling you guys like crazy.”

“I know,” Mike said, hugging him back. “We came as soon as we heard.”

You didn’t say anything. Your eyes were glued to Max’s motionless figure in the bed, and the lump in your throat grew too large to ignore. You felt your breathing pick up as fresh tears stung your eyes. Backing into the corner of the room, you pressed a fist to your mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to slip out.

Steve noticed immediately. His eyes were on you, full of worry, but he didn’t move. He knew you well enough by now, knew that sometimes you just needed a second to collect yourself, to let yourself breathe.

You wished, more than anything, that they had listened to you. That they had let you be the bait. The guilt weighed heavily on your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking that if you had been in Max’s place, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe she’d be okay. Maybe they’d all be okay.

You glanced around at the pained expressions on everyone’s faces, each of them hurting in their own way. And it crushed you. You could’ve prevented this. You were supposed to protect them no matter what.

You needed to find a place to hide Eleven from the government, so you suggested Hopper’s cabin. It wasn’t in great shape since it had been destroyed the year before, but if you all worked together to fix it, it would work.

Jonathan drove Argyle’s van deep into the woods until the cabin came into view. The sight of it for the first time since July made your heart ache. It looked even worse than you remembered. You glanced over at Eleven, who had stopped walking, a sorrowful expression settling on her face. Gently, you rested your hand on her shoulder. She looked up at you.

“It’s going to be okay, El,” you said softly, offering a reassuring smile. She gave a small nod before the two of you followed the others into the wrecked cabin.

“Oh Jesus,” Jonathan muttered as he took it all in.

“Holy shit,” Mike breathed. “This place is a total disaster.”

“This is crazy,” Steve added, eyes scanning the damage. He wasn’t there with you all when the Mind Flayer destroyed everything here.

“Yeah,” Jonathan agreed, eyes drifting up toward the gaping hole in the ceiling. “Well, that’s a bit of a problem.”

“I get that we’ve gotta hide Supergirl and all,” Argyle chimed in, mouth hanging open. “But this ain’t the Fortress of Solitude, man. It’s more like…a fortress of grodiness.”

“Guys, come on. Positive thoughts, alright?” You said, trying to lift the mood a little.

“Seriously. I’ve seen Mike’s room look worse than this,” Nancy added as she made her way over to the sink.

“Ah, brutal, dude,” Argyle said, laughing as Mike scoffed at her sister’s words.

Nancy turned on the faucet and grinned when water started flowing. “See? Water still works.”

You let out a small laugh and rummaged through the cabinets until you found a box full of cleaning supplies. “And we’ve got cleaning supplies!”

Groans immediately echoed behind you. You turned and glared at the boys, throwing mops at Will and Mike. “No complaining. Get to work.”

You, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve were on window duty. There was just enough wood around the cabin to cover the broken windows. You and Steve took the back while Nancy and Jonathan handled the front.

You held the boards steady while Steve hammered them into place. When the last piece was finally secure, you both stepped back to admire your handiwork. Steve grinned, hands on his hips. “Look at that. We’re all done. We really do make a pretty good team, Kaul.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, teasing. “Why? You had doubts before?”

“Funny,” he said, rolling his eyes. Then he laughed softly, shaking his head. “It’s nice, though. Makes me think of how we could build things together in the future, you know? Like when we start a family. Have kids.”

Your smile faltered. You’d forgotten about that. You needed to talk to him, you needed to be honest before it was too late. You were terrified of his reaction. You had just gotten him back, and now you were scared of losing him all over again.

“Steve, um…listen. About the dream you told me–”

He noticed the hesitation in your voice, and his own smile faded. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready,” he said gently. “I get it. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I’d rather have you in my life than not have you at all.”

His words softened something in you. You took a breath, heart pounding. “No, no. I…Steve, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Steve’s head shot up, eyes wide. “You do?”

You nodded slowly. “But…”

“But?” He asked, voice gentle.

“I can’t give you what you want, Steve,” you whispered, turning your face away as tears welled in your eyes.

His brow furrowed. “What? I don’t understand…”

You looked back at him, voice trembling. “You said you wanted a family. That you wanted kids…”

He nodded slowly, starting to see where this was going. “Okay. But the six kids thing? That was just me being dramatic. We don’t have to have kids at all if you don’t want–”

“That’s the thing, Steve. I do want kids,” you cut in, voice cracking. “Not like six kids. But I still want children.”

“I still don’t get it.”

You looked around to make sure no one was near before leaning in. “I…I can’t have children.”

His eyes widened in shock, but his hands immediately landed on your arms. “That’s okay,” he said quietly. His hands slid up to cup your face. “We don’t need kids. All I need is you.”

“No, you don’t understand.” You shook your head as tears slipped down your cheeks. “When I was in that place, they performed surgeries on all the girls. We were getting our periods and it was interfering with our training, so they…”

His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently as he listened, never looking away.

“They forced us to get hysterectomies.” You took another shaky breath. “That’s why I can’t have children.”

Steve’s heart shattered. It all clicked for him now. All those times you brushed off the need for condoms, telling him you were on the pill to regulate your cycle. He’d never questioned it. But now he saw the truth, and it made his stomach turn with fury at the people who hurt you.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you cried. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“Would you just shut up?” He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “Stop apologizing. You’re all I want, okay? You’re everything I need. I don’t care about anything else.” He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “Do you understand that I can’t even breathe without you? All those months away from you…it nearly destroyed me. I felt like I was falling apart. I don’t ever want to feel that again. I can’t live without you.”

Your lip trembled. “But what if, years down the line, you grow to resent me? What if you end up miserable because we can’t have kids? I’d rather you spare me now than you end up hating me. It’s your dream after all.”

“I will not hate you,” he said firmly, hands still cupping your face. “The first thing I think about when I wake up is you. The last thing I think about before I sleep is you. You’re stuck in my head permanently. If anything, I will be miserable without you. I love you.”

A shaky but relieved laugh escaped your lips as you leaned your forehead against his chest. “I love you,” you whispered. You looked up again, noses brushing. “I love you so much.”

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his other still gently holding your cheek. His eyes were soft, full of love. “I love you more.”

You smiled, wanting to freeze time and stay in this moment forever. “I know I said I can’t give birth, but…maybe we could adopt.”

His face lit up. “We can definitely do that. When we’re ready,” he said with a playful grin, giving your side a little pinch.

You squealed, laughing as you swatted his shoulder. “Steve!”

“But I mean, babies are kind of overrated anyway,” he teased. “They’re loud and messy and they poop in their pants.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “You used to poop in a diaper too, Steve.”

Steve fake-gagged, turning his head dramatically. “Ugh, I can’t believe I did that.”

“I thought having a family was one of your dreams?” You giggled.

“Dreams change!” He said, grinning at your laughter. He tugged you closer, one hand slipping to your waist, breath warm against your lips. “Besides…I think I’d rather just stick to practicing.”

He kissed you before you could respond, pulling you flush against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, lips moving in sync with his. He spun you so your back hit the cabin wall, but all you could feel was him. His hands roaming your body, his lips kissing you like there was no tomorrow.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been making out, but eventually, reality crept back in and you realized you were still outside. Breathless, your lips swollen and puffy, you gently pushed Steve away. “Okay, we need to stop before we actually start practicing out here.”

He just shrugged, grinning as he watched you walk off. “I don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes, rounding the side of the cabin to head back to the front. Steve followed close behind, still wearing that silly smile. You were just about to tell Nancy and Jonathan that the two of you had finished your job when your eyes landed on a familiar face.

“Steve and I just finished putting up all the wood–Mom?”

Yasmin turned at the sound of your voice, a wide smile on her face. You ran straight into her arms, shocked but overjoyed to see her.

“I missed you! What are you doing here?” You asked, pulling back. But before she could answer, another familiar face caught your attention. “Joyce, hi! Wait–Joyce?” You blinked, utterly confused. She waved at you warmly, smiling from ear to ear. You even spotted Murray nearby, making the situation feel even more confusing.

Yasmin laughed gently, placing her hands on your shoulders as she turned you around. “There’s someone you should see.”

You let her guide you, brows furrowed in confusion. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat the moment your eyes locked with his.

Hopper stood in front of you, holding Eleven in his arms. El let go of him to rush into Yasmin’s arms, but you remained frozen, stunned into silence. Hopper opened his arms, and that was all it took for you to move. You launched into him, wrapping your arms around him tightly as tears flooded your eyes. He laughed softly, hugging you just as tightly and rubbing your back as you cried into his shoulder.

You finally pulled back, and Hopper cupped your face with both hands. “I told them,” you said through tears, a smile breaking across your face. “I finally told them everything.”

Hopper grinned, eyes full of warmth and pride. “I knew you would. I’m so proud of you.”

You let out a small laugh, wiping your tears away as you took a good look at him. “You’re…smaller now,” you teased.

He chuckled, nodding. “Guess I am. And you’re still shorter than me.”

You scoffed, playfully punching his arm. He smiled, then turned to glance toward a woman standing by a black car. He gave her a subtle nod. She returned it before quietly getting in and driving away.

It felt like a piece of you was being stitched back together. You never thought this moment would come. Hopper being alive felt like something out of a dream, and even now, standing in front of him, it was hard to believe.

You turned back to your mom and hugged her again. Yasmin kissed the top of your head, having missed you more than words could express.

“I didn’t think you could bring a victim home with you, mom,” you joked.

She laughed, shaking her head. “He was a special case.”

You looked around, your heart full. Despite everything that had happened, this moment brought you peace. You had your mom. You had Hopper. You had Steve. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to go back to California.

But you should’ve known that happy moments never lasted long.

An odd sensation started crawling up your spine. Your brow furrowed as you looked at Yasmin, who noticed the change in your expression.

You turned your head and locked eyes with Will. He was already touching the back of his neck. You both slowly turned to the sky to see dark clouds spreading. Everyone noticed the sudden change in your demeanor and followed your gaze, eyes lifting to the sky as soft white flakes began to fall.

You held out your hand, catching one in your palm. Your breath hitched, knowing it wasn’t snow. It didn’t look like snow.

Everyone grew quiet, concern spreading through the group instantly. Hopper took the lead, walking out of the woods to see what was happening. Joyce, Yasmin, and Murray followed close behind. You walked with Steve, Eleven, Will, and Mike, while Nancy and Jonathan followed. As you stepped into the open field, your breath caught.

The odd sensation within you increased. Your mouth parted slightly as you took in the scene. Dark clouds could be seen from a distance. Red lightning streaked across the sky. There was smoke in the air.

Steve squeezed your hand tight, pulling you closer. You stood side by side with him, surrounded by the others. Will and Mike. Nancy and Jonathan. Joyce and Murray. Yasmin and Hopper. All of you were frozen in place. Eleven walked a little further ahead by herself, pausing only to pick up a dead flower from the ground. She stood slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon.

The Upside Down had collided with Hawkins. Everyone’s lives were in danger. You knew Vecna wasn’t done. He wouldn’t stop, not until he got his revenge. This was just the beginning.

It was the beginning of a war and you had already lost.

[allfandomxreader]

Back to You | 6

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eight months ago, you swore you would never step foot in Hawkins again. When Robin begs for you to come home for spring break, you find yourself agreeing despite better judgment. You’ve missed everyone, surely you could endure one more week in Hawkins if that means you can see your friends again.

Words: 9.6k

Part: 6/9

Warnings: Language, death, trauma mentions, Billy, self blame

A/N: Very loosely edited.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist  

Waking up in Steve Harrington’s guest room is almost just as disorienting as waking up in Nancy Wheeler’s basement. There’s a calmness in the air as you rise, listening to the birds sing and feeling the warmth of the sun that peaks through the curtains. It coats the room in such a sweet brightness that you wish you could bathe in it, push away the worries beyond your control, and bask in the thick perfume of the Harrington residence. 

Standing on the plush carpet, it occurs to you, never once have you slept in this room. Sure, it was always an option, the one Mrs. Harrington certainly would’ve preferred. At a young age, the thought of being separated from each other, even for a night, was unfathomable. You’d spend hours building elaborate forts out of sheets and chairs, falling asleep with blankets tucked under your chins. When sleeping side by side was no longer permitted, Steve, a gentleman from the start, always insisted on you taking the bed. By the time you were dating, they never cared enough to notice him slip in beside you. You wonder if the mattress still dips where you used to lie. 

A loud crash, followed by a string of curses, sends an echo throughout the downstairs. You rush out of the room and down the hall in haste, stopping short when you see the kitchen in complete disarray. Mixing bowls litter the counter and flour dusts the floor. Steve crouches in the middle of the chaos, picking up a lone skillet from the tile. 

“Uh, good morning,” you say. 

“Jesus,” he jumps, startled at your sudden appearance. 

“What’s all this?” You giggle, clamping your lips shut at the look of annoyance Steve sends your way. 

“It was going to be breakfast but, uh,” he groans, limbs stiff with exhaustion as he comes to a stand. “I can’t find the baking powder.” 

“I think cereal will do just fine,” you smile, gathering the mess of ingredients into your arms. Wordlessly, the two of you tidy up the room, moving around each other with ease. It feels so domestic, intimate even as you sweep, careful to avoid his feet. You wonder if this is how life would’ve –should’ve– been for the past eight months. Lazy mornings spent in the refrigerator light, old habits poking into your new routines. 

Here, in the dirtiness of his kitchen, you’re overcome with a feeling so strong your fingers shake. You’re so goddamn homesick, not for your house, childhood bedroom, or Hawkins, but for sharing gummy bears on the couch, dancing to old records, and holding hands under tables. You realize how much you miss your home, how much you miss Steve. 

Once dishes are wiped and cabinets are closed, the two of you take a seat across from each other at the dining room table. You stare at the wood, unable to look at him while he shovels food into his mouth. 

“Where are your parents?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you. 

“Visiting Aunt Cheryl in Maine,” he says, wiping milk from his chin. 

“Weren’t invited?” 

“They assumed I was working. Which I am, or supposed to be, if all this wasn’t happening again,” he explains. “But I could’ve asked off if they told me sooner. Not three days before they were supposed to leave.” 

“I’m sorry.” You look at him then. What else was there to say? The trace of anger vanishes from his features as you lock eyes. 

“It’s okay,” he offers a half smile. “I wouldn’t have gotten to see you if I went.” Heat creeps up your neck, eyes falling to the spoon you twirl in your fingertips. “I guess I don’t mean that. I hate that you’re here.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can leave,” you’re about to stand before he stops you. 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He pushes his bowl away, leaning forward on his elbows. “You got out, you got away, the life you always dreamed of and as soon as you’re home the world falls apart again.” You gulp, a knot settling in your stomach as he continues. “It’s just, I don’t know, every time I get sad you’re not here, I remember how awful this place is, you know? Nothing has changed. Mrs. Kenny still rents her movies every Sunday. Moria and Dale break up every month and get back together in two days. It’s always the same. Hawkins is the fucking same.” He lets out a breath, shaking his head. “Mike and Nancy will move out to California, Lucas will probably get a D1 scholarship somewhere, Dustin will grow up and have ten kids with Suzie. Max will graduate and get the hell out of town, just like you did. Robin will realize I’m a shitty friend, just like you did. One day, I’ll wake up and everyone will be gone and I’ll be here.” 

“Steve,” you say, keeping your voice gentle. “You could’ve come with me. You could’ve gotten out too.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t.” His voice rises slightly, anger seeping into his tone. “I didn’t go and fucked everything up. This is my consequence. Being stuck here for the rest of my life.”

“So then don’t be. Who says you have to stay and wallow here forever? You can leave, just like me, just like everyone else can.”

“Yeah? And go where?” He laughs dryly, “Where else am I gonna go?” 

“With me. Come back to me,” you want to scream. You want to lay all your cards out on the table before him, beg him to follow you across state lines, the way he promised. But he made his decision and you don’t know if he regrets it enough to change his mind. You can’t bear another rejection from Steve, not about this. So, you sit, staring at your soggy breakfast and biting your tongue. 

“Did you know I called you?” He says after a few minutes. Your brows raise at the information. “I ran into your mom at the store one day and asked for your new number. It was the middle of August. The phone just rang and rang,” he recalls. “I don’t even know what I would’ve said if you answered, I didn’t think that far.” Your mom's constant bombardment of questioning clicks. He called. Your heart leaps at the news. 

“I had no idea,” you whisper. He shrugs, gently pushing his chair back and clearing away the dishes with a frown tugging at his lips. You lean back in your chair with a sigh. You cross your arms around your chest as if they could be a barrier between you and all the words left unsaid. 

From the corner of your eye, a photograph catches your attention. Hesitantly, you reach for it, shuffling away the discarded bills and letters for his parents. With shaky fingers, you pull open the newspaper where she rests. The girl who came into your life like a hurricane and was taken just as abruptly, leaving nothing but misery in her wake. She stares back at you, her smile frozen in time, just as beautiful as you remember. 

You met Heather Holloway in the middle of May. You and five others dedicated a Saturday to mandatory training, a requirement before anyone was able to take a seat on the lifeguard tower. You knew the morning was going to be unbearable, to say the least. The water was still freezing, half of the recruits were new and immensely inexperienced, and to make it all worse, Billy was there. 

Steve, who you assumed was still sleeping across town, was supposed to be there that day. It had become almost a tradition since you were fifteen to wear the whistle for those three hot months. When the word got around that the Hargrove boy would be an honorary member of the team, Steve couldn’t stomach it. Instead, he decided to scour the newspaper ads for another part-time job. Luckily for him, there was no shortage of openings with every store in Starcourt understaffed. He started the following week. 

Since it was your third summer as a lifeguard and you spent a lifetime swimming in the Harrington pool, you could do each drill in your sleep. Your manager, Rodney, made it very clear he wouldn’t sign your certification papers if you skipped, even when you tried to slip him a five. It just felt like a complete waste of time. But, with a lease to be signed and a new life on the horizon, you couldn’t afford to lose your job before it started. So, you stood at the edge of the pool, half listening to Rodney’s instructions and picking at your nails.

Heather, a newbie, was assigned as your partner for the day. She offered a nervous smile that you tried to return as you lined up, preparing to dive. “Don’t me drown. My life is in your hands.” She said, before plunging into the water. As instructed, she flailed and thrashed for a few seconds. At the sound of Rodney’s whistle, you dove and rescued her with ease. “I knew I had nothing to worry about,” she grinned once the two of you broke through the surface. Even though you were shivering and your teeth were chattering, you couldn’t help but laugh together. 

Much to your surprise, Heather was a natural in the water. Instead of coaching her the way you had planned, you took turns leaping into the deep end, gossiping while staying afloat, and giggling while handling the CPR dummy. By the end of the day, you felt like you’d known her forever. 

The two of you walked back to the locker room talking about everything and nothing at all. She spoke of the world like it was made of magic. If she asked, you would’ve sat on the curb and listened for hours. As you pulled sweatpants over your damp suit, she held out a stick of gum toward you. 

“For saving my life and all,” she smiled. 

“Consider us even,” You said. 

Seeing Heather, you remember it all. How quickly the two of you became friends, practically overnight. At work, you were inseparable. You’d share concession snacks during lunch, smear sunscreen on places neither of you could reach, and carpool when your shifts aligned. If you think hard enough, you can still smell the scent of her that lingered in your car, even after she hopped out. Tanning lotion, chlorine, and rose shampoo. She smelt like summer and a life full of dreams. Thinking about her, seeing her again, is agonizing. 

Gently, you fold the pages closed. You pretend that your regret and the memories you keep running from are tucked between the paper. You know they aren’t. They will sit on your shoulder for as long as you live, creeping out in unexpected moments, tormenting you until the end of time. 

“They’re building a memorial,” Steve says somewhere behind you. You can’t turn around, too enamored with her photograph as you trace her outline, memorizing ink. “I’m not sure if it’s done, but we can stop by sometime so you can see.” You nod, quickly wiping away a tear you didn’t know was there. 

“How do you do it?” You ask. “Stay here, see their houses, look those kids in the eyes?” More tears fall. Whether they’re more from sadness or crippling guilt, you don’t know. “I mean I ran away and I feel like I’m, like I’m haunted or something. And I don’t see it every day.” Steve stands next to you and places his hand in yours. “Does it ever get easier?”

“No,” he whispers. His honesty is so blunt it startles you. “Not easier, but it gets smaller, I guess.” You’re proud that he’s taken his pain and learned to live with it, envious even. That’s something you still haven’t been able to do. 

“I guess we should get going,” you say, clearing your throat and drying your cheeks. You can’t risk spiraling today. For now, you swallow the grief of Heather and her death, burying it somewhere inside, hoping to keep it contained for just a few more days. 

Twenty minutes later, you and Steve park along the curb of Nancy’s house. She leans against her car, checking her watch as you step into the sun. Robin’s already blabbering nonsense in her ear. The young boys situate their bikes against the garage as you make your way towards them. 

“We come bearing gifts.” You hold up a bag full of chips and candy. It’s certainly not a nutritious meal, but you can’t imagine Eddie will be too picky. On the way over, you talked to Dustin on your walkie, the one he gave you before he left for Camp Know Where, and asked what Eddie prefers. He rambled off a list of items and for himself, a special request of Pringles. Thankfully, the gas station had most of it. 

“He’ll be eating like a true king,” Dustin jokes, reaching in for his breakfast. 

“All right. We can all fit if two sit in the back,” Nancy says, opening the trunk door. 

“Shotgun!” Robin shouts immediately, beelining to the front. 

“Not it!” You look at Steve who’s already rolling his eyes. 

“You owe me,” he says, taking the sack from your hand and climbing in. “Henderson, get your ass back here.” Dustin’s shoulders sag but he doesn’t protest. As Lucas and Max climb in the backseat, you close the trunk door softly. 

To say it’s cramped is an understatement, but you make it work. For a moment, you let yourself believe that it’s just a normal day in the middle of spring break. That you and your group of misfit friends are on your way to an exciting adventure. A picnic at the quarry, hours at the arcade, maybe the movies. When the car turns right, you’re reminded that you’re headed for Reefer Rick’s on the outskirts. 

At a stoplight downtown, you glance at the woman waiting at the crosswalk. You freeze when you see Heather staring back at you. You sit up straighter as the light turns green, craning your neck to follow her as she makes her way across the street. In a few blinks, you see Tracey Molden instead. She pays you no mind, unaware of your staring. You gulp, turning back and pushing yourself further into the seat cushion as if it could swallow you whole. 

“You okay?” Max asks from the middle, looking you over. 

“Yeah. Just thought I saw someone.” You offer her a reassuring smile, one she thankfully buys. Even though the radio plays, you can still hear the last real conversation you had with her eight months ago. The very one that’s haunted you ever since. 

You clutched the receiver between your ear and shoulder, listening to the dial tone. Impatiently, you tapped your foot, rehearsing the lines for the fourth time. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t give up a shift that summer, but you were desperate. That morning, Steve called with the news that he planned an impromptu day of festivities. So far, there wasn't a single day you had off together, your schedules the opposite. It had been a long month of only spending time together after the sun went down or in one of the booths at Scoops. You’d do anything for a day with your boyfriend, even if that meant inconveniencing Heather for a few hours. 

“Hello?” She finally answered.

“Don’t hate me,” you say, cringing at the aspirated groan from the other end of the line. “I need you to take my shift today.” 

“No, absolutely not,” she laughs. “After the day I had yesterday cleaning vomit, twice I might add, there’s no way in hell I’m taking your shift. I need a few days to recover.” You were afraid of that. While dropping you off the night before, she was still gagging, retelling the story in such vivid detail, that it even made you a little queasy. 

“Please, Heather,” you begged, “I’ll do anything. What about a sundae next week? All the toppings you want. I won’t even take a bite!” 

“Tempting,” she hummed. “No dice.” You gently banged your head against the wall. A knot formed in your stomach with an idea. One you knew would work. 

“Billy will be there,” you sang. Just saying his name left distaste in your mouth. Much to your dismay, Heather had grown quite fond of Billy since orientation. You weren’t sure how he barely gave her the attention she desired, but you suppose that’s what made it more fun. In all honesty, you were surprised nothing had transpired between the two of them. If Billy noticed her swooning, which was impossible to miss, he ignored it. 

“Fine,” she grumbled after a stretch of silence. 

“I am forever in your debt. You’re seriously the best!” You cheered, elated for what the day in front of you held. 

“Yeah, yeah. Hang up before I change my mind.” But with the way she giggled, you knew she wasn’t too upset. 

“Thank you. Love you, bye!” 

You killed Heather Holloway, you know it in your bones. You think she knows it too. One of your dearest friends, packaged up and sent away like a lamb for slaughter. If it weren’t for you, Heather and her parents wouldn’t have been flayed. She’d be here in Hawkins preparing for the graduation that takes place in two months. All her ambitions, the remarkable life she would’ve led, you stole it all just by saying his name. Now, there’s nothing left of her but newspaper clippings, an empty grave, and a name being etched into stone. At least you said you loved her. You hope that now, wherever she is, she knows that has never stopped being true. 

“Not to be a wimp, but can I maybe sit in the car for this visit? ‘Cause this is gonna totally and royally suck.” Robin asks over the music, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“It’ll be fine,” Nancy says, taking a curve. She’s trying her best to sound convincing. 

“I just can’t stand to see those doe eyes of Eddie’s break again. I really, really can’t.” 

“At least he can drink himself into feeling better.” Steve jokes between the chips he and Dustin share, raising the case of beer. 

“That’s what my mom does,” Max says. 

“Mine too,” you bump your elbow into hers, offering a small smile that she returns. 

“Why don’t we give it a trial run? Hey, Eddie. Uh, good news first this time. We got you some Dustin-approved junk food and that six-pack you requested. Oh yeah, and we found Vecna. Only the bad news is that he’s in that other, darker, much scarier dimension, that we told you about and the gate’s closed, so we have no way of getting to him. Like he’s entirely shut off to us, so basically, you’re screwed. And, no, no, I know you were already screwed, but now you’re like doubly, triply, screwed!” Robin rambles. 

“Whoa, wait, wait, wait. Maybe we don’t put it like that,” Lucas adds, trying to alleviate the tension in the air. 

“We’re one step closer to finding Vecna,” Nancy nods to herself, talking it through. “That’s what we say. That’s what’s important.”

“See Robin? Positive spin can make all the difference,” Steve says, popping a Pringle into his mouth. 

“Uh-huh,” Robin grumbles, no doubt rolling her eyes in the front seat. 

“Oh, shit,” Nancy sighs, pulling onto a gravel road. The area is swarmed with reporters and townspeople, sections blocked off by barricades. Your stomach drops at the sight, worried that Eddie has been caught and cuffed by police. As soon as the car has stopped, you climb out, taking in the scene. 

“All right?” You hear Chief Powell say over the community's raised voices.

“Come on, this way,” Nancy says, leading the group behind a news van.

“As many of you know by now, the Roane County line received a call a little after midnight.” You hear Powell begin as you huddle close to the hood. “Reporting a homicide out here on the lake.” You and Lucas share an uneasy look at the news. “Officer Callahan here and myself arrived first on the scene. We made our way to the shore of Lover’s Lake, about ten yards from that house you see behind me. Uh, it was there that we found the victim, an eighteen-year-old senior from Hawkins High, Patrick McKinney.” Max’s gaze snaps to Lucas, watching as his eyes drop to the ground. “His limbs, his body, uh, it was disfigured. There was an eyewitness on the scene. We have also identified a person of interest. Eddie Munson.” He raises a photo of Eddie into the air giving a perfect shot to the cameras. You could throw up right here in the grass. “We encourage anyone with information to please come forward.” 

“Oh man,” Steve utters in disbelief. Reporters talk over one another, pushing microphones toward him. “This is not good. Really not good,” he continues. Gently, you rub soothing circles on Dustin’s shoulders as he stares at you with eyes full of fear. 

“You’ve got a lot of questions, and I’m going to answer as many as I can. Two o’clock, at town hall, where anyone from the Hawkins community is welcome. But right now, I’ve got some work to do, and I appreciate your understanding.” At the close of Powell’s speech, the area grows loud with unanswered questions from the crowd. As the Chief backs away, they grow even more restless talking amongst themselves. 

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?” Eddie’s voice pierces through the static in Dustin’s backpack. Frantically, the seven of you close in around the device as Dustin pushes the button to speak. 

“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?” He asks.

“Nah, man. Pretty… Pretty goddamn far from okay.” 

“Where is he?” Robin asks Dustin, leaning close to the speaker. 

“Where are you?” 

“Skull Rock. Uh, do you know it?” 

“Uh, yeah. That’s near Cornwallis and–” Dustin starts.

“Garrett, yeah, yeah. I know it. I know where that is.” Steve whispers, thinking out loud. He pats the young boy’s shoulder and leads the way into the tree line. 

“Hold tight. We’re coming, we’re coming!” 

After a mile or so, you fall into step behind Max and Lucas trailing behind the rest of the group. Max glances at him every so often, as if finding the courage to speak. If he notices, he doesn’t acknowledge her stares. Instead, keeping focused on the path under his sneakers. She fiddles with her jacket sleeve, tugging on the fabric with an awkwardness. Your eyes are drawn to her wrist, the yellow of her watch uncovered for just a moment. She was wearing it that night. The final time you saw Heather. 

The storm had blown through town hard and fast, practically out of nowhere. You barely had time to get all the kids out of the pool before lightning struck. Rain pelted the metal roof above as you flicked your wrist to check the time. You still had an hour before the pool closed, then you could be on your way to Starcourt to meet up with Steve and the others. 

The doors to the locker room were yanked open with so much force you jumped. You cursed quietly under your breath. You weren’t in the mood to chase eager swimmers out of the building who hoped the downpour would pass within the next few minutes. When you turned, Max and El stared back at you. 

It was a surprising sight to see, to say the least. According to the ginger, El wasn’t her biggest fan. Sure, they were friendly, but certainly not friends. Despite their boyfriends being all but conjoined by the hip, the girls barely talked, let alone hung out together. 

“What’s going on?” You asked them. You directed your gaze to El and squinted at her slightly. “You’re not supposed to be here,” you stated, thinking of the rules Hopper had made very clear. 

“We have a bigger problem right now,” Max said, visibly deflating at your presence. “We think something bad might’ve happened to Heather.” She answered your question before you had the chance to ask. At her words, your stomach sank. Heather didn’t pick you up that morning. Up until then, it was more annoying than anything. You had spent the whole day so irritated that you arrived late, you hadn’t thought something could’ve been wrong.

“We found this,” El said quietly. She gently held up a red fanny pack, unmistakably Heather’s. The jewels glinted under the fluorescents as she passed it to you. 

“Where did you get this?” You whispered, taking it into your grasp. Delicately, you traced your fingers over the fabric.

“In my bathroom with Billy’s things,” Max said urgently. You let out a puff of air, suddenly feeling relieved. You thought that maybe she finally made her move, the one she had been planning since the beginning of June. You doubted Billy would’ve rejected her advances. 

“Girls, this might not mean anything,” you began. Of course, you couldn’t pollute their minds with vulgar ideas of how this ended up in his possession. So, you bit back a laugh, thinking of a way to ease their panic. 

“I know how it sounds. But I don’t think it’s that.” Max unzipped the bag and urged you to look inside. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see, but a bloody whistle surely wasn’t it. Dread clawed its way up your throat as you took in the sight. “We need to help El. She can find her with that.” She pointed to Heather’s staff photo clutched in El’s hand. 

Without further question, the three of you got to work. You locked the door and assisted Max in turning on every showerhead in the room. You sent El to find a roll of duct tape from the supply closet while you searched through the lost and found for a pair of goggles. Finally, when El was ready, she sat on the floor with Heather’s photo laid before her. You and Max shared an uneasy glance from opposite benches. 

“What do you see?” Max asked. You tapped your foot nervously and focused on the hands of her watch as they moved slowly. 

“A door. A red door,” El answered. You knew immediately what she was talking about. You saw it every other day when picking Heather up from her house. El’s answer being something you recognized wasn’t comforting. It only made it worse. Without warning, El gasped for air and yanked off the goggles. 

“What happened? El!” Max shouted, placing a hand on her shoulder. You rubbed circles on her back to try to calm her down. You could feel her hammering heart through the fabric of her shirt. She was hyperventilating, unable to respond. 

“Tell me again what you saw,” you pleaded, glancing in the rearview as you sped through Hawkins.

“It was a bathtub full of ice. When I looked in, Heather was there,” she recalled quietly. “She asked me to help her. Then it was like something was pulling her under the water.” You couldn’t make any sense of it, or understand what it meant. “Is she your friend?” 

“Yes,” you whispered, nauseated as you parked in front of her house. “Is this the door you saw?” You asked, despite knowing the answer. When she nodded, the three of you threw yourselves into the rain and marched up the steps. 

Although you considered Heather a close friend, you had never seen the inside of her house. It was warm and inviting, filled with knickknacks and family portraits. At the sound of laughter, although not Heather’s, you turned and led the girls down the hall. You shielded them as best you could when met with her parents and Billy eating in the dining room.

“Max,” Billy greeted with a smile as he watched you round the corner.

“We didn’t mean to… barge in,” she said, coming to stand at your side. “We tried to knock, but… maybe you didn’t hear us over the storm.” She lies so effortlessly you’re almost stunned. 

“I’m sorry, who is this dripping all over my living room right now?” Tom Holloway asked nobody in particular. Billy laughed like it wasn’t an appropriate question. 

“I’m sorry. Janet, Tom, this is my sister Maxine.” Ignoring you and El completely, Billy stood and made his way over to Max. 

“Oh!” Janet cheered. “Don’t be silly, Tom. You know this is Heather’s friend from work.” 

“What on earth are you doing here?” Billy asked when in front of his sister. “Is something wrong?” 

“We just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Max answered. 

“Okay? Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Something in his tone made you cringe. You knew it was for show. Pretending to be a boy perfect enough for Heather to bring home to meet her parents. It made you sick. 

“Where is she?” El demanded, fully earning his attention. 

“I’m sorry, where is who?”

“Well they’re a little burnt, I’m sorry–” Heather’s voice rang out, coming into view with a sheet of cookies. At the sound, all your fear dissipated. You relaxed under the stare of her family and overly enthusiastic guest. 

“Heather! This is my sister Maxine. And, I’m sorry, I did not quite catch your name.” He said looking at El. 

“El.” 

“El,” he repeated. “Now what is it you were saying, El. You were looking for somebody?” 

“Sorry!” You cut in. Billy looked at you as if just realizing you were there. “You didn’t pick me up today like we talked about. I got worried and wanted to swing by and make sure you were okay before I took them home. 

“Right, I totally meant to call–” Heather began but Billy was quick to interrupt. 

“Heather wasn’t feeling so hot today. So we thought we’d take the day off to nurse her back to health.” His eyes were unwavering from yours as he spoke. “But you’re feeling just fine right now, aren’t you, Heather?” 

“I’m feeling so much better,” she agreed from across the room. 

“I know you’ll get her home safe for me.” Billy gave a curt nod, gestured toward the living room, and led you back to the door. 

Tearing your eyes away from the watch, you shove your hands into your pockets. You think about that night often, reanalyzing those last moments until your mind spins. You should’ve trusted El more, noticed Heather’s pitchy voice, and saw through Billy’s actions. No matter how big of a crush, Heather would’ve never set a place for him at the table, let alone bring him into her home, on the first day of truly talking.

You hate yourself for not pulling her into the kitchen to talk in private, to ask if she was okay. You knew better, and yet, you were too relieved she seemed alive and well to question any further. Only, she wasn’t, she might as well have been dead in the dining room. 

You walk faster, catching up with Dustin and Steve. Dustin murmurs to himself and looks between his compass and map. Steve rubs his palms across his face in agitation, glaring at him from across the path. “Dude, I’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way,” Steve says, dropping his hands back to his sides. 

“It’s north. I’m positive. I checked the map.” He responds, quickly flashing the guide. 

“You do realize Skull Rock, it’s like a super popular make-out spot?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah, so?” 

“Yeah, well it wasn’t popular until I made it popular. All right? I practically invented it. We’re heading in the wrong direction.” Steve takes a sharp left venturing off the path. 

“Steve,” Dustin calls after him. “Where are you going? Steve!” He groans.

“Stop whining. Let’s go. Come on, trust me,” Steve turns slightly, beckoning you both to follow. You do, stepping over twigs and fallen leaves to keep up. 

“Practically invented it,” you repeat, earning both their attention. “You’re so full of shit,” you giggle, shaking your head.

“Are you joking? I absolutely did.” 

“Because everyone wanted a piece of King Steve, right?” You tease. Steve rolls his eyes and wiggles a finger in your direction. 

“If I remember correctly, you spent a lot of time with Phillip Hanning there.”

“That was one time,” you say defensively.

“More like ten,” he smirks knowing it’s a lie. 

“Gross,” Dustin gags.

“Oh, just you wait, Dusty Bun,” you throw an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. “That’ll be you in a few years.” Steve smacks his lips, exaggerating kissing noises. “Dustin and Suzie, sitting in a tree,” you chant as he pushes you off, poorly hiding his smile. 

“You both are toddlers, you know that?” He laughs. Steve slows, matching pace with the two of you. 

“This is nice,” Steve sighs with a shrug, knocking his elbow into yours. “I miss life when you weren’t mad at me.” 

“Me too,” you smile. 

“Does this mean you guys are officially friends again?” Dustin asks. His eagerness at the prospect is evident in his voice. Dramatically, you look side to side between the young boy and your long lost friend. 

“Oh, I guess,” you laugh. 

“That’s what I call a win!” Steve cheers, fist shooting into the sky. 

“All right, all right. Don’t be a nerd about it. Be cool.” But even you’re giddy at the idea. As you head deeper into the woods, you decide that having Steve in your life as a friend is better than not having him there at all. His actions at the end of summer still hurt, but not nearly as much as his absence. 

“Oh, boom!” Steve crouches working his way through the shrubbery. “Bada bing, bada boom. There she is, Henderson. Skull Rock. In your face, man. In your stupid, cocky little face.” 

“Doesn’t make sense,” Dustin says beside you, staring ahead at the infamous site. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve talks with his hand, silencing the teen. “Even with it staring you right in the face, you can’t admit it. You just can’t admit you’re wrong, you butthead.” 

A thud hits the earth behind you. “I concur,” Eddie’s voice rings out. You whip around at the sound, grinning at the leather clad boy and his mop of curls. “You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

“Jesus, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin wraps his arms around Eddie, squeezing him tight. Eddie hesitates a beat before patting his back, rings glistening in the setting sun. 

“Yeah, me too, man.” His eyes lock with yours, soft and kind as you remember. “Me too.”

“Eddie,” you breathe. You aren’t sure what comes over you. Before you can stop, you’re stepping closer and throwing your arms around his neck. It startles him, and honestly, it startles you too. You back away quickly, clearing your throat as the other’s footsteps grow closer. 

“Here,” Dustin says, shrugging off his backpack. “We brought you some food.” He pulls out two bags of chips and a canteen, handing the pile to Eddie. Eddie rips open the plastic and chews handfuls at a time. 

“Guess we should get you up to speed,” Nancy begins. Everyone takes turns recounting yesterday’s events while he eats. He listens intently, asking a few clarifying questions, eyes full of horror as you tell him what you know. 

“We were on our way to come find you but couldn’t get through a mob of people by Lovers Lake.” You take over, filling him in on what you saw that morning. “It’s bad. Powell says that Patrick was murdered last night and,” your breath catches, unsure how to continue. “Well, you’re the prime suspect. I can’t imagine you’re the eyewitness he claims to have?” He pretends to ponder your question for a moment.

“I’d say unlikely. Jason and his goons paid me a nice little visit last night.” Eddie sighs. “I guess they found out I was staying at Rick’s somehow. I used the boat to try and get away but Jason and Patrick swam after me.” He shudders at his recollection. “It was like he was, uh, pulled under the water or by something at first.” You gulp, you can’t help but think of Heather. “Then he just shot out of the air. I don’t know if I was shocked or if the wave toppled the boat or what, but I fell in. And when I came up, uh, it was the same after that. Just like Chrissy.” 

“Jesus,” Lucas mumbles. He eyes Dustin as he paces around in the dirt. 

“When I got to shore, I tried calling you guys, but uh,” he says, yanking the cap off the water and taking a drink. “My walkie was busted, man. Drenched. So, uh, I did the thing that I do now, apparently.” He flashes a joyless grin, wiping his chin with his jacket sleeve. “I ran,” he chuckles. 

“Do you know what time this was? The attack?” Nancy asks. 

“Yeah, no, I, uh, I know exactly what time it was.” He fiddles with a clasp on his wrist. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.” He flashes his watch before chucking it into the air toward Nancy. She grabs it, checks the time, and nods. 

“9:27.” 

“Same time our flashlights went kablooey,” Robin states. 

“Which means what, exactly?” Steve asks.

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick,” Nancy concludes, tossing the watch back to Eddie.

“Well, we’re one step closer. We know how Vecna attacks,” Robin nods to the semi-circle that has formed around the new member. 

“And where he attacks from,” Lucas says. 

“So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart,” Max’s eyes are full of determination. 

“If he even has a heart,” Robin chuckles. 

“A stake? Is he like a vamp? Is he a vampire?” Steve looks at you while he speaks. 

“Doubt it, genius,” you mumble, earning an eye roll. 

“It was a metaphor,” Max says with annoyance. 

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie asks from the ground.

“I say we chop his head off.” You give an approving nod to Lucas’s idea. 

“Yeah, I’d say all the above but we can’t do any of that until we find a way into the Upside Down.” Nancy reminds the group.

“We need El to get her powers back,” Max sighs. 

“Yeah, everything was like way easier. We had this girl. She had superpowers,” Steve tries to give a grossly simplified explanation to Eddie before he cuts in. 

“Superpowers. Yeah, you mentioned her.” Eddie’s eyes find Dustin who still paces a few feet away from everyone. “Hey, uh, Henderson’s not, uh, cursed, is he?” 

“Cursed? No, no. He’s fine. Mental? Absolutely,” Steve nods. 

“Boom!” Dustin screams, effectively making everyone jump. He shoots a finger at Steve, eyes set. “Bada, bada, boom.” Steve’s entire face scrunches in confusion. “I was right.” 

“Oh Jesus, not this again.” You groan. 

“Skull Rock was north.” 

“Seriously. You’re serious?” Steve gapes in awe. 

“Mhm.”

“This is Skull Rock, okay?” Steve gestures wildly. 

“Mhm.”

“You are totally, absolutely, one hundred percent wrong. Right now.” Steve aggressively points to the ground for emphasis. 

“Yes,” Dustin agrees. “And no.” 

“Oh my god,” Steve rubs his hands across his face in frustration.

“This compass worked correctly when we left the Wheeler’s. It was correct when we got in the car on Kerley, but it started to slip the further east we went. Now, it’s way off. When I was leading us here, I wasn’t wrong. The compass was.” He holds it up, showing it off to the group. 

“So you’re using faulty equipment. Dude, you’re still wrong.” 

“Except it isn’t faulty.” He holds up a finger. “Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?” 

“An electromagnetic field.” 

“Yep.” Dustin looks back, waiting for everyone to catch up. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve skipped that class?” Robin says sarcastically, urging him to continue. 

“In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power. So either there’s some super big magnet around here, or,” he trails off.

“There’s a gate,” Lucas concludes. 

“But we’re nowhere near the lab,” Nancy states.

“But what if, somehow, there’s another gate? A gate that we don’t know about. It’d have to be smaller. Way less powerful.” 

“Snack-size gate,” Robin shrugs.

“How? Why?” Steve asks, trying to understand. 

“No idea. All I know is that something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is because then we’d have a way to Vecna. And a shot at freeing Max from this curse.” Dustin says, stepping away to begin the journey. 

“Where are you going? Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.” Dustin ignores Steve. “Eddie’s still a wanted man. We can’t just go for a hike in the woods.” 

“This little steel capsule might be the key to saving both Max and Eddie,” Dustin says with conviction. “What say you, Eddie the banished?” Everyone’s heads turn to Eddie awaiting his answer. 

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor, which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea. But, uh, the Shire,” he looks to the clouds. You follow his gaze, unable to locate what he sees. “The Shire is burning.” Dustin bounces at the foot of the hill, smiling wide as he stares back. “So Mordor it is.” Eddie jumps down, brushing through the group to meet Dustin. 

“What is Mordor?” Steve mumbles to only you. 

“Lord of the Rings,” you whisper. Eddie jogs back, grabbing his walkie and the canteen. 

“Get your stuff, dude. Let’s go.” Steve urges him with wild arms to follow the others. You walk slower than the rest, watching the birds and bugs as you follow. Steve has left you to catch up and badger Dustin, still adamant that he won the argument earlier. Eddie pauses, sneakers staying planted in the leaves until you’re side by side. 

“So this, uh, Upside Down place everyone keeps talking about,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “You’ve been there?” You nod and suck in a breath. 

“Briefly, but yes. We all have.” You wave to your friends. “Except Robin. I haven’t seen the doom-and-gloom version of Hawkins like Nance, though. The rest of us were just in tunnels.” 

“How long have you guys been dealing with all this shit?” 

“Since Will disappeared. That’s when it all started with the Demogorgon,” you explain. 

“The Demogorgon?” His brows raise. “Are all of the monsters D&D characters?”

“That’s what the kids called it. Kinda looked like a really tall man without a face and razor-sharp claws. Then there were the Demodogs, which were like baby Demogorgons, not fully grown. And around the fall is when the Mind Flayer came in. It attached itself to Will somehow. Used him to spy here. His mom, Jonathan, and Nancy got it out, but it didn’t go back to the Upside Down. It just stayed in our world. Then, last summer, it used new hosts. Billy,” you start, but your breath hitches, still unable to say Heather’s name or her parents. “Anyway, it killed a bunch of people in town. It used them to become this huge spider-looking thing.” 

“You said the mall the other day. That’s where it was?” 

“That’s where Nancy and the others led it. Long story short, there was a Russian fortress underneath trying to open another gate. Robin cracked their secret code. Steve and I got kidnapped and tortured. Robin, Dustin, and Erica rescued us, and then we all threw fireworks at it while Hopper and Joyce turned off the machine that was opening the gate. Which killed the Mind Flayer.” Your explanation is longwinded and jumbled but you hope it’d suffice. You don’t want to talk about it more than you have to, but Eddie deserves to know the truth. 

“Jesus,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. You hug your jacket tighter around yourself as the weather cools with the setting sun. “Are you not, like, scared at all?” 

“Oh, I’m petrified.” You let out a chuckle but it’s humorless. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” he smiles. “I mean, shit, you’ve seen me. I always thought that if it came down to it, I’d fight like hell. But fuck, dude,” he trails off, shaking his head. You know all too well what he means.

“If it makes you feel any better, I ran too.” Maybe, you didn’t flee in the moment, from the monsters, or alternate dimension. But you did run away from the aftermath, from Heather, heartbreak, and your friends. You left it all behind, unable to bear the weight of the trauma. Somehow, that’s worse. “You wanna know the one thing all of this has taught me?” He nods, practically begging you to continue. “Be afraid and do it anyway. Do it terrified. Don’t let it immobilize you.” 

“Hey slowpokes,” Robin calls from up ahead before he can respond. She stands with her hands on her hips. The others are several yards from where you are. You hadn’t noticed how far the two of you had strayed. “We’re wasting daylight here.” 

“Rodger that,” Eddie gives a small salute, nodding toward her as you pick up speed. 

You’re starting to grow angry as the day slips away into the night. You’ve been walking for miles, your feet ache, and a thin layer of sweat coats your body despite the chill in the air. Dustin still leads the way into the unknown, reassuring the annoyed groans coming from Robin who’s just as agitated as you. Suddenly, he breaks into a sprint. He pushes through branches and out of your sight without another word. The rest of you jog after him, slowed by exhaustion. 

“Dustin? Can you slow down?” Eddie asks in front of you, trudging through the trees. “Dustin?” He tries again when the boy doesn’t answer. You stumble into a clearing behind him, pushing away branches before they can hit your face. 

“I think we’re getting close!” Dustin yells back for everyone to hear. 

“Watch your step, big guy.” Eddie balls a handful of Dustin’s hoodie into his fist and yanks gently, saving him from toppling into the water. 

“Oh, man,” Steve groans at the sight. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” 

“Yeah, I thought these woods were familiar,” Eddie sighs.

“Lover’s Lake,” Robin names. 

“This is confounding,” Dustin gapes in awe. 

“There’s a gate in Lover’s Lake?” Max asks. 

“Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening,” Nancy says. “Maybe Vecna’s the same way.” Everyone looks between each other and back to the sight before you.

“Yeah, only one way to find out,” Steve says, unable to look away from the lake. 

“Over here,” Eddie jerks his head toward the shoreline. The group follows as Steve shines a flashlight to where Eddie instructs. He yanks away a tarp revealing a small boat, only big enough for maybe four people, and even that’s pushing it. You and Robin help them drag it back to the sand, stepping away when the bow touches the water. 

“Easy,” Steve demands, attempting to coax it in. Eddie lets go, sending waves crashing back into the mud. “I-I said easy.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Sorry, dude,” Eddie mumbles. 

“Here you go,” Steve turns, offering a hand to Robin.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna do that.” Robin ignores it and places a palm on each of their heads as a guide instead.

“Yeah, that works too,” Steve grumbles. Eddie boards quickly, turning around and outstretching his palm which you gladly take. You ignore how warm it feels in your own, how part of you wants to hold on for longer. 

“Got her?” Steve whispers, making sure you get in safely.

“Of course,” Eddie smiles. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, pulling away. 

“Hey, hey, hey, you trying to sink us?” You turn just in time to see Eddie pushing Dustin by his head back to land. “This thing holds three people tops, okay?” You move around Eddie, eye to eye with Dustin. 

“You guys need to stay here with Max, okay? Keep an eye out for trouble.” 

“You keep an eye out for trouble!” He raises his voice. “It’s my goddamn theory.” 

“You heard her,” Robin defends. “Stay here and listen to Nance.” 

“Who put her in charge?” Dustin asks, shooting a thumb over his shoulder in her general direction. 

“I did,” Robin shrugs.

“You’ll get all the credit when the time comes,” you reassure, “But I’m not arguing with you right now.” Looking at him, all you can see is an eight-year-old boy refusing to listen. 

“You’re not my mom.” He fires back.

“Well,” you wave your arms around the woods, annoyed. “I’ve been the next best thing for over ten years so what I say goes.” His eyes harden as he clenches down on his jaw. “I need you to stay here so you can be safe.” 

“And what about you?” He yells, voice cracking. “I need you to be safe.” You soften, sucking in a breath. Even though it’s anger he hides behind, you can see his true fear. 

“I’m going to be right back, I promise.” You nod with as much conviction as you can muster. “Compass, please?” You whisper, reaching out. Reluctantly, he digs into his pocket and passes it over. 

“Hey, here you go,” Steve chucks a backpack into his arms. You turn and take a seat as Steve begins to push the boat forward. He hangs on to the boat as it lurches, stepping in at the last second.

“You said three!” Dustin calls. 

“Sorry,” Steve whispers beside you, waving slightly as Robin and Eddie begin to row away. 

“Bedtime at nine, kiddos!” Robin yells at them. You can’t help but laugh as Dustin flips her off. “Miss you already!” She stands, dramatically waving to add insult to injury. “Think Nance is mad she got stuck on babysitting duty?” She asks, sitting back down. 

“Tough shit. It’s about time someone else does it.” Steve shrugs. You keep your eyes on the compass needle, watching closely for any sign of movement. Robin and Eddie continue rowing, occasionally groaning in the quiet of the night. After a few minutes, it happens. 

“Oh shit,” you whisper at the compass spinning wildly in your grasp. “Okay, slow down, slow down!” Robin grunts, bringing the boat to a stop. Steve leans over, flashlight shining for everyone to see. 

“Whoa,” he whispers, watching as it moves frantically. 

“Guys, what’s going on?” The walkie squawks, Dustin’s voice piercing through the air. “Come on guys talk to me, what’s going on?” he asks again. 

“Uh, Dustin, your–your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital, ahh.” Robin trails off. To your left, Steve kicks off his shoes and unrolls his socks. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You whisper urgently. 

“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out.” 

“And it has to be you?” Panic rises in your chest. The thought of him hurdling into the unknown makes you sick. 

“Unless one of you three can top being a Hawkins High swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then,” he trails off. “It’s gotta be me. No complaints, all right?”

“Um, yes, complaints. I was the best lifeguard every year.” 

“Yeah, for only three summers. Give me a break.” He rolls his eyes. “Which, by the way, I’m the reason you got that job.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me, Harrington.”

“Uh, guys?” Robin interjects. “Now’s not really the time for one of your little squabbles.” 

“I’m going.” The determination in his voice takes your breath away. You finally nod, knowing there isn’t a world where you change his mind. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining. I do not want to go down there.” Eddie mumbles, making you feel worse. You don’t want anyone to go. You’d do it just for the comfort of knowing none of your friends are beneath the surface. But there’s no way Steve would let that happen.

Eddie finds a discarded plastic bag and starts to wrap it around the flashlight. Steve stands from his seat, slipping out of his sweatshirt and tossing the fabric to the side. You can’t help but stare. His muscles are tense as he takes shallow breaths, looking into the murky water. He looks even more beautiful than you remember. 

“Hey,” Eddie says. You look away quickly, hoping Steve didn’t notice. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” Steve sighs, taking the flashlight out of Eddie’s grasp. Eddie removes a cigarette from his pocket, flicking his lighter and setting it ablaze. 

“Gross.” Robin yanks the stick from his lips and sends it flying into the water. 

“Hey,” you grab Steve’s hand gently. He looks back with soft eyes. “Please be careful.” He nods, squeezing your hand. When he breaks away, you can practically feel your heart in your throat. With a final breath, the boat teeters, and then he’s underwater. 

The boat rocks, creaking in the silence. You stare at your watch, the seconds coming and going without any sign of Steve. Eddie bounces his leg nervously while Robin picks at her nail polish. 

Come back to me. Those words hold more meaning now than they did this morning. You’ve wasted so much time these past few days being angry, instead of thankful that you had him back. You aren’t sure where the two of you lie, if the ghosts of your past are too great a divide to overcome. Staring at the clock that keeps ticking, you worry you’ll never know.

“Where are we at?” Robin asks nervously. 

“Closing in on a minute.” You whisper. 

“Okay,” she lets out a sigh full of anxiety. 

“He’s going to be okay, Robin.” You try to force a smile but your lips can’t move. “He has to be.” You look back down as you reach the minute mark. You give up on staring, it only makes it harder. Instead, you lean your arms against the metal and let out a breath. Eddie clears his throat behind you, shifting in his seat. 

Steve breaks through the surface, splashing you with water. 

“Oh, Christ!” Eddie screams, throwing his body against the side of the boat at his abrupt arrival. You and Robin smile with relief the moment you see him.

“I found it,” he announces. 

“You found it?” You ask in shock. 

“I found it.” He gasps for air. “Yeah, found it.” Grabbing onto the rim, he rubs the water from his eyes. 

“Dustin, you’re a goddamn Einstein. Steve found the gate.” Robin says into the walkie. 

“It’s pretty wild. It’s more a snack-size gate than the mama gate, but still, it’s pretty damn big.” He says, pulling himself up slightly with his arms. Suddenly, he’s yanked down. The boat jostles slightly. The three of you grab onto the metal for balance, startled. Steve looks from the water and back up, confusion written across his features. Just when you’re about to reach for Steve, he screams. Instantly, he’s pulled back under and into the darkness. 

“Steve!” You wail, reaching into the water in search of his hand. Waves slap the sides from the impact.

“No, no!” Eddie yells coming behind you and Robin. 

“Steve!” Robin screams, submerging both arms in and stretching as far as she can without falling in herself. “Steve!”

“What the hell was that, man?” Eddie paces in small circles as you stand, careful not to tip over the side. Robin calls your name but you can’t focus on anything but the thought of him drowning. 

“Really, what happened?” Robin shouts, voice pleading.

“Jesus!” 

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself. A clarity washes over you as you stare at the bubbles he left in his wake. 

You grab onto the boat, ready to throw yourself over just as Eddie yanks you back by your wrist. “Wait, wait, wait!”

“Let me go!” You beg, wrenching yourself free from his grasp.

“You’re not going in there are you?” His eyes are full of dread as he stares.

“Don’t come in after me.” You keep your tone steady. You look quickly over to Robin who looks so as though she could burst into tears at any moment. “I mean it.” They scream your name, voices hoarse but you pay them no attention. After a quick breath, you dive into the abyss. 

The water is so cold it’s painful. It feels like your body is on fire as you kick further down, further away from safety. You can’t see much in the darkness, and you aren’t entirely sure what you’re looking for either. Frantically scouring the floor of the lake you see a faint glow. You swim faster towards it, limbs burning with each stroke. 

Through blurry vision you see the crack in the earth, already closing itself back together. It’s slimy against your palms as you push against it, but it refuses to break. Desperately, you dig, ignoring the gunk that gets trapped under your nails. You think about the monsters that inevitably lurk on the other side, waiting for your arrival. How you’ll be trapped, weaponless at that, without a clue on how to return. 

Don’t let me drown. My life is in your hands.

You couldn’t save Heather, but you have to save Steve. Without a second thought, you tear through the gate and into the Upside Down.  

Forever tags: @superfrankie111 // @lemonadeorange73 // @youshutthefuckupville // @quaksonhehe

Steve Tags: @louloueh // @soulmatekeery // @slytherinambitious

Back to You Tags: @p-rspective // @gloryekaterina // @boomitsallie1 // @sundarksposts // @themyththelegendthenerd // @gengen64 // @frostandflamesfanfic // @m-rae23

[lovebugism]

Someone knocks at the door while you and rockstar!Eddie are fucking and instead of stopping he goes faster while yelling ‘In a minute’ to the person at the door

the one where your friends keep catching you and eddie having sex (rockstar!eddie universe, established relationship, implied enemies to lovers, cw for smut 18+)

Let it be known, that it would take a nearly apocalyptic nuclear war — or something rapture adjacent, at the very least — for Eddie Munson to stop fucking you. Most people have learned this the hard way. You included.

You’re a panting mess beneath his pale, tattooed form. Eddie’s body, made of milky white silk, grows slick with a fine layer of sweat as he thrusts mercilessly into you. His curls sway around your face each time his lean hips collide with your open thighs. The dull clapping sound that fills the bedroom is punctuated by Eddie’s choked-back groans and your subdued whimpers.

The two of you always make it a point to be polite about your fucking — never quite as loud as you want to be, so as to keep from traumatizing your roommates. Like respectful adults. So it’s entirely Steve’s fault when he barges in with a halfhearted knock like a total psycho.

“Hey, do you guys wanna—” The boy freezes at the sight of his best friends, in a pile beneath the covers, who before now hated each other’s guts. His face screws together like he’s tasted something sour. “Jesus Christ…”

Eddie ceases his thrusts to toss Steve a look over his freckled shoulder. He never moves off of you, effectively shielding your naked body from his view, nor does he pull his stiff cock from your pulsing confines. Much to your horror.

“What?” the wild-haired boy wonders through labored breaths, face flushed red with sex.

“I was gonna ask if you guys wanted to come to the movies with me and Robin,” Steve answers with a roll of his eyes, already on his way out. “But you’re obviously busy—”

“Wait— That new buddy cop movie?” Eddie calls to the boy’s retreating form.

“Eddie!” you hiss through your teeth, filled with panic and distant pleasure, ‘cause the idiot’s trying to have a conversation like he isn’t balls deep inside you. He flashes you a wide-eyed chocolate stare like he’s innocent. “Stop,” you mouth to him.

“Yeah. Start’s at eight.”

“Well, don’t leave us, alright?” he tells him. “We’re coming.”

“Gross,” Steve mumbles and shuts the door behind him.

Eddie turns back to you. His curly bangs are damp with sweat and sticking to his forehead in places. His glowing cheeks are tinted a faint pink color. His lips are swollen and rosy as they curl into a smirk. Sex is written all over his face, painfully so. 

“That pun wasn’t intended, by the way—” Eddie jokes before you swat at his lanky bicep. “Ow!”

—————

A year or more later, you and Corrodded Coffin are selling out venues across the country. The world is a whole lot bigger than The Hideout, apparently. ‘Cause, as it turns out, more than just a couple of drunks care about seeing your band play. 

Somewhere down the line, you and the lead guitarist of said band are more serious about each other than you ever planned to be — much to the dismay of the rest of your bandmates. Not because they hadn’t spent years waiting for you guys to get together (they most definitely had), but because it was virtually impossible to have privacy while living on a tour bus.

Despite your feeble efforts to stay as subtle as possible, it’s dreadfully apparent when you and Eddie are fucking. The door to the bunks slides slowly shut, and Jeff and Gareth wait with walkmans over their ears until it opens again. This time, they flip a coin to decide who has to interrupt.

Gareth loses (‘cause Gareth always loses) and curses under his breath while he knocks on the closed door. 

“Do you guys want food?” you hear him ask over the heavy breathing in your ear. “That fancy ramen place across the bar just offered us dinner.” 

Meanwhile, Eddie Munson is riddled with post-show adrenaline as he all but fucks you stupid. His curly hair is as wild as his glassy eyes, now smokey around the edges with smudged black liner. He keeps his chest flush to your spine as he pounds into you with a primal sort of vigor — one ringed hand curled in your hair, the other gripping the plush of your hip.

“Nah, man!” he calls back, choppy through labored breaths, ‘cause he never stops thrusting into you. You’d be worried about the quiet clapping sound of his hips against your ass if your head weren’t so fuzzy. “We’re good!”

The promise of food reminds you that you haven’t eaten since earlier that day. Suddenly, you’re overcome with unexpected hunger and looming pleasure. 

“Wait, Eds,” you pant. “Food actually sounds really good right now.”

Eddie rolls his eyes in response, even though you both know he’s gonna give you what you want either way. First, a leg-shaking orgasm that you’ll in feel in your limbs for a half hour after it’s over. Second, all the damn ramen you can eat.

“Fuck, fine— Okay, we’re coming!” Eddie shouts. “Just give us, like, ten minutes, will ya?!”

Gareth grumbles faintly from the other side of the sliding glass door. “Yes, master,” you hear him grouse as he stalks off back to the living area of the tour bus — where it’s safe. 

A laugh rumbles in Eddie’s chest as he starts fucking into you again. You bury a whine into your pillow when his balls slap your clit. He presses his mouth to your ear, and you feel his lips curling into a lopsided smile there. “You call me that, and we’ll be outta here in thirty seconds flat, sweetheart.”

[keeryhours]

there is no other love (it’s only yours) - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Join a Taglist

Summary:

You and your best friend are constantly mistaken for a couple - sometimes you have a little fun with it.

Or, 5 times you were mistaken for Steve Harrington’s girlfriend, and the one time you really were.

Warnings:

Kissing, underage drinking, just fluff

Word Count: 8k

A/N:

Wow this is finally getting posted! This has been in my docs half written since JANUARY. I’m excited to finally share it with you, and anon who requested this, I hope you’re still around to see it! Thank you @punkrockmlchael for my banner ❤️

The first time you were mistaken for Steve’s girlfriend, you were in high school. It was a Friday night and the atmosphere in Hawkins was electric. The basketball team was about to play the championship game, and the whole school was crowded into the gym.

You dressed in a shirt you made with Steve’s number, 11, painted onto it, Harrington across the back. You used face paint to draw little 11s onto your cheeks. When you walked into the gym, Steve spotted you immediately, running up to you and wrapping you in a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, a huge grin on his face. “Look at you, all school spirit-ed up!”

“Just for you,” you laughed. “Harrington’s #1 fan.”

Steve looked genuinely touched. He pulled you into another hug, holding you until his coach called for him.

“Harrington! We need you over here!”

Steve pulled back, hands on your shoulders as he smiled at you. “See you after the game. I better hear you in the crowd.” Then he turned and jogged back to where the rest of his team waited for him.

You were still smiling as you climbed the steps, finding a spot with a great view of the whole court. Carol and Tina gave you a strange look as you passed, but you ignored them.

The game started, and the crowd came alive. Your eyes were glued to Steve the whole time, watching as he expertly blocked the other team’s shots and made basket after basket. He was running the court, and you had never felt more proud.

The other team was not having a good time. One of their players in particular started getting rough with Steve, elbowing him and knocking him to the ground. You gasped, standing to get a better look, but he was fine. Jason offered him a hand and helped him up, and the ref called a foul.

Steve was awarded a free throw. He stood behind the free throw line, bouncing the ball a couple of times as he lined up his shot. He tossed the ball and it effortlessly flew through the air, swishing through the basket. He took his second free throw, once again sinking the ball in the basket. His teammates clapped him on the back as they got back to the game. Steve looked into the stands, spotting you immediately and giving you a smile and small wave that you happily returned.

The game was close. The clock ticked down the remainder of the fourth quarter, and the other team was just barely in the lead, 71 to 70. Steve got control of the ball, spinning around to face the net. The timer went on - 2 seconds, 1 second - and Steve took the shot. All of Hawkins held their breath as the ball flew through the air, seemingly in slow motion - and swished through the basket.

The crowd went wild. You stood, jumping up and down as you screamed your head off. The team surrounded Steve, lifting him high in the air as they chanted - “Harrington! Harrington! Harrington!”

You ran down the steps as fast as you could. Steve turned to you like you were the only person in the room, holding his arms out for you to run into. He scooped you up, twirling you around as you laid your head on his sweaty shoulder.

“That was incredible!” You exclaimed once he sat you down. “You were amazing out there!”

“Thank you,” he said, the huge grin plastered to his face. He was riding the high of the win, of being the star player of the Hawkins varsity basketball team. It was a well deserved pride.

Your moment was interrupted by Carol and Tina approaching. They gave you a look, eyes moving between you and Steve.

“So are you guys, like, dating now?” Carol asked, her tone bitchy as usual.

You opened your mouth to say no, you were just friends, but Steve beat you to it.

“Yeah, we are,” he said proudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We’ve been dating for a couple months now. She’s the best, isn’t she?”

You looked up at him in confusion, but decided to go along with it. “Oh, yeah,” you added. “Steve is just amazing. He’s the best boyfriend ever.”

Steve went on. “We’ve been best friends forever, you know, but I finally confessed my feelings and asked her out. I was terrified. But she said she felt the same, and the rest is history, as they say.” He chuckled. “Best thing I’ve ever done. She’s my dream girl.”

Carol and Tina both looked between you, their expressions judgmental as they chewed their bubblegum. “Well, good for you guys, I guess,” Carol said, before the two of them walked off.

When they were out of earshot, you turned to Steve, brows furrowed. “We’ve been dating for a couple months?” You questioned him, a laugh in your voice.

Steve shrugged, grinning. “Why not? It’s none of their business anyway.”

“You came up with a whole backstory.” You shook your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

Everyone at school thought you were dating after that, and neither of you ever corrected anyone. When prom season rolled around, Steve asked you to go - just as friends. You went shopping with Robin and found the perfect dress - dark purple, sleeveless and with a poofy skirt. It fell to just below your knees. It made you feel beautiful, you had been looking forward to prom your whole life, never having an excuse to dress up like this.

Your older sister, Lori, came over, excited to help you get ready. You sat on the bench of your vanity, talking and laughing with her as she curled your hair, then did your makeup. She did your eyeshadow first, a smokey eye that went well with your dress. She painted your lips with a nude color. 

Steve picked you up that evening, knocking on your door and using his Harrington charm on your mom, who already loved him. She always told you that you and Steve should get married, and jokingly called him her son in law when he wasn’t around.

When you walked down the stairs and saw him, your heart skipped a beat. In reality you were just friends, of course, but he looked so handsome it nearly took your breath away. He was dressed in a black tux, a dark purple tie on to match your dress. He might have looked even better than you did, you thought.

“You look beautiful,” Steve said. He held a purple corsage in his hand, still in its clear box.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” You reached for the hall table and grabbed the matching purple boutonniere sitting on top.

Your mom took about a million photos as you pinned the boutonniere to Steve’s jacket and he slid the corsage onto your wrist. Then you were made to pose for another million photos. You didn’t entirely mind, and Steve sure didn’t - he was absolutely eating up the attention - but you were ready to get going when she was finally satisfied.

Steve held out his arm and you looped yours through his. Your parents and Lori watched you from the front door as you walked - and saw a limo sitting out front.

“Steve!” You gasped. “This is too much.”

“It’s not every day we go to prom,” he smiled. “I wanted to make it special.”

Steve held your hand as you climbed into the back of the limo, him right behind you. When the limo began moving, he reached into the mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of champagne, holding it up on display and raising his eyebrows. “Want a drink?”

“Uh, yes,” you said, like it was obvious - which it was. Steve grinned as he grabbed two champagne flutes and filled them with the bubbly liquid.

You laughed together as you drank on the way to school, and by the time you got there you were both pretty tipsy. It was going to be a fun night.

Steve helped you climb out from the limo, escorting you inside. You stopped to take a photo together where Jonathan was running the booth. As you walked into the auditorium, Time After Time was just beginning to play.

Steve held out his hand - “Dance with me?”

You didn’t have to be asked twice. You took his hand and he led you to the dance floor, his hands sliding to your waist as your arms went around his neck and he held you close. You slow danced with your best friend, worried he could feel your heart beating against his own chest. The way he looked at you sent butterflies flying in your stomach. You almost thought he might kiss you.

But that would be silly, wouldn’t it?

After high school, you and Steve both got jobs at Scoops Ahoy. The uniforms were stupid and the job was mundane, but at least you got to work with your best friend. And Steve was pretty cute in the sailor outfit.

“I didn’t even know there were this many ice cream flavors in existence,” Steve said on your first day, looking down at the freezer in wonder. “It’s like…ice cream wonderland.”

You snorted. “Do you want some ice cream, Stevie?”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “Uh, yeah, I do. You’re telling me you’re not excited by free ice cream?”

“I guess it’s one perk of this shitty job.” You grabbed two of the sample spoons. “What flavor?”

Steve examined the freezer again. “Rocky Road.”

“Chocolate chip cookie dough for me,” you said, opening the glass door and scooping one of each flavor. You handed the spoon to Steve, who ate it right away.

Steve watched you as you ate the ice cream off the spoon, making you blush. You licked the delicious treat off the spoon, him watching you intently the whole time. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve said, shaking his head as he turned back to the cash register, acting like he was doing something very important as his shorts suddenly felt uncomfortably tight, the skin of his neck heating in a blush.

The two of you goofed around until the mall opened, then it was a steady stream of customers ready to cool down from the summer heat. It kept you busy, but some of the customers liked to talk.

“You’re such a beautiful girl,” one older lady commented one day as you scooped her mint chocolate chip. “Is that handsome young man your boyfriend?”

You started to laugh, “Oh, he’s-“

But Steve interrupted, putting his arm around you. Your heartbeat sped up, beating hard in your chest, although you didn’t know why. “Yeah, we’ve been dating for years. High school sweethearts. It was our dream to open this ice cream shop together. Now it’s finally come true, hasn’t it sweetheart?”

You looked at him. “That’s right babe. I’m just happy to be on this adventure, setting sail on the ocean of flavor, with you.”

Steve kissed you on the temple before he beamed back at the woman, who seemed to believe you as she took her ice cream, smiling at you both. “How cute. That’s wonderful. You remind me of me and my husband at your age.”

When she left, you and Steve busted out laughing. “Nice job, sweetheart,” he laughed.

“You’ve got to stop telling people we’re together,” you shook your head with a smile.

“Why? It’s fun.” Steve lifted his sailor hat to run a hand through his immaculate hair. You couldn’t help but notice his new sneakers he got to match his uniform. He would do something like that.

Steve was in the back when a group of familiar kids walked in. Before they could even ask, you turned. “Stevie, your kids are here!”

Steve came around the corner, hands on his hips. “Really? Again?”

“It’s Day of the Dead,” Dustin reasoned. “We can’t get in and we aren’t missing it.”

You wandered to the back, leaving Steve to deal with the group of kids using him to sneak into an R rated movie. You decided it was the perfect time to take your break, sitting at the table and grabbing your book from your bag, flipping to where you left off.

Out front, Dustin gave Steve a smirk. “So, that’s her?”

Steve’s head twisted around in a panic to make sure you were out of earshot. When he turned back to the kids, his expression was irritated. “Dude.”

“She’s pretty,” Mike commented. “I see why you’re so obsessed.”

“I am not-“ Steve looked around again before leaning closer onto the counter. “I am not obsessed.”

“Yeah, okay, man,” Lucas said, telling Steve he didn’t believe him for a second.

“You never shut up about her,” Max contributed. “We’re not dumb. It’s obvious you’re in loooove.”

Steve blushed furiously, looking down to hide the redness of his cheeks. “I am not…you know what, don’t you have a movie to catch?”

He quickly led them through the back, not giving a single one of them the opportunity to speak to you. He didn’t trust them one bit. He opened the door to the back hall and the kids all filed out, making kissy noises at him as they left.

Because Steve definitely wasn’t in love with you. You were just his best friend. Nothing more. He swears.

Your sister Lori had a baby girl 6 months after you graduated high school. She named her Annie, and she was really a perfect baby. Always so calm and well behaved, and she loved spending time with you and Steve.

You were basically volunteered for babysitting duty whenever it was needed, but you didn’t mind. You always loved kids, and you loved your sister and your niece. It was fun to play house for the day, go out in public and pretend you were a mom. It was especially fun when Steve tagged along, because, well, he made everything more fun.

When Annie was 1 year old, your sister left you in charge while she and her husband went to Indianapolis for the day. You and Steve decided to have a fun day and take her out to the children’s museum. She had just gotten walking down and always wanted to be independent now.

It took Steve an annoyingly long time to find a parking spot and it was making Annie fussy, so when he finally did, you were all relieved.

“Way too fuckin’ busy for a Tuesday,” Steve grumbled as he killed the car engine and started unbuckling his seat belt. You grabbed Annie from the back and got her buckled in her stroller, which Steve pushed to the front door. He bought three tickets from the counter and you all headed inside, Annie looking at the surrounding ocean exhibit with wide eyed wonder.

Steve was amazing with kids. It always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside to see him interact with them, and the way he played with your niece was no exception. He sat her on his shoulders as he walked through the museum, giving her the best view of anything she could want to see.

When you reached the mini grocery store setup, Steve sat the wiggling toddler down and she grabbed his hand, leading him through the fake store. She added all kinds of pretend food to her mini shopping cart, and when she was done, Steve manned the cash register and scanned her purchases.

“Having a cookout this weekend?” Steve asked as he scanned a pretend pack of hot dogs. “Beautiful weather for it.” When she was done, she walked off with her cart. Steve stopped her - “Ma’am! Your change!”

In the playground area, Annie found some toddlers her age and began playing with the blocks with them. You and Steve took a much needed break as you sat together on a bench with Annie in full view.

“Long day,” Steve sighed, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up the slightest bit, revealing a tiny bit of skin. Your eyes went right to it.

“Yeah,” you agreed when you wiped the drool off your chin. “You having fun though?”

“‘Course,” Steve smiled at you. “I love hanging out with my girls.”

His girls. The sentence made you feel giddy, like you weren’t just babysitting your niece and maybe had an actual family with Steve. A wedding ring, an adorable brown haired hazel eyed child. You let yourself entertain the thought.

The couple sat on the bench next to you turned your way, the woman giving you a friendly smile. “Is she yours?” She asked, pointing to Annie.

“Oh, yeah,” you answered. Steve leaned around you to look at the couple. “Her name is Annie.”

“She’s adorable,” the woman said. “That’s mine, Oliver.” She pointed to the little boy handing Annie a block. “Sorry if it’s rude to ask, but how old are you two?”

“We’re nineteen,” Steve answered for you. “Just graduated from Hawkins High a year ago.”

“That’s where we met,” the woman said, smiling at her husband before turning back to you. “You’re so young. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Well,” you began, looking at Steve. “It’s definitely hard, but we always knew we wanted kids. Especially Steve.” You leaned on his shoulder, smiling at the couple like you were head over heels in love. “So we got an early start.”

“I’m 30 and I still feel like I don’t know what I’m doing sometimes,” she laughed. “You two are doing great. You have a beautiful family.”

The comment made your heart soar, as if you hadn’t just completely lied to this woman and it wasn’t all pretend. You squeezed Steve’s hand, and he returned it.

When Annie started fussing and rubbing her eyes, you knew it was time to get her home for a nap. You just hoped the day’s excursion had worn her out enough to lay down without a fuss and take a good one. You put her back in her stroller, and Steve pushed it as you left the building.

“So I have to stop making up stories about us being together?” Steve whispered, teasing you for your earlier words.

You blushed. “It was just the perfect opportunity. She totally assumed we were together and Annie was ours.”

“She did,” Steve agreed. “But you surprised me, I didn’t think you’d go for it. I mean, I would have if you didn’t, but still.”

You burst into laughter. “I knew you were thinking it!”

Steve laughed, too. He shook his head, brown locks brushing against the collar of his shirt. “Of course I was thinking it.”

Annie was passed out by the time you got her back into her car seat. Steve was such a natural with her, it made your heart flutter in your chest. You thought about what it might be like if you were together, if Steve was really your boyfriend - or husband - and you had a child together. You knew he would be the best dad in the world. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind.

He played the radio quietly as you drove back home. Neither of you spoke, not wanting to wake Annie. She probably wouldn’t nap once you got home, so you wanted her to get as much rest as possible. But every now and then Steve would turn to you, giving you a soft smile that made your stomach do flips.

When he dropped you off, he helped you carry the sleeping baby inside. Your sister held her hand over her chest as she watched Steve with Annie, shooting you a knowing look behind his back that had you blushing.

“Thank you for taking her,” she told you both. She kept shooting you glances that were far too obvious for your comfort.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Steve said, usual charming smile on his face. “We had a good time.”

“Yeah?” Lori asked, smiling between you two like an idiot. You gave her a look that said please stop.

“Yes,” you answered for the both of you. You pushed Steve through the house and to your bedroom as he laughed.

“I like your sister,” Steve said, laughing. “I don’t know why you’re always trying to get away from her.”

“She’s embarrassing,” you muttered.

“She’s nice,” Steve said.

Yeah, when she isn’t trying to embarrass you in front of your friend. You shook your head. “You don’t get it. You don’t have any siblings.”

Steve kind of deflated at that, and you instantly felt bad. You knew Steve’s family was a touchy subject. His parents were pretty emotionally neglectful, never around, hardly cared what Steve did as long as he showed up to school and didn’t get himself killed. But he was lonely, and always had been. He’d wished for a sibling for as long as he could remember.

You put a hand on his shoulder. “You can have her, if you want.”

That got a smile out of Steve. He nudged your forehead with his own. “Nah. I’d rather just spend time with you.”

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Eddie asked excitedly, practically bouncing up and down as he cornered you, Steve, and Robin at Family Video.

“It is Tuesday,” you said, closing up a VHS box and giving Eddie a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Ed.”

Eddie was beaming as he turned to Steve and Robin expectantly. Steve had been leaning against the counter on one arm, watching you and Robin. With Eddie’s waiting gaze on him, Steve looked between you and him. “Well, I don’t go anywhere without her, so. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“We’ll all be there,” Robin said. “Calm down.”

Eddie was practically bouncing off the walls. This was a big show for Corroded Coffin - not the typical Tuesday night crowd with five drunks. The rumor was someone from a label was supposed to be there. Eddie had been demanding you all come for moral support - and to make the crowd look at least a little bit better.

That night, you dug through your closet looking for something metal concert-appropriate. You didn’t have much to choose from. You ultimately decided on a black top that tied in the front and a tiny little matching skirt. Some tall lace up boots and tights pulled the look together.

When you walked outside to Steve’s car, you could see his eyes widen through the window. You had to pull your skirt down as you got in to keep from flashing him.

“Jesus,” Steve practically choked out. “You look-“

“Ridiculous?” you filled in for him. “Yeah, I know.”

“That…is not what I was going to say.” Steve shook his head, blowing out a long breath of air as he backed out of the driveway.

You picked up Robin next, who slid into the backseat behind you. Both Steve and Robin were dressed in their normal wardrobe - you felt kind of like a total fucking idiot. This wasn’t you.

You didn’t notice the way Steve kept looking at you, letting his gaze linger way longer than he knew he should’ve. Robin noticed.

At the Hideout, Steve put a hand on your lower back and led you into the crowded bar. It was packed for a Tuesday. Steve left you and Robin in a booth and took to the bar with his fake ID.

When he came back, he had three beers held in his hands. He placed them down in front of each of you and slid into the booth on your side.

There were a few opening acts before Corroded Coffin - no one particularly interesting. You were barely listening to the music at all as you chatted with Robin and Steve, laughing harder and harder the more drinks you got in your system.

When Eddie came onstage, the three of you cheered louder than anyone. He caught your eyes in the crowd immediately, smiling and waving back. The band started playing, and you nodded along to the music.

“I need another drink,” you said, hinting that Steve should get up to let you out.

“I’ll go get it for you,” he said, standing.

“No, I need to stretch my legs,” you said. You had forgotten just how tiny your skirt was until you stood and could feel the breeze on your upper thighs. “We can go together.”

Steve nodded, leading you through the crowd. You may not have noticed, but Steve didn’t miss the way every guy in the bar was looking at you, letting their eyes freely drop to your barely-covered ass. Steve shot dirty looks to all of them, staying close behind with his hands on you at all times.

You made it to the bar, leaning against it. It was packed, the bartender all the way at the other end. “This is gonna take forever,” you groaned.

“Wait here,” Steve said. “I’ll go catch him down there. Another beer?”

“And some shots,” you smirked, which Steve returned. You watched him go, disappearing into the crowd of people.

“That your boyfriend?”

You turned around, startled. A large man stood behind you, not entirely unfriendly looking, but you knew better than to trust strange men in bars. “What?”

“Was that your boyfriend?” the man asked, gesturing towards Steve. You looked back at him at the bar before turning back to the man.

“Yes,” you said on instinct.

The man looked like he didn’t quite believe you, like maybe you were just trying to get rid of him (you were). “How long you been together?”

“5 years,” you said easily, thinking of the day you and Steve had become official best friends. “High school sweethearts.”

“Oh yeah?” the man said, his little interest waning.

“Yeah,” you said. “Actually, he stole me from that guy up there.” You gestured up to where Eddie was going crazy on stage, and the man’s eyes widened. “We were together for a little while. But Steve? He’s the real rocker, if you know what I mean.”

The man looked thoroughly uncomfortable at this point. The sight of Steve coming back over from over your shoulder was enough of a push for him to get out of this interaction. “Have a good rest of your night.”

“The real rocker, huh?” Steve asked with a smirk, sliding up next to you and handing you a shot. He carried both your beers in his one hand. You tilted your head back and swallowed the shot with ease. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I think he was gonna hit on me. Asked if you were my boyfriend.”

“And you said yes?” Steve asked teasingly.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to deal with that.”

“Nice story,” Steve said, and you blushed, realizing he had probably overheard more than you thought. “I’m the real rocker?” he repeated, like he had really gotten a kick out of that.

You shrugged. “It made him uncomfortable. I thought it was funny.” You took a second shot.

Steve looked at you - really looked at you. His eyes slowly trailed over your body, your outfit, taking in every inch of skin exposed by the tiny material. His heart thudded harder, harder in his chest. He opened his mouth to say something he’d probably regret when Robin came up between you, grabbing your arm.

“You guys took forever,” she said. “Now I need a drink.”

It had been a few years since graduation when Richard Harrington decided he was done torturing his son and gave him a job at his insurance company.

Steve’s first real Big Boy Job. A job where he had to dress in business casual, get up early to style his hair and iron his shirts. He did well there, rising up the ladder faster than expected - you knew it was on Steve’s own merit because his dad wasn’t exactly the charitable type.

You were a junior in college, studying education. Dean’s list, soaring grades, on track to be class valedictorian. Things were going well.

“Do you want to come with me to the company Christmas party?” Steve asked one evening as you were lounging at your apartment. He was still in his work clothes, button up shirt undone with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He’d come over right after he got off. Most days, all he wanted to do when he got off work was hang out with you.

“You want me to go?” you asked, sitting your mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve said, like it was obvious. “I mean, it’s probably gonna be lame, but if you’re there-“

“I’ll go,” you said. “Do I need to dress up?”

“Uh…yeah. Probably,” Steve said.

“It’s fun to have an excuse to dress up sometimes,” you mused.

You couldn’t find anything in your closet you actually liked that fit the vibe of Steve’s fancy annual company Christmas party - so you dragged Robin and Lori out shopping with you. Lori was having fun, at least.

“How many dresses are you gonna try on?” Robin whined, running her hand absentmindedly through the rack of clothes. “I feel like you’ve tried on everything in the store.”

“I just haven’t found the right dress yet,” you mumbled as you examined a little black number on the rack. For some reason, this had to be perfect. You had to look perfect. It was important to you.

“You’ll find it,” Lori said. “It’s in here. I can feel it.”

It was an hour later, and Robin was dragging her feet. You were starting to feel bad - maybe you shouldn’t have brought her, but you missed her since you no longer worked together. You didn’t get to see each other as often.

“Oh my god,” Lori said, slowly pulling a hanger down. “This…”

You turned and saw your sister holding a glittering short red dress. It was stunning. It fit the Christmas/winter wonderland vibe perfectly. You took it from her, the material softer against your skin than you expected.

“Go try it on,” Lori encouraged.

You went into the changing room for what felt like the millionth time and shed your familiar clothes. You took the dress off the hanger, the fabric cascading across your skin like water. It was easy to put on, too.

You stepped out of the dressing room, and Lori gasped.

“Oh, finally,” Robin said.

Turning to look in the mirror against the wall, seeing yourself in the dress for the first time - it took your breath away. You had never felt particularly confident in yourself, but if anything was going to give you unbeatable confidence, it was this dress.

“You look so hot,” Lori said.

“Agreed,” Robin added. “This is the one. And I’m not just saying that because I wanted to get out of here 6 dresses ago.”

That night you dressed in your new gown. The hem went right to mid thigh, showing off your legs in a very sexy way. It showed off your cleavage just enough without it being too revealing for a company Christmas party.

You knew Steve was just your best friend, but you were about to knock him dead.

He picked you up right on time, the knock on the door coming at 6 on the dot. You opened your apartment door to the sight of Steve dressed in navy pants with a white and grey button up and matching suit jacket - a red tie around his neck that somehow matched your dress perfectly. He wore his glasses, which he hardly ever did. 

He had been standing there in his normal bored kinda way, leaning against the door frame as he waited for you to answer like he had much more interesting things to do. But once you opened the door and he saw you, he practically choked, standing up straight and nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Wow,” he finally managed to get out. “You- you look incredible.”

“Looking handsome yourself,” you smiled playfully, grabbing your black clutch from the hall table. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, ready,” he said, still distracted. Even with his mind reeling and actively trying not to look too hard at your body, he led you to the car with his hand on your back, opening the door for you and holding your hand as you sat down.

“Is this a date, Harrington?” you teased him as he got into the driver’s seat of his new car. “This feels kinda like a date.”

Steve laughed lightly. “Just trying to be a gentleman.” He thought for a second. “I guess you could be considered my date for the night. By some people.”

“Our first date,” you cooed playfully. “Cute.”

At the office building, Steve parked in his designated spot - close to the front. He helped you out and escorted you inside with you hanging onto his arm. You stepped on the elevator and Steve pressed the button for the 15th floor.

The doors closed, and you and Steve were left in the quiet, the only sound the rumbling of the ascending metal box.

Steve cleared his throat. He looked like he was trying to look anywhere but at you. It was starting to make you feel a little bad. “Do you not like my dress?” you asked softly, your earlier confidence being left behind in the ground floor lobby. “Are you embarrassed?”

“No!” Steve said quickly, almost a little too loud. “No, that’s not- I like it. I really like it. You look stunning. Actually…” he thought for a second. “Stunning,” he said again. “You’re gonna be the hottest chick there.”

You laughed, feeling a little better. You just couldn’t understand why Steve was being so weird.

On the top floor, it was much louder. Muffled Christmas music traveled down the bright white hall, and Steve led you down, opening the door for you.

A party had been set up inside, not huge, but pretty big. Lots of guys in suits dressed similarly to Steve, mingling with drinks in their hands and beautiful women on their sides. You were sure most of these women had rings on their fingers, however. Big, flashy rocks.

Steve was quickly wrapped up in a whirlwind of conversations with his colleagues. You were each handed a champagne flute that you sipped on while you listened to Steve talk about things you didn’t understand while smiling and laughing at the appropriate times.

But Steve kept his hands on you. If you weren’t holding onto his arm, his left arm was around your waist, or his hand on the small of your back. And you couldn’t help but notice how handsome and grown he looked. Steve never wore his glasses, but all of a sudden you wished he would more often.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you whispered to Steve just as he got waved over by another man.

He looked down at you. “Do you want me to take you? They’re just over there, but-“

“No, I’m okay,” you smiled. “Keep mingling. I’ll be right back.”

Steve watched you leave, the sway of your hips in the fabric of that dress near hypnotizing. When you were out of sight, he turned and walked over to Tom, the guy who had been calling him over.

“Hey, man,” Tom greeted, clapping Steve on the back. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah, having a pretty good time,” Steve answered with a friendly smile.

“Was that your girl?” Tom asked, nodding in the direction you’d gone. And Steve wasn’t going to play the game tonight - he really wasn’t - but then Tom said, “Because I’ve been watching her all night, and she’s hot as hell. I was going to ask for her number if she’s just a friend. Or maybe you could set a guy up?” He waggled his eyebrows at Steve mischievously, and Steve felt like he could’ve punched the guy.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Steve said. He told Tom your name - and it had never felt quite so right rolling off his tongue.

“Lucky bastard,” Tom teased. “I hope you appreciate what you’ve got. Because that girl is-“

“Yeah, I get it,” Steve said, politely cutting him short. “I’m a lucky guy, believe me I know it.”

“How’d you two meet?”

“High school,” Steve answered easily. “She was, uh…she was my assigned math tutor.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he recounted the memory. “Brought me from a D to an A in that class. I’d never learned so much in my life.”

“If my math teacher looked like that…”

Steve smiled, as if he was lost down memory lane. “We became best friends after that. Literally inseparable since. I haven’t gone a day without her in 10 years.”

“That’s sweet man, really,” Tom said, more genuine this time. “I’m happy for you. You deserve a nice girl. Just don’t be an idiot - don’t let her go.”

Don’t let her go.

The words rang around in Steve’s ears for the rest of the night. Even when you returned, back by his side while he made the rounds - he couldn’t stop thinking about what Tom had said. Don’t let her go. Don’t let her go.

Steve hadn’t realized how he felt about you until it slapped him in the face in that exact moment - out of nowhere, it nearly knocked him off his feet. He looked down at you, smiling and laughing as you sipped on your champagne and talked with his boss’s wife - and it nearly took his breath away.

How had he been so stupid all these years?

Sure, there had been times he was unbearably attracted to you - but he was only a man, and you usually happened to be wearing something unreasonably sexy when it happened. Like now.

But there was more. It was the way his heart clenched when you laughed. The way you made him smile like no one else. They way you made him laugh, kept up with his sense of humor, never made him feel stupid or less than. You befriended everyone - there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body. Friend of everyone, yet you never let anything get in the way of your friendship with Steve. You were his best friend.

And he loved you.

He had to get out of there.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked you, mid conversation.

You looked up at him, surprised. “What?”

“I think I’m ready to go,” he said. “I just think…I need to get out of here. Get some fresh air.”

You looked at him with your eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Okay. We can go.”

Grateful you didn’t put up a fight while Steve felt like he was losing his mind, he told everyone a quick goodbye and led you back to the elevator. The ride down was silent, and significantly more awkward. Steve couldn’t wait to be out.

The elevator dinged as it stopped at the lobby once more, and Steve speed walked off. You were running as fast as you could in your heels, trying to keep up. “Steve, wait up! Where are you going?”

He was outside now, the cold air whipping through his hair and making his nose burn. He knew you had to be freezing in that tiny little dress. He had made it to the large fountain in the courtyard when he turned abruptly, nearly making you knock onto his chest.

“Jesus,” you said, stopping. “What are you doing, Stevie? What happened in there? Are you okay?”

Steve didn’t answer any of your questions because he didn’t know how to. Instead, he took his suit jacket off and handed it to you. “Here. You’re probably cold.”

You looked at him strangely. But you were cold, so you took the jacket and slipped it over your shoulders. “Thanks.”

It was silent besides the running water sounds of the fountain. You and Steve just looked at each other, the only ones outside at this time of night. The party was still in full swing upstairs. You just stared each other down, both of you waiting on someone - the other or yourselves - to make the first move.

Steve finally took a step closer to you. He said your name, so gently it floated across to you on the breeze.

“What’s going on with you?” you asked. “I thought we were having a good time, and-“

“I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes went wide and you reeled back as if you’d been struck. “What?”

“You heard me.” Steve took another step. “I’m in love with you. I’m fucking in love with you. And I don’t think I can pretend I’m not anymore.”

You were in complete shock. The sounds of the rushing water filled your ears once again, and you gaped at Steve like a fish as you tried to come up with something to say. It felt like your brain had just completely short circuited.

Steve began to look defeated. His head dropped and he held intense eye contact with his loafers. “I…I just had to tell you. I’m sorry.”

More rushing water. Then - “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I think I just ruined the friendship,” he said. “I think I just ruined our fucking friendship.”

“No,” you said immediately. It was your turn to take a step closer. “You didn’t.”

Steve slowly looked up at you, taking his time meeting your eyes as if he were afraid. You’d never seen Steve afraid. “I didn’t?”

“No,” you said. “Because I…I love you too. I’m in love with you too.”

You just stared at each other. That damn fountain carrying the whole atmosphere. Steve took another step, and he was standing so close to you you could smell his cologne and aftershave. His head was tilted down, looking into your eyes like he was reading you from the inside out. “You love me?”

It took you a minute to get your bearings. Your heart was pounding now, and you felt like your body was filled with bubbles from the champagne. Light, bubbly, like you could float away or maybe just pop out of existence. You nodded shakily. “Yeah. I…I love you.”

Steve’s forehead came down to gently rest against your own. Then he slowly raised his arm - his hand finding its spot on the side of your neck, cradling your jaw. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice so low you could barely hear him. “And I’m in love with you. So, so in love with you. Think I always have been.”

“Steve…”

He shook his head just barely. “Just let me…”

He leaned in those last couple of inches, and then Steve’s lips were pressed against yours. 

When people talk about sparks flying during a kiss, you’d never believed them. It had certainly never happened to you, and you’d kissed plenty of people. But you had never kissed Steve.

He moved his lips against yours so softly and slowly. Like he wanted to feel and savor every second of the kiss, didn’t want to rush. He was hungry for it, but he could take his time. Your hands came to sit on his biceps as his free hand rested on your waist.

It felt so right. It didn’t feel like a first kiss - there was no awkwardness, nothing uncomfortable, just pure passion and love and desire. Steve was a good kisser, too. His tongue traced your lip and you opened for him, his tongue just barely brushing against yours.

Steve let out the slightest breathy moan, like he had finally gotten something he’d been longing for for so long. Your knees wobbled and his grip tightened on your hip, pulling your body closer into his.

“Don’t go fallin’ for me too hard, now,” Steve smirked, his voice so low and deep it gave you chills even though he was being his normal cheesy self.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Harrington,” you said, still breathless from the kiss. Steve only smiled bigger.

He kissed you again, shorter this time. A couple soft pecks against your lips, then a longer press, like he didn’t want to stop. “Be my girlfriend.”

“Are you serious?” you laughed. “How much champagne did you have?”

“Hardly any,” he said, “and I’m dead serious. Did you not just hear me tell you I love you?”

“You meant that?” you whispered.

“‘Course I did,” he whispered back, nudging your nose with his own. “I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. All those shitty dates…my failed love life…” Steve laughed lightly. “And you were right here in front of me the whole time.”

Your expression softened, looking up at Steve with eyes that were somehow glittering in the night. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat - you were quite literally breathtaking.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Steve’s smile grew. His only reaction was to pull you in again, wrapping his arms around your body as yours went around his neck and he kissed you nice and slow again with all the love in the world, beneath the December stars.

“Can you help me with the potato salad?” Lori asked, already three dishes in her arms and Annie clung to her leg.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, jumping into action. You grabbed the bowl of potato salad along with the ice bucket and followed Lori out into the backyard.

The sun was shining, a perfect Memorial Day. The cousins were splashing in the pool, the older relatives talking as they sat in the warm sun with smiles on their faces and beers or lemonades in their hands. You and Lori put the dishes down on the buffet table. Lori was dressed in a one piece swimsuit with a sheer coverup on top, while you were in your red bikini top with short jean shorts over the bottoms.

“Finally,” Lori said. “I didn’t think the food was ever gonna get done.” She turned to you, hands on her hips as she caught her breath. There had been a lot of running around, and she was five months pregnant. “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course,” you said. “I couldn’t leave you to fend for yourself with the aunts.” Family had come from all over the surrounding states for this Memorial Day reunion, and it was…a lot.

Lori let out a groan. “Thank god for you.”

You squealed as arms wrapped themselves around your body and lifted you into the air. Lori just watched on with a knowing yet amused smile.

“Steve!” you scolded once he’d set you down. You slapped at his arm lightly.

“What?” he said. “I missed you.”

“It’s been like 20 minutes!”

“Tell me about it,” he said, pulling your body into his and kissing you.

“Get a room,” Lori teased, although she was still smiling as she turned and walked away.

“Are you enjoying the party?” you asked Steve as he picked up a deviled egg and popped it into his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said. He chewed and swallowed. “Your family is nice.”

“You weren’t scared to meet the whole family after only 5 months of dating?” You smiled, your hand running over his bare chest.

“‘Course not,” Steve said. “I’ve already been part of the family for years. The extended family didn’t scare me.”

You loved that about Steve. He was so confident and sure of himself. One of endless things you loved about him.

You heard a voice calling your name. Your grandma was approaching, her paper plate piled high with potluck food. “Is this your boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?” she asked with a sly smile as she reached the two of you.

You smiled, looking up at Steve. He beamed back down at you like he’d never been happier in his life, his hand gently rubbing your lower back. “Yeah,” you said. “He is.”

“Hi,” Steve offered her his hand. “Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“He’s a cute one,” she whispered to you, but Steve definitely heard. You were sure he didn’t need the ego boost. “Don’t let him go.”

You leaned your head against Steve’s shoulder, and he squeezed your hip.

Yeah. You didn’t plan on it.

tag list

@robinbuckleywife @fandom-princess-forevermore @ali-r3n @playboysweetie @losingmygrasponreality @samslvrgirl @ratsematary @cheesesandwichsanto @strangerthing93 @hannahmassey30 @xplrnowornever @virgoprada @thestrals-and-firewiskey @badasspizzalover @charmed-asylum @fearlessreid @shmeddieshmunson @ahead-fullofdreams @crybabyddl @queen-honeybee-stories @batbabyeddie @meankenna @4everdweeb @nightfirecomit @borhapgirlforlife19 @meetmeatyourworst @kthomps914 @your-nightmaredoll @micheledawn1975

if you’re on the list but not tagged here it’s because it wouldn’t let me :(

[c0s-lettuce]

your orbit

steve harrington x reader

synopsis: amidst a night of board games, junk food and extraordinary company, the only thing steve can think about is you.

→ or the deterioration of steve harrington's mind over the course of an evening.

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: fem!reader, set around s4 but no upside down, eddie and robin aren't subtle, steve just really loves you, childhood best friends to strangers to friends, one bed but not really ;)

a/n: i love ex bestie steve! i've been wanting to write for him for a while, so hope i did him justice. joe keery favourite white boy frrr. pls forgive any inaccuracies and thanks for reading <3

part two coming soon!

5 PM

Steve decided to take advantage of having the house to himself. His parents are gone for the week, as they so often are. So, he sent out a few invitations to some of his closest friends. A small get-together, he told them, nothing fancy.

Robin accepted, of course. And Nancy and Jonathan, too. Steve only told Dustin about the party, but he already knew that word would spread to all the other kids.

But Steve has a mini panic attack when he finds out you're coming. He isn't too sure where he stands with you these days. Your friendship has all but rekindled, but Steve is still wary around you, terrified of messing up again. You accepted the invitation, though. That's a good thing. Right?

As Steve waits for people to arrive, he takes out his only activities, a deck of cards and a single board game he received as a gift but never opened. He's relying on his friends with siblings and/or a healthier relationship with their parents to bring more things to do.

He sets out the snacks he bought. Chips and candy are laid out over the island counter in the kitchen, and soda is stacked in the fridge. Steve even sets aside a little stash of what he hopes are still your favourites. He also managed to get his hands on some beer, and there's money set aside for pizza later.

Soon enough, people start showing up. Robin arrives first, followed by Dustin, Lucas and Max. Then Nancy and Jonathan arrive with Mike, Will and El. Then you. And finally, Eddie.

The gaggle of children quickly bee-line for the snacks and games. Steve watches with disdain, knowing there'll be a mess to clean up after. But at least his other guests appear happy to see their gracious host, with you among them.

Steve pretty much shortcircuits when you arrive. You're dressed nicely, and your hair is all pretty. You lean in to give him a quick hug, greeting him fondly. He may as well have cancelled the night then because he's sure his heart stopped for a second.

He only snaps out of it when Eddie arrives, slapping him so hard on the back that it could've been an alternative to the Heimlich maneuver. Suddenly, the population of the house has gone from one to a dozen, and noise and energy immediately replace the prior peace.

Steve quickly realises that he's in for a long night.

6 PM

"So, what's the story between the two of you?" Eddie asks.

Steve blinks, caught off guard by the question. He turns to the other boy, who awaits his answer with a half-curious, half-smug expression.

"Nothing, man," Steve mutters, taking a sip of his beer.

"Nothing, huh?" Eddie smirks. "Is that why you're staring at her like she's the love of your life?"

Steve glares at Eddie, wondering who even invited him. Eddie is the newest addition to the larger friend group. Dustin is very fond of him. And from what Steve has heard, so are you. He's in a few of the same classes as you, and there's a rumour among the kids that you used to be in Hellfire for a semester in your sophomore year.

The thought of you being close to Eddie bothers Steve. He chases the feeling away with another sip.

"Come on, big boy," Eddie nudges him. "We're friends now. You can tell me."

He looks back at you. You're sat around the coffee table with the kids in the middle of a round of Uno. And you look so lovely. You always do. Even the way you're holding the cards is pretty. You're the perfect culmination of everything sweet. No wonder the kids are hogging you.

He looks back at Eddie, who's still regarding Steve with inquisitive and mischievous eyes. Steve considers acquiescing, especially since Eddie is willing to listen. At the very least, it'll give Robin a break from dealing with his usual sulking.

"We were really close in middle school," Steve begins. "Best friends, even. But then I started high school, and... well, you can probably guess the rest."

"Ah," Eddie nods, understanding immediately. "I see."

Steve continues. "We only spent a year apart. And she was so excited to join me. But then-"

"Then King Steve emerged, and you left her in the dirt," Eddie remarks.

Steve cringes at the wording but doesn't refute it. It's an accurate recount of what happened. He knew he was horrible, not just to you but to everyone. He regrets nothing more than abandoning you and letting his so-called friends pick on you. Meanwhile, he stood by, telling himself worthless excuses to justify how things turned out.

You and Steve remained strangers after he left his throne behind. And it probably would've stayed that way if he didn't become coworkers with one Robin Buckley, who had become your new best friend in his absence.

He remembers the days you would visit Scoops Ahoy, mostly to distract Robin and make his job harder. You would often give him quick glances and polite smiles, never going out of your way to talk to him. However, he would occasionally catch your eyes lingering on him.

Robin would tell him you were checking him out, insisting she knew how her best friend thinks. But he was convinced you were judging him for his dumb hat and sailor outfit. Nothing ever made him wish he could crawl into a hole and die more than that.

But suddenly, he was back in your orbit again. And he's never left since.

Turning his attention back to you, Steve watches you play your last card, earning a groan from a few of the other players. You stand up victorious, stepping away from the table to grab another drink from the kitchen.

Steve recognises this as the perfect time to approach you and say something other than the "hey" he offered when you arrived. But just as he's about to muster up the courage, the doorbell rings, indicating the arrival of pizza.

With a sigh and another slap on the back from Eddie, he turns away to retrieve the food.

7 PM

You fit in well with the others. Not that it's a bad thing. It's great, actually. It just reminds Steve how much time has passed and how things have changed. It makes him think of what could've been.

You being best friends with Robin makes more sense than hot chocolate on a rainy day. You're like two peas in a pod. You match each other's energy, and both have a sort of charming madness about you.

The kids obviously like you. Not that their criteria are that high. But it helps that you used to work at the arcade and would give them your spare quarters. Plus, the rumour that you used to be in Hellfire makes you seem like a legend in their eyes.

Even Max likes you. He could tell because you were the one she approached earlier, asking if she could have a beer. You laughed and told her no. She just pouted and accepted it. Steve knew if he told her no, he would've been left with an insult.

You aren't particularly close to Nancy or Jonathan. Still, Steve knew they respected you, which means a lot, especially from someone like Nancy. And, of course, Eddie is... Eddie.

Steve comes to the realisation that he's jealous of everyone at the party. They all have a place in your life, in your heart. He wonders if there's even room left for him. There was a time when he occupied all that space. And it's his own fault that changed. Still, he can't help but hope.

The pizza disperses and disappears quickly. As the others chase their dinner with more snacks and set up another game, Steve remains leaning against the wall. He's so deep in thought that he doesn't notice someone approaching him.

"Steve?"

He flinches at the voice. It's you.

"H-hey," he stutters.

"Hey," you reply. "You okay? You seem a bit... distraught."

Steve takes a second to respond but nods. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good, just thinking."

You tilt your head, sensing more to the story but not wanting to pry. "Alright. Just don't hurt yourself."

Steve chuckles nervously, both relieved and terrified that you're making jokes with him.

You point back towards the coffee table. "The others are about to start a game of Monopoly. Did you want to join?"

He looks towards the group, at Dustin micromanaging how Will sets up the board. At Max and El scheming their game plan, having already picked the token they want to use. And at Mike dragging over his reluctant-looking sister, an amused-looking boyfriend following behind.

Steve knew he ought to join in, having just been standing around all night. But the idea of playing a game about capitalism with a group of kids who took board games way too seriously doesn't appeal to him right now.

So, he shakes his head. "No thanks. You go ahead."

You glance at the others before turning back. "Nah, I'm good. I need a break from getting lectured by Dustin."

Steve snorts. "Yeah, that kid's got a mouth on him. You wouldn't believe how often he tries to give me dating advice."

"He gives you dating advice?" you ask, amused.

"Yeah," Steve answers. "Now that he has a girlfriend, he thinks he's unstoppable. A girlfriend he wouldn't even have if it weren't for me, by the way. I taught him everything he knows."

You laugh and shrug. "Well, maybe you could learn something, Steve. You know, the whole 'student becomes the master' thing?"

Steve lets out a huff. "No, no way. Besides, I don't need a girlfriend when I've got-"

You, he almost says. But he clears his throat and corrects himself.

"Uh, all of you," he states, vaguely gesturing to the party. "My friends, you know?"

His words make you grin. "Aww, Steve-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbles. "Just don't tell anyone I said that."

He averts his gaze. His cheeks flush a bit, but he's holding back a smile. He's glad to have gotten that reaction from you.

You're about to tease him some more when Robin's voice interrupts, calling for your help from upstairs.

You sigh, looking back at Steve. "Duty calls. I'll leave you to your thinking."

You give him a cheeky smile before you leave, a smile that makes it seem like you somehow read his mind and found his thoughts amusing. He can only watch as you walk away again.

8 PM

Steve isn't sure how he got here, sitting next to you on the carpet. The Monopoly game was cut short after Lucas and Mike got into a heated argument. And now they've switched to The Game of Life, which hopefully won't cause any fights.

Not only did Steve get roped into playing, he got teamed up with you. You had been calling most of the shots during the game, but when you reached the marriage space, stuck a little pink peg next to the blue one and murmured, "That's us," to Steve... well, it all got a bit confronting for the poor boy.

He felt like a fool, sitting there overthinking two words that likely were said as a joke. Steve had realised a while ago that he loved you. A part of him thinks he always has, ever since the early days of middle school.

But being friends with you again after everything is more than he felt he deserved, so he doesn't expect you to return those feelings just yet. But then you go ahead and say something like that. So casually, too. "That's us." Married. Yeah, right. Either you're cruel, or there's hope for him yet.

Steve manages to calm his emotions a few moments later. But as the game progresses, he continues comparing his life to the little blue peg that was supposedly him.

Steve, in the game, has a college degree, a decently-paying job, a pretty pink peg for a wife (which you've claimed to be you), three peg children and his own house, all while avoiding any mid-life crises.

Steve, in real life, at the ripe age of nineteen, has no idea what he's doing. He's been through at least two quarter-life crises. College is definitely not happening. And he's working a retail job Robin got for him through bribery. At least it came with a better uniform. One which would probably help with picking up girls if the girl he actually wanted wasn't the one currently sitting next to him.

At least now, when you visit Robin at work, you also come to see him. You make eye contact, give him bright smiles, and actually talk to him. And he has to do everything in his god-given power to not lose his mind each time.

But it's not all for nothing. After all, you're a loyal customer of Family Video, and Steve always looks after his patrons (as long as it's you). If he knows you'll be visiting, he'll put on one of your favourite movies on the TV in the store.

He'll also research movies he thinks you'll like, lie and say they're unavailable if someone tries to rent them before he can get them to you. It earns judgment from Robin, but he doesn't care. As long as it makes you happy.

Soon, Steve vows, he'll take you out to see a movie on the big screen. It'll be just the two of you at the back of the theatre with a big bucket of popcorn. He'll pull some cheesy move on you. You'll laugh at him or roll your eyes. Or maybe you'll fall for it. Either way, it'll be perfect.

Steve only checks back into the present when The Game of Life ends. He glances around the table, relieved no one has noticed him daydreaming. Everyone's cars are in the retired space, and Steve catches a glimpse of you and him and your three kids again. But he looks back at the real you as you turn to face him.

Steve is no help as you sort out how much money you ended up with, too busy admiring you instead. You're focused, doing maths in your head and using his lap as a surface to lay out the notes and cards. And somehow, he falls even more in love with you in this moment.

9 PM

The party has diminished, with Nancy and Jonathan having gone home with the kids. Now, just Steve, Robin, Eddie, and you remain. Outside, dark clouds have gathered, showering Hawkins in light rain.

The four of you are finishing the night off with one last card game. You had won, of course. And now Eddie has recruited your help. He has his arm around you, his head pressed against yours, his deck hiding your faces as you conspired his next move.

If Steve didn't know any better, he'd assume you two were a thing. But he does know better. Eddie must be doing this on purpose, trying to make him jealous or something. And it was working. Steve supposed that's what he deserves for trusting Eddie with his deepest, darkest regret.

The card game turns into a one-sided glaring contest, with Robin having to nudge Steve whenever it's his turn. With your help, Eddie finishes second. Robin comes third, and Steve loses the game. But at this point, he isn't even upset about it because it means his suffering is over.

Eddie finally lets go of you, letting out a contented sigh as he stretches his arms above his head.

"Alright," he announces. "I'm calling it a night. You ready to go, Buckley?"

Robin nods. "Yeah, let's head."

The two stand and begin gathering their things.

Eddie looks at you as he puts on his jacket. "You sure you don't want a ride home?"

You shake your head. "I'm good, Eds. You take Robin. My dad should be here soon."

Eddie accepts your answer with a nod, and you catch the slightest hint of a smirk. But you ignore it as you and Steve walk him and Robin to the door. You give them each a hug before they leave.

Robin has an expression you don't fully comprehend as she hugs you back, somewhere between smug and amused. "See you later, nerd. Make good choices, okay?"

You furrow your brow, but she heads out the door before you can ask what she means by that.

As Eddie steps out after her, he looks back at Steve. "Hey, Harrington. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He sends Steve a wink, who frowns at the implication of his words. You notice Robin is still giving you that look. You send her a raised eyebrow in return. But no more words are exchanged as the two go their merry way.

"God, they're weird," Steve mutters as he closes the door.

His comment elicits a chuckle from you, which elicits a flutter in his chest. He turns to face you, unable to help the smile that graces his features just by looking at you. But a mildly awkward silence follows as Steve racks his brain on how to proceed now that it's just the two of you.

"You, uh- you want another drink?" he asks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, sure."

His own smile widens. "Alright. You sit back down, and I'll get us some."

Steve heads into the now almost empty kitchen, grabbing two bottles before finding you again in the living room. You're sitting on the couch, packing up the deck of cards. Steve is momentarily distracted by the way your hands move.

But as he approaches and hands you your drink, he decides to be bold and sits close to you, throwing an arm over the back of the couch. He doesn't even have a millisecond to regret it because he feels you lean into his touch.

Steve revels in the satisfaction.

10 PM

Eddie and Robin seem to have left just in time because the storm picks up only a few minutes after they leave. You and Steve sit and chat for a while as you finish your drinks, and you help Steve clear up the empty cans and scattered wrappers despite him ordering you not to.

But even after everything is cleaned, your father still hasn't arrived. Steve watches as you wait, looking at the time again.

"You're welcome to stay over if that's easier for you," he tells you.

You look over at him, considering his offer. "You don't mind?"

Steve shakes his head. "No, of course not."

He doesn't mind. He doesn't mind at all. In fact, he would prefer it. He's used to being alone for days at a time. But it's a bit harrowing going from twelve people to just one, especially in a big empty house during a storm. Yes, he definitely wants you to stay.

"Okay," you say, "I'll just call my parents and ask what's happening."

Steve nods as you walk over to the phone and call home. It rings for a bit before someone picks up.

"Hello?" your mother's voice greets you.

"Hey, mom," you reply. "It's me."

The pitch of her voice changes immediately upon hearing your voice. "Hi, darling! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to check if dad was still coming to pick me up?" you ask.

There's a pause before your mom groans. "Oh, I'm so sorry. We completely forgot. We had a lot of wine for dinner. I can go get him now."

"It's no big deal, mom," you interject. "The storm's getting pretty bad anyway. Steve said I could stay over."

Again, your mother's cadence changes, but you don't need to question why. You know she's always been a fan of Steve.

"Okay, darling," she responds. "That sounds like a good idea. You two take care, alright?"

You resist rolling your eyes, even though she's not around to see it. "Yeah, you too, mom. Bye."

Your mom bids you farewell, and you hang up the phone.

Steve, who waits patiently nearby, takes this as his cue to speak up. "You staying?"

You look over at him and nod. "I'm staying."

"Okay, great," Steve smiles. "You can take my room. I'll go in the guest bedroom."

"What? Steve, no," you say. "You don't have to do that. I'll take the guest bedroom."

"No, really," he insists. "It's cold and uncomfortable in there. Trust me."

"I'm the guest, Steve. I'll go in the guest bedroom," you respond.

"No, not happening," he states.

You frown. "I'm not letting you give up your room."

Steve crosses his arms. "Well, I'm not letting you stay in the guest bedroom."

There's a pause in the conversation as the two of you stare each other down, hoping the other will fold.

When neither of you do, you make another suggestion. "Alright. How about we just share your bed?"

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Uh, you- really? Are you sure?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I mean... we used to do it all the time as kids, right?"

It's true. You did. There were countless nights when you would pass out in bed together, having stayed up watching movies or spent the entire day in the pool.

"Okay," Steve agrees. "Let's do that then."

"Great," you say.

"Great," he replies.

Yeah... great.

11 PM

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out.

That's all Steve could repeat in his head. He's lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling while you're beside him. He forgot to factor in how the both of you have grown considerably since middle school, meaning there's less space between you now.

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don't fr-

"You know," you break the silence. "I forgot how weird your plaid wallpaper was."

Steve furrows his brow, his distress momentarily forgotten as he turns to look at you.

"It's not weird," he says defensively.

"It's pretty weird," you reply before looking at him. "But it's cool."

As your gaze meets his, he feels his nervousness rushing back. You look so soft and cozy in his bed, wearing his shirt. And you're smiling at him as if you knew the funniest joke in the world and you were about to tell it to him.

He lets a beat of silence pass before clearing his throat. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah, I did," you answer genuinely. "You?"

"Yeah," Steve replies. "It's nice having people around."

You nod in response, remembering how his parents would send him over to live with your family whenever they would go away. As much as he loved being able to spend time with you, you knew he hated being left behind.

"How long are your parents gone for this time?" you ask.

"Just until the end of the week," he tells you.

You nod again. "You've been faring up by yourself?"

He shrugs. "I don't mind it. They've been on my back a lot recently. Honestly, I needed the break."

"Right," you reply. "So not much has changed."

Steve lets out a humourless laugh. "Nope. It's been hell since I graduated last year."

You frown at his words. "I guess that's not surprising."

"Yeah, I don't know," he pauses for a second before continuing, his voice quieter. "Sometimes, I think they have a point."

You pause as well, trying to gauge what he's thinking. "You shouldn't let them get to you, Steve."

He sighs. "I know. But what if they're right, you know, about me?"

"They're not. I promise you," you reassure him.

Steve turns to look at you again, almost like he's searching for your sincerity.

You give him a smile. "You'll be alright, Steve. I know it."

Steve can't help but smile back. You sound so earnest that he's inclined to believe you. Besides, you're here with him right now. So, he must be doing something right.

You fall into a comfortable silence. There's barely any noise this late at night to disrupt it. After a few moments, you let out a yawn.

"Ugh, man. I'm so sleepy," you mumble.

"You should get some rest," he responds. "I still remember how grumpy you get in the morning."

You give him a deadpan look. "Gee, thanks."

Steve chuckles. "Just telling the truth."

Your feigned expression breaks as you laugh along, too. Steve cherishes every second of the moment before it fades away.

You yawn again. "Alright then. Goodnight, Steve."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he replies.

The room falls silent again. Steve lets out a deep breath and closes his eyes. Despite the uncertainty, a smile still lingers on his lips. A million things could change tomorrow. But for now, at least, you're still by his side.

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he���s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

[pretentious-blonde]

trust

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve confesses something deeply personal, your reaction only spurs him on with his newly found confidence

warnings: 18+ this contains smut, f oral receiving, body insecurity, scars, whiney steve, it's real sappy

a/n: this is long and half of it is filth, but it's sweet so it's fine!! steve is smitten and a lil pathetic, idk what else to say

series masterlist

Robin sat at her kitchen table in rumpled pajamas, hair slightly wild, nursing a mug of coffee that smelled dangerously bitter. She didn’t expect to be out of bed at this hour, but she had a rather pressing matter that demanded her attention.

Her best friend was perched across from her, vibrating with nerves. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so frazzled before noon—especially on a Sunday.

“Are you gonna tell me why you’re here at eight in the morning, or am I supposed to guess?”

Straight to the point, huh? 

He raked a hand through his hair—he’d already done it so many times this morning that it stuck up at all angles. 

“...We went on another date.”

“Right. You and your mystery girl.” A smile pulled at Robin’s lips. “That’s great, Steve, really. Super happy for you. But you needed to wake me up just to tell me you went on a date?”

When she says it like that, it feels like the understatement of the year. 

“I think I blew it,” he said flatly, the words coming out in a rush.

She snorted into her coffee. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m serious,” he insisted, shoulders sagging. There was a dullness in his eyes that told her this was more than his usual overreaction. “I’m telling you, I ruined it.”

“Okay, sure,” she put her mug down, leaning forward with a sigh. ”You’ve totally, completely ruined it. Wanna back up and give me some context here?”

He drew in a breath, gaze drifting to the wall as if he might see yesterday play out on its surface. 

“Okay, so I saw her again yesterday. Picked her up, had a great time—like, amazing. I’m talking, she’s laughing…” He trailed off, letting that memory blossom in his chest. He cleared his throat, pressing on. “Anyway, I drove her home, walked her to her door. Smooth, right?”

“Peak romance,” Robin deadpanned, eyes narrowed as she tried not to smirk.

Steve shot her a withering glare that only made her grin more. 

“Yeah, so then we… we kissed. Which is not new. Told you what happened in the classroom couple weeks back? God, that was—” He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling how your lips tasted that evening, reluctantly forcing himself back to the present. “I mean, you know, right?”

Robin took another sip. “Yes, I know. Please continue.”

“Okay. Sorry. So last night, we’re outside, and she’s leaning against the door. We’re both kinda… reeling, and then she looks at me—like, that look—and asks if I’d like to come inside.”

“Inside, huh?” Robin’s coffee froze halfway to her lips. 

“Yeah.” Steve nodded fervently. “And look, I’m not an idiot, okay? It was late. I know what inside means.”

“I’m… not following.”

A frustrated groan escaped him as he slumped forward, elbows on the table, head in his hands. 

He doesn’t want to say the next part—he can barely stand to close his eyes without seeing the look on your face. Disappointed. And knowing he was the reason why. It was so stupid. He could have said anything else, but of course, his brain chose to short-circuit instead.

“I said… ‘No, thank you.’”

Silence blanketed the room. Robin’s mouth hung open for a moment before she found her words. 

“You said what?”

He groaned again, louder this time. 

“I panicked, okay? Just… You should’ve seen her face. She looked so—God, embarrassed? And I… I just—I was stuck. Couldn’t think of anything else.”

“So you turned down an invitation inside after a date—”

“—and then I turned around and headed for my car,” he finished, miserably.

Robin cringed, setting her mug aside. “Oof.”

“I know,” he hissed. He lifted his head, eyes pained, as if replaying the moment in mind-numbing slow motion. The memory felt like a stone in his chest.

Her gaze softened as she took in her best friend's posture, how his fingers trembled around the rim of the coffee mug he hadn't even touched. 

She knew he’d had it rough—anyone who’d witnessed what he had would understand. But since he primarily talked to his therapist about this sort of thing, she often forgot just how deep those wounds really ran.

“Hey,” she said, voice gentler now, “it’s okay if you’re… not ready for all of that yet. It’s a big step.”

He lifted his head, eyes shadowed with worry. 

“I am ready,” he countered, a hint of desperation colouring his tone. “I want—I want to be ready for that.”

And he did. He wanted it so badly, his body ached with the image of your skin against his, even if the touches had never gone beyond heated kisses and tentative caresses. 

For the last few years, his mind had been stuck in survival mode—always scanning for threats, flinching at sudden noises, bracing for the worst. But now, when he closed his eyes at night, instead of feeling dread burrow into his bones, he found himself imagining the curve of your lips, the softness of your laugh. 

He wondered how you’d sound if he whispered filthy compliments against your ear, what your breathy giggle might feel like against his neck if his fingertips trailed down your sides… between your thighs. 

Sometimes he even caught himself shivering from the sheer longing to feel you. 

All of you.

But wanting that also meant baring more than just his heart. The idea of letting you see every inch of him—scars that told stories he wasn’t ready to retell, the ridges and marks that still woke him in cold sweats—terrified him. 

What if you asked about them? What if you stared too long? Worse, would you be disgusted? He imagined your wide eyes taking him in and feeling pity, revulsion. The thought was enough to make his stomach twist, to conjure that old, familiar panic.

He swallowed thickly, struggling to force the words out. Robin slid her coffee across and leaned forward, reaching out as if to anchor him to the present. 

“You can talk to me,” she urged. “You know that, right?”

Steve pressed his lips together, trying and failing to steady the whirlwind of fear in his chest. Finally, he looked at her, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What if…” He inhales deeply, “what if she doesn’t... like what she sees?”

It took a while for it to click, but when it did, her chest caved. 

Her eyes flickered with regret as realisation sank in, remembering the countless times she’d watched her friend hurl himself into danger so that she and the others could walk away unscathed. Always the martyr, always the hero, always the one with the innate urge to rush in and save those he held close to him. 

It was such a rare gift, but it was one that left the worst as a result. The physical reminders—souvenirs he never asked for. 

“Steve,” she said quietly, “everyone has scars.”

He let out a soft, humourless laugh. 

“Not like mine.”

Her heart broke for him, but her resolve was far stronger. 

“Hey,” she spoke, tone turning firm, “we’re not doing that.” She locked eyes with him, showing him the truth behind her statement. “Do you seriously think this girl would judge you for something that’s basically the reason you’re still alive?”

That we’re all alive.

His gaze darted away, thoughts churning. 

Robin was always like this—blunt, even when she was trying to be comforting. A stark contrast to Dr. Avery, but sometimes he preferred it. At least it meant honesty.

“Well… people are—”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” she cut him off, levelling him with a look. “I’m asking if you think, with absolute certainty, that this would cause her to stop seeing you.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and racked his brain for any moment he’d ever heard you speak ill of someone without good reason. He couldn’t recall a single instance—except for that one time you’d jokingly insulted his father after hearing the reaction to Steve’s profession, but that was more than warranted. Otherwise, you never had a negative word for anyone. Even when you probably should. 

He couldn’t picture you reacting with disgust. 

It just didn’t… fit.

“It’s not that simple,” he muttered, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.

“I hate to say it, but it kind of is.” Robin pursed her lips. “She’s clearly into you, right?”

He hesitated. “Well—”

“Shh, yes she is,” she declared, waving a dismissive hand. “She wouldn’t be seeing you if she wasn’t. And if anything, that’s a bigger compliment, yeah? She wants you for you.”

“What if there are questions?” He gave a reluctant shrug, tension still rolling off him in waves. 

“Then be honest.”

He shot her a look. “Are you serious right now?”

“No, not that kind of honest.” Robin snorted. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he said quickly, the mere thought making dread coil in his gut. That was the last thing he wanted to bring up in your presence. 

“There you go.” She lifted her eyebrows pointedly. “Tell her it’s hard for you to talk about. You’re not lying, you’re just… setting a boundary.”

“I’m not sure…” he admitted, leaning back in his chair.

“For God’s sake, Steve.” Robin sighed, exasperated but affectionate all the same. “I’m telling you this as your friend—you can’t let this hold you back forever.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m not.”

“You don’t know unless you try,” she pressed. “Do you trust her?”

“Yes,” he blurted, the word escaping before he even had time to think. You had never given him a single reason not to, the only thing you treated him with was unrelenting kindness. 

Robin’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Well, there’s your answer.”

A beat of silence passed before he nodded, finally letting some measure of acceptance settle in his eyes. Robin grinned back, pushing herself to her feet, feeling proud that they had reached a solution. 

“Have you eaten?”

“No.” He shook his head. He came straight here as soon as he woke up. Barely slept the night before, too. 

“Pancakes, then.” She arched an eyebrow, making her way over to the stove. “You’re gonna need the energy for when you go talk to her later.”

“Later?” Steve spun in his chair, panic creeping back in.

“Yeah, it’s Sunday,” Robin rolled her eyes as she pulled out a frying pan. “No time like the present, right?”

Steve spent the rest of the morning holed up at Robin’s place, grateful for her presence and the easy way they could slip back into normal best-friend banter. It helped calm the churning in his gut, the lingering phantom of your expression—slightly crestfallen—when he’d refused your invitation the previous night.

By the afternoon, he felt marginally more composed. Maybe it was the pancakes, or maybe it was the way she all but shoved him out the door with the gentle instruction to ‘fix it’ and ‘try not to overthink.’

Easier said than done.

Either way, he found himself stopping by a local florist before driving to your shop. The tiny bell above the florist’s door tinkled as he stepped in, and he spent a solid ten minutes agonising over which bouquet to get, recalling Robin’s reassurance. 

“No girl’s ever upset by flowers.”

Eventually, he left with a bundle of soft-petaled blooms—light pinks and whites and a hint of greenery—and the distinct feeling that his heart might pound its way right out of his chest.

Your shop front, normally inviting, appeared closed from the outside—lights off, sign flipped to “Closed.” He knew you rarely opened on Sundays, which was exactly why he was hoping you’d be here catching up on inventory, or maybe just tinkering with whatever behind the scenes stuff you did. The street was quiet, the afternoon light softer than usual, and he paused at the door, bouquet in hand, taking a quick breath to steel himself.

He knocked gently, three times.

At first, nothing. Then, after a second, he saw movement through the side window: a glimpse of you rounding the corner, curiosity evident on your face—until your gaze landed on him. Even at a distance, he saw your expression flicker between shock and uncertainty. His heart plummeted at the thought that maybe he was the last person you wanted to see right now.

Still, you came over, unbolted the lock, and eased the door open. 

“Hey, Steve,” you said quietly, voice uncertain yet polite. “I… wasn’t expecting you.”

His tongue felt like lead. 

“Yeah, well, um…” He awkwardly tapped the toe of his shoe on the pavement before glancing down at the flowers. His head spun with everything he wanted to say. “Can I come in?”

Your eyes flicked from the bouquet back to him, and then you stepped aside, nodding. 

“Sure.”

As you closed the door behind him, he took in a calming breath. The shop was dim, lit mostly by the fading light filtering through the front windows. It smelled of you in a comforting, barely-there way: a hint of vanilla, maybe a touch of something floral tied with old paper.

“Um,” he started, holding out the flowers. “I picked these up for you.”

You glanced at them, your features melting into something softer. The corners of your lips tilted up in the faintest smile. 

“They’re beautiful,” you murmured, reaching for them. He could see the tension easing in your shoulders, though it didn’t vanish entirely.

When you sighed, he braced for the worst—but your voice was gentle. The words leaving you not at all what he expected. 

“Listen, Steve, I want to tell you I’m… really sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have been so forward, and if I made you uncomfortable—”

“Hey—” The words rushed out of him before he could stop them. “No, don’t—I’m the one who should be apologising.”

Are you seriously the one taking the blame right now?

“There’s really no need,” you insisted, although your gaze slid away as though you couldn’t quite banish the awkwardness in the air.

He inhaled through his nose, summoning courage. 

Here goes nothing. 

“I, um,” he said softly, stepping a little closer. “I—I haven’t been—”

He tried recalling every single word Robin had told him—her reminders that you liked him, that a small truth wouldn’t change that. He tried to remember all the pointers his therapist had ever offered about vulnerability and the importance of speaking up, but the moment he lifted his gaze and locked eyes with you, every carefully rehearsed line vanished.

It was just you. Standing there, holding the flowers he’d given you in your gentle grip, your expression open and patient and just the slightest bit worried. The shop’s quiet seemed to magnify the pounding of his heart.

“Listen,” he began, voice trembling despite his best effort. “I… I like you.” Heat rose to his cheeks immediately; God, he sounded like a flustered high school kid. “And I know that’s not—I mean, maybe it’s not what anyone wants to hear. Probably think it’s bull, but I haven’t felt this way in a… in a while.” He swallowed. “Longer than a while, actually. And I—I just don’t want you to be…” He let out a rough breath, tongue tripping over the words. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” You tilted your head, brow creasing. 

It was a single word, but it reached right in and squeezed his heart. 

He wet his lips. This was the moment—no turning back. He could almost hear Robin’s voice in his head telling him to trust you. 

So he did.

“Yeah,” he managed, letting out a humourless chuckle. “I…” His pulse roared in his ears as he extended his arm, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater. 

It felt like every second stretched and stretched, infinitely slow, while he carefully eased the fabric up. He revealed the pale, uneven skin on the back of his left forearm.

There, a gnarled mark ran angry and taut, though it had healed better than it once was. It was still jarring against the rest of his skin, as if it didn’t quite belong on his body. 

He had half a mind to yank the sleeve back down, to hide it all again. Every nerve in him screamed to do so.

You stepped closer instead, a soft, careful movement that sent warmth fluttering in his gut. he forced a small, shaky smile, even as his voice trembled. 

“It, uh, looks worse than it is.” A lie, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully admit the pain buried there. “I just wanted you to know… in case we ever… in case you wanted to…”

He trailed off, heart hammering. The jumble of words in his head was impossible to untangle, so he let them die on his tongue.

Your gaze flicked from the scar to his eyes, and a stillness enveloped the space for a moment. You could see how hard this was for him, and you were doing everything in your power to keep this conversation tender. 

“There are more?”

There was no judgment in your tone—just gentle curiosity. He could’ve laughed at how badly he’d feared that question. 

“Yeah,” he answered, a quiet, wry chuckle escaping his throat. “Unfortunately.”

You nodded. Your expression was so compassionate it nearly knocked the breath right out of him. There was nothing unfortunate except the pain he had once been in. 

“Is this why you said no?”

He felt the tension in his shoulders tighten. 

“I—yeah.” In a rush, he continued, “I just wanted you to know what you were getting into. Wanted to… to give you the chance back out.” He swallowed, voice dropping.

Even he could hear the raw, unfiltered insecurity there—every fear he’d harboured for years, twisted into one desperate confession. 

He didn’t want you to leave. But if you had to, do it before he fell any harder. 

And then you smiled at him—so softly, so gently, it felt like a sunrise breaking through storm clouds. When you spoke, your tone was certain. 

You had never been more sure of a decision.

“There is nothing that could make me want you any less, Steve Harrington.”

He felt his chest constrict, tears threatening at the back of his eyes. Every flutter of panic from before turned into a wild, dizzy sense of relief. You—the person who made his heart race just by being—were standing here in front of him, telling him that not even the physical parts of his past could drive you away.

And that was enough to make him break. His eyes burned, blinking back tears before they could spill. He bit the inside of his cheek to hold them back.

You didn’t look repulsed or the littlest bit shocked. You just looked at him the way you always did, like he mattered. Like his fears and his uncertainties weren’t hurdles, just parts of him that you could hold with the same gentleness you held everything else.

You're a fucking dream.

For a few moments, the floral bouquet resting lightly in your arms, his tears barely contained. You tilt your chin up, eyes still carrying that same warmth that makes his knees feel suspiciously unsteady. 

“So…” You pause, letting the word hang in the air like a gentle invitation. “Are you busy for the rest of the day?”

He blinks, the question startling him out of his reverie. “Uh…”

There’s that teasing gleam again. You roll your eyes, but it’s playful, a faint smile tugging at your lips. 

“Not for that.”

A sharp, nervous laugh escapes him before he can stop it, his cheeks flushing.

“Right,” he breathes. “No—Yeah, I can be free today.” He rubs the back of his neck, feeling that slight scratchiness of the sweater he still hasn’t rolled back down, and a wave of awkward self-consciousness washes through him. “Why?”

Your fingers flex around the stems of the bouquet as you look up at him, so much affection in your expression that he wonders if his heart can handle it. 

“Because I want to spend time with you… if you’re up for it.”

A warmth flutters through his chest, soft and giddy, making him feel as though he’s standing on the edge of something hopeful. He wets his lips, nodding. 

“I—I’d love that.”

He followed you up the narrow staircase, heart thumping with excitement at being welcomed into your space. It felt surreal, having spent so many days imagining what your home might look like—wondering if it would match the warmth you exuded—and now he was here, taking it all in with wide, fascinated eyes. Almost like the kids in his class. 

The flat upstairs was an eclectic oasis of mismatched pillows and faded rugs, vintage trinkets and framed prints. Everything seemed handpicked with care, though there was no strict colour scheme or aesthetic; it was simply you. 

Immediately, he found himself smiling. It was like walking into a technicolour daydream, a comforting patchwork of old and new. A soft blanket half-draped over an armchair, a scattering of books on the coffee table, and a hint of something sweet in the air—maybe a candle you’d recently burned.

He was acutely aware that he wanted to brush his fingers across everything, to learn more about you from the objects that made this space yours. Instead, he hovered in the middle of the living area, trying to keep his nosiness in check. 

He’d told himself a thousand times not to be weird, but his eyes kept drifting to the shelves crammed with random curios, or the cosy throws that didn’t quite match in colour but somehow still belonged together.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You turned to him, a gentle smile lighting your features as you placed the bouquet down. 

“Yeah,” he answered quickly—too quickly, but he couldn’t help it. The idea of sharing an evening with you, in your home, felt overwhelmingly domestic. “Absolutely,” he added, more composed this time.

“Good.” Your entire face brightened in response, clapping your hands together with an almost mischievous air. Without further ado, you strolled over to the small open-plan kitchen. “That means you get to be my sous chef.”

He walked toward you, leaning against the counter. “Seriously?”

“Oh, absolutely. You don’t eat for free in my house,” you teased, trying to adopt an air of authority. “You gotta work for it.”

Even though you were clearly joking, his chest flooded with warmth. 

“Yes, Chef,” 

You snorted a laugh at that, pulling open the fridge door and glancing inside. 

“Okay… I went shopping recently, so I’ve got a lot of stuff. Definitely vegetables, so maybe we can do something with pasta, or a ratatouille.” You kept talking, your voice lilting with easy excitement. “Are you fussy? I think I have some meat in here if you’d prefer that, or we could make soup—although it was kind of hot today, so maybe soup isn’t ideal. Or we could—”

Your words came out in a single breath, a rapid-fire list of possibilities. It was adorable, watching you in your element: your hair shifting slightly as you leaned into the fridge, rummaging for ideas, lost in your own thoughts. His stomach tightened at how earnest you sounded, so eager to accommodate him.

He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, feeling the softness of your sweater beneath his palm. 

“Pasta’s fine,” he said softly, gently drawing you out of your rambling.

You glanced over your shoulder, cheeks warming just a bit, as though you’d just realised how fast you were talking. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, shutting the fridge partway, “okay—pasta. Pasta is safe. Hard to mess up.”

“Hey, you’d be surprised.” He slid over to rest his hip on the counter, tilting his head and letting himself enjoy the way you flushed. “When I was younger, I didn’t realise you had to… y’know, put the pasta in water.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Yep. Didn’t occur to me.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Threw it straight in the pan.”

“Are you seriously telling me you burnt raw pasta?”

“Look,” he huffed, hands raised in mock surrender, “I am a lot better now, alright?”

“I should hope so,” you teased, a burst of laughter escaping you, brightening the entire flat. 

Reaching into the fridge again, you pulled out a bag of fresh vegetables, a small block of cheese, and a carton of cream—handing them off to him. Then you shut the fridge, leaving the two of you close in the small space.

That’s when Steve’s eyes landed on something pinned to the fridge door. A piece of paper, slightly worn at the edges, the pencil lines smudged but still recognisable. 

The sketch of you he’d drawn back in his classroom.

He froze, gaze locked on it. The memory flooded back—heart drumming in his chest, trying to capture your likeness with hidden, trembling hands. He hadn’t expected you to care that much about it, let alone display it so proudly.

When you noticed him staring, your expression turned a little bashful, a soft laugh slipping from your lips. 

“I… figured it deserved a place of honour,” you teased, brushing a fingertip against one corner of the paper. He could hear the truth behind the joke.

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, his voice characteristically gentle. 

“You kept it?”

“Course I did.” You replied, echoing something you’d once said to him. “Told you I always wanted my portrait done.” 

A flush crept up his neck, and he rubbed it awkwardly. 

“Yeah, but…” He paused, unsure how to convey the weight of this small gesture. You’d taken a simple drawing—something he hadn’t even considered that good—and made it into a keepsake.

Before he could figure out what to say, you cut in, a casual shrug that did nothing to hide the fondness in your eyes. 

“I wanted to put it somewhere I could see it...”

Emotion welled in his chest, warm and insistent. He didn’t say anything right away. All he managed was a small, lopsided smile that hopefully conveyed some fraction of the tenderness he felt. 

You felt slightly awkward under his gaze, clearing your throat as you handed him the knife and pointed to the chopping board. Confirming to him you trusted him enough not to butcher your vegetables—or your kitchen.

He lays everything out in front of him, reaching to roll up his sleeves. He hesitates—just for a moment—before deciding to go through with it. There’s no point in hiding now that it’s all out in the open, but the brush of air against his marks still feels foreign.

When he glances at you, you’re not even looking. Not staring, not reacting, not bothered in the slightest. And something about that settles him. He wonders if this is what it could always be like—if, someday, this could be routine. If your space could become a place where he doesn’t have to hide. A place where he can just exist.

He set about dicing an onion, practicing the technique Robin had drilled into him: fingers tucked in, careful horizontal and vertical cuts. It wasn’t Michelin-worthy, but he liked to think he’d developed some culinary skills.

You, meanwhile, grabbed a block of cheese from the fridge and started grating. 

“So, I’m guessing you know how to cook a little now, huh?” you asked casually, taking in the even slices of onion gathering on the board.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I do,” he said, scraping the chopped onion into a neat pile. “Kinda like it, actually.”

“Oh?” you prompted, quirking a brow as though intrigued by this domestic side of him.

“Robin—I’ve mentioned her, right?” When you nodded, he continued, “Well, after she saw what a disaster I was in the kitchen firsthand, basically forced me to learn.”

You laughed gently, the sound like warm honey. “I feel sorry for her.”

“Ouch,” Steve shot you a mock-offended look, then shrugged. “To be fair, she was super patient—more than I deserved sometimes.”

You nodded and he went quiet for a moment, focusing on the task in front of him as memories crowded his mind. He could see Robin’s exasperated grin as she dangled a spatula in front of him, telling him if he didn’t at least stir the sauce, she’d let it burn. 

He remembered the nights he couldn’t get out of bed—nights where his own mind weighed him down like lead—and how she would simply appear, commandeer his kitchen, and coax him into joining her.

At first, it had been embarrassing. He hated the thought of needing someone to guide him through the simplest tasks, hated the idea that he was helpless. But Robin had this uncanny knack of turning it into fun—into a moment of victory, however small. 

If he managed to perfectly chop a pepper or make a sauce without scalding it, she’d give him a triumphant little fist bump, like he’d just won a gold medal. 

Over time, cooking became a small but tangible source of confidence for him—proof that he could create something from nothing, sustain himself with his own two hands.

He cleared his throat, blinking back into the present. 

“She didn’t let me off that easy. Dragged me into the kitchen most days—but you know, she actually helped a lot.” He went on, sliding the diced onion into a bowl you’d handed him. “Once she and I got busier, we stopped doing it as much, but…” He gestured around your cluttered kitchen, eyes travelling from the mismatched mugs on your shelf to the bright potholders hanging on the wall. “It’s nice.”

He didn’t say the rest out loud, but you could deduce what he meant. He liked making something, building something. He liked feeling safe. 

“You know,” you say softly, glancing up from the cheese you’d just finished grating, “she sounds amazing. I’d love to meet her someday.”

He sets down the knife he was holding, taking a moment to wipe his hands on a dish towel. The genuine excitement lighting his face is almost boyish. 

“Yeah, she’d… she’d really like that, actually.” There’s a flicker of pride in his eyes—like he can’t wait to show you off, show Robin that he’s managed to find someone this wonderful, someone who sees him. “She already mentioned wanting to meet you, so we’ll, uh—” He swallows, looking delighted at the prospect. “We’ll plan something. Once we’re, y’know, all free.”

“Hmm,” you give a thoughtful nod, a small smirk tugging at your lips, “so you’ve been talking about me?”

“Uh, yeah?” He immediately flushes, cheeks warming under your gaze. “‘Course I have. Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrug, your eyes dipping away for a half-second before meeting his again. 

“It’s just… it’s good to know you’re, I don’t know, serious.”

“Did I make you think I wasn’t?” He asks, a hint of genuine concern threading through his voice. He can feel his heart rate pick up—he doesn’t want there to be any room for doubt.

“No!” You shake your head, flustered. “No—not at all. I just mean—”

He steps closer, determined to chase away any lingering uncertainty in your eyes. He doesn’t know what comes over him—maybe it’s the weight of everything that’s happened today, or maybe it’s the way your voice falters, just slightly, sending a surge of confidence through him.

He feels safe here. Your reassurance settles something in him, makes him bold. And now, he wants to test it. To push just a little further, to see how far this newfound feeling can take him. 

To prove—to himself more than anyone—that he hasn’t lost it.

“Because last night,” he says, voice dropping a little lower, feeling how the teasing tone feels on his tongue, “you wanna know what I did?” 

He leans in, invading your personal space in that deliberate way that makes your breath catch. Your reply gets stuck in your throat, and you simply blink at him, gaze darting from his mouth to his eyes, waiting.

Gotcha.

He leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he confesses.

“I spent the whole night alone in bed, thinking about what it would’ve been like to have you there with me.”

Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you draw in a quiet, shaky breath.

Christ—confidence looks good on him. The way he’s looking at you, like a man starved, like he’s been holding this back. And now you’re left wondering—has he always felt this way?

With your expression emboldening him, he dips his head to press his mouth to yours. The kiss starts slow, a gentle lingering of lips, but it deepens as he grips your waist. He wants—needs—you to know how fervently he means every word. 

He pours it all into the press of his mouth: the latent hunger that’s been building since the first moment he realised how important you were becoming, the searing need to prove that last night was never about not wanting you. 

When you make a soft, breathy sound that vibrates against his mouth, his entire body goes warm. His heartbeat pounds so fiercely it’s almost dizzying, and in that moment he’s sure he’s a goner, absolutely done for—you’ve got him.

He tugs back just enough to look at you properly. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes gleaming in the low light of the kitchen, and the sight of you nearly undoes him. You tilt your head, a hesitant little smile ghosting your lips. 

“Hey,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, “we don’t have to do anything if you’re not—”

“I am,” he says, voice rough with need. “Fuck—I am.” His hand cradles your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek in a way that makes your lashes flutter. “Do you trust me?”

Your gaze flicks to his, warm and steady. “Yeah. But… dinner—”

He can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes him. Dinner? Only you would be so concerned about practicalities when he’s two seconds from combusting. 

Still, he recognises the gentle out you’re giving him, a final check-in to see if he really wants this. 

And, oh, he does. 

“It can wait,” he promises, dropping his voice to that intimate purr that already makes your stomach flutter. “Please just—please, let me do this for you.” 

Let him show you. Let him take care of you. 

You meet his eyes, taking in the flush staining his cheeks, the raw want practically radiating off him. You manage a nod, hardly able to get the word yes out before he’s on you again—his mouth against yours with a heat that has you spinning.

It starts hungry, and only grows more desperate when your hands slide up over his shoulders, fingers curling into the short hair at the nape of his neck. A low groan escapes him, his body thrumming with adrenaline and desire. 

He forgot how good it could feel, how right it could be, to have someone he wants this badly—someone who wants him just as fiercely.

He crowds in close, big hands gripping your hips firmly, and in one swift motion he lifts you onto the counter. A startled gasp leaves you, and you toss a quick glance around as though you can’t quite believe the two of you are about to do this. 

“Here?” you ask, voice breathy with surprise.

“Yeah,” a cocky half-grin tips the corner of his mouth. “Right here.”

Any way he can have you. 

Every nerve in his body screams for more contact, more of you—he needs to taste, needs to feel.

He slots himself between your thighs, leaning in again to reclaim your lips. The tension in your muscles loosens as his hands drift beneath your shirt, sliding across the warm plane of your sides. The soft curves and dips of your skin drag a ragged breath out of him, especially when your hips roll against his.

You can’t help the little whimper that bubbles up, and the sound propels him deeper into the kiss. His entire body tingles with awareness of you, from the slight shiver that courses through you at his touch to the way your nails lightly scrape at his scalp.

When your fingers thread into his hair, a deep, full-throated groan vibrates from his chest—he’s powerless to stop it.

That breathy chuckle you give in response makes him shiver. You angle his head, your palm cupping the back of his neck. 

“You like that, huh?” you tease, eyes glinting with mischief.

His head falls back slightly as he exhales.

“Fuck—yeah—yes.” He’s beyond self-conscious at this point, need flooding through every cell. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo, before trailing his hand down to the waistband of your jeans.

“Gonna need you to do that again for me,” he murmurs, voice filled with confidence and trembling want.

You blink, momentarily puzzled, until he starts to tug at your jeans, his fingers hooking into both denim and underwear. Then you realise exactly what he means—and you waste no time in helping him rid you of the final barriers standing between his hands and your bare skin.

He tugs the denim down, heart thundering as he sinks to his knees between your thighs. He’s wound so tight he can practically hear his pulse in his ears. 

From his vantage point below, he takes in the sight of you, drawn to every curve and line. There’s something indescribably beautiful about seeing you like this, so undone, so ready.

He slides his hands over your legs, fingertips grazing soft skin and eliciting a shiver that makes his chest swell with pride. It’s been so long since he’s done this—too long. The anxious flutter in his stomach almost rivals the heat pooling in his lower body. 

But he wants to do this right. Needs to.

When he glances up again, you’re watching him through half-lidded eyes, a flush creeping up your neck. The way you part your lips as you inhale, the anticipation evident in your features—it all spurs him on. He lets out a shaky breath, leaning in to brush his mouth over your inner thigh first, planting a series of teasing, barely-there kisses as he makes his way closer.

Your hand tangles in his hair, fingers curling in a firm but not painful grip. It’s a silent command,  a reminder that you’re right there, in this with him. 

He shudders at the rush of arousal that flares through him. 

“Stop teasing,” you finally mutter, voice edged with impatience.

He flushes hot at your tone—low, wanting, confident. 

“Sorry, angel,” he murmurs, the endearment rolling off his tongue like a promise. “Gonna make it up to you, all right?”

For both yesterday, and right now.

You give a quick nod, and he takes that as all the permission he needs. Gently, he lifts one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin just above your knee. Then he settles in, leaning forward until he’s exactly where he needs to be.

The first flick of his tongue draws a throaty moan from you, and his own breath stumbles at the sheer erotic charge of the moment. He’s nearly lightheaded with how good you taste, how you respond to every shift of his lips, every press of his mouth. 

It’s intoxicating, fueling him to explore every sensitive spot he can find.

“Should’ve done this last night,” in a husky, almost delirious voice. He hates that he ran from you, from this, even for a second. But it’s fueling him now, pushing him to worship every inch of you until he’s certain you’ll never doubt how badly he wants you. “Should’ve had you then,” he breathes, “So fucking stupid.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him closer, and he lets out a muffled groan. You’re already trembling under his touch, each quiet whimper echoing in the small kitchen. The tile beneath his knees is hard, but he barely registers any discomfort—he’s too lost in you. The lust is overshadowed by a tenderness, a desire not just to please you, but to prove something to himself. 

That he can still be this person. 

Then you gasp, hips shifting forward in search of more, and your free hand flies out to grab at his arm. The moment your palm lands on the rough, uneven skin, his stomach lurches.

He half-expects to feel you flinch. But instead, you grip him tighter, holding on as though you need him close. That realisation sends a bolt of raw adrenaline right through his core, and he doubles down, dragging his tongue in deep, purposeful strokes.

Your desperate noises urge him on, and he moves in closer, pressing you more firmly against the counter. The scent of you and the haze of arousal in the air blur his senses. He’s focused on nothing but your pleasure—on coaxing more of those shaky, breathless moans out of you, each one sweeter than the last.

When your fingers tighten again in his hair, he lifts his gaze for a heartbeat, catching the dazed, blissed-out expression on your face, a wave of heat flashing through him,

He’s done for. 

He feels the telltale flutter in your core, the way your thighs tense around his head and the broken syllables of his name falling from your lips. His own heartbeat stutters at the sound of you gasping, higher and higher until you’re almost pleading.

“Steve—” you manage, voice trembling on the edge. “I’m gonna—”

He groans low in his throat, pressing in closer. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs hungrily. “C’mon baby—please—wanna feel you—”

That’s all it takes for you to come apart, back arching and legs clenching, trapping him in a burst of sensation. 

He keeps his mouth moving, coaxing every last pulse out of you. The tight press of your thighs around his head should be suffocating, but to him it’s pure adrenaline. He savours the moment, humming with open satisfaction at how your body shudders under his relentless focus, until you finally push lightly at his head, too sensitive to handle more.

He reluctantly withdraws, breathing heavy as he looks up at you. Your cheeks are flushed, lips parted, chest rising and falling while you come down from your high. For a split second, he stands there on his knees, watching your every expression like you’re the most captivating thing he’s ever seen.

“Was that… all right?” he asks, voice almost shy now that the immediate rush is ebbing, your release still glistening on his chin.

You offer him a dazed little nod, and he can’t help the proud grin spreading across his face as he rises to his feet. The minute his lips touch yours again, you taste yourself on him—a sharp, dizzying reminder of just how thoroughly he’s had you. He smiles into the kiss, smugness in the way his hand cups the side of your face.

Your own hands move with eagerness, tugging at the hem of his sweater. The first spike of panic darts through him, and he tenses. 

No. Not Yet.

He knows what it would mean—bared skin, the possibility of further questions, it's unpredictable. His heart thuds as he pulls back minutely, not wanting to flee but unable to hide the flicker of fear in his eyes.

You pause, taking in the hesitation etched across his features. 

“Not ready?” you ask, gentle but direct.

His lips part, but no words come out at first. A flush creeps up his neck, embarrassment and self-consciousness colliding in his chest. 

“I… I’m sorry,” he finally mutters, feeling every bit as uncertain as he did the night before. 

So much for the surge of confidence.

Your brows knit in understanding, and you nod softly. There’s no accusation in your expression, no frustration. Instead, you lean up to kiss him again—light and sweet and reassuring. 

“Can I still take care of you?” you whisper when you pull back, searching his gaze.

Take care of him. 

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he mumbles, voice rough at the edges.

“I know,” you say, voice calm but insistent. One hand drifts to the fly of his jeans, carefully brushing over the hard outline straining there. He lets out a hiss of breath, tension sizzling through his entire body at the contact. 

“I want to,” you continue, thumb tracing a light pattern along the fabric. “Please?” You look up at him, meeting those warm brown eyes, “I want to make you feel good, too.”

And how could anyone say no to that?

“Fuck, angel… all right.” He exhales a shaky laugh, tipping his forehead to yours. “Yeah, all right.”

You free him from his jeans—he’s so hard it almost hurts, and the cool air hits him like a shock. Every nerve ending is lit up, thrumming with excitement and a bit of residual caution. But the second your fingers curl around him, that caution is drowned out by pure pleasure. 

His head falls forward as soon as your hand wraps around him, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a low, trembling groan.

It’s been so long since he’s been touched like this, and he can’t contain the steady stream of whimpers and half-broken words spilling from his lips. Every movement of your hand drags another rasping exhale out of him.

“God—” he mutters, voice pitched higher than usual. “You—fuck, you feel—”

His breath hitches again as you start slow, deliberately teasing him. He can’t help the ragged little laugh that escapes, face still hidden against your throat. 

“You’re killing me.”

But even then, there’s no mistaking the appreciation in his tone. He likes the way you’re taking your time, savouring the vision of him, watching him go boneless under your touch. His entire body thrums with the urge to thrust into your palm; he’s holding back with every bit of willpower he has, trying not to lose himself too quickly.

When you chuckle softly, your breath hot against his ear, he lets out a needy little sound that he never planned to let slip. 

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, shoulders shaking with pent-up tension. “I—I can’t—”

“Does it feel good?” you tease, your voice edging on playful, as though you already know the answer.

“Yes,” he blurts, shoulders jerking as a ripple of pleasure sparks through him. “Yes, it—it’s so fucking good.” His fingers dig into your shoulders, gripping the fabric of your shirt. “Not gonna last—”

You giggle, and he could swear that sound alone just about knocks the air out of his lungs. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, drawing a guttural noise from deep in his chest.

“You gonna cum for me, Steve?” you ask, voice lilting.

Oh, you’re cruel.

That sweet look on your face—so deceptively innocent, when he knows better. Like a siren, the way your voice teeters between soft and sultry, pulling him under, not allowing him to summon a coherent thought.

His cheeks are bright red, eyes shining with a haze of lust. His mouth opens, but he’s too far gone to form sentences, so he just nods, hair flopping into his face in a disheveled mess. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, tone shaky. “I’m close—I, shit—”

You give him a knowing, devilish grin and draw him down into a kiss—slow, thorough, open-mouthed. He tries to respond, tries to match your pace, but the rising wave of release scrambles his thoughts and tangles his tongue. 

All he can manage are broken moans into your mouth as pleasure overtakes him, and you drink them in eagerly. His orgasm slams into him so fast it nearly buckles his knees, and he grips you tighter, riding out each pulse as it wracks his body.

You keep stroking, guiding him through it, until he sags against you, spent and trembling. His head comes to rest on your shoulder, breath ragged in your ear.

The feeling of you envelops him—your clean hand softly cradling his face, thumb grazing the curve of his cheek. It’s such a gentle, grounding gesture that it helps his racing heart settle.

After a few seconds, he manages to straighten, eyes flicking down to the evidence of his release painting your thighs. There’s a flash of panic in his gaze, but there’s also a thrum of arousal still sparking in his veins at the sight. He fumbles to tuck himself back into his jeans, cheeks more red. 

“Fuck—I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice still rough.

“Shh,” you say simply, pulling him in for a kiss. He melts into it, relieved and just a little awed by how casual and reassuring you seem, like there’s not an ounce of shame. When you pull back, you brush a few strands of sweaty hair off his forehead. 

“Did you enjoy it?”

He lets out a huff of laughter—surprised you’d even need to ask. His face is still flushed, and he ducks his head. 

“Uh… yeah,” he says, a helpless grin curling his mouth. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“Good.” You give him a knowing smile. “Would’ve broken my heart if I couldn’t do that again.”

“Really?” he asks, blinking in genuine amazement.

“Mhm,” you tease, leaning in to peck him lightly on the lips. “Never gonna be able to cook normally in here again, though.”

That makes him laugh, a loose, buoyant sound that brightens his features. 

“Um, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to the bathroom and… clean up a little.” You clear your throat, cheeks still pink. “Before we finish cooking.”

“Oh—shit, of course,” he says hurriedly, stepping back to make room for you. He tries to sound collected, but he’s still a little breathless.

You hop off the counter, bending to gather your discarded clothes. As you head across the room, you glance back, noticing him following your every move. A playful wink from you makes him chuckle under his breath, still riding the high of what just transpired.

Alone in the kitchen, he turns back to the neglected pot and quickly re-focuses himself. With a shaky exhale, he slides the diced onions into it. He sets the knife aside for when you return, mind swirling with the memory of your touch—the same memory that he would certainly be revisiting in the very near future. 

When you finally emerge, you’re wearing a pair of soft pajamas—something that looks cosy enough to curl up in. He catches the sight of you out of the corner of his eye and can’t help but beam, feeling that giddy high in his ribs all over again. He steps forward, gently tugging you back to your perch on the countertop.

“Hey now,” you warn, eyes dancing with good humour. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for round two.”

“No—neither am I,” he admits, pressing a quick, warm kiss to your cheek. “But I got this—just sit there and, I don’t know, look pretty.”

Your playful groan of protest is minimal, and he can’t stop smiling as you settle back. You watch him shuffle to the far side of the kitchen to grab a clove of garlic. He’s turning up the heat and chopping again with that same contented hum in his chest, as though he’s stepped into some domestic paradise.

He thinks about how someday, when he’s more at peace with his body, he wants to show you all of himself. He only hopes that next time, he’ll be a little bolder, a little braver—so he can give you everything you deserve.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer @chiliwhore @kvroomi @just-lilita @negomi123 @catluver02 @tinythebunni 

[hellfire--cult]

+18 - Just something i would do for boyfriend!eddie

thinking about how Eddie is out with his friends, while you're out with Nancy and Robin, and he gets a text message from you. His eyes bulge out of his skull when he reads you want a dick Pic. In the middle of the day.

In your six months of relationship, there was never a need for one. Spicy pics were not sent to one another because you basically visited eachother daily, so you could just have the real deal. He sends back a message,

Eddie: "Aren't u with nance and robs?"

You: "its for me, i just want a pic. nance has dick pics of jonathan and i don't have a single sexy pic of yours!"

Your request was weird as fuck... but Eddie adored you. He can interrogate you later on. So he goes to Gareth's bathroom, and strokes himself a bit for the head to become slightly red, and his shaft to harden. He wasn't going to send a soft dick pic, it wasn't flattering at all.

He pressed send and he waited, the only thing he received was a 'Thx :)' from you. He hummed in question, following you up with 'i'll c u later?' which you replied, 'absolutely baby'.

When he went to your apartment, he was ready to ask a bunch of questions, but you shut him up by sitting on the couch, giving him a glass of wine. He noticed the color on your lips, probably buying makeup with Nancy today you just decided to try a new lipstick.

But then you kissed him, and the glasses of wine were left on the coffee table as you ravished his tongue with yours. He wondered what had gotten into you, but before he could ask, you were getting on your knees in between his legs while he sat on the couch.

"What?" His eyes widened when you reapplied the lipstick on your lips, taking the small tube out of your back pocket, and popping your lips at him with a playful glint in your eyes. He wasn't going to complain, this not being the first time you went straight for what you wanted and he fucking loved it. He loved when you just decided to use him after doing the most homely of things, or just randomly during the day.

So he helped taking off his jeans, then his boxers. You spat on your hand and you wrapped around his dick, and he was already in heaven as he threw his head back, closing his eyes as he delighted himself into your touch. You got him hard, super hard, and then, you called out to him in a sweet, yet mischievous voice.

"Eddie~" You called and he groaned as he looked down at you, his cock hard resting on your cheek and then you gave him a soft smack of your lips on the tip of--

Oh.

"You fucking minx..." He chuckled as he realized what you had done, how you tricked him earlier in the day, a giggle escaping your lips.

"It's a good match, isn't it?" He couldn't even respond as your lips wrapped around the head, those fucking lips that wore lipstick in the color of the tip of his cock. You matched the redness, the slight pinkish tone of it, and it looked so good on you... it looked so good to see it wrapped around his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down.

And he couldn't wait to smudge it away.

[ssweetleaf]

babies.

husband!steve harrington x wife!reader

summary: you finally tell steve that you’re ready for a baby.

includes: SMUT 18+, breeding kink, not really a daddy kink but he refers to himself as daddy lol, mating press, creampie, unprotected p in v

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Hang on— what did you say?”

Steve felt as if he was dreaming, completely delirious, struggling to stay on his feet when his knees started to buckle.

He clutched a quivering palm to his chest, as if in attempt to quell his heart, but nothing could sate the thick thumping that barrelled through his rib cage.

You smiled at him, a small, impish one that made his eyelids flutter and you stepped closer, smoothing your hands along his shoulders before resting upon the thickness of both biceps, squeezing only slightly— just for your benefit, of course.

You knew it was something he’d desperately wanted to hear for a long while, so you spoke slowly, hoping the few words you spoke would register properly.

Because this was real. Such a big step, something that Steve had always dreamt of, but you not quite. It took a good few years for you to succumb to the idea of raising kids; a pretty house and a small wedding— even a few cats roamed around your home, so you knew that something was missing, something you now wanted desperately in your life.

“I want to try for a baby, Steve.” You spoke, watching his doe eyes grow even rounder, little tears threatening to ebb while he felt all melty and gooey, moving forward to shakily cup your cheeks and bring you closer towards him.

Steve nuzzled his nose against yours, sighing out a big breath and sponging a sweet, chaste little kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t know what to say, honey, I’m—” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, his thumbs lazily circling the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so fucking happy.”

—

So, the two of you fucked like rabbits— for hours and hours, multiple times a day, the mere feeling of his raw length inside you had you creaming around him in minutes, and it was much akin for Steve, the soft, gummy walls of your cunt squeezing around him with no barrier between the two of you.

It felt like heaven.

Steve had insisted that you both have sex as regular as you could, the need to have you pregnant, to make it stick, needed to be quenched, and you nodded along like the doting little wife you were.

“My pretty honey,” he cooed, pressing your knees firmly against your heaving chest, holding you in a mating press whilst he fucked his thick cock into your spasming pussy.

Sweat beaded along his hairline, breathless from his hard thrusts— he had already came inside of you three times that same day, however you knew he wouldn’t let up until he saw those two red lines that told him what he’d wanted to hear.

“Gotta give you my babies, don’t I, hon?” He uttered, moaning breathily into the stuffy air— his full, round balls smacking against your ass with every inward thrust, so full of cum and ready to breed. “Gotta be thorough now, baby— want you nice ‘n’ round.”

He was babbling, words slurring into something almost nonsensical— his pretty lips sponged at any piece of skin he could find, mouthing and suckling with a desperation that shone in his honeyed eyes.

Your pussy practically sucked him in, letting his ruddy tip nudge at the spot so deep inside you, that had you clenching and fluttering.

“Fuck, jus’ wanna be a daddy so bad,” he whined, “and once we have our first, we’ll have another, and another, and another— oh fuck.”

He was fisting the pillow underneath your head, muscles drawn tight, trying so hard to keep his eyes open and not let them flutter closed— trying hard to keep his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, honey baby,” he sighed with a smile, still thrusting as deep as he could, his thumb moving to rub at your clit. “You’ll still be daddy’s best girl— daddy’s favourite, I’ll make sure of it.”

You whined. He was so filthy, so crude, as soon as his big dick would slip inside of you he’d be gone, so stupid, completely pussy drunk. Silly boy.

“You ready for it, hon?” He cooed, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, “ready for my cum, pretty girl?”

You nodded, uttering a small ‘yes, Stevie’ through a moan and a sigh, clenching hard and quivering around him, ready to cum yourself.

The sheer need to be filled had you delirious.

“Yeah, gonna fill you up— gonna put a sweet baby in that pretty tummy of yours,” he hummed, “that sound good?”

“Sounds s’good, Stevie,” you whined, struggling to keep hold of your legs, your limbs shaky when you tried to keep your knees pressed against you. “Wan’ it so bad, want your cum— want your babies.”

He nodded fervently, hair whipping in every which way, dick throbbing in you hotly, the taut veins pulsing with every inward thrust— so, so close and ready to burst.

“I know ya do, hon— you ready to take it? You ready to take another load, baby?” He whined, squeezing his eyes shut, thrusts turning sloppy and erratic, “I know you’re so full, can barely fit anymore cum inside this poor pussy, huh?”

“Can take it, Stevie,” you spoke, fluttering your lashes, your lips all pouty and pink, “promise.”

And with one, two, three thrusts, he stilled inside of you, so deep, tip kissing your cervix before shooting his thick, pearly ropes of cum inside you, hoping to fill you with his Harrington prodigy, to make all the babies he could wish for.

Steve kept your legs raised, pulling them from your chest to place above his shoulders, keeping your back arched.

“Gotta make sure it takes,” he whispered, stroking at your calf before pressing a little kiss to your ankle. “think this is the one, honey.”

[t0oth-r0t]

thinking about sleeping in billy hargrove's car

soft!billy who always lets you know when he leaves, even when you're half asleep on the couch.

"hey. late night errands to run. i'll be home by eleven, sleepyhead."

soft!billy who would never dream of saying no to you.

"can i come with? wanna sleep in the back.."

"yeah? ...sure thing, babe."

soft!billy who isn't actually sure it's a good idea, but can't look at your half-lidded, sleepy eyes for a second without caving.

"i'll be inside, but if you need me, you can come get me. if someone messes with you, or–"

"billy,"

"right."

soft!billy who glances back, catching a glimpse of you through the drenched window of his camaro, already asleep. you look so peaceful, curled up in the backseat, that he almost doesn't go into the store at all, wishing he was laying across the seats with you.

[supernovafics]

boyfriend!steve who loves recording everything

wc: 899

a/n: been thinking about this a lot a lot and finally got around to writing it

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and here we have my beautiful girlfriend who put this whole party together.”

you looked into the video camera for a brief second, drunkenly smiling into it before looking up at steve. “you’re having way too much fun with this thing already, birthday boy.”

“what? it’s actually a very cool gift.” you could tell steve was a little drunk too, but you didn’t think that would’ve changed how into the gift he was; the camera the kids pooled their money together to get for him. “say hi.”

“hi,” you said, smiling and looking right into the lens again, and then you playfully stuck your tongue out at it. 

“i love you,” steve said with a soft happy laugh. “so much.”

“i love you too. so, so much,” you told him and he leaned down to kiss you. 

“thank you again for doing this whole thing,” he mumbled against your lips. “best surprise ever.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “no need to thank me. you deserve it, best boyfriend ever.”

the camera was filming the wooden floor at this point, but it probably still picked up what you two were saying. 

you pulled away from steve after a second, knowing that the longer you two were wrapped up in one another, the more your friends would playfully make fun of the two of you.

“you should go film robin and nancy doing karaoke. i think that them drunkenly singing bohemian rhapsody needs to be documented.” 

steve nodded. “great idea.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

after that first night, it should’ve been obvious, but that camera became steve’s favorite thing. it almost made the new pair of nikes you’d gotten him look like the most boring gift ever, but you didn’t really mind it.  

it was always the most random moments that he wanted to record of you two. “for memories” was always his response when you asked why he wanted to record you two brushing your teeth in the morning or you two lying on the couch and watching a bad movie that he brought home from family video. 

or even in this moment when you two were cooking in the kitchen of your shared apartment.

you immediately gave him a look when you noticed him turn on the camera. “steve, you’re making it seem like we’re cooking something super elaborate. it’s just a grilled cheese.” 

“it’s still like a fun cooking show,” he said, smiling as he set the camera up on the counter, placing it on top of a stack of random containers. “what do you need, chef?”

there was no way of telling if either of you were actually in the frame— you had a feeling that at least your heads were cut off— but still, you decided to play along. he was acting too cute and adorable not to. 

“bread and cheese, chef,” you told him as you went to grab a pan from the cabinet below you. “oh, and butter too.”

“got it,” steve nodded and went over to the pantry and then the fridge, and then made a show of showing the camera all of the ingredients he grabbed. 

you couldn’t help but laugh a little as you watched him. you decided to play along further and follow suit as you did most of the actual cooking; making a point of showing the camera exactly what you were doing and even exaggeratingly explaining it too. 

and when you two were eating at your small kitchen table ten minutes later, you admitted to steve with a smile that he was right, and filming everything did make it feel like a “fun cooking show.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

and then there were the moments when you were the one to grab the camera and initiate the recording. it was seldom, but when you did do it, steve always got the happiest grin on his face. 

like, in this moment, when you were coming out of the bathroom and grabbing steve’s t-shirt that had been haphazardly tossed to the floor thirty minutes earlier and slipping it over your body. for no particular reason, other than you found yourself wanting to, you grabbed the camera off of steve’s nightstand and then slid into his lap, straddling him.

he was already smiling as you turned on the camera and the familiar red light came on when you pressed record. 

“say hi,” you told him, your own smile on your face as you pointed the camera at him. his messy hair from what you two had previously been doing was probably the cutest thing you’d ever seen and you made sure the camera saw it. 

he smiled wider. “hi.”

one of his hands found your bare thigh and you let out a contented hum in response. 

“y'know, i’m surprised you haven’t asked to film us yet,” you said softly. "us doing what we just did…”

his eyes widened a bit at your shy suggestion and you smiled wider, zooming in on his expression. “is that an option?”

you stopped recording him then and reached over to set the camera back down on the nightstand. 

“maybe,” you answered, shrugging innocently. “i think it could be kinda hot.”

steve shook his head. “not just kinda. very hot.”

you leaned down to kiss him then. it was slow and languid and steve’s hands immediately went to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.  

“very hot,” you hummed in agreement. 

[lovebugism]

Smut fic where reader and Eddie have been arguing since yesterday and he comes home from band practice and fucks her.

♡ “i was expecting a written apology but this is much better.”

ty for requesting :D — the best part of fighting with eddie, is making up with eddie (established relationship, hurt/comfort, smut 18+ | 1k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

Eddie returns home from band practice to find the trailer brimming with the scent of something sweet. An entire symphony of chocolate and vanilla and caramel — a stark contrast to the stale stench of Gareth’s garage.

He spots you standing in front of the stove, humming mindlessly to yourself as you whisk at a large bowl of miscellaneous ingredients. You’re wearing a too-big sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, and a pair of fluffy socks sitting unevenly at your ankles. The sight of you is undeniably sweeter than whatever it is you’re baking for him.

Eddie leaves his guitar case by the front door and floats towards the kitchen with a lopsided smile. “Ooh. Smells good in here,” he lilts in place of a real greeting as he drapes himself along your back. 

He caresses your arm with one ringed hand while the other reaches around you. He dips his pointer finger into the bowl and brings it up to his mouth, humming at the sugary taste on his tongue. “You know— I was expecting a handwritten apology,” he slurs before swallowing it down. “But this is so muchbetter.”

You dig your elbow into his ribs. Eddie winces and stumbles back.

“It’s not for you,” you correct, gaze averted as you dump a bowl of dry ingredients into the chocolate gold. “It’s for Hopper. For saving your ass.”

The reminder makes Eddie groan. After all, it wasn’t his fault that asshole got too handsy with you at the bar. He didn’t even realize he’d punched the guy until his knuckles collided with his chiseled nose. (He thought for sure his hand was broken then, but the bruises look totally metal now.) 

The cookie-cutter douchebag was hellbent on pressing charges. Chief Hopper assured the asshole that the freak would be spending the night in jail, but instead drove Eddie home in the back of his cop car. He got the talking-to of a century then, from Jim and from you — ‘cause apparently some guy flirting with you isn’t grounds for ‘assault.’ Eddie still thinks that may be too harsh a word.

He tosses his head back, wild curls slipping from his shoulders, as the counter digs into his hip. “You’re still upset about that?” he whines boyishly, then cowers at the glare you give him. “I mean… I didn’t know you were still upset about that,” he amends, more sympathetically this time.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Yeah, you should be the one apologizing to me, Munson,” you tell him, whisking the filling with a bit more aggression than you mean to. “Or better yet, the guy you punched last night—”

“No way.”

“—You almost broke his nose.”

“Oh, please,” Eddie laughs. “He was just being a baby about it.”

“He wasn’t even doing anything to deserve it!”

“He was bothering you!”

“He was talking to me!” you shout, much harsher than he’s used to. Your eyes glitter despite the way they’ve hardened as they dart back and forth between his darker ones. “And if I can’t have a conversation with some stupid guy without you flying off the handle, then I can’t imagine what you’ll do when some idiot buys me a drink.”

Eddie softens immediately. He didn’t know you felt that way.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, gravitating towards you with unsure steps and reaching for you with a hesitant hand. When you don’t pull away from his touch, he embraces you from behind — arms wrapped around your waist, hands resting on your belly, chin bobbing on your shoulder. “Though, I’m pretty sure that’s not what you wanna hear from me right now. ‘Cause I told you I was sorry ’til I was blue in the face last night, and you still made me sleep on the couch, so…”

You can hear the crooked smile in his softly spoken words.

You fight hard to bite back your own.

“Well, maybe I’m tired of hearing how sorry you are. Maybe I just want you to prove it.” You set the bowl on the counter and skim your pointer finger over the freshly mixed concoction. “Here, open—”

His pink mouth parts. You slide your finger over the soft pad of his tongue, giving him a proper taste of the filling now that it’s finished. Eddie hums at the bittersweet taste — the sickly sugar sufficiently balanced with sea salt. He nods in wordless approval while you lick the remnants from your own finger.

“You know what would taste better, though?” he wonders aloud once he’s swallowed it down, tone dripping in mischief as his tongue darts across his lip.

Your eyes narrow. “Eddie…” you deadpan in a preemptive scold.

The boy only smirks as he coaxes you against the counter with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You grip the granite edge as he descends to his knees before you, his chocolate-eyed gaze never once wavering from yours. 

“You want me to prove it to you, right?” he asks, bruised knuckles lifting the hem of your shirt. “How sorry I am?”

You nod silently, ‘cause you couldn’t muster a cheeky quip right now if you wanted to.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Eddie tells you, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your thigh. You bite back a shiver when his wild curls brush the insides of them. Chills pebble faintly over the skin there, and he smiles. “I’m sorry,” he says once more, punctuated this time by a kiss to the bow of your underwear.

Your breath catches when his pointer finger dips beneath the panty line. His rings brush your burning skin as he slides the fabric to the side. Eddie smirks when he catches your unwavering gaze, as glassy as the sparkling skin of your wet pussy. You can act all mean when you want to, but your body can never pretend with him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, just before licking a fat stripe up the length of your cunt.

Your lips fall softly agape at the warm, satin feeling of his mouth pressed against the most sensitive parts of you. Your head tilts back as your airy moan fills the silent kitchen. The pie you were making is now long forgotten. You’re much sweeter in comparison, anyway.

[keeryhours]

teen pregnancy series - eddie munson part 1

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Teen Pregnancy Series Masterlist

Summary:

A broken condom leads to the end of your life as you knew it.

Part 2

Warnings:

Smut (18+), oral (m and f receiving), p in v, fingering, pregnancy, threatened miscarriage, drug use (weed), shitty parents, Al Munson

Word Count: 19.2k

A/N:

I am literally the most impatient person in the world so here’s part 1 early! Part 2 will be out very soon, I’m locked in. Thank you @glassbxttless for my banner and for reading this ❤️

You loved waking up next to Eddie.

The soft rise and fall of his breathing, the wild way his hair would be splayed out across the pillow, his lips parted as he snored lightly, the peaceful look on his handsome face. Sometimes you would just watch him sleep. Other times you would trace his tattoos until he woke with a smile.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he’d say, his voice still dripping with sleep.

“Good morning yourself,” you’d say back.

This was what it was like most mornings you woke up with Eddie. It wasn’t hard to sneak into his place at night. Your parents went to sleep at 9pm on the dot, all too easy to slip out your window and to your bike. You didn’t even have to sneak into Eddie’s, the front door was fine - Wayne worked nights, and you didn’t think he’d care either way. Wayne loved you.

There was nothing quite like sleeping in Eddie’s arms. It was your safe place. Warm and cozy, like being enveloped in pure love. It was no wonder you’d rather spend the night there than in your cold bed alone with parents who didn’t particularly like you anyway.

It was the alarm that woke you up this day. Fucking school day. The alarm clock blared bright and early at 5:30am - earlier than Eddie would usually get up, but it took you a bit longer to get ready.

You shut the alarm off so as not to wake Eddie up too much and sat up in bed with a big stretch and a yawn. Eddie grabbed onto your arm as you were climbing out of bed.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled, not even moving his face from where it was half buried in his pillow and covered by his disheveled hair.

“I gotta get ready, baby,” you told him. “We have school.”

“Fuck school,” he said, voice muffled.

You laughed. “Babe, we have to go.”

He shuffled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “I just wanna stay in bed with you all day.”

“I want that too,” you said, and god, you did. “But we can’t.”

Eddie groaned but relented, letting you get up. You slid off the bed, turning for one last look at him. He was sleeping on his belly, arms wrapped around his pillow. His head was turned to the side, but you couldn’t see any of his face for all the hair. The comforter rested just at his hips, and he was naked beneath it. You admired his body, his tattoos, the slightest glimpse of the curve of his ass before the blanket hid it away from your eyes. You have to force yourself to look away.

Naked yourself, you slip on one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of panties you’d packed for now. You yawned again as you walked out of Eddie’s room and down the hall to the bathroom. Wayne was asleep on the fold out bed in the living room, probably just now passed out from work. You started up the shower, the finicky faucet taking a few minutes to get to the right temperature.

When you were satisfied, you stripped again, sitting a towel on the side of the sink and then climbing into the hot water. You always kept some shower stuff at Eddie’s, god knows you were over at his place enough.

You closed your eyes under the torrent of water. At least the water pressure at the trailer was good. You were just about to start shampooing your hair when you felt a familiar pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, a head on your shoulder, kissing your neck.

You melted back into the embrace, a smile crossing your lips. You could feel him hard behind you, his kisses on your neck turning needier and sloppy, biting down every now and then. He always liked to mark you up.

“Need you,” he grumbled against your skin, fingers tightening on your body as if to prove his point. 

You chuckled breathlessly. “Last night wasn’t enough for you?”

“Never enough,” he growled. “You know I can’t control myself when you’re in my house, taking showers, walking around like this. And all mine.”

You gasped when he spun you around, pressing your back against the shower wall and kissing you deeply, aggressively. You kissed him back just as eagerly, your fingers tangling in his wet hair. He lifted your leg, his tip pressing against your entrance, then- “Fuck. No condom.”

“Like at all?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

“We used our last ones last night. I need to buy more.” He groaned, forehead falling onto your shoulder. “Shit!”

“It’s okay,” you said, trailing a hand up his side. “I can still get you off?”

He leaned back to look at you. “Are you sure? You don’t have to. I feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you said, looking up at him with wide innocent eyes as you sunk to your knees. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Oh shit,” Eddie whispered, cock twitching as he watched you get on your knees for him. The way you looked up at him from down there was…fuck, he’d never seen anything like it. No porno in the world could ever compare.

His hand slid through your hair as you opened your mouth for him, he tapped his cock on your tongue, rubbing the underside of it there, a low groan spilling unwillingly from his lips.

“We have to be quiet,” he said, “Wayne is right out there.”

“I think you should be telling yourself that, big boy,” you teased. You wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked, and he lurched forward, free hand landing on the shower wall behind you.

He let out a low “Ahhhh”, a mix between a hiss and a moan as you took him further into your mouth. “That’s my girl.”

You moaned around him, deep throating his impressive length properly as he watched you in amazement, his eyes half lidded, lips parted. His hand caressed the side of your head as you pleasured him, like he was so appreciative but didn’t know the words to say, if there were any. Maybe the best thanks he could give you is just to enjoy it now - and bury himself between your thighs until he can’t breathe later. Maybe you’d sit on his face. He fucking loved that.

“Baby, baby,” he moaned in a near whisper, delicious groans spilling from his lips after. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this.”

You hummed around him, making his hips jerk into your mouth. You always knew exactly how to get him going, exactly what made him weak in the knees, what made him fall apart. And oh, was he falling apart above you.

His breathing turned to pants, his slender tattooed chest rising and falling rapidly. His hand tightened in your hair, thighs beginning to shake.

“Gonna cum,” he warned you in a whisper. “Fuck, I’m- don’t stop, I’m so close-“

You didn’t stop. You worked even harder, working for what he was about to give you, showing him how bad you wanted it - needed it. You bobbed your head on his cock quickly, tongue working the underside, and his expression looked pained.

“Fuck,” he panted. “Baby, baby, I-“

He threw his head back with a cry as it hit him, his dick pulsing as he shot his cum into your waiting mouth. He quickly looked back down, watching you take it, watching you swallow every drop of what he was giving you as he moaned, seemingly forgetting all about being quiet.

When you pulled off of him, he was leaning against the shower wall. He looked like a total vision like this, lean naked body against the wall, wet hair hanging down his shoulders, breathing heavily and dripping wet. You had the intense urge to lick every inch of his body.

“Fuckin’ incredible,” he finally said, pulling you to him again and kissing you. He didn’t care that there was still the slightest bit of him still on your tongue. He licked into your mouth anyway, tasting all of you, the mixture of the two of you. “I want to devour you, baby, please.”

“We don’t have time,” you said regrettably. “But later.” A wink.

Eddie smirked at you as you both continued with your shower, washing your hair and washing each other’s bodies. Eddie was hard again by the time the shower was over, but there was no time for more.

You stepped out with a towel around your body and one around your hair. Eddie grabbed one and wrapped it around his waist. God, he looked so hot like this.

“Let me help you,” you said. You grabbed the curl cream you had bought him and put some in your hands, rubbing the product through Eddie’s hair. The poor guy had no idea how to take care of his curls before you met him. His hair was always so frizzy, and one day you were just like - “You know it doesn’t have to be that way, right?”

Eddie closed his eyes and hummed as you did his hair. He had to admit, he absolutely loved when you did this. It was so relaxing. He had never had someone take care of his hair for him. He barely did it himself before you.

When he was taken care of, you did your own hair while Eddie brushed his teeth then shaved. You brushed your own teeth then applied your makeup while he splashed his familiar aftershave on his cheeks.

He pulled on his boxers and you snuck back to his room in your towel. You knew there was nothing to worry about, Wayne slept after work until the afternoon. You searched through your overnight bag, finding the skirt and top you planned to wear today.

Eddie couldn’t handle how put together you looked. His beautiful girl. He couldn’t believe you were his.

He pulled his jeans on with a Hellfire shirt and his denim jacket. “You know you can leave some clothes and stuff over here?”

“I already do,” you giggled, thinking of the multiple bras and underwear sets stuffed in his dresser, the curling iron you kept here, the shower stuff and self care.

“Yeah but…” He shrugged. “You could keep more. Keep a whole wardrobe here, I don’t care. You sleep here more than at your own house anyway.”

“Edward Munson,” you said, lightly slapping his chest with a smile. “Are you trying to get me to move in?”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he asked, sliding his arms around your waist.

“Baby,” you said, a slight giggle. “We’re still in high school.”

“Yeah, but we’re both adults, technically. I’m almost 20, you’re 18…”

“You still live with your uncle, and I don’t think there’s a world where my parents would allow it, Eddie.”

The mention of your parents soured the mood. Your parents sucked. They were mean, self centered snobs, and they hated Eddie. They never even seemed that crazy about you.

“Fuck your parents,” Eddie said, a sentiment he held often. “You’re a big girl.”

You shook your head, a smile playing at your lips. “Maybe after high school? I don’t want to intrude on Wayne either.”

“Wayne loves you.”

“He already has one freeloader,” you teased.

“Hey!” he said, mock offended. “I’ll have you know my dealing business brings in lots of money.”

The drug dealing was a sore subject. You hated that he did it, but he wasn’t willing to give it up. He made a lot of money from it, enough to help out Wayne and take you on dates and get things he wanted and needed. In his mind, it was a great gig. In your own, you saw visions of Eddie in handcuffs, Hopper carting him off to jail. You said nothing about it.

“We need to get going,” you said instead. “I don’t want to be late.”

Eddie looked at you for a moment. Finally he nodded, snatching his keys off the table. “Alright. Let’s go.”

You walked out to his van with your backpack slung over your shoulder. He opened the door for you like he always did, and you climbed in. The old van took a couple tries to start, but ultimately did.

“Need to get her checked out,” Eddie mumbled. “Could probably do it myself.”

Eddie was great with cars. And he loved them. He was the sole reason this van was still running at all, the amount of work he’d put into it was insane.

It didn’t take long to pull into the parking lot of Hawkins High. It was packed as always. You saw your best friend Robin by Steve Harrington’s car - Steve, who didn’t even go here anymore - and you smiled and waved back at her.

“Go see Robs,” Eddie encouraged as he killed the engine. “I’ve got to catch up with the guys about our campaign tonight.”

Fuck. The campaign.

“Should I get a ride home with Robin and Steve?”

“Maybe?” Eddie said sheepishly. “Or I can run you home before we start.”

“It’s fine,” you said, “I’ll catch a ride with them. You guys have fun. It’s the big one, right?”

“Yep,” Eddie said with pride. “The end of the campaign. These fuckers have no idea what I have in store for them.”

You laughed. “I’m sure it’s a sadistic as ever.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt, opening your door. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Of course, beautiful.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, a reminder of all you’d done together since last night and all the things you would do together next time you were alone.

You hopped out and met up with Robin as Eddie sauntered into the building. “Hey, Robs!”

“Hey!” She pulled you into a hug. “Are you ready for Mrs. O’Donnell’s test?”

You groaned. “No. I completely forgot.”

Her eyes widened. “Did you study?”

You blushed. “I was a little busy last night.”

“Busy?” She gave you a look. “Girl.”

“I know! I know.”

“There are more important things in life than fucking your boyfriend!” 

“Well, now that’s debatable.”

Robin groaned, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the school. “You’re hopeless, you know that?” She turned back over her shoulder. “Bye, Steve!”

“Oh, can I get a ride home with you and Steve after school?” you asked. “Eddie has the end of his campaign, it’s going to take forever.”

“Yeah, of course. Steve won’t care. He’s like everybody’s chauffeur.”

—

You were home by yourself that night, snacking on popcorn in your pajamas - classic big t-shirt and short shorts combo. When the phone started to ring, you groaned.

“Hello?” you answered, resting the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Baby,” the answer came from the other end, and you smiled, all irritation gone.

“Hey,” you said. “How was the campaign?”

“It was great!” he said enthusiastically. “The guys actually beat it. I can’t believe it. It was awesome.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” You popped another piece of popcorn into your mouth. “What’s up?”

Eddie’s voice dropped an octave. “Wayne left for work and I was just thinking about you…”

You smirked. “Yeah? Thinking about what?”

“Baby…” he said again, and you could practically picture him on his back in bed with the phone, shirtless, rubbing his hard bulge through his jeans. You could hear music playing over his speakers in the background. “Come over. Please.”

You felt a throbbing between your legs as you listened to his low, sultry voice, dripping with desire, all for you. Your hot boyfriend, desperate for you. Wanting nothing more than to be inside of you.

“I’ll be there in 15,” you said. You heard a low chuckle from the other end before you hung up, hurrying upstairs to slip some jeans on and grab your bag. You locked up downstairs, made it look like you were asleep in your room and locked it from inside, and slipped out the window.

The night air brushed your hair back as you rode your bike to Forest Hills. You lived in a pretty nice neighborhood, your parents never approved of you spending so much time in a trailer park. It didn’t matter that you were much happier at Eddie’s than at home.

You rode the downhill momentum to Eddie’s trailer, parking it next to the front door. Eddie opened the door for you before you even reached it, a wide grin on his face. He was shirtless, low jeans exposing the V leading down below that you wanted to see more of.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, stepping back and holding the door wide for you to walk in.

“Hi,” you said. Eddie closed the door behind you. “Wanna go to your room?”

“Not wasting any time, huh, princess?” Eddie asked, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He kissed slowly up your neck, nipping every now and then. You melted back against him, eyes dropping closed as you moaned.

“Did you get condoms?” you asked.

“I did.” He slid the box from his back pocket, holding it up for you between his pointer and middle finger.

“Large instead of extra large?” you teased, looking at the writing on the package.

Eddie shrugged. “They didn’t have any bigger. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Eddie knew he was big, but he didn’t let it go to his head. Well, most of the time. He led you down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He was kissing you like you were the air he needed to breathe, the only thing keeping him grounded to this reality. His hands roamed your body, sending tingles through your skin. Every now and then you’d break from one another, gasping for air for only a moment before your lips found each other again.

You fell back onto his bed as he tossed the condoms onto his bedside table and he kissed up your body from your ankles back to your lips, tongue exploring your mouth with an eagerness. He undid your jeans and pulled them down your legs, savoring every inch of skin he uncovered, even though he’d just fucked you multiple times last night. Enough didn’t exist for him when it came to you.

His hands slid up your top next, kissing your stomach and your tits as he uncovered them. No bra beneath, which had him groaning. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples, tongue swirling around it as he sucked, moaning against your skin.

“Eddie,” you moaned, back arching slightly off the bed. “Fuck.”

He switched to your other nipple, never one to neglect any part of your perfect body. Eddie’s hand slipped beneath your panties, fingers tracing through your soaking folds.

“So wet for me,” he commented, his voice low as he bit down gently on your skin, earning a gasp. “Love how wet you get for me. Desperate, pretty little thing.”

You could have said something about how he was just as desperate for you with how painfully rock hard he was and that you could feel it even through his jeans, but you couldn’t form words with the way he was slipping a finger inside of you, his thumb playing with your clit, rubbing circles. He slipped in a second finger, pumping them in and out while he pressed down harder on your clit.

“Eddie, Eddie,” you moaned, mind deliriously hazy, grinding your pussy down against him.

He kissed down your body, slipping your panties off and then replacing his thumb with his mouth, his tongue flicking your clit before he pushed his two fingers back in, curling them deep, pressing right against that spot he somehow always knew how to find immediately.

“Eddie!” you cried out, grabbing onto one of his pillows and burying your face in it. Eddie chuckled against you, but didn’t relent. He was determined to have you fall completely apart for him, determined to have you cumming all over his tongue and fingers.

You felt like you were floating above the clouds, Eddie’s sinful tongue taking you straight to heaven. He wrapped his free hand around your thigh, burying himself as deep into your cunt as he possibly could. He was starving for you, and he was completely content if this was how he died.

Your body was filled with liquid heat, the coil tightening in your belly. You pulled on his long hair, earning a groan from Eddie, his fingers pumping faster, lips sucking harder on your sensitive clit.

“Gonna cum, Ed,” you moaned, body writhing on the bed, the pleasure almost too much for you. Your words only made Eddie go harder, rutting his hips against the bed for some friction on his throbbing dick.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!” 

You fell apart calling his name over and over again. Half the trailer park had to know what the two of you got up to on a near nightly basis, but at least Wayne wasn’t home. Eddie worked you through your orgasm, moaning as he lapped up everything you gave him, cock twitching at the feeling of you tightening, pulsing around his fingers.

Eddie pulled his fingers out of you, placing one last kiss against your pussy as he moved back to look over your naked body, chest heaving, tits and pussy on full display, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. 

“You look beautiful like this,” Eddie said, his own lips and chin wet with the remains of your climax as he smirked down at you. “I can’t wait to get inside you.”

You whimpered at his words as Eddie undid his belt, his eyes locked on yours. He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down until his cock sprung free. He shed them from his body, leaving both of you naked.

He kissed all over your body again, sending tingles through your skin. Eddie always liked to take his time with you, liked to savor it. You fucked all the time, but it was never any less sacred to him. You reached between you and grabbed his cock, making him groan. You could feel it throbbing in your hand. He was so needy tonight.

“You ready for me baby?” he asked, reaching for the unopened box of condoms on his table. He ripped open the box, pulling out a foil packet that was smaller than usual.

“Yes,” you whined. “Need you in me.”

Eddie ripped the packet open with his teeth, examining the rubber. He shrugged, starting to roll it onto his cock. He hissed. “Tight fit.”

“You sure it’s gonna be okay…?” you asked, watching Eddie struggle to get the condom over his impressive length.

“Yeah, it’s…I got it,” he grunted, finally getting it all the way on. It technically fit, just not well. “I am not missing out on fucking you tonight.”

“I guess if it works…” You bit the side of your lip, eyeing him.

“Oh, I’m gonna make it work.” He kissed at your neck again, reaching between your bodies to line his tip up at your entrance. He trailed it through your folds, getting himself nice and wet. He pressed against your hole again. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, and then drew in a sharp gasp as Eddie pushed his cock inside.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, you never get any less tight. Shit, babe.”

And he never got any less huge. As many times as you’d had sex at this point, it never got any less intense. It had actually hurt the first time - at least that went away. You hadn’t been a virgin, but damn.

He set a pace rolling his hips into you deep, fucking you slowly and sensually. Making love to you. He couldn’t stop kissing you everywhere, couldn’t control the way you made him feel like he was going to explode with how much he loved you and how good you made him feel.

“My beautiful girl,” he cooed, big hands holding your thighs up against your chest. He had the perfect view of your pussy taking his cock, he could watch every inch of himself sinking into you. He wished he had a camera - he’d love to have this view to look at whenever he wanted.

“Feels so good, Eds,” you moaned, rolling your hips up as much as you could to meet his thrusts at his pace. Your bodies were working together in perfect synchronicity, a beautiful harmony of bodies and passion and love.

“Can I go faster?” he asked, out of breath from his efforts of keeping himself under control. “Can I fuck you?”

“Please,” you cried. “Please.”

Eddie began snapping his hips into you faster, harder. The sounds of your moans and skin meeting filled the small room, drowning out the soft music over the stereo. His headboard banged into the wall with every thrust, chipping the paint.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he groaned, his head thrown back and eyes closed. You were addicted to watching the way his muscles in his neck and chest flexed, clenched. Like he was holding back.

But god, the feeling of his cock pounding into you mercilessly like this? It was unreal.

He pulled out of you abruptly, but before you could complain about it he was flipping you onto your stomach. He spread your legs slightly and mounted you from behind, slipping back in with ease.

You gasped again at the intrusion, but this angle somehow felt even better. You looked over at the mirror on his dresser, watching as he pounded you from behind, looking down at you like he wanted to devour you whole. You could see his whole body, the way his thighs clenched with every thrust into you, the slightest jiggle of his ass, the way his hands were gripping your ass so tightly it would leave marks.

“Oh, god,” you whined so quiet you didn’t even think he could hear you. 

“Doing so good, baby. That’s it,” he grunted. “Just take it, take me, let me fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

You were falling apart. You felt like you were frantically clinging to the edge of a cliff, the precipice of your undoing. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum again.”

He groaned, fucking you faster. “Yeah, that’s it princess. Let yourself go for me. Wanna feel you cum on this cock.”

You grabbed onto the pillow, biting down onto it as you started to see stars, your eyes rolling back as you came for the second time.

“Ah! Ah!” Eddie was gasping and groaning from behind you, the way your pussy was clenching around him was driving him crazy. “Fuck, ‘m close.”

“Please cum for me,” you begged him. “Please. I need it, need to have it.”

Eddie groaned loudly. “Fuck! Yeah, baby, go on and take it. Take the way I’m fucking you. Take this fucking load. Shit!”

He stilled deep inside you, as deep as he could go. He moaned and moaned into your neck, cock pulsing as he came. “Ah! Fuck, fuckfuckfuck-“

You were both gasping for breath, both completely spent. Eddie didn’t want to move from on top of you - he could have fallen asleep right there. You were in such a dreamy post-sex trance, you might have just let him. Let him sleep with his cock in you.

But he had to move. He pulled out of you, rubbing your back as he did. Then, you felt him freeze behind you.

“Oh shit,” he said, clear panic rising in his voice that only set your own anxiety off. “Uh-“ He was nearly

hyperventilating. “Shit shit shit. Shit! Fuck!”

“What??” you asked, turning and sitting up in the bed, equally panicked just from his reaction.

Eddie held up the condom - the ripped, empty condom.

Your blood went ice cold. “Ed-“

“Fuck, what the fuck are we gonna do?” Eddie asked, in pure panic mode. “What if I got you-“

“That hasn’t happened yet,” you said quickly. “Some people have sex for years without getting pregnant, you know? Just because you…finished inside, doesn’t mean I’m necessarily pregnant.”

Eddie wanted to listen to your voice of reason, but it wasn’t helping. He knew the risks of what had happened. He knew how bad his odds were. You were young, healthy. Teenagers. Still in high school. And with his luck…

“Fuck,” he said, sitting on the edge of his bed. He angrily threw the broken condom into the trash can before covering his face with his hands.

“Baby…” you said, your voice small. “Are you mad?”

“Not at you,” he said, turning and taking your hands. “God, never at you. I’m mad I was such an idiot. I never should have used those condoms. I’m a fucking dumbass.”

You looked at him, sympathetic for how hard he was being on himself. “You didn’t know. It’s okay.” You squeezed his hands. “We’re in this together no matter what, right?”

Eddie was quiet for a minute. “What if I just ruined your life? All because I couldn’t hold off for a day.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re…if I got you…” He looked like he couldn’t even say the word. He turned forward, resting his arms on his legs. “It’s going to ruin your life. You’re so smart, baby, you have so much you can do. My life…well, I’m on my third senior year attempt, so I don’t see college in my future. I’m a drug dealer. I still live with my uncle. I’m going to drag you down.”

“Eddie, that is not true,” you said sternly. “Don’t ever talk bad about yourself like that. You are not dragging me down.”

“Everything I said is a fact,” he said sadly. “You’re…you’re better than me, princess. I would hate myself if I tied you down with a baby right now.”

“Eddie.” You turned his head to look at you. “I don’t feel any of those things. I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if we…well, we’ll face it together if it happens, yeah?”

Eddie considered your words. Finally he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Eddie, I love you. More than anything.” You kissed his cheek.

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, moving to kiss you again. His lips lingered against yours, the kiss lasting longer than intended. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re too good for me, you know that?” he said.

You shook your head. You heard that enough from your parents, you didn’t need him saying it too. “Not true.”

He smiled softly at you, like he didn’t quite believe you. But he didn’t push the matter, taking your hand and kissing each knuckle. “I love you.”

“And we’re in this together,” you said. “We’re in this life together. No matter what.”

A small smile. “No matter what.”

—

Three weeks later, you missed your period.

Every day you checked, looking to see if it had finally come, just late enough to give you the scare of your life and teach you a real lesson. How could we have been so stupid? you’d think, frustrated with yourselves for making an obvious mistake just to fuck each other. We couldn’t stay off each other for one night?

Eddie seemed to have completely forgotten. He didn’t mention it again, didn’t ask about your period (it’s not like he kept track of your cycle anyway), wasn’t stressed at all. You didn’t mention your worry because you didn’t want to bring him into your anxiety spiral with you. 

When your period was a week late, you came clean to Robin outside after school.

“What???” she exclaimed, way louder than you would have liked. You shushed her, putting your hand over her mouth. A few classmates in the parking lot turned to look at you, but quickly lost interest. You removed your hand once she got the idea. “You think you might be pregnant?” she whispered.

“I…yeah, I think so,” you said. You couldn’t meet her eyes.

“How could you- oh my god.” She looked like she was freaking out more than you even were. “How did this happen?”

“A condom that was too small?” you explained sheepishly. “It broke.”

She just looked at you, blinking. “Of all the risks to take-“

“I know,” you said.

“Does Eddie know?” she asked, lowering her voice even further.

“That the condom broke?”

“That you’re late,” she said, giving you a look like now isn’t the time for jokes.

You looked down. “No. I think he forgot all about it.”

“He forgot-“ Robin looked like she was about to explode with the lecture brewing in her brain. “We have to get a test. Find out for sure before you scare the shit out of him.”

A test. Your stomach hurt at the thought.

“Will you go with me?”

“Of course,” she said, holding your hand. “We can get Steve to take us to the pharmacy on the way home. Or to my place.”

“Steve?” you said, looking at her like she was crazy. “You want Steve Harrington to take us to get a pregnancy test?”

“He won’t tell anyone,” she said quickly. “He’s trustworthy. I promise.”

Eddie came walking out of the school then, laughing with Jeff and Grant. He saw you and flashed you a big smile, immediately heading in your direction. You and Robin both looked at him with awkward, halfhearted smiles in return.

“Hey, baby,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to go?”

“Um, actually,” you said, “Robin asked if I wanted to go study at her house.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, surprised. Usually you wouldn’t change plans at the last minute. He looked at you with his brows furrowed, but didn’t question you further. “Okay, that’s cool. I’ll call you tonight?”

“Okay.” You forced yourself to give the most convincing smile you could. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips before he twirled his keys around his finger once and nodded at Robin. “See you later, ladies.”

You watched him get in his van and leave before you and Robin met Steve at his car.

“About time,” he said to Robin. “I’ve been waiting here forever.”

“We have an emergency,” Robin said immediately once everyone was in the car, you in the back seat.

Steve froze. “What kind of emergency?”

“A pregnancy emergency.”

Steve looked at Robin like she had grown a second head. “Robin, you’re a lesbian.”

“Not me, dingus!” Robin said, slapping him lightly on the arm. “Her!”

“Oh,” he said. He turned around and looked at you, then his eyes went wide. “With Eddie?”

You blushed, unsure what to say, but Robin smacked him on the arm again. “Don’t be rude!”

“Ow,” he mumbled. He started the car and pulled out of the Hawkins High parking lot. “So, you want me to…?”

“Take us to the pharmacy to get a test,” Robin said.

Steve nodded. It was obvious he felt extremely awkward. “Okay. Got it.”

He drove the three of you to the pharmacy, where he waited in the car while you and Robin went inside. You felt embarrassed, like every person in the store could look at you and tell what you were there for.

“I think they’re back here,” Robin mumbled, looking through the aisles. Sure enough, you found the pregnancy tests in the back with the condoms and tampons.

“Um…I guess just this one?” she said, picking up a box that said Clearblue. “Results in 30 minutes.”

30 minutes to find out if your life would be changed forever, you thought. You followed Robin to the checkout counter, where an older lady was working. You and Robin gave your best we are absolutely not dealing with the epidemic of teen pregnancy right now looks - trying to be as nonchalant as possible. The lady looked at you strangely, but said nothing at all.

Back in the car with Steve, you felt like you could breathe again.

“Got the goods?” he asked, starting the car.

“Yes,” Robin announced proudly. “It was relatively painless.”

“For you,” you mumbled.

Steve drove back to Robin’s with nothing but the sound of the radio playing. The atmosphere was heavy, or maybe you were just imagining that with how scared you were, how much you were dreading what was to come.

When Steve pulled up outside of Robin’s house, he looked at the two of you awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you in the morning,” Robin said. She climbed out and you followed suit, walking up to the house with the pharmacy bag clutched in Robin’s fist. Steve called out “Good luck!” through the window.

Her parents weren’t home, which you were grateful for. You didn’t want to have to explain anything, like what you’d bought, or, later, why you were having a mental breakdown.

Robin took the test out of the bag, you looking at the box over her shoulder. She opened it and pulled out a piece of paper. The two of you read the instructions in silence.

“So, it looks like you just, uh, collect the sample, then put it in these little pots, and if it’s blue, you’re pregnant.”

You nodded. “Seems simple enough.”

“I think we got it.” Robin handed the box to you. “Good luck, girl.”

“Thanks.” You gave her a look before you took the stuff out of the box. You went in the bathroom, and took the test.

Once it was in progress, you and Robin sat on her bed. “30 minutes,” you reminded her.

Silence.

“Are you nervous?” Robin asked. “No, sorry, that was a stupid question. Are you scared out of your mind?”

“Yes,” you answered easily. “Fucking terrified.”

Robin took a deep breath, as if she was the one who’s life was on the line. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise. Either way, you’re a smart girl. You’re gonna figure this out.”

You weren’t so sure. If you were so smart, why were you sitting here in this situation right now? You’d think you would have known better than to use that fucking condom. “Eddie is going to lose it.”

“If it’s positive,” Robin said. “This could be nothing. Just a lesson learned.”

That’s what you hoped, but you weren’t sure you’d be so lucky. After an excruciating wait, the timer went off on Robin’s watch. She turned it off, then looked at you. “The moment of truth.”

You took a deep breath. You were pretty sure you were about to throw up all over Robin’s beige carpet. You walked into the bathroom, acting like you were in a haunted house and someone was about to jump from around the corner and scare the shit out of you.

You reached the sink. You looked at yourself in the mirror before you allowed yourself to look down. You looked scared. You just knew Eddie knew something was up, if you looked like this you weren’t hiding shit. You thought this might be the last time you saw yourself this way, as just a teenage girl with a normal life.

You looked down.

Blue.

Your heart stopped in your chest. Hot tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t know what to do - that was the first thought in your head. I don’t know what to do.

“Are you okay?” Robin asked from outside the room. “Do you want me to come in there?”

You stepped out, hands shaking where you were playing with your ring. Robin looked at you with worry written all over her features. “What’s the verdict?”

“You’re going to be an auntie,” you said. As soon as the words were out of your mouth, the walls caved in. You couldn’t breathe. You felt like the walls were pressing in all around you, trapping you, stealing your oxygen.

“Oh, jeez,” Robin said, rushing over to you. “Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe. Just breathe with me.” She started taking long, slow breaths, trying to guide you, but you weren’t hearing any of it. You couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears, your heart racing, knees going weak as you collapsed onto the floor.

“Shit!” Robin dropped to her knees next to you, pushing your hair out of your face, lightly tapping your cheek. “Hey, look. Listen. I need you to breathe with me, okay? I need you to breathe. Jesus, you’re seriously having a panic attack.”

All you could think of was Eddie, of the future. Would Eddie leave you? He said you were in this together if the worst happened, but what if he hadn’t meant that? What if he only meant it when it wasn’t really happening? People never really know what they’re going to do in a situation until it happens to them. He was young. He wanted to be a rockstar.

You were sobbing, the kind of ugly sobs where you were gasping for air, desperate to draw something into your lungs but finding nothing. You didn’t think you’d ever cried so hard in your life. Not even when Jason Carver broke your heart in 7th grade.

Robin muttered your name. “You’re scaring me. Please calm down, babe, it’s…you’re going to be okay.”

You did your best to breathe along with her, and eventually you were drawing in shaking breaths, laying on her chest and soaking her shirt with your tears. She just stroked your hair, patiently letting you calm down. When the numbness kicked in, the tears stopped and you merely sniffled, wiping at your eyes.

“Do you want me to call Eddie to come take you home?” she asked softly.

You nodded. “Can you?” you croaked, your voice hoarse.

“Of course. Do you know his number by heart?”

You nodded. You dialed the number for her and she held the phone to her ear. It rang a couple times, and you wondered if he might not answer and what you’d do then. But finally you heard the timbre of his voice through the phone.

“Hey, Eddie,” Robin said. “Can- yes, she’s here. She’s- she’s fine. Yes she’s fine. Just feeling a little sick. Can you come bring her home? Yeah. Okay. Bye.” Robin hung up the phone and turned to you with a reassuring smile. “He’s on his way.”

Eddie, who drove like a maniac on a normal day, arrived at Robin’s minutes later. You went downstairs, and Robin stopped you right before you got to the front door.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said, pulling you into a hug.

“Should I…am I supposed to tell him now?” you asked, your voice weak.

“Maybe you should,” she said. “Just get it over with. Rip the bandaid off.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You got this,” she said. “I promise.”

You left the house, walking down to the street where Eddie’s van was idling. You could hear his music playing from outside. You opened the passenger door and climbed in.

“Jesus,” Eddie said when he saw you, eyes still swollen and red, looking like hell. He quickly turned the music down. “Shit, baby, what happened?”

You let out another big breath. How were you supposed to do this? Just say it? Rock his world like that with just two words? Two little words to change his life forever. And he didn’t even know it. He had no idea what was coming to him.

“You can start driving,” you told him instead of explaining anything at all.

He looked at you with worry. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes soft. “Baby. What’s going on?”

You fought the tears back. You were not going to cry again. One slipped out and you wiped it away.

“Are you crying?” he asked. “Babe, you’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’ll talk while you drive,” you said.

He just looked at you. “Okay. Mine or yours?”

“I have to go home. My mom is cooking lasagna.” You dreaded seeing your parents, especially tonight. You weren’t telling them now, that was for sure. They were going to lose their minds.

“Okay.” He pulled away from the curb, beginning the short drive to your house. “Now talk.”

You twisted your ring around your finger - your main nervous habit. Eddie clocked it immediately.

“Is it bad?”

Was it? Yes. And no. It was both, you supposed. You didn’t really know how to answer that question right now.

“I took a test.”

Eddie looked over at you, confused. “A test? What kind of test? Not your SAT? That wasn’t supposed to be until next month.”

Something about the fact that he remembered when your SAT test was taking place warmed your heart. Sure you had talked about it, how nervous you were and how much work you were putting into studying for it, but you never thought he’d remember the actual date. Those worries felt miles away now, trivial.

“No.”

“Then what kind of test?” he asked. “Did you get a bad grade? Because baby, it’s really not the end of the world, you’re so smart-“

“Do you remember the broken condom?”

Silence. Complete, heavy silence, like a blanket over you both.

“Yes,” he finally said.

Deep breath. “Eddie-“

“Are you pregnant?” You could see his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. His arms were shaking slightly.

“Me and Robin got a test. We took it and…it was positive.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie muttered. “You’re sure?”

“I think so.”

Eddie had reached your house. He killed the engine in the driveway behind your parents’ cars. The reminder of your parents sent the nausea rolling through your stomach again. He didn’t look at you. He chewed on his thumb nail as he looked out the window.

Minutes went by without a word spoken. It scared you. What was he thinking? Was he going to leave you?

“Can you say something?” you asked when you couldn’t take it anymore. “Please.”

He looked at you. His eyes were swimming with a million thoughts. You wanted to reach inside his mind and see what was happening.

“So…you’re pregnant,” he said, a mixture between a statement and a question.

“Yes. At least, that’s what the test said.”

“Is there a possibility that you’re not?” he asked, the hope in his voice making your chest ache.

“The test said it was 99% accurate.”

His eyes closed. He blew out a big breath, then rubbed his hands over his face. He looked like he was trying to erase the nightmare. You didn’t really blame him, but there was no running.

He didn’t say anything for a while. He was looking down, like he was completely lost in his thoughts. “So you’re pregnant,” he said again.

Your turn to pause. “Yes. I guess so.”

“I thought…” He cleared his throat. “I thought we were in the clear. You didn’t say anything for weeks-“

“My period was late, but I didn’t want to scare you,” you mumbled.

“You should have told me,” he said. He still wasn’t looking at you, and that was starting to scare you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I was just…I was scared. I didn’t want you to be scared, too.”

It was silent. The seconds ticked on like hours as you waited for him to respond, to say anything. Every second that passed increased your anxiety, increased the fear that you’d end up doing this alone. Eddie was going to leave you.

Eddie was spiraling. How could this happen? Well, he knew the answer to that. But what shitty luck, right? What did this mean? It meant everything. It meant his earth was turning on its axis, time was changing, he would be changing. What does our future look like? Eddie didn’t have any fucking money. He had a little from his dealing, but - fuck, he couldn’t be a drug dealer and a dad. But he’d have to do something. He’d have to start bringing in money immediately. Paying for your appointments, for the baby supplies. Then paying to survive, bills and food and a whole human baby who would need diapers and wipes and all kinds of stuff. What will this do to our relationship? What if you broke up? What if he became a single dad, seeing his kid every other weekend, paying child support, forever having to watch you with another man? And most of all - what if he wasn’t cut out to be a dad? He didn’t exactly have the best example growing up.

“Eddie, when it happened, we said we’d do it together, right?” you reminded him. “Don’t do this. Don’t get upset and push me away. Not now.”

Eddie didn’t say anything. He still wouldn’t look at you. “I think I just…need to process this.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, worried. Your stomach felt like it was in knots, your chest tight again. You didn’t know what you’d do if Eddie left you. Your parents would probably be kicking you out, and you’d be homeless. Homeless and a single mom.

“I just need to think about things, okay?” he said. “I…need to be alone. To think.”

You looked at him. You willed him to turn and look at you, to tell you everything was going to be okay, that he still loved you and was going to be here for you. But he didn’t do or say any of those things. Your heart sunk to your toes.

“Okay, Eddie,” you finally said. You waited to see if he’d say anything else, but he didn’t. No goodbye, no I love you as you got out of the van and walked to your front door. You heard him driving away as you opened the door and walked inside.

The smell of the lasagna was overpowering as you walked in, and with your sensitive pregnancy sense of smell, you almost threw up on your mom’s fancy carpet.

“It’s about time you got home,” your mom said as you walked into the kitchen. She was setting the table, your dad already seated. “We were just about to eat without you.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, dropping your bag by the wall and taking your usual seat. 

“Don’t do that,” your dad snapped.

“Do what?” You were genuinely confused, but you really weren’t in the mood to deal with your parents any more than you had to tonight.

“Mumble,” he said. “It’s rude.”

“Sorry,” you said again, clearer this time.

“You weren’t with that loser boyfriend of yours, were you?” your dad asked with a snort. Your mom smiled lightly to herself - you knew she agreed.

“Eddie is not a loser,” you said, knowing it was a mistake.

“Don’t get an attitude with me,” he said. “The boy is a mess. He’s dumb as rocks, repeating his senior year for the third time. He’s always in trouble with the police. I think the boy does drugs. He’s dragging you down, and you refuse to see that.”

You were seething, thinking about stabbing your fork right in his stupid smug face. “That’s not true.”

“Honey, it is,” your mom said. “You could do so much better. I really think you should-“

“Mom, I’m not breaking up with Eddie,” you said, looking down as you poked at your food. Although, you thought to yourself, he might just do it for me anyway.

“You don’t talk to your mother like that,” your dad said, beginning to raise his voice. You could feel a headache coming on. Actually - you could feel more than that. Nausea rose in your stomach quickly and you jumped up from the table, nearly knocking your chair over in the process, and ran to the downstairs bathroom. You fell to your knees and emptied your stomach, trying to hold your hair back and not make a mess.

When you were finally done, you cleaned up and walked back to the kitchen. “I don’t feel good,” you said. “I’m going to go lay down. Thank you for dinner.”

You turned and left, hearing your dad yell from behind you.

“You better not be pregnant!”

—

After he dropped you off, Eddie drove around for a while. He wasn’t going anywhere specific, didn’t have anywhere he wanted to be. He just needed to think.

He thought about every scenario, every possibility. The good, which made his chest feel warm, made him want to turn the car around and apologize and tell you he can’t wait to do this with you - and the bad, which stopped him. He ended up back at his trailer, Wayne already gone for the night.

He didn’t know what to do. This was life shattering. He didn’t want to ruin your life any more than he wanted to ruin his own. He knew it was a long shot, but he wanted to be successful with his music one day. He was going to be letting the whole band down.

Eddie picked up the phone. He just held it for a while, debating. Wondering if he really wanted to do this. He dialed the number he had memorized.

The recording asked him for the inmate number - he had that memorized, too. He punched it in, waiting. After a number of rings, the phone was picked up.

“Hello?” the gruff voice came from the other end of the line.

“Dad,” Eddie said, his voice broken.

“Well, I’ll be,” Al Munson said, a laugh in his voice. “If it isn’t my boy. What brings you to call your dear old dad tonight?” 

Eddie sighed. “I just…something’s happened. I didn’t know who to go to.”

“Oh yeah?” Al sounded amused, like this was entertaining to him. “And what’s that?”

Eddie let out another deep breath. “I got my girlfriend pregnant.”

It was silent for a minute. Then, Al laughed. “Well damn, boy.”

Eddie felt sick to his stomach. This wasn’t going how he hoped. He didn’t know what he had been hoping for, but it wasn’t this. He regretted picking up the phone. “Yeah.”

“Well, isn’t that just fuckin’ great!” Al said. “I’m gonna be a granddaddy. Well, Ed, while you were stickin’ your dick in anything that moves, I’m over here working hard, day and night, for nothin’. You better be grateful for what you have, boy, and get that girl an abortion. This is going to ruin both of y’all’s lives. Put an end to it now while you can.”

That little rant was the last thing Eddie had expected to hear from his father. He felt like his head was spinning, his chest tightening. “Dad, I- I’m not gonna ask her to get an abortion.”

“Why the hell not?” Al laughed. “Believe me, son, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret throwing your life away. You got that little band, don’t you? Don’t you want to try to make it big?”

It sounded mocking when he said it, but it was true for Eddie. He did have those dreams, as childish and far fetched as they may be. And he knew you wanted to go to a good college, wanted to make something of yourself.

“She’s my priority,” Eddie said. “If she wants this baby, I’ll have this baby with her.”

“Son, you’re a fool,” Al said.

Eddie clenched his fist. He had the sudden urge to punch a wall. “I love her.”

Al laughed, hard. “Like I said. A fool.”

Eddie hung up the phone, slamming it down onto the receiver. He was seething, taking deep breaths, his hands shaking where they were still clenched tightly. The phone call with his dad had only served to make him even more upset, now angry, at his dad, at himself, at the situation.

He didn’t know why he had called his dad in the first place. His dad had never been dad of the year. He hadn’t even seen him in person for 7 years, not since he went to prison. And before then, before Wayne, he was neglectful. Eddie cringed as he remembered Wayne shaving his head the day he moved in, his curls in mats.

His dad had never been a father. The only things he ever taught him were how to hotwire a car, how to be a good liar, how to steal without getting caught, how to deal without getting caught. His dad knew all about dealing - more than weed.

He remembered his mother. The little pieces he still had of her, at least. It made his chest feel warm, thinking of how she had loved him, how caring and kind she had been. He had no idea how she ever ended up with Al Munson. She was an angel.

Eddie knew you would be just as good of a mother as his own mom had been. He knew you’d be the best mother ever. He didn’t worry for a second about how his kid would turn out when it came to you.

But what about him? He already passed on his genes, isn’t that enough damage? Maybe he should take himself out of the equation. Run. Get away from this kid before he has the chance to fuck them up. Because surely that’s what will happen - he’ll damage them beyond repair, make them into as big of a fuckup as he is.

But no. He can’t just abandon you like that. As much as he knows this kid would be better off without him, he knew you wouldn’t. He couldn’t leave you to raise a child alone. Especially not with your shitty parents - god, how would they react to this? Not well, that was for damn sure. You wouldn’t have their support and he knew it.

There was really only one thing for him to do.

—

You cried your eyes out that night. Your pillow was soaked with tears, your eyes still red and puffy from earlier, now worse. You wondered if you could get by with missing school - your parents had heard you getting sick. But what if they made you go to the doctor? Fuck.

You woke up the next morning with your face practically stuck to your pillow. You wiped the dried tears away. You went into your bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror - you looked like hell. Your lower lip trembled, and you just knew it was going to start up again, but you were able to hold it back.

You splashed cold water on your face, helping to soothe your flushed skin. Then you turned the shower on, undressing and stepping into the hot water. It relaxed you immediately, the water beating down on your shoulders and easing the ache in your bones. You didn’t know sadness could make you so physically miserable. Or maybe it was the pregnancy. Maybe both.

When you were done with your shower, you dried yourself off, then started on your hair and makeup. You dressed like you felt, in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Your parents had already left for work. You bounded downstairs, nausea still plaguing you.

You grabbed a granola bar from the pantry and forced yourself to eat it. You weren’t even sure how you were getting to school - was Eddie coming? Should you call Robin and Steve?

You were just considering picking up the phone when you heard a car horn honking from out front. You peered through the kitchen window, seeing Eddie’s van.

Your stomach clenched in knots. Was he here to break up with you? To tell you he wasn’t going to do this?

You grabbed your bag and walked out of the house, locking the front door behind you. You stuffed your hands in your hoodie pockets as you walked to the van. He reached across the seats and opened the door for you when you reached it.

You looked at him cautiously as you climbed in. You were trying to read his face, to prepare yourself for what was to come. He was unreadable, though. That was rare for Eddie - usually you could read him like a book.

He started the car and pulled out of your driveway. It was a few miserable, tense minutes before he finally said something.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I scared you last night. I just needed to think.” He reached over and took your hand in his right one, driving only with his left. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to do this alone.”

Tears brewed in your eyes, but this time they weren’t necessarily sad ones. “I was scared.”

“I know, baby,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” A pause. “I’m scared, too.”

“Where did you go?” you asked.

“I just drove around,” he answered honestly. “Went home and, uh…called my old man.”

Your eyes went wide. “How did that go?”

Eddie scoffed. “As well as you’d imagine.”

You softened. “Eddie, I’m so sorry.”

He waved you off, like the conversation wasn’t still eating him up inside. “It just…made me realize that I never want to be like my dad. I never want to make my kid feel the way he makes me feel.”

“You would never, Eddie,” you said softly. “You’re nothing like your dad.”

He shook his head. “I’m not so sure. I feel like a chip off the ol’ block.”

“You’re nothing like your dad,” you said again, firmer this time. There wasn’t a single thing you saw in common between Eddie and Al Munson. You’d never had the displeasure of meeting him, but you had heard plenty.

Eddie gave you a sad smile before turning back to the road. “Well, it means a lot that you think so.”

“I know so.”

It was quiet for a minute. A less tense quiet than it had been minutes ago. “I just…I’m sorry for running out on you like that,” Eddie said. “We’re partners, right? Always will be. In everything. Especially this.”

His words made you feel better. You had longed for him to come back and do this, to tell you he didn’t mean to act that way and that he loved you and this baby. That wasn’t exactly how it happened, but it was close enough.

“I love you,” Eddie continued. “I would never abandon you, I fucking swear that.”

You squeezed his hand. “I love you too, Eds.”

Another minute of quiet. The gears were turning in Eddie’s head, his mind still spinning even as he drove the familiar path to school on autopilot. “But we need to talk about it.”

“About what?”

“The baby,” he said, the first time either of you were saying the words. “We need to talk about what we’re gonna do. And how we’re gonna do it.”

“Can we go to your place after school?” you asked, playing with the strings on your hoodie.

“Sure, baby.” He squeezed your hand, a silent promise that everything was going to be okay.

When Robin saw you in the parking lot, she sped over to Eddie’s van, throwing her arms around you in a hug as you stepped out. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you said sarcastically. “I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“No.” You mustered up a smile. “But you don’t have to worry about me. Seriously.”

“Um, you had a full on panic attack on my bedroom floor yesterday after getting life shattering news. Of course I’m worried about you.”

You were grateful to have a friend that was so supportive and caring, but you couldn’t handle the attention right now. You already felt like you were drowning in worries. “I promise I’m okay, Robs.”

She looked at you skeptically, but accepted it. “Okay. If you say so. But tell me if you’re not, okay? I’m here with you. Always.”

You felt bad for pushing her away. Robin cared about you more than most people in your life. The least you could do was let her.

The school day passed uneventfully. Part of you had been worried that the news was written on your forehead and everyone would know. You just knew someone would be able to tell, then the whole school would know and you’d be even more of a pariah than you were for being The Freak’s girlfriend.

You were still relieved to climb into Eddie’s van at the end of the day. You always felt safe with him - being alone with Eddie was like coming home. He drove the two of you back to the trailer. Wayne was still home when you arrived.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted you when the two of you walked inside. He was dressed for work at the plant, drinking a cup of coffee with his lunchbox sitting on the counter next to him.

“Hey, Wayne,” you said with a genuine smile.

“Oh, hey, Eddie. How was your day? It was fine, thanks. How was yours?” Eddie said, pretending to be upset at being ignored.

“How was that math test?” Wayne asked him with a raised eyebrow.

Eddie paled. “We’re going to my room. See ya, Wayne!” He quickly ushered you into his bedroom while you laughed.

“How was the math test?” you spun and asked him once you were alone in his room.

“God, I don’t even want to think about it,” Eddie muttered. “I already know I failed.”

Your chest ached. “I told you I’d study with you.”

“Yeah, well…” Eddie said, “I had a lot on my mind today anyway.”

You knew the feeling. You’d barely been able to pay attention in class today. You knew this discussion was coming, and you didn’t know how it was going to go.

Eddie flopped back on his bed, and you took a seat next to him. He rubbed your back gently.

“You wanted to talk?” you reminded him, the nerves creeping up on you. What if this wasn’t a good talk?

“I just…” Eddie sighed. “How are we going to do this?”

You didn’t know. You hadn’t really had the chance to think that far ahead. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah…exactly.” Eddie ran a hand through his hair, tangled from how much he’d been messing with it today. “Are you sure you don’t want to…?”

“To what?” you asked. “Get an abortion?”

“Yeah.”

You thought. “I just don’t think I can, Eddie.”

Eddie continued rubbing your back. “I understand, baby. It’s okay. It was just an option.”

Not that there was anything wrong with getting an abortion - it just didn’t feel right for you. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not upset.” If Eddie was being honest with himself, he wished you would get the abortion. He felt that was the best choice for you both, the easiest choice. The idea of the two of you keeping this baby scared him shitless. But he’d never make you do something you didn’t want to do with your own body.

“So…” Eddie began awkwardly. “How will we make money? To support us and the baby?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly.

“Okay. Where will we live?”

“I don’t know.”

“Baby.” Eddie stopped rubbing your back, looking at you seriously. “We really have to figure this shit out.”

“I don’t know!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up. “I really don’t. I don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do. I really wanted to graduate. I wanted to go to college.”

It was quiet. “Baby, I don’t think you’re gonna be able to go to college.”

Your chest ached. You could feel your future slipping from your grasp, the future you’d been building your entire life. The one you’d put so much effort into bringing to fruition in your high school years. It was falling away before your eyes.

“I…I’m gonna drop out,” Eddie said.

“What??” your head snapped in his direction. “Eddie, no.”

“Baby, I…” he scoffed, “I had my chances. If one of us has to drop out to start working so we can save up, it has to be me.”

Tears welled in your eyes. You felt like you’d done so much crying lately. “You’ve been working so hard this year. You’re so close.”

“It has to happen, princess,” he said gently, pushing your hair out of your face. “I have to take care of my family now.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the couple of tears escaping, sliding down your cheeks. You felt horrible. You felt like you were ruining Eddie’s life. “Where are you gonna work?”

“I don’t know. Whatever I can get. Melvald’s, maybe. Restaurant. Anything.”

“Is stuff like that going to take care of all three of us, though?” you asked, the worry eating at you.

“It’s better than nothing, baby. I can keep looking. I just need to start saving money now.”

“Can I still finish school?”

“If you feel up to it,” Eddie said. “But, yeah. I don’t want to make you drop out, too. Maybe you could even go to college in a few years, when the baby is older.”

You smiled at that. “You think?”

“Maybe,” he smiled back. He laid on his back, hands crossed behind his head on his pillow. He looked lost in thought. “I think you should stay home with the baby until they’re older.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. People scare me. I want to know they’re safe.”

You felt the same. There was nowhere safer for your baby than with you, right? Not that you knew all that much about taking care of babies right now. It’s not like you had any siblings or even little cousins. “I agree.”

“Good.”

You laid down on the bed next to Eddie, curling up into his side. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. “How are we gonna tell Wayne and your parents?” he asked.

You let out a long breath. “That’s going to go over horribly with my parents.”

“I know.” He thought for a minute. “I…have no idea how Wayne’s going to react. He’s probably going to be disappointed in me. Which feels pretty bad.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, because he was probably right. And you couldn’t even blame Wayne. You guys had fucked up. And now your lives were forever changed.

“The guys are going to freak,” he said with a sigh.

You hadn’t even thought of the band, or the Hellfire club. How would they react? They were counting on Eddie to help make the band’s dream a reality. Eddie was the guitarist, the lead singer. How was he supposed to do that with a baby?

“I’m sorry your life is ruined,” you muttered, the guilt weighing on your chest.

“It’s not, baby,” he said. “And neither is yours.”

—

You had known about the baby for a couple of days. You were dressing for school, wearing a pair of jeans and a band shirt with a sweater. Eddie was driving you to school like he did every day.

You practically ran down the steps to meet him outside when you heard him pull up, but your mom stopped you right before you got out the front door.

“You need to stop hanging out with that boy,” she said, looking you in the eyes in a way that made you uncomfortable.

“Mom, no,” you said. “I’m not breaking up with Eddie.”

“You need to think about your future,” she said. “That boy is going to ruin your future. Whether you end up pregnant, or on drugs, or living on the streets. You’re going to be 22 years old with three kids and that boy in prison just like his father.”

You weren’t sure if you were about to cry or scream in her face. “You know nothing about Eddie.”

“I know enough.”

You pushed past her, walking to Eddie’s van with your fists clenched. You climbed in, slamming the door.

“Woah, baby mama, what’s wrong?” he asked, beginning to drive away.

“Just my mom,” you muttered. 

“Being herself, I assume,” Eddie said with clear distaste.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t listen to her,” he said. “You know she’s full of shit.”

But her words lingered in your head anyway, plaguing you the way only she could. What if Eddie did get in trouble for dealing and go to jail? It wasn’t impossible. And you were pregnant. God, you were going to have to tell her so, too.

You were distracted all through the school day, but tried your best to focus in class. You were standing up from your desk in english when Tina stopped you, her nose scrunched up like something was disgusting.

“Think you got your period,” she said, snarky as always.

You froze. “W-what?” you asked, looking at her.

“Your period?” she said. “Seems kinda heavy. Might want to go to the nurse’s office.”

She walked off, but you paid no mind to her. You looked down at your seat - and saw it covered in blood. You gasped, covering your mouth in horror - the tears started and you felt your heart shatter in your chest. No. No no no no no no.

You tied your hoodie around your waist and ran out of the room straight to Eddie’s locker, where you nearly crashed into him.

“Woah, babe, what’s going on?” he asked, steadying you by the shoulders. His eyes were swimming with concern.

“We have to go to the ER,” you cried. “Now.”

“Jesus- what’s going on?” Eddie asked.

You leaned in close. “Eddie, I- I think I’m having a miscarriage.”

His eyes went wide. “No. You’re not.”

“We have to go,” you said, taking his hand and walking off. You were acutely aware of the blood all over the back of your jeans, how you were probably still bleeding. What if you were losing the baby right now?

You felt on the verge of hyperventilating. Eddie ran to the van, opening the door for you and laying a towel down in the seat. “Shit, baby,” he cursed as he helped you climb in and saw the blood. His voice cracked, like he was about to start crying, too.

He drove you to the ER as fast as he could without getting pulled over. He had weed in his pocket, and in the back - he didn’t need that. He pulled up to the ER in record time, finding a spot and nearly carrying you into the hospital.

“I think my girlfriend might be having a miscarriage,” he blurted out to the receptionist, who looked up at him like he was stupid.

“What’s your name?” she asked you.

You gave her your name and info.

“How far along are you?”

“I…don’t know,” you admitted. “We just found out.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re pregnant and this isn’t just your period?”

Eddie wished that were true. What a relief that would be, he thought. But if there really was a baby in there - he didn’t want to take any chances. He wasn’t going to lose it.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you said, getting irritated with this lady.

They brought you back to get your vitals, finding your blood pressure high. “Probably from the stress,” the nurse said, but they brought you straight back anyway, having you change into a gown.

A tech came in shortly after. “I need to take you for an ultrasound,” she said, much more kindly than the woman at the front desk.

“Can he come with me?” you asked, holding onto Eddie’s hand tightly.

“I’m afraid not,” she said, looking like she genuinely felt bad. “But we’ll only be gone for a few minutes.”

You followed her down the hall and to a room with an ultrasound machine. “Lay on the table with your legs up there, and scoot all the way down.”

You froze. “I thought ultrasounds were on your stomach?”

“Not this early,” she said apologetically. “It’s just a little uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt.”

You laid on the table, feeling incredibly exposed. She began the ultrasound, the screen turned away from you. She kept pressing buttons and writing things down.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, your stomach aching from anxiety. “Can I see?”

“I can’t show you or tell you anything,” she said, “we have to wait for the doctor. I’m sorry.”

You laid there, staring at the ceiling. You pretended you were anywhere else, doing anything else. You imagined you were at Eddie’s, laying on his bed while he played you a new song on his guitar. “I wrote this one for you, baby,” he’d always say.

She finished up and you were glad to put your legs back together. You followed her back to the room, where Eddie was waiting, bouncing his leg nervously. When you walked in he stood up, rushing over to you. He grabbed your arms. “Is the baby okay?”

“I don’t know yet,” you said. “She couldn’t tell me anything. We have to wait for the doctor.”

“That’s fuckin’ stupid,” Eddie said. “Why couldn’t she just say ‘yes, everything’s okay? You can stop worrying about the fate of your child’?”

Your child. Eddie caring about the fate of your baby so much made you feel a little better. You just hoped it wasn’t about to be ripped away from you like this.

You got back in the bed and the two of you waited nervously. It was maybe 30 miserable minutes later that the doctor walked in, introducing himself.

“How’s the baby?” Eddie asked as soon as the doctor stopped talking.

He pulled out some images, holding them out to show you. Eddie leaned over your shoulder to look at them. You couldn’t exactly make any sense of them - it was just a black and white image of some blobs.

“This right here,” the doctor said, pointing to one of the blobs. “Is called a subchorionic hematoma. It’s a collection of blood in your uterus. Most resolve themselves and are nothing to worry about, although the bleeding can be scary.”

Can be? You were just now breathing like normal again.

“So everything’s okay?” Eddie asked, wanting to get to the point as soon as possible.

“Yes, everything’s okay,” the doctor said, and you and Eddie collectively let out a breath. “The babies are perfectly fine.”

You felt relieved. Everything was okay. You turned to Eddie, but found him white as a ghost, staring wide eyed at the doctor.

“Did you say babies?”

You froze. Did he? You slowly turned to the doctor.

“Yes. You’re about 7 weeks along with twins.”

The ground fell out from under your feet. Your head spun, your blood felt like ice -

Eddie hit the ground.

—

Eddie woke a minute later, having been propped up in a chair by your bed. The nurses checked him over, but they knew he was fine. The doctor let you know you could leave, and you and Eddie were left alone.

“Fuckin’ - twins,” he breathed. “Two babies. Jesus.”

You couldn’t believe it either. If you had been scared before, now you were twice as scared. How were you going to afford two babies? How were you going to take care of two babies alone?

Eddie walked back out to the van with his hand protectively on your lower back, staying close. He helped you get in and closed the door for you.

“I don’t want to go home,” you admitted. “I just want to go to your place.”

Eddie smiled softly at you. “My house is your home, sweetheart. But yeah, of course.”

You leaned your head against the seat and watched out the window the whole drive to Eddie’s. You had been in the ER for so long, the sun was just starting to set. You felt relief that the baby - the babies - were okay. You were relieved you were going home with Eddie. Things were going to be okay.

Eddie pulled up in front of the trailer. Wayne was home - he was off tonight. You knew he wouldn’t question you. “Wait,” Eddie said, and he jumped out of the van and ran around to your side. He opened the door and basically lifted you down.

“I’m not made of porcelain,” you laughed as he sat you on the ground gently.

“To me, you are,” he said.

He led you to the front door, letting you go in first. Wayne was in his chair with a beer, watching TV. He looked up at the two of you when you came in.

“Hey, Wayne,” you greeted him.

“Hey, darlin’. Ed.” Wayne took a sip of his beer, looking at you both with an unreadable expression. Wayne was very closed off, it was impossible to tell what that man was thinking. “Can you two sit down for a minute? I’d like to talk to ya.”

That was strange. You looked at Eddie, who only shrugged back at you. The bleeding had stopped and you’d had the chance to clean up, so you sat down on the couch, Eddie next to you in between you and Wayne.

Wayne turned the TV off. Silence descended over the room, heavy and suffocating.

“Ed,” Wayne said, “your daddy gave me a call.”

Eddie froze. Oh fuck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wayne took a sip from his beer. “He told me somethin’ you, uh…told him?”

You looked at Eddie, confused as to where this was going. Eddie was sweating, all of a sudden it was way too hot for his jacket. He took it off, tossing it onto the floor.

“You wanna tell me somethin’, Ed?”

Eddie signed. He rubbed his hands over his face, like he was trying to wake up from a bad dream. But he didn’t say anything, and the way he was refusing to answer Wayne was scaring you.

Getting nowhere with Eddie, Wayne turned to you. “Honey, are you pregnant?”

Oh. Eddie had told his dad about the baby - babies, you corrected yourself again. Not that he had known that then. You looked at Eddie, who still looked panicked, but you couldn’t lie to Wayne. “Yes.”

Wayne looked between the two of you sadly. “Oh, kids,” he said, like he could see your fate laid out before you, and it wasn’t a good one.

“It’s twins,” Eddie contributed, looking at his uncle sheepishly. “Just found that out tonight.”

“Twins?” Wayne said, genuinely surprised. “Goddamn, son.” You almost laughed.

“Are you mad?” Eddie asked, scared not of what Wayne would do, but what he would think of him.

“Mad?” Wayne asked. “No. I’m just…worried. What are you gonna do?”

You and Eddie exchanged a look. “I’m going to drop out and get a job to save up some money,” Eddie said.

Wayne’s face fell. “Oh, Ed.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “But I have to. Right? I have to.”

Wayne didn’t say anything, because Eddie was right. There was no way around it that he could think of. He couldn’t afford to support Eddie, you, and a baby - two babies, which everyone kept forgetting and re-remembering. As much as he wanted to help, he didn’t make enough at the plant.

“What you have to do is stop that mess with the drugs,” Wayne said, pointing at Eddie. “Don’t think I don’t know.”

Eddie flushed. “Yeah, I know.”

“You cannot be gettin’ into trouble doin’ that stuff. Not now. I turned a blind eye to it for too long.”

Eddie nodded.

“Okay.” Wayne slapped his knees. “Well. You think you two have got this?”

You and Eddie looked at each other. Did you have it? You’d have to. “I think we’ll be okay,” Eddie said.

“Do your parents know?” Wayne asked you.

“No,” you answered. “We’ve only known for about a week. I’m not exactly excited to tell them.”

“I don’t blame you, sweetheart,” Wayne said. He knew how your parents were. They had met before, they looked down on him and Eddie for their social status, for their income, for living in a trailer park, amongst other things. “But you’ll have to tell them eventually.”

“I know.”

“We’ve got your back,” Eddie said. “If they wanna be assholes about it…”

“Which they will.”

“Yeah.” Eddie pulled you close. “It’s going to be okay.”

Conversation over, you followed Eddie back to his bedroom. He quickly cleaned up his rolling tray, papers, and baggie of weed that were laying on his bed. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just…smoked a little last night. I’m done now, though.”

You didn’t say anything, watching as he put his stuff away. He sat on the bed and held his arms out for you. You went to him, letting him wrap his arms around you. He laid his head on your stomach.

“I’m so happy you’re okay. All three of you,” he said. “I was so scared.”

“Me too,” you agreed. Eddie laid his forehead on your belly, his thumbs rubbing circles over it. He lifted your shirt up and pressed a kiss to the smooth skin, his lips lingering there. Your heart thudded in your chest at the display of love and affection.

“I love you both,” he said to your belly. “I’m your daddy, and I’m going to take such good care of you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you or your mama.”

Your stomach flipped, and you were pretty sure you’d never felt so in love with Eddie than you did in that moment. 

He pulled you down to lay next to him on the bed, cuddled together, legs tangled. His hand rested on your belly, rubbing soft, slow circles until you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

—

The hospital set you up with your first OBGYN appointment. It was a week after the ER visit, and you’d been a nervous wreck. You hadn’t been bleeding any more, but what if you still lost the babies? You were looking forward to going just to hear that everything was okay.

You and Eddie left school early, heading to the doctor just after 5th period. Eddie stood awkwardly with his hands in his pockets as you checked in at reception. You found two seats together and sat as you filled out the clipboard of questions.

It asked all kinds of things. The standard doctor’s office questions about you, some awkward questions about your sexual history, and even questions about Eddie - ‘the father’.

“‘How many sexual partners have you had?’” you asked him, reading off the question.

Eddie blushed. “What?”

“It’s asking!”

“About me?”

“Yeah!”

He blushed deeper. “You know the answer to that question.”

You did. You just liked teasing him. “Remind me?”

Eddie gave you a look. “You know you were my first.”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled. Eddie nudged your shoulder playfully.

“Asshole.”

You turned in the clipboard when you were done, going back to your seat and waiting to be called. It wasn’t long before a nurse came for you, and you stood.

“Do you, uh, want me to go?” Eddie asked. He was jittery, bouncing his leg like he often did when he was nervous.

“Can you?” You didn’t know why you were nervous to ask him, you knew he would in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, of course.” He stood and followed you, trailing behind as the nurse led you to the back. She recorded your height and weight, blood pressure and temperature. You were taken to a small room with an exam table in the middle and two visitor chairs by the wall. Photos of babies decorated the walls. Eddie looked all around, seeming uncomfortable.

The nurse asked you even more questions. Some typical, some that made you blush. She asked Eddie a bunch of questions about his and his family’s health history. She left, and you and Eddie were alone.

“I didn’t realize they’d need so much information from me,” he said. “I thought this was all you.”

“You are the dad, right?” you teased, laying back on the exam table.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I better be.”

“They’re half you. Of course you matter.”

Eddie hadn’t thought of it that way. The babies were half him. And half you. There was something beautiful about how you’d come together to make something so precious as these two little babies. He placed a hand on your stomach - you had developed the smallest little baby bump - and rubbed it, smiling up at your face. He gave you a little wink.

The tech came in with the ultrasound machine. “How are you guys today?” she asked, setting up the machine. She put the gel on your stomach.

“Nervous,” you admitted. Eddie squeezed your hand.

“Don’t be,” she said. “This is supposed to be the fun part.”

She flipped on the machine and placed the wand on your belly. The image appeared on your screen, and you saw your two little blobs wiggling around in there.

“Congratulations on the twins!” she said. “There’s baby A,” she measured the smaller blob, “and there’s baby B.” The bigger blob was next to the smaller one, like they were cuddled together. Almost like it was protecting the other one.

Tears welled in your eyes at the sight of them - your first real glimpse of your babies. You glanced at Eddie, who was covering his mouth with his hand, staring at the screen with so much love in his eyes.

“And we can’t know if they’re boys or girls yet?” Eddie asked.

“Not yet,” she said. “You’ll find out at the 20 week scan.”

“How many weeks is she now?” he asked.

The tech took some more measurements. “She’s measuring about 8 weeks right now.”

Eddie blew out a rush of air. 8 weeks seemed so early and so long at the same time. “And how many weeks are there in a pregnancy?” he asked, knowing he sounded like an idiot.

“There are 40,” she explained. “But twins often come early, around 35 weeks.”

Eddie paled at that. How was the pregnancy almost a quarter over already?? Nothing was ready. Nothing at all. He still didn’t even have a job, and these babies were coming so soon?

You both watched the screen for the remainder of the ultrasound. She printed you a strip of photos to keep, which you held close to your chest - you would cherish these. Eddie took one to keep in his wallet. 

When she left, you cleaned the gel off your stomach. Eddie helped you wipe it up with paper towels.

“That was cool, huh?” you asked, smiling at Eddie as you pulled your shirt back down.

“Very,” he agreed, smiling back at you. “I can’t believe there’s really two in there.” He poked your belly.

“Me either.” You laid back. “Does that mean I’m gonna get like…extra huge?”

“Probably,” Eddie teased. “Beautiful no matter what, though.”

The doctor came in next, introducing herself and congratulating you both. She told you it seemed that the subchorionic hematoma had taken care of itself, so she felt it was nothing to worry about. She went over the do’s and don’ts of pregnancy, told you to start taking a prenatal vitamin, and instructed you to come back in a month.

With your ultrasound photos and appointment card in your hand, you and Eddie left the office. He helped you up into the passenger seat before getting in on his own side. “What do you want to do now, baby?” he asked you.

“I think we should go to the pharmacy for those vitamins,” you said. Your mind was entirely on the babies, wanting them to be as healthy as possible, especially after the miscarriage scare.

“You got it.” He started the van and drove in that direction, his music playing from the speakers.

You went in together when you reached the pharmacy. Eddie walked with his hand on your lower back, as if you might faint without him. You reached the correct section and found the bottles that said prenatal vitamins - you picked up one of the bottles, checking the price.

“Jesus. Why are these so expensive?”

Eddie looked over your shoulder, seeing the $30 price tag. “Shit. I don’t know, baby. But I don’t have enough for that on me.”

“Me either.” You sat the bottle back on the counter. “I guess it’ll be fine until we can afford it.”

Eddie was quiet. He felt like he was failing you and his babies. “I could sell-“

“No, Eddie,” you snapped. You did not want him selling drugs again. “We’ll figure it out. You started applying for jobs, right?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. Of course I have.”

“Then you should have something soon,” you said, “and we’ll get it then.”

Eddie felt like shit walking out of the pharmacy with you empty handed. He felt like the biggest failure, just as bad of a dad as his own. He had spent some of the last of what he had on some weed - he knew it was wrong and that you had both agreed, but he was so stressed, he needed something. He felt horrible about it now, though.

He drove you back to your house. When he shut off the engine in your driveway behind your parents’ fancy cars, he looked over at you. “Are you sure you want to go in there? You know you can spend the night with me any time.”

“I know,” you said softly, almost like you regretted it immediately. “I’ll be okay. They’ll notice something’s up if I don’t come home at all. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Okay, baby.” Eddie leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“I know,” you mustered up a smile as he pulled away from your lips. You didn’t really want to leave Eddie, but you at least had to stay until they went to bed. They weren’t completely stupid.

Eddie watched you climb out of the van and walk to your front door. He watched until you were safely inside - only then did he allow himself to start his engine and pull away.

You could tell something was off the second you walked into the house. Your dad sat in his chair looking smug, while your mom paced nervously. Your dad looked pleased to see you when you walked in.

“What’s going on?” you asked cautiously. You weren’t sure if you were prepared for the answer.

“What’s going on,” your dad said, “is that little boyfriend of yours is finally going to get what’s coming to him.”

Your blood froze. “What do you mean?”

“I had a talk with Officer Callahan,” he said. “And he agrees that Eddie needs to be taught a lesson. They have proof he’s been dealing.”

You felt sick to your stomach, like you were two seconds away from getting sick on the floor. “Dad, no. Eddie quit, he doesn’t do anything like that anymore. He’s a good guy, please.”

Your dad looked almost pleased with himself, like he was happy to see you so distraught. “He should have made better choices. Maybe this will set him on the right path.”

“Dad, come on. Don’t do this.”

“You need to grow up. You both need to grow up. You need to find someone who actually deserves you. Someone better.”

You felt like screaming. You felt like throwing something at your father’s face.

“It’s for the best,” your mom finally spoke up. “It will scare him straight, at least.”

Was this your fault? Were you ruining Eddie’s life just by being in it? Your parents were being ridiculous, but that doesn’t mean the police department would see it that way. You couldn’t stand the idea of Eddie getting in serious trouble, especially not with babies on the way.

You ran upstairs, picking up the phone on your bedside table. You dialed Eddie’s number, hoping he’d had the chance to get back home by now.

“Hello?” he answered, sounding confused.

“Baby,” you said. “My dad did something really fucking stupid.”

Quiet. Then, “What?”

“He said the police are after you for dealing,” you cried. “He said you’re going to get in trouble.”

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “Your dad’s a real piece of work, huh?”

“I’m scared,” you admitted. “Really scared.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said. He was always so calming to you, even over the phone where you couldn’t see his face or soak in the warmth of his arms. “But it’s going to be okay. I haven’t even been dealing lately. They’ve got nothing on me.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffled.

“I’m sure. Your dad’s just trying to scare us. He’s just a dick.”

You laughed, wiping at the tears on your face. “Yeah. He is.”

“Believe me, baby. We’re going to be okay.” You knew if Eddie were here he’d be brushing your hair behind your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You wished he was.

“Okay.” You trusted Eddie wholeheartedly, and if he said there was nothing to worry about, you were going to try to listen to him.

“I need you to get some rest, okay baby?” he said. “For yourself and for those little babies.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “I love you, Eds.”

“I love you too, babe.”

—

Eddie’s last day of school was nearing. He had put in his request to drop out, and had been putting in job applications all over. He was stressed, that was clear, and you felt bad, like it was all your fault.

The Hellfire Club didn’t know it was their last typical Hellfire meeting. Eddie walked in and the guys all looked up from where they’d been sitting, going over their characters.

“Well, boys, I have some news,” Eddie said, kicking one foot up onto his throne and leaning on his knee. This got everyone’s attention, and they leaned in closer, hanging on to Eddie’s every word.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asked. They could tell Eddie looked serious, and that scared them.

He held his hands out. “Well, it seems, that I…am going to be a father?”

The guys all just stared at him. “You’re what?” Jeff asked. “No fucking way.”

“No no no no no,” Gareth said, shaking his head like he was trying to clear the thoughts from it. “You’re not- huh???”

Eddie gave a halfhearted shrug. “I knocked up my girlfriend.”

“You’re not being serious,” Dustin said.

“There’s no way he’s being serious,” Mike added. “He’s full of shit.”

Eddie reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He pulled the ultrasound photo out between his pointer and middle finger, holding it up. Gareth snatched it from his grasp, the guys looking over his shoulder.

Sure enough, it had your name written at the top. But that didn’t mean it was real. “Bullshit,” Gareth said. “This isn’t a baby. And there’s two little blobs. Nice try.”

“And that’s where we come to the second part of my news,” Eddie said. “It’s twins.”

The room froze. Everyone was looking up at their DM with horror and shock. “You’re being serious?” Grant asked.

“Dead serious,” Eddie said. “Those are my little beans in there.”

Everyone looked back down at the ultrasound, trying to make sense of it, of everything. They couldn’t wrap their minds around Eddie - their Eddie - being a father. It seemed absurd.

“So…” Dustin began, knowing there was more to the story.

“So…” Eddie contributed. “I’m dropping out. Have to get a job to take care of the babies.”

That sent a silence over the group. “You’re what?” Jeff asked.

“I have to,” Eddie said. “It’s the only way I can take care of my family, man.”

“Eddie, you’ve worked so hard to graduate. You’re just going to drop out your third senior year so close to graduation?” Jeff was hurting for his friend, being one of the only Hellfire Club members to be around for so long and see the work Eddie had put in. No one wanted to see Eddie fail at his goals.

“I have to,” Eddie repeated, dejected.

“And, wait-“ Gareth said. “What about the band, man? What about our dreams with Corroded Coffin?”

Eddie’s heart sunk. “I…I mean I can try to still be in the band, but-“

“But your family’s going to come first now.” Gareth snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’d do this to us.”

“I didn’t get her pregnant on purpose, man,” Eddie said, getting frustrated with his best friend. “Shit happens.”

“‘Shit happens’? Really Eddie?” Gareth was getting more upset by the second, standing to face Eddie. “That’s what you have to say for yourself?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Eddie retorted. “My family is none of your business.”

“Your family, oh right,” Gareth scoffed. “I thought we were your family! I knew something was going to happen the second you started dating that girl-“

“Don’t talk about her,” Eddie said, his voice low, a warning.

Gareth was taken aback. “Jesus, Eddie. You really have changed.”

Eddie shook his head. “What, just because I love my girlfriend? Is it not metal enough for you to have a family with my girlfriend? Grow up, man.”

The guys were all speechless. This was not the Eddie they thought they knew. The Eddie who treated D&D and Corroded Coffin as the most important things in the world - his first babies. Now he was throwing them away in favor of you and the real ones.

“I understand why you feel the need to do this,” Dustin said, careful so as not to set Eddie off again, “but can’t we still have Hellfire Club meetings outside of school?”

Eddie thought for a minute. “You guys want to take it outside just so you can keep playing with me?”

“Hell yeah,” Mike said. “You’re the best damn DM we could dream of.”

Eddie cracked a smile at that. “Where could we have it?”

“My house?” Mike offered. “We have a whole basement we can use.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay. This could work. I might be a little busy, though. Being a dad and all.”

The guys laughed and congratulated Eddie - except for Gareth, who was still pissed off. Eddie didn’t miss the lack of support from his best friend. “Come on, man. Don’t be like this.”

“Be like what, Eddie?” Gareth questioned, standing. “Upset that you’re ruining the chances of the band ever making it? Upset that you’re just giving up on school and dropping out on your third attempt that you were definitely going to succeed this time? How can you just throw your life away?”

“Gareth, I don’t have a choice,” Eddie said, trying to get it through the drummer’s head. “These babies are coming. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Gareth didn’t calm. He gritted his teeth, looking Eddie in the eyes. “You’ve changed, man.”

“Yeah, you have to when you become a dad!” Eddie said, waving his hands around for emphasis. “Come on, Gare. You’re my best friend. You don’t want to be Uncle Gare to two extremely cute kids?”

Gareth dared to crack the tiniest smile. “Stop.”

“Just think about how cute they’re gonna be,” Eddie continued. “Little metalhead babies.”

Gareth was softening. He didn’t like the changes this promised, he didn’t want Eddie to grow up so fast, but he had to admit to himself the image of Eddie as a dad made him feel a little proud of his friend. “You gonna have them listening to Metallica in the womb?”

Eddie laughed. “Damn right.”

“Do you really have to drop out, though?” Jeff asked, still concerned. “What’s that going to do to you, dude? You’ve worked so hard.”

“I’m fine.” Eddie looked around. It was clear he was trying not to be affected, to look like he didn’t care. He clearly cared a lot. “It’s just what needs to be done. So I’m doing what I have to do.”

Everyone was quiet. No one had a better idea, but they didn’t want to see Eddie throw away his hard work, either. 

“Okay, man,” Grant said. “Do what you have to do.”

“And congratulations,” Dustin added. “On being a dad and all.”

Eddie smiled a little. “Thanks, dude.”

“Yeah, man, congratulations,” Mike said.

Grant and Jeff congratulated him too, but Gareth still seemed upset. In agreement that the Hellfire Club would continue outside of school, everyone felt a little better, but their final campaign in the drama room was bittersweet.

—

Eddie got a job as a dishwasher at Benny’s. He hated it.

He had dropped out and was now working full time, doing something he absolutely hated - and he realized just how much dropping out affected him. He was depressed. He lost his sense of worth, feeling like the biggest failure imaginable. Took my senior year three times and still never graduated, he’d think to himself as he washed dishes until his hands were red and raw. Now look at me.

You didn’t get to see Eddie as often anymore. News was out at school - everyone knew Eddie dropped out because you were pregnant. At least you didn’t have to hide the belly anymore - you could dress normally at school. It was at home that you had to be careful.

You hadn’t heard anything else about Eddie getting in trouble, so you hoped your dad had just been bluffing. You never put it past him, though.

“Hi, pretty girl,” Eddie greeted you at the door as you reached it. He had just gotten off work and it was obvious, his eyes red and tired. He pulled you into his slender chest, his long arms wrapped around your body. You buried your face in his shirt.

“Missed you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I missed you too,” he said, and he meant it. He missed you all day while he was at work. He thought of you and the babies constantly - do it for them.

You didn’t get to see Eddie as often anymore. He usually worked late, and by the time he was getting home you were going to bed. This was the first night you’d gotten to spend with him all week.

“They’ve grown,” he said as you stepped back, placing his hand on your belly.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Word’s out at school. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it from my parents at this rate.”

Eddie frowned. He knew it would be bad when they found out. “You look cute,” he said, changing the subject.

“Thanks,” you blushed. “I don’t feel cute.”

“Being pregnant with my kids is a good look on you,” he smirked. “Maybe I’ll have to give you another one-“

“One pregnancy at a time, babe,” you laughed.

“Come on,” Eddie said, “I’m exhausted. I just want to hold you in bed.”

You weren’t arguing. He led you by the hand back to his bedroom - quickly cleaning up something on his bed and shoving it into the closet. You gave him a strange look, but didn’t push it.

He pulled his shirt over his head and laid down on the bed. You joined him, cuddled up against his chest. His fingers played absentmindedly with your hair while you laid together. Eddie turned, catching you looking at him. He smiled and pressed his lips to yours.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he muttered against your lips.

“Missed you more,” you teased back, but his kisses were quickly taking your breath away. You were breathing heavily, his tongue pressing into your mouth and exploring it eagerly.

His hand slipped under your shirt, brushing over the bump before reaching your tits. He palmed them over your bra, moaning into the kiss. You moaned lightly, hips involuntarily grinding against his, feeling him already hard beneath his jeans.

He slipped your shirt over your head and unhooked your bra, kissing all over the exposed skin, his tongue flicking at your nipples. They were more sensitive now and had you arching your back into him, his hands sliding along your back as he sucked on your tits.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “It’s been so long. I need you.”

“I need you too,” you agreed, your panties already soaked at the mere thought of having Eddie inside you again.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked, kissing back up to your neck. “I need you bad. But I don’t want to hurt them.”

“You’re not going to hurt them,” you promised him. “They’re safe in there.”

Eddie grinned. “Does this mean I get to fuck you raw now?”

You blushed, the idea sending heat straight to your throbbing core. “I guess so.”

Eddie groaned, diving back in to bite at your neck as his hand expertly undid your jeans. He pushed them down as much as he could before his hand was beneath your panties, tracing through your soaking folds.

“So ready for me,” he mumbled. “You want this just as bad, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, writhing in your need to be touched.

“Looking a little desperate, baby,” he teased. “Do you need me?”

“Need you so bad,” you moaned. You had no shame, you were desperate for Eddie to fuck you and you wanted him to know.

Eddie groaned from low in his throat. He slipped a finger inside you, pumping it slowly. You gasped at the sudden feeling, then you were grinding your hips down, wanting more.

“Needy little pussy,” he whispered in your ear. “Look at how desperate she is to take me.”

You whined. Your mind was going hazy, you weren’t thinking straight. With Eddie’s finger pumping into you, his calloused thumb rubbing at your clit, and his mouth kissing and nipping at your neck, you were in another world.

“Need it now,” Eddie said, then he was sitting up, pushing his own jeans and boxers down and pulling your clothes the rest of the way off. His hard cock sprung free against his stomach, ruddy tip leaking.

Eddie lined his cock up with your entrance, pushing just the tip inside. He moaned, loud - his first time feeling you raw and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to last more than two seconds. He couldn’t look at you like this - it was going to make him bust immediately. He buried his face into your neck instead, rolling his hips to push his cock in the rest of the way.

You whimpered, holding onto him tightly. Everything was so much more sensitive now, you felt as if you could feel every ridge and vein of Eddie’s cock, heightening the pleasure. His hips snapped into yours quickly, as if he’d lost control and needed more and more of you.

His old bed squeaked as he fucked you, his groans muffled into your neck. You gasped, tangling your fingers in his long curls, pulling slightly. That made him shudder, tightening his grip on your thigh, a choked moan coming from his lips.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he moaned, kissing from your neck to your shoulder and all over your chest. “You’re so beautiful. Feel so good. Your pussy is so perfect.”

You whined. “Feels good, Ed.”

“Yeah?” he panted, speeding up his pace just a little. “You like that?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, eyes falling closed.

“Tell me,” he breathed. “Tell me what you like.”

“I love when you fuck me like this,” you whined. “I love your cock.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You opened your eyes to see him staring intently down at you, eyes locked on your face, his cheeks tinged pink with the exertion and his impending orgasm. “It’s so big. Fucks me so good.”

Eddie groaned, his head dropping forward. His curls tickled your breasts, moving with his thrusts. “I’m so close,” he choked out. “Need you to cum for me.”

You were close, too. Especially when he reached down and rubbed against your clit, making you gasp. Everything was so sensitive, his touch sending electricity through your veins.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “I can feel you- holy shit- you’re so tight around me-“

Eddie tried his best to hold back, but the feeling of your pussy clenching around him as you came sent him over the edge. He let out a strangled gasp that turned into a loud moan as his orgasm hit him abruptly, cumming deep into you for the first time - on purpose, at least. He rutted into you with shallow thrusts as he shot his load into you, body trembling from the intensity.

After he pulled out, he flopped onto the bed next to you, his chest heaving with his breaths. You eyed the posters covering his walls, his guitar - his sweetheart - hanging across from you. It was all so Eddie. God, you loved him.

“That was insane,” he laughed, turning on his side and throwing his arm across your waist. “I needed that, baby.”

You kissed his nose, then his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His hand rubbed over your belly, a goofy grin on his face. “All three of you.”

You fell asleep in Eddie’s arms, cuddled closely to his chest. You slept peacefully, feeling safe and loved.

Eddie had a different experience. He couldn’t sleep, mind racing with thoughts of his life and future. He stared up at his ceiling, a sinking feeling in his chest. He was so disappointed in himself. This was supposed to be his year. He was supposed to graduate, make something of himself. Instead, here he was, a high school dropout washing dishes with soon to be two children to support.

He was a loser, just like he’d feared. Just like his dad. He had done everything in his power to keep from this fate, but it was all for nothing.

Mostly, he felt guilty for the babies. What kind of dad could he be if he could barely take care of himself? He made so little at Benny’s - it was better than nothing, but not by much. How the hell could he pay for the things two babies would need? And what about you?

He knew you deserved better. All three of you deserved better.

The only thing that got him through was the weed. He had promised you he would stop, but he was smoking more. It was a daily thing now, every second he had that he could get high, he’d take it. He was so miserable with his life, he needed the release.

You would be furious. Eddie knew that. He knew he shouldn’t still be smoking, he shouldn’t be wasting the little money he had on weed. He had even been calling out on days he got too high - which happened decently often. He knew his behavior was only solidifying his status as a total fucking deadbeat loser, but he couldn’t help it.

He had to have something to keep him going. He was so fucking depressed he didn’t know what to do with himself. If the weed helped, so be it.

Eddie crept out of the bed, careful not to disturb you. He opened his closet as quietly as possible and pulled out his stash box. He had a joint already rolled, which he plucked from the box and stuck behind his ear as he grabbed his lighter from the dresser and walked outside.

Taking a seat on the front steps, he removed the joint from his ear and brought it to his lips, sparking it up. He took a deep drag, the pungent smoke creeping down into his lungs. He held it, then released, the smoke billowing out from his lips in big clouds.

The warmth took over his body quickly. He felt lighter, happier. Every drag of the joint made those negative thoughts float farther away. He wasn’t thinking about his shitty job, or the fact he was going to be a father, or that he had dropped out of school and pissed off all his friends. There were no worries.

For that moment, everything was fine.

part 2 very soon

tag list

@missjadesfics @robinbuckleywife @fandom-princess-forevermore @ali-r3n @playboysweetie @losingmygrasponreality @samslvrgirl @ratsematary @cheesesandwichsanto @rainybloo28 @angxlg0dz @mopeymopeymouse @strangerthing93 @bellalillyrose @awkward00noodle @xplrnowornever @thestrals-and-firewiskey @badasspizzalover @parodsal000 @charmed-asylum @kyber4crystal @jeangeniex @jojojomamawrld @fearlessreid @wh1sp @queen-honeybee-stories @batbabyeddie @4everdweeb @meetmeatyourworst @liliglasermunsonquinn

if you signed up for the tag list and aren’t here it’s because it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[billybrain]

Just a Taste (18+)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader

Warnings: oral sex (fem receiving), shy reader (but like... you're not actually), titty sucking

Summary: Billy convinces you to let him eat you out.

You sigh softly as your boyfriend gently kisses your neck, his body a comfortable weight on top of you as you laid on the couch. Your head was propped up by the armrest, and your favorite blanket covered the both of you. You pet his curls and scratched his scalp gently with your nails, causing him to shiver.

"Love you, baby." Billy murmurs against your neck. His hand trails down from your waist and squeezes your hip.

"I love you, too." You smile softly.

Billy props himself up, hovering over you as he kisses from your neck to your chest. He gathers up the blanket and drapes it messily over the back of the couch. He pushes up your shirt and you're braless underneath, nipples hardening from the cold air. You guide his face down with the hand still in his hair and he smirks, knowing exactly what you want.

He licks your nipple teasingly before putting his mouth on you, sucking eagerly while groping your other breast. You can't stop your own smirk from forming as you arch your back slightly, pushing your chest up into his mouth.

Your enjoyment is cut short when he moves on without even giving the same attention to your other breast. You huff in complaint as he kisses down your stomach but he pays you no attention, clearly on his own mission.

"Billy." You protest when he gives your panty covered pussy a kiss, already trying to close your legs despite his body laying between them. Your legs are bent, feet on the couch, thighs acting as a wall on either side of his head.

"Come on, baby. It'll feel good." Billy promises, kissing the inside of your thigh while soothingly rubbing the outside.

"I know." You say quietly, watching his every move.

It was the truth. You knew it felt good. On a few extremely rare occasions you'd let him have a taste, but you'd never let him make you finish. It was too intimate, having his face between your legs. Too vulnerable.

You'd let him pin you down and pound your pussy with his fat cock every day of the week, though.

"Just a taste." Billy half suggests, half tells. He kisses you over your panties again before pulling them to the side and kissing your bare cunt.

He looks up at you and finds you biting your lip, clearly conflicted. After a beat, you nod.

He licks one big stripe from your leaking hole to your clit. You fight not to close your legs already. You grab the blanket from the back of the couch and clutch it, hiding the bottom half of your face in the soft material as you stare down at him.

Billy practically makes out with your cunt while you try to stay relaxed. You clench around nothing when he licks and sucks on your clit. Reflexively, you reach down with one hand and grab his curls, letting out a sound that's half moan, half whimper.

Billy glances up at you. His blue eyes are striking.

"Relax, baby. Feels good, doesn't it?" He asks gently, petting your thigh.

You nod, still hiding most of your face in the blanket. Billy takes that as his sign to continue, slowly ramping up, less worried that you'll change your mind and skitter away.

He's persistent, holding your hips down as you squirm. He avoids touching you anywhere else, wanting you to cum just from his mouth. Eventually it gets to be too much. This is the point where you'd usually push his face away and insist on cumming on his cock instead.

You buck your hips, trying to dislodge him but he refuses to stop eating you out.

"Billy!" You want it to sound like a warning, but his name comes out as a whine.

His tongue flicks your clit and your whole body tenses, then shakes as you orgasm. A growling, animalistic sound rips from your throat.

When you open your eyes and look down at Billy again, he's grinning.

He licks your pussy once more just because he can. You'll be in for it now, you realize. You let him do it once, now he'll know he can have it again.

"Such a good girl." Billy purrs, moving up so he can kiss your lips. You taste yourself on his tongue.

"Don't get used to it." You pant, but he knows the truth.

His smirk says it all.

[electrosuite]

could you maybe do a fic where eddie is your dealer and you go to him and ask him to take your virginity and it turns out he's been fantasizing about fucking you since the day you met

warnings: swearing, drugs (marijuana), dirty talk, oral sex, descriptive sex

word count: 2.7k

masterlist

You knocked against the door to Eddie's house, nervously sighing and crossing your arms. It took a moment, but the door opened to reveal a very sleepy looking Eddie.

You immediately felt guilty, relaxing your posture a bit.

"Shit, sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"It's fine. Everything okay? You pounded the shit out of the door."

You nodded. "I don't know. I just..." You were trying to think of a reasonable excuse for waking him up, but the best you could come up with was, "How much do you have?"

"Uhh..." He thought for a moment. "I'm down to my last ounce. I need to get more."

"Great. I'll take it."

"What, all of it?"

"Yeah." He looked at you like you were crazy. "What?"

"You never get more than an eighth."

"Well, I am today."

He was still a bit confused, but he moved out of the way and allowed you to step inside. You walked over to the couch and sat. He didn't take his eyes off of you until he got into his room, wondering what had you so upset.

When he brought his supply out, he laid it on the coffee table with enough rolling papers to make joints out of every last speck. This was what he always did for you. He rolled the joints before you even left because you struggled every time you tried.

The two of you were silent while he rolled the first one, then handed it to you. You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and lit it, that first inhale feeling better to your lungs than oxygen.

As he began rolling the second joint, he spoke up.

"So, what's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem off. Is everything okay?"

You rubbed your eyes with your fingers, propping your elbow on your knee.

After a moment, you replied, "Do you think it's weird not to date in high school?"

He looked up at you. "Are you really asking me that question?"

"I mean do you think it's weird if a girl hasn't dated in high school?"

"Is there a difference?"

"You know there is. People treat it differently."

"Do you care what people think?"

"Of course I do. But that's not what this is about."

"Are you afraid you're weird for not dating?"

"I don't know. I mean, almost everyone I know is, and sometimes i just wonder if I'm... doing something wrong."

"What do you mean, 'doing something wrong'?"

"I don't know how to explain it. Like, if I'm doing something that makes me unattractive, or-"

"Trust me, you're not."

"You don't think so?"

"No," he chuckled. "Absolutely not."

You took note of his comments, noticing his reaction to you suggesting you're unattractive. You didn't say anything for a moment, just watched him roll joint after joint.

You stood up slowly and began pacing in the pathway between the couch and coffee table, shoving your hands in your pockets.

When he got to the last joint, you turned to him and sighed.

"Look, I didn't come here for weed," you blurted.

"What do you mean?"

"I came here..." You could feel your heart pounding. "I came here to ask if you'd be interested in... taking my virginity."

His hand movements froze, his eyebrows raised, and his eyes drifted up to look at you.

"What?"

"I've been thinking. A lot. I'm so close to graduating as a virgin, and I don't want that. I want to lose it before I graduate, and the person I'd want to do it with most is you. I trust you."

He laid the joint in his hands down and got to his feet, walking to the kitchen and washing his hands, taking his time. You followed him, continuing to ramble.

"You know, like I said, every one of my friends are in relationships, and I'm fine with not dating. But none of them are virgins, and I'm the only one." Eddie turned the water off and grabbed a rag to dry his hands. "I'm just worried that if I don't lose it now, then I won't lose it for a while. And I don't really want to be a virgin anymore."

He turned to you and grabbed your face, pulling you in and planting his lips against yours. It caught you off guard but you immediately kissed back.

It was a gentle yet assertive kiss, one with longing behind it. It felt so natural, like your lips were made for each other. You immediately gripped his sides and let out a soft whimper into his mouth.

His hands slid down the backs of your thighs and he picked you up, carrying you into his room and kicking the door closed behind him. He tenderly dropped you down sideways onto his bed, your head hanging off the edge a bit.

He kept kissing you, his hips between your thighs. He was much more dominant than you expected him to be, as if a switch flipped in his head the second he started thinking about sex.

You reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, looking down at his body. He was beautiful, and you pulled him back down to kiss you. But he broke it a moment later to undress you, leaving you in just your bra and underwear.

He stopped, looking down at your body with his mouth slightly agape.

"What?" you asked, beginning to get nervous from his reaction. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just... weird."

"What is?"

"You're my client. I'm your dealer. It's just not something I thought would happen."

"If you don't wanna do this-"

"Woah, I didn't say that." His hands began traveling up your thighs. "I've wanted to for... I don't even know how long." His fingers slipped under your panties, pulling them off of you slowly. "I've wanted you for so long." He watched your face as his digits found your clit. A small whine left your mouth as your eyebrows turned upwards, your head falling back off the mattress.

He didn't take his eyes off your face, and he felt his pants grow tighter. Watching you squirm under him, it was a dream come true.

He was going so, so slow, and all you wanted was for him to speed up. But he didn't, instead loving the idea of teasing you. Making you writhe under him, demanding more.

So he decided to remove his fingers and crawl off the bed, kneeling on the floor. He grabbed you by the thighs and pulled you close, your hips hanging off the mattress slightly.

And the feeling of his warm, wet tongue on your soaked pussy drove you insane. You moaned much louder than you meant to, but you couldn't help it. He apparently knew exactly what he was doing, because this felt magical.

You couldn't physically hold your hips still, so he pressed down firmly on your hips. And when you couldn't move, forced to stay still, it almost made it more pleasurable.

You didn't know what to do with your hands, so they latched onto his hair, pulling tightly. So tightly, in fact, that he groaned. And his voice against your body felt like vibrating. This made you gasp, immediately feeling your orgasm approaching.

"Fuck, Eddie."

He knew you were close just by the sounds you were making. They were needy, desperate. And it was all he could think about. He'd always wondered what you sounded like when you came. The sweet sounds that would fill the room. And the fact that your first orgasm from someone else would be with him... It was almost too much for him to handle.

He needed to make you cum - hard. He was determined to make it as mind-blowing as humanly possible, to wear you out just from his tongue.

So when your hips bucked uncontrollably and you fisted his hair even harder, he knew you were finally there. You couldn't hold in the scream, the original plan of trying to be quiet going out the window. And he kept it going, refusing to let up.

Normally when it was just you, you only came for a few seconds because it was all you could handle. But a few seconds was gone, and he could tell he succeeded in making this intense.

And when your orgasm began to end on its own, he finally slowed down, easing you out of it. But he still didn't completely stop. In fact, the sounds you made got him desperate to hear them again, deciding then and there that he could postpone his own pleasure for the sake of watching you squirm under his mouth again.

So when he picked back up on the speed, it didn't take long to get you there again, maybe twenty seconds.

And during all of that, he never closed his eyes or looked away from you, not even for a second. He needed to watch how good he made you feel, how good your first time was.

When you physically pushed him away, he realized that you'd had enough. And when you pulled him back up to you, he was like a puma pouncing on his prey. You reached under you and unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

"God, you're even more beautiful than I imagined."

His lips latched onto your breasts, cupping them in his hands. You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, causing him to sit up on his knees. He watched your hands undo his pants, taking the opportunity to get up and pull them all the way off.

As he stood there, fully nude, you bit your lip at the sight. He looked so good, and he was rock hard. He dug through his nightstand and pulled out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth and sliding it down his length.

You knew he was going to be a lot to take, but if he was as good at sex as he was at oral, you were in for a good time.

When he crawled back on top of you, his hips settled against yours and he kissed your neck. Your hands found themselves against his ribs, fingertips pressed into his skin.

After a moment, he looked at you, making eye contact.

"You're sure about this?" he whispered.

"Are you really asking me that now?"

"I need you to answer me."

You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear with your right hand.

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life, Eddie." You spoke softly, seductively. You pulled his face down so you could whisper into his ear. "I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."

He took in a tiny gasp at this, dirty talk not something he expected from you. You'd always been, for lack of a better word, pretty innocent. But he'd been surprised before, finding the most innocent girls to be freaks in bed.

"For your first time?"

You just nodded. "For every time."

And with that, he was kissing you again. He reached down to line himself up to your entrance, slowly pushing into you. You whined into his mouth and he smiled, the sound like music to his ears.

Once he was fully nestled into you, he also let out a moan. He didn't move at first though, allowing you time to adjust.

"That okay?"

"Oh god, you feel so good, Eddie."

He let out a satisfied sigh. "Good. Tell me if you want to stop at any point, alright?"

"I won't want to."

"Hey, I mean it. If it gets too much, or you change your mind at any point, make me stop. Okay?"

You nodded, smiling at him. "You're so sweet."

He kissed you again, beginning to move his hips. He started with slow, gentle thrusts to let you get used to him. But eventually, he couldn't resist picking up the pace.

You did ask for it rough, after all.

So he gave you what you asked for. He attacked your neck and collarbones with kisses, leaving sloppy spit marks all over your skin. The two of you were moaning and groaning in sync, the bed squeaking almost as loud.

He couldn't keep his lips off of you, sucking your skin hard and kissing you so deeply that your teeth were touching a few times.

He was trying to stay quiet so he could listen to your moans, but he couldn't hold them back. You felt incredible, like a warm wet hug. Like your body was made for him and only him. He fit perfectly inside of you, be it a bit snug.

He fisted the sheets under him and at this point he was going much quicker than he thought he could, which was almost overwhelming for you.

But it was just right. It was perfect.

So you frowned a little bit when he pulled out of you.

"Roll on your stomach," he commanded. You did, and he pulled a pillow over for you to lay your head on. He bent your left leg and when he was back into position, he held it in place with his knee. Your other leg was straight under him, your foot hanging off the bed.

You felt his hands on your lower back, his palms right on top of the dimples above your ass cheeks. He slid back into you, and this position felt even better.

"That okay?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," was all you could get out, so he kept going. Him holding your body down and slamming into you was a sensation you'd never experienced, it was nearly impossible to explain. All you could do was grip the pillow under your head.

He leaned down and kissed between your shoulder blades, leaving prints of his lips with his saliva.

"Goddamn, you feel good," he grunted, his fingers digging into your skin. He couldn't take his eyes off your back, littered with freckles. Your hair cascaded over your skin and in your face, and he noticed how perfectly beautiful you looked right now. Face buried in his pillow, ass jiggling with every thrust.

Fuck, he might be in love.

But the cherry on top was when you moaned his name. Your voice, the tone, the neediness, the desperation. He knew he was going to bust at any second, which was a first for him. Normally he lasted a while, but something about you was different. Maybe it was just how long he'd fantasized about this, how he was far more attracted to you than any other girl he'd slept with, he wasn't sure.

But you did something nobody else could do, which was gotten him there in less than five minutes.

And he decided he wanted to look into your eyes when he came.

So he pulled out of you quickly and rolled you back over, your head still on the pillow. He immediately slammed back into you and held your face with one hand as he kissed you, his other hand next to your shoulder to keep himself up.

"Y/N," he breathed.

"Hm?"

"I've never been so close so quickly before. I'm gonna cum."

"Good."

The hand he used to hold you still moved down to finger you, and you gasped into the kiss. He looked at you when you threw your head back, moving his lips to your jaw and neck again but still looking at your face, wanting to hear you.

And, like something out of a movie, both of you went over the edge simultaneously. It was intense, cumming while being fucked. You'd never experienced this, and it felt like you were going to melt right into the bed.

He kept going for as long as he could, but eventually he had to stop. You laid there panting, his face against your chest and your hands on his sides.

"Holy fuck," you said after a moment. He chuckled, shaking you and the bed under him.

"Yeah. Holy fuck." You lifted his head and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. "You okay?"

"I'm amazing."

"You really are."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making my first time memorable."

"I should thank you, too."

"Me? Why?"

"I think that was the best sex I've ever had."

"No shit."

"Shit."

"Well, damn. You're welcome, then."

"You said something about... Every time earlier?"

"You're still inside of me and you're already thinking about doing it again?"

"What, you're not?"

You chuckled, noticing how hot and sweaty both of you were. It was kind of gross, but you didn't care in the moment.

And you knew he made your request come true. You were not going to be able to walk properly for a little while.