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bastardstevie · 2 days ago

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steve Harrington x Reader • steamy summer sex with boyfriend!steve • oral, vaginal, anal, all the stuff

The Summer heat is driving you and Steve crazy. At this rate, you’re either going to fuck him or kill him. So you decide to fuck him…

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The air conditioner broke yesterday, and the soonest Steve can get someone out to fix it will be ten tomorrow morning. The atmosphere in the house is sweltering. It’s affecting you and Steve in the worst way, making you both irritable with each other. Little annoyances that would have been ignored any other time now have you getting under each other’s skin.

It’s too damn hot. You sit at the kitchen table watching Steve toss yet another dirty plate into the sink, as if you haven’t asked him a hundred times to rinse his plate first. Having to scrub old food from dishes, you’ve explained, only slows you down when washing them. It’s like Steve doesn’t give a damn whether or not he inconveniences you.

You sit there watching him leaning against the sink, a grumpy scowl on his face. He reaches for the window and fans his hands inward, trying to create some kind of breeze for himself. “Jesus,” Steve curses, aggressively switching on the tap. He wets his hands and runs them through his hair. Droplets of water glitter in the sunlight as they trickle down Steve’s forearms, absorbing into the fabric of his t-shirt. Realizing he’s only keeping himself hotter by wearing it, Steve tugs the t-shirt off over his head. He can’t help but instinctively glance your way, to see if you’re checking him out.

Steve isn’t disappointed because of course you’re watching him. Your eyes rake over his body, following the dark trail of hair covering his chest and belly to where it disappears under his waistband. He’s wearing nothing now but a pair of boxer briefs which are damp with sweat. You can see the outline of Steve’s bulge through the fabric, his sweaty dick and balls hanging just a little to the right as always. You sit there ogling Steve’s junk and zone out for a second. The excessive heat is making your brain a little mushy, but your eyes know exactly what you want. Steve’s cock jumps ever so slightly inside his boxers as he watches you watching him…

You lick your lips, tasting the salt of sweat on your skin, unconsciously squeezing your slick thighs together. It’s too damn hot. If Steve doesn’t fuck this bad mood out of you, you might go insane. Your chair creaks as you leave it and approach Steve, whose eyes follow your movements. “Fuck me,” you glare at him, a new heat warming your skin. Steve reaches for your wrists and cages them inside his hands. He whips you around and bends you over the sink, locking your arms behind you. “You think I’ll just give you what you want?” Steve grunts against the back of your neck. “After you’ve been such a bitch to me all day?” He squeezes your wrists together behind you, holding you against the sink with his weight. Steve’s erection prods your ass; he clearly wants to fuck you as much as you need to be fucked.

When he quickly flips you around to face him, you respond with a giggle. It feels good to have some relief from the thick tension that’s been roiling between you all day. Steve crouches down and parts your legs. He inhales your scent, cursing under his breath. “Fuck you smell so good,” he murmurs, nestling his nose against your bush. “Been smellin’ you all day honey, moving around this house with a goddamn meal between your legs.” Steve’s tongue licks out and snags your puffy clit, making you tremble. “You like that?” he asks, flashing his perfect teeth up at you in a grin. “S’this what she needs? Kisses?”

Steve’s lips close over your clit, sucking lightly, just enough to have you yearning for more pressure. You curl into Steve, your stomach curved against the top of his head. Steve’s words have disappeared and the only sounds he now makes are breathy grunts against your cunt. He bathes your lips with his tongue, lapping long strokes up and down your labia, rounding your clit with the tip of his tongue at the end of every stroke. Your hands clutch onto Steve’s shoulders to brace yourself as he licks you to climax, his tongue creating a persistent pressure against your clit for you to grind against as you ride out your high.

Steve rises to his feet and closes a big hand around your neck from behind. “Come with me,” he says, the scent of your cunt on his breath. Steve guides you to the table, bending you forward over it. You listen as he tugs down the waist of his boxers and shuffle out of them. His cock slaps against your ass, the tip slippery with precum. Instinctively, your hands find the edges of the table, fingers latching on for support. Steve’s palm meets your pussy in a firm slap; your knees buckle in response. “Goddamn you’re wet for me,” he murmurs over your back. “Gonna make it hard not to come inside you. S’that on purpose honey? You want me to fuck a baby into you?”

The answer you give is wrapped in a moan as Steve abruptly enters you. His hand stays around your neck, locking you against him as he takes you. The wet sound of sweaty skin slapping skin fills the kitchen, the table creaking under your weight in time with Steve’s thrusts. He bullies your cunt like he’s more annoyed with your hole than he is with you. The needy grunts Steve’s cock punches out of you are delicious to him, almost as delicious as your cunt on his breath. He pumps in and out of you at a rough, consistent pace, testing your hole’s capacity to hold him. “Christ, I think the heat’s made you tighter,” he pants against your hair, knotted inside his fist. “Gonna suck me dry, shit-.” Steve’s voice breaks and he buries his face in your shoulder, grunting expletives as his cock spits a thick burst of cum inside you. The room goes still and quiet as the only sounds surrounding you and Steve are the rapid breaths panted from both your lips.

He eases his weight off of you and takes a step back, spreading your cheeks with his big hands. Your sticky lips part with a wet sound and Steve watches his cum leak out of you, one drop followed by another, spattering between your feet on the kitchen floor. “Let’s get a shower,” Steve says, offering you his hand. You accept with a smile and let Steve lead you down the hall. He steps into the shower and switches on the water, adjusting the temperature to a cool setting. “Get in here,” he grins, cocking his head toward the shower. You step inside and curl into Steve’s embrace, letting the water wash over your joined bodies.

Moisture trickles across your skin like little kisses, refreshing and cool. Steve tilts your chin toward his and presses his lips to yours. You invite him deeper, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to find yours. Water cascades over you both as you explore each other’s mouths, licking into the wet warmth of Steve’s kiss. You feel him getting hard against your thigh as his kisses grow more intense, more urgent. Steve releases your tongue and tells you to get on your knees. He holds a handful of your wet hair and watches you sink to the shower floor, guiding your mouth onto his cock. You can taste some of Steve’s cum lingering inside his tip and swallow it down, flattening your tongue along his base. Steve groans as you take him deeper, his grip tightening inside your hair. “That’s a good girl,” he says, closing his eyes to enjoy you. “Treat my cock so good, don’t you baby?” His words fuel your desire to please him more and you do, relaxing the muscles in your throat to take him deeper.

The coarse wet hair of Steve’s bush bumps against your nose with every descent of your mouth around him. He rocks his hips forward into you, punching wet gurgling sounds out of your throat. His other fist goes to your hair; Steve uses your mouth like a sleeve as he thrusts into your throat, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. He barely has time to let you know he’s about to come, a second load painting the back of your throat white in his creamy release. You bob up and down Steve’s cock, milking him of the last remaining drops of cum he has, swirling your tongue across his tip.

He tugs you up by the shoulders and turns you to face the shower wall. Steve’s palm meets your ass with a heavy, wet slap. You flatten against the shower wall, your breath spraying the drops of water collected there. Steve slips a hand between your thighs from behind, his index and middle fingers massaging your labia roughly. You’re so slick with arousal, even the water spilling down your thighs can’t wash it away. Steve penetrates you with two fingers, his thumb notching against the bud of your asshole. “Like a little glove,” he grins against your neck, pressing a wet kiss there. He plays around inside you, curling his fingers in a beckoning motion. Your thighs tremble around Steve’s wrist as he toys with you, your asshole puckering against his thumb. He presses slowly, firmly, gradually working you open. Steve steps back and watches as his thumb disappears inside your asshole, swallowing him up.

“You gonna let me have every one of your holes, baby?” Steve asks, working you open with his thumb. He feels himself getting hard again as you suck his fingers back and forth. Your bodies are cool from the water spilling over them, but the heat between you and Steve can’t be so easily quenched. He coils his fingers around your g-spot, massaging the spongy mound in a rhythmic pattern that has your legs shaking. Pitiful whimpers tumble from your lips as Steve makes you come on his hand. He curses in awe as your holes clench and suck his fingers, ugly-beautiful moans forced out of your lips against the shower wall. Steve releases your cunt and takes his cock in his hand, gliding his tip between your folds, slicking his cock. He drags himself between your cheeks and positions his head at your entrance, wrapping an arm across your chest from behind.

Steve lingers there a moment, the stiff pressure of his cock prodding you. He waits for you to adjust, letting you push back on him at your own pace. You wiggle your hips as you descend backward over Steve’s tip, wincing as the head of him breaches your entrance. He squeezes you into his chest, pinning you under his forearm. “So fucking good f’me,” Steve praises, his breath dusting your earlobe. “Letting me use you like this…” He curls his hips inward, pressing slowly into you another inch. You grunt into the pressure, your cheek resting against Steve’s forearm. He carefully guides himself deeper inside your ass, working you open till you’ve taken him as deep as you can. Your ass is stuffed full of Steve’s cock, the wet hair of his bush matted against your skin. He slowly pulls back and you feel every inch of him dragging along your insides, the sting of his cock filling you quickly replaced by need.

“Please come in my ass,” you whimper into Steve’s arm, tasting his wet skin between your lips. “I want you to fill all of my holes today, Steve…”

That breaks him. Steve snaps his hips forward, lurching into you with a powerful thrust. You grunt into his arm on impact, your teeth baring into his skin to brace yourself. One thrust after another, Steve pumps your asshole like it’s his job to fuck you, stroking your insides with the goal of painting them white. Sweat and water drip off the ends of his hair and trickle down your back, his hips smacking against your ass loud and wet in the small space of the shower. He removes his arm from around you and clutches your hips, bouncing you up and down on his cock. Minutes later Steve growls into your shoulder and ruts into you in two hard, slow thrusts. Semen gushes inside your ass, coating your hole in Steve’s orgasm. He reaches around and finds your clit, rubbing a messy rhythm over your sensitive mound and you’re coming with him, your asshole puckering and sucking the last drops of cum from his tip.

Steve pulls your breathless body into his and holds you upright against him as he leans against the shower wall for support. The water trickles over your spent, satisfied bodies, every bit of tension and frustration pulled down the drain. You and Steve decide to stay naked the rest of the day, falling into bed together for some much-needed rest…

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bastardstevie · 3 days ago

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Watch Your Mouth.

“Was I just a waste of time?”

best friend!eddie munson x anxious!fem!reader

masterlist ; series masterlist ; next chapter

cw: not canon compliant, EMETAPHOBIA WARNING (mentions of heaving, anxiety induced nausea, nausea medication), reader has severe anxiety, ANGST ANGST ANGST!! eddie says some mean things out of emotion, strong language, hurt/no comfort, literally almost nothing happy happens to reader this chapter

wc: 3.4k. divider by @seulzitos

summary: you had always planned with your best friend to get away from the small town life together. you’d become a world-renowned radio host and journalist, and he’d become a rockstar. but, when you finally accomplish your end of the plan, the bridge the two of you had meticulously built together burst into flames.

It had been an explosive end.

Words were said, voices were raised, and even one of your mother’s good glasses ended up shattered on the linoleum floor of your kitchen. You hadn’t expected the news of your move to Chicago would cause the fight it had between you and your best friend, but it had. You could still feel the pain from his biting words every time you thought about him, and you could still feel the bitter anger that had once coated your tongue wash over you when you dwelled on it too much.

—

“You know, you acted like you were better than everyone anyway,” He had spat, back to you as he filled up a glass of water from the sink, back facing you. “Maybe the people who said you were too good for the scum of Hawkins were right.”

“Eddie. Please be rational here,” You replied, tone sharp. This argument had been a broken record, about how you were too good for him, how he would never be worthy enough for you. “It has nothing to do with you, or-or Hawkins, or anyone! It has to do with me. Can’t that just be enough?”

“No, don’t lie,” He scoffed, turning around to face you, aggressively placing the glass on the countertop that separated you. “You want out of here because no one’s good enough for you and your high-ass expectations. Everyone can see it. Just admit you’re selfish already—“

“Where is this all coming from? I don’t even get why you’re being such a dick about all of this?” You finally raised your voice to a full-on shout, watching as his eyes widened slightly. “You know that Chicago has always been my dream. I’ve always wanted to move there and make something of myself, and now I finally have the opportunity. Why is it so bad that I want to do this? I even asked if you’d come with me—“

“Because you’re leaving me alone!” He yelled back, voice booming. “You are leaving me in a place that hates me, full of people who want me dead, and it’s not fair. You get to live your dream and I’m stuck here!”

“Then come with me!” You matched him, tears brimming your waterline. It was time. “God, I already asked you, and you’re acting like I wouldn’t sacrifice fucking everything to bring you with me. I’d go fucking broke for you, Eddie. Don’t you get it?”

“No, I don’t get it, because this is your home. This is our home,” He scoffed, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “It’s selfish that you’d throw all of the life you’ve built here away for uppity people who don’t know you, don’t care about you. The people in Hawkins do. Not some big-shot corporation that wants you to write something, and then they’re going to change everything about it and suck the soul out of it. That’s how the world fucking works, in case you’ve forgotten.”

You barked out a laugh. There wasn’t an ounce of humor in it, but the edges were teetering on watery. Your eyes had burned as you willed your tears to stay at bay. “Really? It’s rich that you keep saying all of this bullshit about people here caring about me more than anyone in Chicago ever will when you can’t even say that you care.”

You watched him falter. He looked at you dead in the face, cheeks ruddy and red with his emotions. He watched as a tear dripped off of your lower lash line, running down your cheek.

“There’s no reason for me to care, is there?” He set his jaw and said, voice somehow level as he came back down to a less harsh volume. “I’m not one to say something I don’t believe. So I’m not going to say I do. Because I don’t.”

You let out a stuttering breath, more tears beginning to overflow. “Get out of my house, Eddie.”

He stopped, face dropping.

“What are you doing standing there? Have you suddenly become deaf?” Your voice cracked. “Leave. I don’t want you here.”

He let his head hang and took a deep breath.

“Get out!”

He stood straight and turned to walk out of the kitchen. As he began his walk away, his hand pushed the glass, sliding it across the marble, hard. It fell straight off the edge right beside you, shattering into a million shards of crystal on the floor. His loud footsteps echoed through the home, as did his slam of the door.

—

The constant reminder of that last conversation and the pain he had inflicted on you throbbed like a fresh wound as you shouldered the glass door of the conference room you had just finished presenting your latest article in. Your feet were quick, platform shoes quietly ringing through the carpeted hallway as you rushed through the Chicago headquarters of Rolling Stone Magazine.

You were late for your bi-weekly phone call with Wayne.

Once you were back in the reprieve of your shoebox-sized office, you all but fell into your desk chair and reached for the black phone that rested within the chaos of papers.

You dialed the number without looking, holding the receiver up to your ear. You pinched at the bridge of your nose as it rang, foot tapping rapidly.

It rang and rang, and rang. Then, the older man’s scruff voice crackled over the speaker.

“Hello, you’ve reached Wayne and Eddie Munson, we’re either not home or not feeling up to talkin’, leave a message and maybe we’ll get back to ya’,” You could hear the crackle of his smoker's lungs in his voice, your heart squeezing at the sound of his nephew’s name.

The voicemail box beeped, and you began your message. “Hey Wayne, I’m so so sorry that I missed our regular calling time, I got hung up in a meeting and I couldn’t step away. If you feel up for it, I’m available all day—“

“Who is this?” The line suddenly picked up, a much clearer and younger voice making your stomach drop. “And why’re you calling?”

“Oh, uh, I’m a friend of Wayne’s, is he there?” You tried your best to keep your voice upbeat and clear, hoping he didn’t recognize it.

You could hear a faint voice in the background. “Who’s on the phone, boy? I’m waitin’ on a call.”

“Who can I tell him is calling?”

You sighed. “His favorite journalist. He’ll know who you’re talking about.”

Eddie let out a breath on the line, pausing before repeating you to Wayne. There was another bit of warbled speech from the man before Eddie spoke again. “He’s, uh, he’s coming to grab it.”

“Cool, thank you,” You hummed, your throat thick.

The silence was awkward, even over the phone.

“So, uh, how’ve you—“

“Give me that,” There was a shuffle of movement and some sort of protest as fabric scratched against the receiver. “You don’t get to speak to ‘er. Not while I’m livin’.”

“C’mon, Wayne—“

“Not happening,” The man huffed, finally speaking into the receiver. “Sorry about that, sweet pea. I knew you’d call, but you know how nosy that boy could be. Ignore ‘im.”

“It’s okay, Wayne. It’s my fault for being late,” You tried your best to sound humorous. “I was presenting my September piece and the editors had a lot of feedback. Kept going on and on about formatting and which quotes they wanted on the spread.”

“You gettin’ a full two pages?” He huffed, sounding proud. Wayne was a man of little emotion, but through your relationship with him over the years you’d begun to pick up on the different shades of his gruffness.

“Yeah. There’s a lot more rock and alternative people coming around this year than normal, so I thought I’d jump on it while I had the chance,” You explained, trying to gather all of the tension in your shoulders and expel it. It didn’t work, the thought of Eddie standing in the kitchen of the trailer and watching the conversation weighing on you. “But enough of that. No work talk. How’s it at home? D’you go get that shoulder checked out?”

“Hell no. They’ll have to take me kickin’ and screaming.”

You snorted. “I’m telling you, you did more than pull something. Using it’s just gonna make it worse.”

“I can hold a wrench, and I can get my arm in an engine. No achy shoulder’s gonna do shit to stop me.”

“Do I have to come back and take you myself?”

“Didn’t you hear me? Kickin’ and screamin’”

“What else is going on?” You pressed again. You knew that Wayne was well aware of what you meant when you asked. You asked the same thing every time— and he always gave in and told you how Eddie was doing.

It was quiet for a moment. “Can’t say.”

Your knee bounced in overtime. “Don’t want him knowing that I check in?”

“Doesn’t deserve it.”

“Wayne, you can’t keep giving him the cold shoulder over me, it’s not fair.”

“It’s perfectly fuckin’ fair, sweet pea,” The man’s voice grew sterner, a little louder. “That boy disrespected you when he shoulda been spendin’ his time soakin’ you up while he could.”

You let your hand rub over your forehead as you leaned forward and put your elbow on your desk. “Doesn’t mean I don’t hope he’s still doing well.”

“You’re too kind for your own good.”

“It’s Eddie.”

It was silent on the line.

“So when d’ya think you’re coming down to take me to the doctor, huh?” He said after a few moments. “And see what’s going on for yourself.”

“Would you actually go if I came down?”

Another beat of quiet.

“I can whip up dinner for ya and everything, sweet pea.”

You let out a breath that came out in choppy waves. Your heart was in your throat as you looked at the paper calendar that lay on your desk, seeing an off weekend that you had taken off for some much-needed rest and reprieve from work travel coming in a few days.

“How’s this weekend? Is that too short of notice?” You hum, voice meek all of a sudden. “I don’t have any free weekends till Christmas.”

“The sooner the better. This arm is killin’ me,” He huffed. “What time’ll ya be up?”

“I’ll call the doctor and see if they can get you in at noon on Friday,” You sighed. “So 11:30?”

“Good. I’ll have a basket-a flowers waitin’ for ya. Take care until then, alright? Tell your parents I wish ‘em well.”

“You best be ready when I get there.”

“I will, sweet pea.”

“Okay, Wayne. I’ll see you in a couple of days, alright?”

“Alright. Take care.”

“Take care.”

You waited for him to hang up the phone before slamming yours into the receiver.

What the hell did I just do?

Your shoulders were more tense now than they had been after your meeting. It was creeping near four, signaling only an hour left before you had to trudge back to your tiny apartment and break it to your roommate that you had no backbone and were heading home for the weekend. You expected an earful of warnings and jabs at how poor your decision-making skills were when it came to the Munson men, and maybe an eye roll as she helped you pack your bags ahead of the weekend. It made your heart race just thinking about it.

You were about to thumb through your pocketbook for the closest doctor to Hawkins’ phone number when the shrill sound of your phone ringing startled you. You picked it up and held it to your ear, voice snapping into your best professional candor.

“Rolling Stone Magazine’s writers department, this is—“

“You’re coming back?”

Your heart stopped in your chest. It was Eddie, voice a little broken, a bit frantic. You didn’t answer fully, the words dying on your tongue as you stuttered syllables.

“Please. Are you?”

“‘M taking Wayne to the doctor for his shoulder.”

“When?”

You hesitated. “Not sure. Soon.”

“You gave Wayne a time—“

“When I know, I’ll call back and tell you so you can make yourself scarce, okay?” You burst, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m not going to make you have to see me. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not—“

You slammed the phone into the receiver. It rang again almost immediately.

You reached underneath your desk and tore the cord out of the floor outlet. You let your head fall to your desk and wrung your fingers together on your lap.

You couldn’t wrap your head around how this weekend would go. You had screwed yourself, royally.

You would have to face the very person who plagued your every thought, no matter how much ash the bridge between you had been turned into.

You had to face the flame once more.

——

An earful was the least of your worries as you and your roommate, Eloise, sat in your room, clothes covering almost every inch of free space.

She was about two wine glasses deep when you came home, and she had all but thrust the rest of the bottle into your hands the second she heard the news.

“I still can’t believe how connected you are to that family. Like, god, you really haunt his ass, huh?” She huffed, throwing another flannel, another shirt, and another pair of jeans out of your closet. “If he has the audacity to even look at you when you go to pick up his uncle, I might have to drive out and whoop his ass. I’m dead serious.”

“We grew up together, Wheeze. I’m not exactly the most outspoken person in the world,” You shuddered back, tipping the deep green tip of the second wine bottle the two of you had opened up to your lips, burgundy liquid sliding down your throat. You tried not to notice your hands shaking. “He talked enough for the both of us. He was sweet to me, and yelled at the stupid basketball and football players to leave me alone. I couldn’t not be friends with him.”

“God! He’s such a fucking dick for switching up on you!” She seethed, tossing your favorite pair of pointed-toe boots toward your bed, the thick wooden heels banging against your headboard. “He should be the one taking his own uncle to the doctor. Not you. Irresponsible asshole—“

“Hey, he probably didn’t know Wayne was injured. He’s the most stubborn old man I’ve ever met in my life,” You defended, nose scrunching. “And those are my favorites. Be careful.”

“You need to stop defending him. I’m serious,” Eloise finally pulled herself from the closet, curls falling from the makeshift ponytail she had piled on top of her head. Her eyes were a little wild as she stalked over to where you sat against the wall, ripping the bottle from your hands. “He broke your heart, he insulted you, he handled your success in maybe the most selfish way I’ve ever heard a normal human being could. Besides politicians. Fuck those guys.”

You watched her tilt the bottle up up up and down the rest of the wine, a drip of red falling down her chin. She slammed the bottle down on your dresser and watched you, expecting an answer. You flinched at the loud noise but made no move to answer.

“I don’t think you’re understanding what he meant to me,” You mumbled forlornly, smushing your cheek into your knees and looping your arms around them. Your fingers knotted together, and you squeezed them over and over, feeling the difference in circulation as you did so. “I thought one day we were going to move out of Hawkins, buy a tiny apartment, and spend the rest of our lives together. We had our whole lives planned out together.”

She tutted and padded over to you, crouching beside you. “And you told him to come with you, right?”

You hummed some sort of agreement and turned to put your forehead into your knees instead. Your body felt too hot all of a sudden like you were boiling from the inside out.

“And he still came to your house, called you selfish, called you stuck up, and told you that you ruined his life because you finally did what you always said you were going to do, right?”

The first tears began to form in your waterline, burning the inner corners. You squeezed and squeezed your eyes shut so tight that it felt like your whole face was quivering.

“You kept up your end of the deal. If he couldn’t make the jump to keep his, then he never really wanted to in the first place,” She said, voice softer now. You were sure that your shoulders were shaking now, and your stomach twisted in a way that made your heart rate spike. “I’m sorry to be so brash about it.”

“No, no, you’re right,” You heaved, shoulder rising as she brought her hand up to your arms, grasping your wrists. “What have I done, Wheeze? I-I can’t go back there. I can’t.”

“You can, and you will,” She soothed, thumb rubbing circles on your t-shirt. “You’ll show up, looking the best you ever have, you’ll take Wayne to the doctor, and you’ll hope that Eddie gets a glimpse of how much better you’re doing than him. You’ll get him back and ignore him, because he doesn’t deserve you.”

The back of your neck sweat at the thought, your saliva tasting more and more like metal the more you choked tears back down your puffy throat.

It was quiet for a moment as you willed yourself to calm down. You felt Eloise make some sort of movement.

“Hey, come on—“

You jumped up from your spot and rushed toward the bathroom, stumbling and falling onto the cool tile floor. Eloise was right behind you, sliding in on her socks and being just quick enough to gather your hair behind your face as you heaved over the toilet for a few moments.

“I can’t do this. I can’t go,” You sobbed, coughing. “I can’t. I can’t go back there.”

“You’ll be okay. You can avoid him, stay home, see your parents, see your other friends,” She cooed, grabbing one of the fluffy headbands that she had made in her fashion class that the two of you used for getting ready and slipped it over your head at record speed. “Breathe. You’ve got this. It’ll be okay. You’re okay.”

She stood and went toward the sink as you continued to heave, listening as she poured water into the small cup you kept on the counter. You heard her rustle in the medicine cabinet for something as you felt your stomach lurch, but nothing happened.

You sat back on your legs as you felt dejected, nothing but tears, a sore abdomen, and hands with tremors that you couldn’t stop, no matter how hard you tried.

She sat beside you, a small white pill in one hand, the cup of water in the other. You eyed the Zofran, chest still rising and falling rapidly.

You took the pill from her and downed it with the water before adjusting and leaning back against the closest wall, spreading your legs across the floor. The tile felt nice on your bare legs, the edge of your comfortable shorts riding up.

“Thank you, Wheeze,” You murmured, cradling the cup in your hands. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. ‘M terrified to go back, but Wayne needs to get his shoulder checked out.”

“You have a couple of days to prepare, babe. I promise. I’ll help, we’ll tackle it together,” Your roommate hummed, patting your shin. “And you can call me whenever. Your parents got that new house phone, remember? Call and I’ll answer, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to go make us some soup and put on a movie, okay? We can talk it all through tomorrow when you’re feeling better,” She said softly. “I shouldn’t have been too harsh. We’ll take it slow. Come out when you’re feeling it, okay?”

You nodded at her, the fabric elephant ears that protruded from the top of her headband flopping as you did so. She left the bathroom, and you put the cup on the ground near the toilet as you slid down the wall, fully lying on the ground.

You still have no clue how you’re going to make it through this trip. It had been over a year since you had been home, skipping holidays and birthdays to avoid even thinking about the possibility of seeing Eddie in town.

Now, your first time back would be to pick up his uncle from his house.

reply to be added to my taglist for future stranger things fics! <3

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